Page 4 of Gentlemen of Honor (Bennet Gang Duology #2)

Do They Come in Peace?

Lydia changed out of one of the two gowns she’d designated as suitably old and unmodish to be worn in the stable, washed her face and hands, and went down to the drawing room. After Elizabeth’s abrupt departure to London, Lydia had convinced her brothers to skip lunch in favor of the stable, pointing out that if they finished by the time callers arrived, they could visit with Mr. Bingley and Cousin Robert and get cake. Cake, she and her brothers agreed, was a better lunch than cold meat and bread.

This was only the second day since Elizabeth’s departure, but Lydia was proud of how well she and her brothers had done in the stable. They’d walked and brushed all three horses, Lydia walking Tuck because he tended to be feisty, then tacked out Mare Marian and practiced mounting and dismounting from the second step of the block, a milestone they’d reached the day before Elizabeth’s departure.

No one said why Elizabeth had hared off to London, but Lydia knew it must have to do with Mr. Darcy. He hadn’t called in days, and she’d overheard Jane and Mary saying it was terrible of him to have left for London without speaking with Elizabeth. The way they’d whispered coupled with how angry Elizabeth had seemed made Lydia suspect that she and Mr. Darcy had come to some sort of understanding. One not yet known to their Mama, or Mrs. Oakwood would be bemoaning Mr. Darcy’s absence and expounding on Elizabeth’s failings, not doting on Mr. Bingley and Cousin Robert.

Her stomach rumbling, Lydia sat in her place on the sofa she so often shared with Elizabeth, mustering decorum. She had a book open in her lap, because that’s what Elizabeth would do, but made no effort to read. She preferred to study the other people in the room, even though they were the same people she saw every day.

Thomas and Matthew were at their usual table off to one side and had set out an elaborate, made-up game that combined cards and their toy soldiers. Currently, guessing more from their expressions and gestures than from their mumbled words, Lydia assumed they were debating the rules.

Mama and Kitty shared the large central sofa, the one that faced a pair of open double doors that led into the hallway, the low tea table before them. They carried on an animated conversation about how Kitty could win Mr. Darcy upon his return, peppered with Kitty’s grousing about the unfairness of Mary’s future as mistress of Longbourn. At one point, Kitty even exclaimed, “If I had known courting a false Collins would win Longbourn, I would have easily engaged Cousin Robert’s affections. Oh, how I wish Mr. Bingley had not bested my William.”

Lydia took in the way Mary, seated near one of the tall windows, frowned down at her book. Where Jane sat embroidering flowers on the neckline of a shift, her smile remained sweet and mysterious, her eyes unfocused and the rhythm of her stitches never faltering.

Lydia looked down at her book, open to the middle though she hadn’t read more than a page. She disliked how Kitty had taken to referring to their odious dead cousin as ‘my William,’ as if they’d been betrothed. She could see Mama and Kitty building up a story, one which everyone would be too polite to refute, about how Kitty and Mr. Collins had an understanding, which, to be certain, was why neither Mr. Bingley nor Mr. Darcy had attempted to woo her. That story also framed Cousin Robert and Mary as villains usurping Kitty’s right to Longbourn.

Lydia pursed her lips. At least it would be a change from the bonbons story, for a time. Mama always returned to the bonbons story eventually.

Loud footfalls sounded in the hall, their butler, Hector. Dedicated to the family, he’d adopted that tread years ago. Lydia, who was generally sent away when they had callers, used to dread the sound. Ever since Jane and Mary had both become engaged, however, their butler’s heavy footfalls meant the daily arrival of Mr. Bingley and Cousin Robert, and tea and cakes for all, for Mrs. Oakwood now considered the two men family. Indeed, the banns had already been read once for Jane and Mr. Bingley, though they would not be married until after Christmas, after which Mr. Bingley would send his relations and any other guests away so that he and Jane might be alone to begin their union.

“Mr. Bingley and Miss Bingley have arrived, mum, and request to introduce Lord Franklin, Viscount Scathelock, Miss Isabella Hargreaves, and Mr. Nathan Hargreaves,” Hector announced, stepping into the doorway.

Panic flashed across Mama’s face.

