Page 14 of Dishonorable Gentlemen (Bennet Gang #1)

Rising Stakes

“Please, Elizabeth,” her youngest sister’s voice whined, distracting Elizabeth from the mending she’d spread atop her coverlet several days after Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley had appeared outside the stable to call on them. “I can’t ask for Nanny Hill or a maid to walk me to Aunt Phillips because they all tattle to Mama. I only want to spend time with my aunt and it isn’t fair that Mama won’t let me simply because Mr. Bingley is smitten with Jane. As if he cares one whit who our relations are. All he can see are her big blue eyes.” Lydia emphasized this by making her eyes round and batting her lashes, a dreamy, vacant sort of expression that Jane would never wear on her face.

Elizabeth chuckled. Her attention returned to the various stockings and other bits of mending she truly ought to do, before shifting to the window and the bright afternoon sunshine. It appeared to be an absolutely gorgeous autumn day. “Oh, very well. I will walk with you to Aunt Phillips’ house.”

Lydia clapped her hands together, her smile radiant. “I knew I could persuade you. You’re my favorite sister.”

“You said the same thing to Jane yesterday when she gave you her apple tart.”

“Because when she gave me her apple tart, she was my favorite sister, but now you are,” Lydia replied without a hint of remorse. “I will fetch my bonnet.” She skipped from the room.

Reflecting that it was not a terrible thing that her youngest sister wasn’t yet out, Elizabeth stowed her mending and donned her bonnet as well.

Soon, after a brief stop in the parlor to inform Mrs. Oakwood of their walk, which resulted in Jane and Mary joining them and Kitty remaining behind, they set out. As none of them employed mincing little steps like Kitty or their mother, it didn’t take them long to reach the village.

“It is a pleasant day for a stroll,” Jane said, breathing deeply of the crisp autumn air. Her gaze roamed the central street of Meryton down which they walked and Elizabeth knew her sister hoped to meet Mr. Bingley.

“You will not say that once you know our goal,” Elizabeth cautioned.

Jane turned to her with mild alarm. “You said that your objective was to walk.”

“We lied,” Lydia chirped.

On Elizabeth’s other side, Mary snorted

Jane’s eyebrows crept up. “You lied?”

Elizabeth cast Lydia a quelling look. “We did not lie. Walking is one of our objectives. The other is to visit Aunt Phillips.”

Worry eased from Jane’s face. “Well, I can see why you did not mention as much. Mama’s restriction on visiting our aunt is severe.”

“Especially when Aunt Phillips is holding a card party for the officers,” Lydia added.

Elizabeth turned a surprised look on her. “You said nothing about a card party. You lied to me.”

Mary issued another snort, this one sounding suspiciously like a laugh.

Lydia smirked. “I did not lie. Visiting our aunt is one of my objectives.”

Jane laughed. “You cannot fault her for that, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth shook her head, aware that her youngest sister was in danger of becoming something of a monster. “Very well, but we will not leave you there, nor will we linger overlong. Half an hour.”

“What? Three times that is required for cards,” Lydia protested. “An hour and a half.”

“Half an hour,” Elizabeth repeated more firmly as a gust of cold wind rustled the dry leaves piled into corners all along the street.

“An hour and a half.” Lydia’s voice brooked no argument.

Mary sighed.

“Three quarters of an hour,” Jane said mildly.

Lydia pursed her lips for a moment, then nodded.

Jane looked to Elizabeth.

“Very well,” Elizabeth agreed.

They reached their aunt’s door and were let up to the home above Uncle Phillips’ office to find that quite a few men in red coats, as well as other ladies and gentlemen of the community, already sat at the tables that had been set out around the Phillips’ fair-sized drawing room. Aunt Phillips rushed over to greet them and any lingering ire Elizabeth felt at being tricked dissipated as she took in the joy on their aunt’s face.

Aunt Phillips reached to clasp Jane’s hands first, then Elizabeth’s, before moving on to Mary and Lydia as she said, “Oh, you came. So many of you, too. I shan’t for a moment miss Kitty and your mama with the four of you here.” She beamed a smile at them.

