Page 12 of Intrigue and Inheritance (Crime and Consequences #3)

The marquess’s gaze lingered assessingly on Georgiana, taking in her elegant appearance and natural grace with obvious calculation before turning to Anne.

Something in his expression shifted subtly as he noted her delicate build and nervous manner, and Darcy could almost see the mental arithmetic as the man weighed Anne’s substantial inheritance against her apparent fragility.

“Miss Darcy, Miss de Bourgh, this is a fortunate meeting indeed,” the marquess intoned in a voice clearly intended to convey aristocratic refinement.

“I was just remarking to Lady Cowper that the quality of society this Season shows marked improvement over recent years. London has been positively overrun with unsuitable elements of late.”

“How fortunate that you find the present company more to your liking, my lord,” Elizabeth replied, her tone perfectly courteous while her eyes conveyed a very different message. “Though I find that true quality of character often transcends mere social position or fortune.”

The marquess’s expression tightened almost imperceptibly at this gentle rebuke. “Indeed, Mrs. Darcy. Though proper breeding does tend to manifest in observable ways.”

Before the conversation could become more pointed, Lady Matlock intervened with the practiced ease of a seasoned hostess. “I believe they are preparing for supper, my lord. Shall we proceed to the dining room? I understand Lady Ashburton has engaged a French chef who works wonders with game birds.”

The supper room presented an elegant spectacle, crystal and silver gleaming in the candlelight as servants moved efficiently among the assembled guests.

Darcy secured places for their party at one of the larger tables, positioning himself strategically between Georgiana and the seat that the marquess seemed intent on claiming.

To his satisfaction, the older man was forced to settle for a position between Mrs. Jenkinson and Lady Matlock, neither of whom was likely to be overwhelmed by his rather ponderous attempts at conversation.

They had just been served the first course when a commotion at the adjoining table drew their attention. A young man with elaborately styled hair and a waistcoat of startling purple silk had risen to his feet, wine glass in hand, and appeared to be preparing to address the company at large.

“Lord Joseph Sturt,” Lord Matlock supplied in an undertone. “Third son of the Earl of Arlington. Fancies himself a poet, God help us all.”

As if on cue, Lord Joseph cleared his throat dramatically. “My dear friends and esteemed company,” he announced in ringing tones, “I have been moved to compose a verse in honour of this most elegant gathering. With your permission, Lady Ashburton?”

Their hostess, looking somewhat taken aback but too well-bred to refuse such a request outright, inclined her head in reluctant permission. Lord Joseph beamed, struck a pose that he clearly believed to be poetically inspired, and launched into his recitation.

“Oh, fairest blooms of England’s garden bright,

Whose beauty shines beneath the chandelier’s light!

Like Venus rising from the foaming sea,

Each maiden here enchants the heart of me!”

Darcy felt rather than saw Elizabeth’s shoulders begin to shake with suppressed laughter beside him.

Across the table, Kitty had pressed her lips firmly together, her eyes dancing with mirth, while even Georgiana’s usual composure threatened to crack at the increasingly florid metaphors and tortured rhymes that followed.

Anne, to his surprise, was regarding the performance with an expression of almost scientific curiosity, as though observing a particularly unusual specimen.

“The night doth sparkle like a diamond rare,

As music floats upon the scented air!

Our hearts, like butterflies on summer’s day,

Among the flowers of beauty flit and play!”

By the final stanza, which involved an elaborate comparison between Lady Ashburton’s ball and Mount Olympus populated by goddesses, even the most dignified guests were struggling to maintain their composure.

Lord Joseph, entirely oblivious to the effect his creation was having, concluded with a flourish and a deep bow, accepting the polite applause that followed with evident satisfaction.

“Magnificent, was it not?” he enquired of no one in particular as he resumed his seat. “Composed just this morning as I was having my hair dressed. Inspiration strikes at the most unexpected moments!”

“Indeed,” murmured Lord Matlock, his expression perfectly grave though his eyes betrayed his amusement. “Most unexpected.”

Kitty ducked her head, ostensibly to adjust her napkin but clearly to hide her giggles behind it.

Georgiana studied her plate with intense concentration, her lips twitching despite her best efforts at propriety.

Anne, to Darcy’s astonishment, actually met his gaze across the table, a glimmer of genuine humour in her usually guarded eyes as she arched one eyebrow in silent commentary.

“A most... memorable composition,” Elizabeth managed, her voice admirably steady though Darcy could feel her foot pressing against his beneath the table in a silent plea for composure. “You must be very proud of your accomplishment, Lord Joseph.”

“Poetry is both my passion and my burden,” the young man declared with apparent sincerity. “To be blessed with such sensitivity to beauty and language is to carry a weighty responsibility. I feel it is my duty to capture these fleeting moments of splendour for posterity.”

This solemn pronouncement, delivered with complete earnestness, nearly undid Kitty’s fragile self-control. She made a sound somewhere between a cough and a strangled laugh, which she hastily disguised as a reaction to a too-hot sip of soup.

Darcy, watching this scene unfold, found himself surprisingly entertained despite his usual disdain for such ridiculous displays.

There was something almost refreshing about Lord Joseph’s utter lack of self-awareness, especially in contrast to the calculated manoeuvres of gentlemen like the marquess.

At least the young poet’s absurdity was genuine rather than a mask for mercenary intentions.

Moreover, the shared moment of suppressed mirth had created an unexpected bond among their party.

Even Anne seemed more animated, exchanging glances of amused understanding with Georgiana and Kitty as Lord Joseph continued to expound upon his artistic calling, blissfully unaware of the effect his performance had created.