Lydia went still. Don’t send me away. Don’t send me away , she chanted in her head.

Mama whirled to look at the table where Lydia’s brothers played. “Thomas. Matthew. Leave this room this instant.”

They gaped at her.

Finally, Thomas said, “But, Mama, we’re hungry. We missed lunch.”

“Whose fault is that? Not mine. You should know better. Now, to your rooms.”

“Would it not be better to send them to the kitchen to eat?” Mary asked quietly from her place by the window, closing her book. “To reach their rooms, they pass through the entrance hall, and they are not dressed to appear before such exalted company.”

“Yes.” Mama nodded vigorously. “Very true. To the kitchen, and when you are done eating, up the back stairs and back to Nanny Hill. Not a moment to spare.”

Wearing matching looks of confusion but knowing better than to argue with their mother when she used that manic tone, both boys stood and began gathering up their cards and soldiers.

“I said not a moment to spare,” Mama reiterated, a note of panic in her voice.

Casting her another surprised look, they crammed what they held into their coat pockets and hurried from the room.

Mrs. Oakwood sank back against the couch with a sigh of relief. “Hector,” she said weakly, “Show in our guests.”

Evidencing no hint of having witnessed any unusual behavior from his mistress, Hector bowed and clomped off down the hallway.

Jane was already bundling away her needlework, stowing it into a basket she tucked under the couch. Mary left her book on the table by the window and came to sit with Lydia. Not troubling to mark her page, Lydia closed her book as well, her movements slow and quiet, so as not to remind Mrs. Oakwood that she was still there. Kitty pulled a small mirror from her pocket, checked her teeth, and primped her hair.

Hector’s clomp came back down the hall, trailed by Miss Bingley’s light chatter. They all stood as their guests were shown into the room.

Amidst the bows, curtsies, introductions, and greetings, Lydia studied the evil Hargreaves. In their early twenties and overly lean, Lord Franklin and Miss Hargreaves were very fashionable. He wore a deep blue coat with gold accents, a heavily embroidered sapphire blue waistcoat, and a diamond cravat pin. She had more feathers on her head even than Miss Bingley and was resplendent in celestial blue. Her gown, weighted down by an overlay of gold beads and glinting crystals, was quite spectacular but far too ostentatious for the country. Behind them, almost unnoticeable, was a dusty-haired young man a little older than Lydia, his ensemble seeming designed to match his hair and lacking in any pretension.

He was introduced as Mr. Nathan Hargreaves and Lydia preferred him to his older siblings immediately. She also wished Elizabeth were here, for something about the way the elder two Hargreaves, twins, they were all informed as part of the introduction, scanned the room with cool calculation, unnerved her. Lydia always felt safer when Elizabeth was about. Her sister could fend off any evil.

Watching him as one might a spider crawling ever nearer across a bedroom ceiling, Lydia noted the precise moment that Lord Franklin took in the scattered cards and toy soldiers on the corner table. He nudged his twin and slanted his eyes that way. Miss Hargreaves’ already too thin lips pressed into a firm line, and she gave a tiny nod.

“Would you care to join us for tea?” Mama asked stiffly.

“We would be delighted,” Lord Franklin said, sidestepping Mr. Bingley so that he might settle onto the same sofa as Jane while Mama signaled to a waiting footman to send for tea.

Mr. Bingley blinked once, clearly taken aback, and went to claim the chair on Jane’s other side.

“Mrs. Oakwood.” Miss Hargreaves turned a warm smile on Mama, and Lydia watched in dread as Mrs. Oakwood relaxed somewhat. “What a lovely home you have. My dear friend Caroline has, to be certain, told me much of your fine residence, but her description did not do Dovemark justice.”

Miss Bingley settled onto the sofa across from Lydia’s mother and Kitty, casting Miss Hargreaves a preening look.

Mama sat up straighter. “Why, thank you. My dear Arthur had it built, bless the man.”

“Yes, Caroline mentioned that as well.” Miss Hargreaves settled onto the couch with Miss Bingley, for her younger brother now occupied the chair beside Lydia. Turning slightly to look down the room, Miss Hargreaves continued, “In particular, she has extolled a fine portrait of your late husband, which I was to understand hung above that fireplace there.”

