Page 23

Darcy could not disagree. Saye’s desire for Miss Goddard seemed to have sapped him of his overgenerous charms. The ongoing saga of the Balton-Syckes had turned Saye’s blithe geniality into barest civility.

The injured man refused to repair to his rooms, claiming all was well as he held court, squirming and fretting on his host’s finest sofa.

His sister and Miss Bentley attended him, both apparently more out of guilt than pleasure.

Darcy was interested to find that Fitzwilliam appeared unduly irritated by the displays of concern Balton-Sycke merited; his cousin kept shooting dark looks at the trio when he was not staring at Elizabeth and Miss Goddard.

Not even the appearance of Saye, swathed in gold satin robes with the hard helmet of King Kamehameha, amused him.

Saye’s spirits had been brightened by the memory of Ball-Sack’s screams, and now he appeared to be back in good humour as he orchestrated the evening ahead.

Darcy fought the urge to reply further and instead gazed at his beloved Elizabeth.

He wished to be alone with her but had had only a few minutes in her exclusive company since lunch.

Saye made an undignified noise. “Will that fundus horribilis require a sedan chair to remove himself from my house? He already has got himself the largest pillow in Matlock. Does he presume to think he will reign over this evening’s feast?”

“We have room for only one king, thankfully,” observed Darcy. “You look ridiculous, but I am pleased to see you are properly attired under your robes.”

“Envy is a poor colour for you.” Saye’s attention shifted.

“Fitzwilliam, your eyes will dry out if you do not blink between your glares at Ball-Sack. Miss Bentley’s poor aim and guilty spirit is a fortuitous turn.

He and his sore arse will enjoy her attentions and spare my Lilly from his.

Miss Bentley is a good match for him. Plump, rich, eccentric, and in need of a husband. ”

“Ah, is that it?” Fitzwilliam moved his glare to his brother. “Moving around ladies as if they are chess pawns?”

“An amusing game for one player only,” said Darcy.

“I am in need of lively company, and no one is better suited to provide it than your dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.” Fitzwilliam, rather meanly in Darcy’s view, then did as he had the night before, and strolled over to the sofa to sit beside the engaged lady.

“The tragedy of a younger son is that neither money nor charm is left over for him.” Saye’s helmet hit Darcy’s ear as he leant closer. “Elizabeth has established a friendship with Lilly. This will be useful.”

“My intended is happy to befriend anyone, and is kind to even those who may not merit it,” Darcy said in low tones.

Saye was too vain to understand Elizabeth’s excellent advice on pleasing a lady; swathing himself in gold satin and eating a meal as if they were savages would hardly impress Miss Goddard.

Saye’s love life was of small consequence to Darcy; as always, all would be well for Saye, and he would likely have his way in the end.

Fitzwilliam’s behaviour was more troubling.

Why was he deliberately hovering around Elizabeth and neglecting the other ladies in the room?

All had generous dowries and some, such as Miss Fisher and Miss Bentley, even had charm.

Was he intent on provoking their jealousy.

..or his? If it was the former, then he could use some other lady to serve his object.

If it was the latter…Darcy felt his jaw tighten and his eyes narrow.

His anxiety eased as Elizabeth caught his eye and, after raising her eyebrow in concern, gave him that smile that was his alone. Mine. She is mine.

“Miss Bennet is charming in spades, but do try not to devour the poor girl. This may be Saye’s party, but none of these ladies will be despoiled under my watch.”

Darcy spun around, shaking off his oblivion and wondering how many more ladies were destined to surprise him from behind draperies. Lady Aurelia gazed at him slyly. Lord, but he was tired of Fitzwilliams and their pointed wit.

“Cousin, I am a gentleman. I have no intention of besmirching?—”

“Of course, of course, but muttering and staring is no way to exhibit your charms.” She patted his arm as if he were a child and gave him a fond look. “Gird yourself and your lady. It is time for whatever pagan rituals Saye has planned for this evening. Pray he does not ruin more of Mother’s rugs.”

She handed him a blindfold and strolled over to her husband.

“Drop your bindings!”

Elizabeth released her hold on Darcy’s arm and pulled the cloth strip from her eyes. Once her vision adjusted, and stunned by the festive exhibition before her, she joined in the communal gasp.

“This is wonderful,” she murmured.

Indeed, the dining room was unlike anything she had seen.

Most of the light came from a roaring fire.

Low tables, lit only with thin tapers, teemed with bowls of fruits and leafy vines.

Cushions and pillows taken from sofas and chairs were arranged in haphazard stacks on rugs pulled from other rooms. Giant ferns and potted trees loomed behind tall candelabras placed in various parts of the room.

“This is interesting,” Darcy replied doubtfully.

“What is this? Where are the chairs?” Sir Phineas growled.

After a muttered oath or two, Fitzwilliam stalked over to Saye. “What have you done to Mother’s table? Did you saw off the legs?”

“You are an idiot, little brother. It is there.” Saye gestured at a long table laden with covered dishes. “These are low tables. I would not have the smell of wood dust at my party.”

“The plants.” Miss Bentley’s eyes were wide with awe.

Saye shrugged. “I emptied the orangery of its greenery, of course. We are in the tropics. Blindfolds, coats, slippers, boots, and stays are no longer necessary.”

He turned to his guests with a severe expression as a few ventured in to take their places on the pillows. “Do not trip on the rugs. The archery incident was enough. I will not have my party known about town for its endless bloodshed.”

“Good lord, the bloodshed will only continue when my aunt sees what he has done,” murmured Darcy. He captured Elizabeth’s hand in his and she leant her head against his shoulder, laughing quietly in delight.

“My father enjoys the ridiculous. How he would love such a spectacle.”

“If Mrs Bennet is not keen on wedding planning, let Saye plan your soiree,” said Fitzwilliam. “But do roll up the rugs before he arrives.”

Elizabeth nodded, unable to form a response as she watched a pair of footmen enter the room, struggling under the unwieldy weight of a long board with a steaming, roasted pig atop it. So intent was her gaze, she scarcely felt it when Miss Hawkridge swooned to the floor behind her.