Page 27 of Done for the Best (Engaged to Mr Darcy #5)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

A CHANGE OF CIRCUMSTANCE

D arcy did not often accept invitations from Saye’s friend, Sir Frederick, but one evening several days after the breakfast with his cousins at the Matlock town home, he found himself with nothing better to do. Desirous of entertainment of any sort, he went.

Sir Frederick was fond of cards and frequently hosted evenings of gentlemen-only card parties at his house in town. They always played low, because everyone tended to get very drunk, and Sir Frederick did not wish anyone to lose a house or a carriage at one of his gatherings. That night’s event had only just begun when Darcy arrived, the first hand not yet dealt. He was doubly surprised to see that not only was Bingley there, but he was looking excessively foxed, his eyes unfocused and his countenance slack despite the good cheer about him. Darcy took a seat beside him.

“Began early, did you?”

“Darcy! The most extraordinary thing happened to me today.”

Bingley turned to look at him, and Darcy realised he was not drunk at all but perhaps merely shocked.

“What?”

“She released me! It is done!”

“What? Impossible! I thought she…she said?—”

“Trust me,” said Bingley with a laugh. “I am having considerable difficulty myself accepting such a change in fortune. Her father came to me at our club and said his daughter wished to exercise her prerogative and that he was mightily sorry for it. I was so shocked, I nearly could not comprehend him. He took this to mean that I was taking it hard, so we returned to their home to discuss it further. She would not speak, would scarcely look in my direction, but confirmed that yes, it was done, she would not marry me and released me from my obligation to her.”

“With no true reason given?”

“She began to say something about circles of Society, but her father put a quick stop to it. I could not have cared less, of course, but evidently the gentleman thought I might.”

“He was not concerned for his daughter’s sensibilities? Her reputation?”

Bingley dismissed that notion with a little wave of his hand. “I daresay Miss Roberts is accustomed to having her way, and her father is accustomed to ignoring it.”

Darcy sat back with a thud against the back of his chair. “Extraordinary!”

“Is it not? I have no idea what caused it. It almost feels too wondrous to be real, but…” He shook his head, the same vacant delight in his countenance. “I daresay it is real.”

“The marriage articles? What of those?” Darcy asked.

“Burnt. I watched it happen.”

Darcy whistled low and long. Then he clapped his friend on the back and rose from his seat. “We must toast you, my friend. I shall return with something appropriate shortly.”

On the other side of the room, near the windows, was the sideboard bearing any and all drink a young man might desire. Saye stood with a glass of brandy, his back to the window, as Darcy approached.

“Have some of this,” he instructed. “Lovely stuff.”

Darcy poured two generous glasses. “I must take one to Bingley.”

“Toasting his change in circumstance?” Saye smiled like the cat that had got the cream.

“What do you know about it?” Darcy shot back immediately.

“What should I know?” Saye took another sip. “I am scarcely acquainted with Miss Roberts, and not much more with Bingley. Though I do look forward to being better friends with him, you know, after his house party. I thought September would be an excellent time for it, do you not think so?”

Darcy only gazed at him, amused and exasperated both, and wholly unable to think what to say. “Is there nothing you will not do to get what you want?”

“In principle, no,” Saye replied. “But in this, I cannot think what you accuse me of doing? What could I do with two persons so wholly unrelated to me? No, by my accounting, it is only you who has ever truly intruded into Bingley’s affairs. Not I.” He smirked and then resumed his customary world-weary air.

Darcy studied him a moment, then raised one glass slightly. “I cannot think whether I should scold you or toast you, but my friend is excessively happy so I suppose I choose the latter. Shall I lay wagers tonight, or do you have the games all arranged to benefit you too?”

To this Saye only chuckled, but he followed Darcy across the room to where Bingley still sat, apparently eager to join in the happy drinking. “Now that the pup is off his chain, let us discuss this house party he has agreed to throw for us.”

The wedding of Anne de Bourgh bore every mark of Lady Catherine’s delight in the excess. Anne’s gown was better suited to a court presentation than a simple wedding ceremony, and the breakfast included nearly every person of consequence known to any of them. Lady Catherine had even invited the Prince Regent, to her family’s mortification.