Memory of the year they’d lived with their aunt and uncle, of the warm kitchen and sweet treats crafted with great care for the scarcity of sugar in a house suddenly burdened with five growing girls, yet crafted nonetheless, filled Elizabeth’s senses. She smiled warmly at her aunt. Jane was correct. Their mother’s restriction was severe, and silly as well. Their aunt and uncle were a credit to them, no matter what Uncle Phillips’ profession.

“I have the precise places for the four of you,” Aunt Phillips continued, still clasping one of Lydia’s hands as she turned and led the way deeper into the room.

Elizabeth nodded to those she knew as they passed, noting Mr. and Mrs. Lucas but unsurprised Charlotte wasn’t among those assembled. She would certainly be minding the shop.

Aunt Phillips halted before a table of four officers, one about to deal and two of them known to Elizabeth.

“Mr. Denny, Mr. Pratt,” Lydia cried as the men looked up.

Lieutenant Pratt blinked in surprise but Mr. Denny smiled warmly.

“I see you already know my lovely nieces.” Mrs. Phillips beamed at the officers, as if knowing Lydia were an accomplishment.

“Two of them.” Pratt dipped his head in greeting. “Miss Elizabeth. Miss Lydia.”

“And we know two of these gentlemen,” Elizabeth added.

“Oh, but you must all become acquainted so you may play.” Aunt Phillips gestured to them in turn. “These are four of my nieces, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary, and Miss Lydia.”

Denny frowned slightly. “You have another, a Miss Kitty Bennet, do you not?” He looked about as if Kitty might appear, an avaricious glint in his eyes.

Elizabeth concluded that rumor of Kitty’s five thousand pounds must have made its way through the militia’s ranks.

“Kitty didn’t join us,” Lydia said, recapturing Denny’s attention. “She thinks she’s too good for cards with officers.”

That earned four freshly surprised looks.

“And these are Lieutenants Denny, Pratt, and Chamberlayne, and Captain Carter,” Aunt Phillips continued blithely. “And if some of you fine gentlemen will assist, I have another table we can bring in and you can become two groups of four.”

Denny smirked. “Why not? I’m certain Carter and Chamberlayne are tired of me and Pratt taking their money.”

Pratt looked abashed at that but Denny began scooping up a sizable pile of half-pennies.

The additional table was brought, though the space was tight, and soon enough Elizabeth and Jane sat with Chamberlayne and Carter, while Lydia and Mary joined the apparently lucky Denny and Pratt. As Chamberlayne shuffled, showing considerable skill, Elizabeth couldn’t help but hear Lydia prattling on at the table beside them.

“Hopefully he will not take all of your sisters’ money,” Carter said dryly, apparently noticing Elizabeth’s straying attention.

“Is he that good?” she asked.

Carter shrugged. “I try not to play him.”

“And yet you are here this afternoon,” Elizabeth observed as Chamberlayne began to deal.

“If I had known your aunt would pair us, I would not have attended,” Carter replied.

“Could you not have refused?” Jane asked, sympathy in her voice.

Carter shook his head. “Your aunt is such a kind, motherly sort, I could not bear to raise a fuss.”

“I had no idea he would be here,” Chamberlayne muttered, setting down the remainder of the deck. “Not his usual sort of haunt.”

“No?” Jane asked lightly as she looked from face to face, her expression mild.

Elizabeth wasn’t fooled. Her sister was a keen observer.

“Lately his usual haunt’s been the magistrate’s office,” Carter said with a chuckle.

Elizabeth fought down the urge to gape at him.

“Magistrate’s office?” Jane repeated with a distinct lack of interest.

Elizabeth had seen her sister employ this tactic many times. Jane, who liked to volunteer little, would simply repeat back a few words and permit the other person to carry on the conversation. She maintained, and Mary always agreed with her, that people had things they wanted to tell you and you would get much more from them by letting them tell you what they wished than via Elizabeth’s more direct method of asking for what she wanted to know.

Chamberlayne nodded, studying his cards while Carter leaned nearer to Jane, lowering his voice to say, “He has already been before your local fellow twice for being disorderly.”

“Is his discipline not the province of your commanding officer?” Elizabeth asked, aware that she lacked Jane’s subtlety but not caring.

“Colonel Forster?” Carter’s gaze went to a table across the room, where a man in a colonel’s uniform played cards with Miss King, her aunt, and another officer. “It is, and he tried, but Denny has a way of finding trouble.”