Miss Bingley swiveled to look. “It has been there every other time we have called.”

Lydia followed their gazes to find a painting of a brace of pheasants where Papa Arthur’s portrait usually hung. Annoyance went through her for having not noticed. How could she be ready for the unexpected, as Elizabeth had declared they must be, when she hadn’t even noticed her stepfather’s painting was gone?

“Oh, that.” Mama waved her hand in a negligent way, the motion a touch jerky as nervousness overtook her moment of calm. “I am a silly old woman, you know, and I had my Arthur’s portrait moved to my chambers to be closer to me. Even after all these years, I miss him so.”

“But I had very much hoped to see the general,” Miss Hargreaves replied. “Perhaps I might view his likeness in his sons? I understand there are two.”

“Sons?” Mama asked blankly, and for the first time, Lydia realized that some of her mother’s silliness was pretense.

Lord Franklin lifted a fine-boned hand, indicating the table in the corner. “Yes. The lads one must assume were playing with those cards and soldiers, though in a very untidy manner.”

“We would adore meeting them,” Miss Hargreaves added.

“Untidy indeed.” Mama sniffed. “That is them. A pair of savages, out of hand without the influence of a father. I am afraid they are unfit for such fine company.”

“Oh, but they are lovely lads,” Miss Bingley said, and Lydia tried to recall if the other woman had ever even met Thomas and Matthew.

Mr. Bingley frowned.

“Lord Franklin,” Kitty said loudly, sitting up so straight it appeared painful. “How are you finding the weather this November? Quite lovely, is it not? We do have such lovely weather in Hertfordshire this time of year.” She batted her lashes.

Lydia hid a grin. Kitty, she knew, cared not one jot for keeping Thomas and Matthew away from their guests, and wouldn’t even if she knew the Hargreaves were dangerous to their brothers. Kitty simply wanted the attention of a lord.

Lord Franklin turned a bland smile on Lydia’s sister. “The weather has held fine for traveling, Miss…” He trailed off, cocking an eyebrow.

He means to discourage her by pretending he’s already forgotten her name , Lydia realized, an assumption borne out by the various expressions around the room. Elizabeth would say something now. Something to keep the conversation away from their brothers and to punish this Lord Franklin for insulting Kitty, who stared at him with her mouth open in shock and hurt in her eyes.

“Kitty,” Lydia exclaimed cheerfully as an idea came to her. “Her name is Miss Kitty. You must have seen it a very many times in the entrance hall. She painted all the wonderful watercolors there and she signs every single one.” Which was true, but they were not signed at all legibly. Lydia adopted a startled, apologetic expression and added, “That is, I am assuming you can read?” She turned to Mary. “Lords do learn to read, do they not? Or do they have someone to do that for them?” Not permitting her sister to answer, Lydia returned her attention to Lord Franklin. “I’ve never met a lord before so you must excuse me. Do you know how to read?”

Beside Lydia, Nathan Hargreaves began coughing.

Lord Franklin stared at her like she’d scurried out from beneath the sofa to ask that question.

“My brother is perfectly capable of reading,” Miss Hargreaves stated.

Lydia turned to her. “Oh, that is a relief. I don’t know much about parliament and all, but I know lords are there, and it would be terrible if none of them could read. Do you read, Miss Hargreaves?”

“We all read, Miss…” She too trailed off, employing the same tactic her brother had. “Was it Laura?”

“Laura is such a nice name.” Lydia smiled broadly. “Mama, don’t you think Laura is a nice name? Why did you not name me Laura? It would please Miss Hargreaves if you had and we must always think of her, her being the sister of a lord.”

“You are named after Mr. Bennet’s aunt, to be certain,” Mama said, sounding not one bit as annoyed as she would usually be by such babbling from the daughter who had cost her Longbourn. “Such a lovely woman, Mr. Bennet’s aunt. Such a shame she is no longer with us.”

“Do you have any aunts, Miss Hargreaves?” Lydia asked the moment her mother fell silent, before anyone else could speak.