“Surely she realises she is not a royal?” Lord Matlock grumbled.

But Anne was happy, in a manner that Darcy had never before seen of her. Her cheeks were girlishly pink, she smiled, and she gazed at her bridegroom with pure adoration shining forth from her eyes. Yardley was no different; he, too, was the very embodiment of a lover’s devotion, beaming as proudly as if he was the first man ever to take a wife.

The breakfast, held in the de Bourgh town home, was the first opportunity Darcy had to see Fitzwilliam since his travel to Brighton. His cousin appeared wearied by the return journey which had, Darcy learnt, been undertaken only the day prior.

“I understood, naturally, that the King’s commission would not excuse me from attending this grand spectacle,” said Fitzwilliam with a grin.

“Too right,” said Darcy as two of the Prince’s mistresses pushed by him. “Did you see her?”

“Anne? Yes, she was the one at the front of the church this morning.”

Darcy gave him a look and Fitzwilliam chuckled.

“Yes, I saw your lady, and she appeared in good health.”

“Was she enjoying herself?”

Fitzwilliam shrugged. “She was looking after her younger sister which was, she said, her purpose in being in Brighton. She did not dance with anyone, including me.”

“And Wickham?”

“He was about, but I saw no evidence of undue interest in either of the Miss Bennets.” Fitzwilliam grimaced then and added, “The younger Miss Bennet certainly requires looking after.”

“Is she in danger from him? If he knew of her connexion to me, he would not scruple to inveigle himself with her.”

“I would not worry about it. Her sister was keeping good watch on her and she knows all, does she not?” After Darcy nodded, his cousin continued, “There you are, then.”

“Yes, she could not be taken in by him, now that she understands his character.” Darcy toyed with the drink in his hand, trying for nonchalance before asking, “Did she enquire after me?”

“Yes, she did,” Fitzwilliam confirmed.

“Did she? What did she say exactly?” Darcy could not care in the least for how ridiculously eager he sounded.

“She said, ‘are all your family in good health?’ and I said ‘yes, they are’.”

“Good health! Good Lord!” Disappointment was like a heavy stone in his gut. “That is not asking about me!”

“Yes, it is. You are part of the family.”

Darcy rolled his eyes. “I do not wish to be asked after in the same breath as my aged relations, or my stupid cousins. I want to know if she asked about me and me specifically.”

Fitzwilliam scratched his head, seeming uncomfortable. “I was already speaking of you, so she did not need to. I told her what a good character you have!”

“A good character.” Darcy shook his head with disgust. “Excellent. Next time she needs a footman, I am sure she will send me a note.”

Saye approached from across the room. “That Yardley is something else entirely. Can you believe he and Anne anticipated their vows months ago? Right under Jenkinson’s nose too!” He shook his head admiringly.

“The notion of that makes me wish to drink heavily,” Fitzwilliam said. “Shall we go to the club?”

“No,” Darcy replied. “I must accompany Georgiana home and have promised to spend the remains of the day with her.”

Darcy left the breakfast feeling lower than ever before. Anne, who had scarcely ever even left the drawing room at Rosings, had somehow managed to find love. How was it so impossible for him?

I daresay I found it easily enough, only that losing it was even easier.

He and Georgiana walked the short distance back to Darcy House. Georgiana had been enthralled by the whole of the affair and chattered happily about it as they walked and entered the vestibule.

“I do not think I shall eat again today, to be sure!” she told him. “I never saw such an array of dishes.”

“It was undoubtedly the heartiest breakfast I have ever seen for any wedding. I am rather full to bursting myself.”

“Three pieces of cake will do that to a fellow,” she teased.

“Three? Only two!”

“Two and the remains of mine!”

“Sir?” Danforth, Darcy’s butler, interrupted them. “Forgive me, but a letter came that I thought might require your immediate attention.”

Darcy took the missive, seeing at once that it was in Wickham’s hand. All teasing and levity fled, and he barely restrained a curse.

“Is that from Mr Wickham?” Georgiana asked, her cheerfulness of seconds prior gone.

“Maybe. Likely not.”

“I think it is,” said Georgiana worriedly. “Do you think…is he writing something about Ramsgate?”