“You will have them thinking that officers are not true gentlemen,” Chamberlayne protested. “I believe you are first, Miss Bennet.” He gave Jane a winning smile.

Jane played and the game moved on from there, Elizabeth shifting the conversation first to the weather and then to where the two gentlemen had traveled during their service. All in all, it would have been an enjoyable interlude had half her attention not been on the table behind her, where Lydia laughed loudly and flirted with both Denny and Pratt.

She also, to Elizabeth’s dismay, asked them why they were stationed in Meryton, to which Pratt replied that they were there to hunt down a couple of French bandits who’d got under the skin of the locals. Elizabeth could only be glad that she sat nearest their table and that Jane was focused on her cards, for she and Mary had not shared that revelation with their older, more prone to worry, sister.

After nearly an hour, Elizabeth thanked their tablemates, with whom they’d broken even, and said they were due home. Lydia, having lost her pin money one half penny at a time, didn’t resist and soon they’d bid their aunt farewell and were on their way back down the staircase leading to the street.

When she reached the bottom of the stairwell, Lydia stepped out with a surprised exclamation of, “Mr. Bingley,” which caused Jane, who followed her, to hurry her steps.

Elizabeth would have done likewise, but Mary caught her arm. Elizabeth turned a questioning look on her, finding Mary’s face difficult to read with only light filtering in from below and down from above reaching them.

“Denny cheats,” Mary said quietly.

“Are you certain?” Elizabeth asked. She had an inexplicable dislike for the man, but cheating was a rather large accusation.

Mary merely raised her eyebrows.

Elizabeth accepted that silent reprimand. “Yes, to be certain you are or you would not have told me.” She pursed her lips, wondering if she should return to confront him. But then, they’d only played for half pennies, and maybe losing her pin money would teach Lydia more caution. “Perhaps Lydia needed to learn the risks of gambling?”

“But he is not her relation, so her learning is not his concern. And I gathered from talk about the table that he and Mr. Pratt are fully aware of Lydia’s youth, for all she’s taller than either of us.”

“Yes. I made certain on their first meeting that they know Lydia is not out.” Elizabeth tipped her head. “Was he inappropriate?”

“No. My concern is simply what his behavior says about him. What gentleman would cheat two young ladies for half pennies?” Mary shook her head. “One who is very desperate, or who cheats for the sheer thrill of doing so. Both are dangerous.”

Considered in that light, Elizabeth could only agree with her sister. “I will endeavor for us not to be in his company again.”

Mary nodded and slipped past her down the staircase.

Elizabeth followed more slowly and came out into the waning afternoon light to the sight of her sisters speaking with Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, who stood at the heads of their mounts, reins in hand.

Mr. Darcy looked past her sisters to meet Elizabeth’s gaze. He dipped his head. She returned the greeting and the faintest smile graced his mouth before he turned serious eyes back to Lydia, who spoke animatedly to Mr. Bingley.

“…a ball at Netherfield Park, Mr. Bingley,” Lydia was saying as Elizabeth joined them. “It would be so delightful.”

“And you would not be permitted to attend.” Mary’s tone was as quelling as her words.

Lydia looked down, crestfallen.

“Then perhaps not a ball but a simple gathering of friends from around the community,” Mr. Bingley said cheerfully. “One at which music might perhaps be played, and therefore where people may choose to dance.”

Lydia looked up, smiling so brightly that Jane and Mr. Bingley answered in kind. Mary merely appeared thoughtful. Mr. Darcy, as he so often did, frowned. Catching Elizabeth watching him, he eased his glower.

“A gathering of friends would be perfection,” Lydia replied. She looked over her shoulder at Elizabeth. “Would it not be, Elizabeth?”

Finding Lydia’s excitement just as infectious as the others seemed to, Elizabeth nodded.

“What have we here?” a masculine voice drawled from somewhere behind Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley.

Elizabeth’s stomach knotted. She knew that voice. Almost against her will, she looked past the two gentlemen and their mounts.

Mr. Collins strode up the street. His cane, topped with a golden lion whose emerald eyes clashed with the large ruby clutched in his upraised front paws, thudded in time to his plodding footfalls. His coat, a garish red that appeared orange compared to the ruby, was covered in gold embroidery that glinted in the late afternoon sun. Above it all, a smirk cut across his sallow face.