“I hear that London is lovely this time of year,” Kitty said, casting Lydia a repressive look before turning to smile at Lord Franklin. “I imagine you spend a great deal of time in London, Lord Franklin. I have not been. Tell me, what is your favorite diversion?”

“I enjoy spending time in my clubs where, you must know, women are not permitted,” he replied coolly before slanting a look at Jane and winking. “Although for a lovely enough miss, I am certain the rules could be bent.”

On Jane’s other side, Mr. Bingley bristled.

“Now, Lord Franklin, you must not cast such looks on my Jane,” Mama said quite sternly. “The banns have already been read once for her and Mr. Bingley.”

Miss Bingley gave a brittle laugh. “I am certain Lord Franklin only meant to tease.”

“Indeed, I meant no disrespect to you or your lovely daughter, Mrs. Oakwood.” Lord Franklin looked past Jane to Mr. Bingley, his face unreadable. “Or to my host. I beg your pardon, Bingley. I meant only to emphasize that you have captured the loveliest creature in England.”

“When will the happy occasion take place?” Miss Hargreaves asked.

Jane looked up, smiling, and Lydia saw the glint of avarice in Lord Franklin’s eyes as her sister said, “Immediately following the Yuletide Season.”

“So long from now?” Miss Hargreaves asked. “How singular. I hope the wait is not indicative of the strength of your affection.”

“They merely wish for us all to be able to enjoy the upcoming ball and then Christmas at Netherfield Park,” Miss Bingley said quickly. “You will enjoy the festivities I have planned. Everything has been ordered from London so as not to disappoint.”

“I am certain it will be splendid,” Mary said evenly as Miss Hargreaves opened her mouth to speak. “I would be very interested in hearing what you are having brought in.”

Miss Bingley turned to Mary with a smile, but before she could answer, Miss Hargreaves said, “I am much more interested in the guest list. Tell me, will the two master Oakwoods be in attendance?”

“Not that we plan to wait for this ball to meet them,” Lord Franklin added.

In the chair beside Lydia, Mr. Hargreaves stiffened, his expression pinching.

Kitty sat forward. “I am certain you can meet my brothers at some point, but I doubt they, or Lydia, will be attending. They are too young.”

“I do hope to meet them.” Lord Franklin looked about the room. “Let me be blunt, for we seem to be dancing about the topic. It is my speculation that your late husband, Mrs. Oakwood, was the Earl of Pillory’s lost son, General Matthew Rodrik Arthur Oakwood. If that is the case, then your sons are the heir and spare to the earldom. I have come here to ascertain the likelihood of this. It would please me greatly to be able to bring my cousin such welcome news.”

Everyone went still except for Kitty, whose mouth dropped open.

She whirled to their mother. “Mama, is this true? Am I the sister of a future earl? And to think that I almost threw away my future on Longbourn.” She sniffed, casting a quick look down her nose at Mary.

Mrs. Oakwood laughed, the sound a touch frantic. “Do not be absurd, though I can guess at how Lord Franklin came to such an error. My Arthur warned me of this. He is the distant cousin to another General Oakwood. The man of whom you speak, Lord Franklin. Due to their distant, very distant, familial connection, that General Oakwood mentored my Arthur and helped him rise through the ranks. As to all those other names and titles, none of those belong to my Arthur. You may ask my brother, the local attorney, Mr. Phillips, a man with whom an earl’s heir would never establish familial ties. He has all the papers you might need to see. I am sorry you have come all the way to Hertfordshire on a fool’s errand.”

“But, Mama.” Kitty clutched Mrs. Oakwood’s arm. “Could it not be true? Papa Arthur was always reticent when speaking about his past.”

“Was he?” Lord Franklin asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I do believe the best way for us to ascertain the truth is to meet your sons, Mrs. Oakwood, and ascertain if they resemble the earl.” Miss Hargreaves offered a bright, diamond-edged smile. “We would be so pleased to welcome you all into the family.”

“Mama?” Kitty asked, her voice pleaded.

Lydia wondered how much trouble she would get into if she stuffed a handkerchief in her sister’s mouth.

A rattle sounded in the hall and Mrs. Oakwood’s head jerked as she turned her attention to the drawing room doorway. “Our tea has arrived,” she declared.