“If it is from Wickham, I doubt it has anything to do with you, darling. In fact, I am certain of it.” Darcy forced a smile to reassure her. “But I daresay I ought to attend to it. Excuse me.”

He strode through the hall, pausing only to ensure Georgiana was on her way elsewhere and would not follow. He hoped that she had accepted his prevarication, but he himself was wholly persuaded it was never a good thing to receive a missive from George Wickham. From Brighton no less, where Elizabeth and her sister remained.

Scarcely had he taken a seat in his study before he tore open the letter and began to read.

Darcy,

Unhappily I find myself in Brighton, having come up against some debts to the fellows around me. Very fortunately, however, I find myself in the company of the very delightful Miss Elizabeth Bennet, in whom I understand you have some interest.

What a comely girl she is! Those lips fairly beg to be kissed, do they not, old man? And one need scarcely mention how the lady’s figure cries out for a man’s touch. But perhaps you have not yet indulged in her…you never did comprehend how a lady might say no but in truth mean yes. She and I may need to have a carriage ride together this Thursday to see if the rule proves true in her case.

If I had a sum of say, three thousand pounds, I might be better able to overlook her charms.

GW

Darcy cursed, then lowered his head into his hand. It seemed he was for Brighton.

Blast, but he was quite wearied with the manner in which Wickham forever intruded upon him. He wondered, looking back over the note, if the terms indicated would be sufficient for a conviction of abduction.

Very well, George , he thought. You have sent your summons, and I shall come, for Elizabeth’s sake not yours. And I shall bring the constables with me, and God preserve you if you have harmed one hair on her head.

Elizabeth was on the Promenade one cloudy Thursday morning, idly wondering if there might be rain, when she saw, in the distance, Mr Wickham. He never had offered any explanation for his peculiar behaviour at the assembly, but Elizabeth did not much care regardless. Amiable as he was, she had no idea of any particular friendship with him, because if nothing else, it would displease Darcy. And with each day’s passing, she found more and more that she wished to please Darcy and perhaps find some way to sort out the tangle between them.

Mr Wickham appeared to be searching for something or someone, and he seemed to be hurried as he did it. To her surprise, she perceived that when his eye met hers, he had found what he sought. He came towards her with rapid, long paces, raising one hand to hold his hat on his head so that a sea breeze might not catch it and toss it away.

“Miss Bennet!” He was out of breath by the time he drew near. “I have been looking for you!”

“You have?” She drew back. “Whatever for?”

“Forgive me,” he said hurriedly. “I am…I am loath to tell you this, but I have great concern for your sister at present.”

“For Lydia?” Her heart plunged. “What has happened? Is she hurt?”

“She is gone down to East Blatchington,” he began, but stopped at Elizabeth’s gasp.

She had heard of the wildness of the men stationed in East Blatchington. There had been a mutiny there, and those convicted were flogged and, in two cases, executed. If Brighton had, generally, a reputation for wild parties and debauchery, those in the East Blatchington encampment held it tenfold.

“What on earth can she wish to see there?”

“There is a rumour of a flogging,” he said. “But pray, I can acquaint you with the particulars once we are there. I have a hack waiting.”

“A hack?”

Mr Wickham took her by the elbow. “Yes, for I feared she would not heed me if I went myself to persuade her against going. I hope she will listen to the wise counsel of her sister.”

Elizabeth walked faster, trying to keep apace with Mr Wickham. A glance at his countenance revealed genuine alarm on her sister’s behalf. Dread and dismay commingled washed over her, along with a sense of inevitability. Had she not been certain that Lydia would get up to no good, led astray by something or another? She supposed if anything she ought to be shocked it took her this long!

Lydia was too easily led, too curious, and too lacking in good sense—and where had Elizabeth been? Rambling about, thinking of Darcy instead of watching over her sister which was the whole of her purpose in coming to Brighton!

Mr Wickham helped her into the carriage and then climbed in behind her, taking the seat opposite. She paused; what would it do to her reputation to be in a closed carriage with him? Then she decided there was no time for such foolishness. She needed his protection to go into the encampment and, in any case, it was broad daylight.

Surely all would be well.