Paling, Jane stepped back, Mr. Bingley moving in front of her as if they’d rehearsed the maneuver. Mr. Darcy’s frown deepened to a glower, and Mary’s lips curled with contempt. Elizabeth moved forward to intercept their unwelcome relation, Lydia beside her.

“My fair cousins.” Mr. Collins bowed, quickly bringing up a hand when his hat threatened to topple from his head. “Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley. I have not seen you about these past few days. I hope our community does not disappoint you?”

“Far from it,” Mr. Bingley said a touch loudly. “I find I enjoy Hertfordshire quite a great deal.”

Mr. Collins’ gaze flicked past Mr. Bingley. “You are looking particularly lovely, Cousin Jane, but not so lovely, I hope, as to raise a gentleman’s hopes when we all know your mother wishes to return to Longbourn so very, very much, and that you, the daughter who deprived her of the father of her sons, have the means to make her wish come true.”

A tremble of rage went through Elizabeth. How she wished she were masked and armed for dueling, not just with the knife hidden in her boot. Mr. Collins would not dare speak to Jane thusly with Azile championing her.

Lydia brought her hands to her hips. “Why don’t you go call on Mama and Kitty? They enjoy your company.”

“Lydia.” Elizabeth put no reprimand in her tone. “That is no way to talk to a gentleman.” And were Mr. Collins one, Elizabeth would actually chide her sister.

“You are correct, certainly.” Lydia tossed her curls. “I will endeavor never to speak to a gentleman in such a way.”

Mr. Collins’ smirk slid into a sneer. “Soon enough, your elder sister will be married, cousins, and her husband will have a great deal of sway over you. Therefore, I would advise you to mind your manners.”

“I am to be married?” Jane said quietly, only a trace of tremble in her voice. She stepped up to Mr. Bingley’s side. “It is amazing to me, sir, that you know this when I do not.”

Mr. Collins’ smile made Elizabeth’s fingers curl into fists. “It is only a matter of time. You will come to your senses and accept an offer from me.”

“I believe Jane gave you her answer years ago,” Elizabeth snapped, unable to hold back her anger. “Unless you require a reminder of what it was, I suggest you continue on your way. ”

Looking down his slightly crooked nose at her, Mr. Collins replied, “I believe you forget, dear cousin, the laudable words of Fordyce. ‘The majesty of your sex is sure to suffer by being seen too frequently, and too familiarly,’” Mr. Collins intoned. “‘Discreet reserve in a woman, like the distance kept by royal personages, contributes to maintain the proper reverence.’”

Elizabeth glared at him. “Then I suggest you augment that distance by remaining away from my sister.”

Mr. Darcy cleared his throat. “I believe we, all of us, would be aided by a bit of distance in this moment.”

“Are you advising me on how I may speak to my cousins, Mr. Darcy?” Mr. Collins’ brows drew together. “This is not Derbyshire and we are not on your estate. Here, I am the rule of law.”

“You would not be if I were to purchase Netherfield Park,” Mr. Bingley stated.

Anger flashed in Mr. Collins’ eyes. “Netherfield Park is a rather large estate for someone so young and so sullied by the shadow of trade. Take care you do not take on more than you can hope to manage.”

Mr. Bingley sputtered. A glance showed his face beet red.

Mr. Darcy put a hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Bingley will have my full support and any advice he may require, but I have the utmost confidence in him as a landholder.”

Still sneering, Mr. Collins opened his mouth to speak.

“Moreover, if my knowledge is not sufficient, I can inquire of my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, or of my uncle, the Earl of Matlock,” Mr. Darcy continued coldly. “I am certain their advice will be invaluable.”

Mr. Collins squeezed his thin mouth closed.

“If you will excuse us.” Elizabeth struggled to keep her voice even. “We are due home.”

Mary and Jane curtsied immediately, causing Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley to bow. Lydia continued to glare at their cousin.

Elizabeth looped an arm through her tall little sister’s, saying, “It was a delight to see you, Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy.” She yanked on Lydia’s arm, turning her.

With quick farewells, the four of them started up the street. For a moment, silence reigned behind them, then Elizabeth heard the dull thump of Mr. Collins’ cane as he retraced his steps. A quick glance showed that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley still stood with their mounts. Mr. Darcy’s hand remained clamped firmly on Mr. Bingley’s shoulder.