Indeed, their tea had arrived, along with Cousin Robert, who joined them. Tea commenced with Kitty pouring, using every excuse to lean across the table in Lord Franklin’s direction, blatantly displaying her assets in a way Lydia knew was wrong but also envied, as her youthfully cut gowns didn’t allow for such unabashed flirting. Not that she wanted to flirt with Lord Franklin. He made her skin crawl.

The Hargreaves twins exchanged a look and did not resume their insistence that they must meet Thomas and Matthew. Lord Franklin instead concentrated on flattering Jane, to both Mr. and Miss Bingley’s clear disapproval. Mama did her best to keep the conversation on the weather, with Mary, Cousin Robert, and Lydia all helping her, the latter quite pleased with her performance. Maybe after today, Mama would permit her to remain in the drawing room more often.

Tea was winding down when Mr. Hargreaves leaned a bit nearer to Lydia and whispered, “Do not be fooled. They have not given up.”

Lydia turned to him, surprised, for he’d made no effort to speak thus far, to the whole of the room or to her. “Then they will have a very frustrating visit,” she said primly, but quietly.

“Whatever are you two children whispering about?” Miss Hargreaves asked, peering over the rim of her cup at them. She returned it to its saucer to reveal a hard, condescending smile.

“Strawberries,” Lydia said immediately, using the first word that came to her mind. In her experience, any hesitation made it seem as if a lie were being told. She would much rather prevaricate over a random word that popped into her head than hesitate.

Miss Hargreaves’ eyebrows rose, her gaze sweeping the table. “Strawberries are not in season, and I see nothing of them here. Not even a preserve.”

“Precisely.” Lydia made sure to keep her eyes wide and round, and to not look away. “Would it not be lovely if they were here, though?”

A line appeared to mar Miss Hargreaves smooth brow.

Beside Lydia, Mr. Hargreaves raised his teacup to take a sip, the cup blocking any but her from taking in his smile.

“I do believe we have strawberry preserves if you would care for some,” Mama said placidly.

She didn’t look Lydia’s way, but her youngest was certain she felt her mother’s approval. Mama didn’t care for the Hargreaves any more than Lydia did. Perhaps less.

“No, thank you,” Miss Hargreaves said, and turned to Lord Franklin. “In truth, I believe we are due back. I must have plenty of time to change for dinner.”

“Oh, but you look so lovely,” Kitty exclaimed. “I cannot imagine what you could change into that would be more splendid.”

Miss Hargreaves looked down her nose at Lydia’s older sister. “No. I imagine you cannot.” She stood, causing everyone to rise.

Lord Franklin bowed. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Oakwood, Miss Bennet.” The look he leveled on Jane made her cheeks pink. On her other side, Mr. Bingley scowled. “Perhaps when next we call, we may meet your sons.”

“Oh, it will be splendid to have you call again,” Mama said, dipping a curtsy. “It has been our honor to meet you, Lord Franklin, Miss Hargreaves, Mr. Hargreaves. A distinct honor. One we are too low to hope to repeat, certainly. We cannot expect you to condescend to notice the likes of us.”

Their guests departed, both Mr. and Miss Bingley looking rather sour, and Kitty began a monologue about how she would win Lord Franklin’s affection. Normally, Mama would have joined in, but Mrs. Oakwood sat with a brooding frown, not seeming to hear her favorite daughter. Lydia wondered if her mother’s thoughts went to the sealed letters in the hidden drawer. Specifically, to the ones Papa Arthur had left to be delivered to his father in a time of need. Was now that time?

Apparently not enjoying Kitty’s monologue, Mary and Cousin Robert went to walk in the garden, followed by a maid. Jane excused herself to her room, leaving as well, so Lydia proclaimed that she would return to Nanny Hill, which she did not. She went out to the stable instead, to brush Mare Marian again. She required time to think over their first meeting with the Hargreaves, and to decide what Elizabeth would do, were she here.

Which Lydia wished she was. Why did her most capable sister have to pick this moment to race off to London? Lydia knew it had to do with Mr. Darcy, and very much suspected that her sister loved him, but they needed Elizabeth at Dovemark.