Mr and Mrs Darcy 02 Suspense & Sensibility (20 page)

Kitty turned deep scarlet. "Good - good night, Mr. Dash-wood."

Harry next turned to Elizabeth. "Mrs. Darcy, I thank you for your
hospitality." He reached for her hand.

Elizabeth hesitated, sincerely hoping her wrist wouldn't follow the same
path as Kitty's, but Mr. Dashwood merely grasped her fingers in his palm.
Nevertheless, she experienced a sense of revulsion at his touch - a reaction,
she presumed, to his unconscionable conduct all evening.

She masked her discomfort, but he regarded her curiously. There passed
between them something unspoken. Again, she had the sense that a shift had
taken place within him. He was at once more and less the Mr. Dashwood who had
entertained them at Norland - more intense in his address, more bold in his
actions, more hungry in his pursuit of desires. Yet less disarming, less
moderate, less kind. Where before his manner put one at ease, it now set one on
edge. It was as if he'd lost his balance,
and those
around him shared that endless moment of anxiety before it is known whether one
will fall.

"Take care of yourself, Mr. Dashwood," she said.

He stepped back, and the moment was broken. His expression became brash
once more. "I always do."

Her husband's displeasure at the exchange was evident, and lingered
longer than Mr. Dashwood. After their guest departed, Darcy's continued glower
induced Kitty and Georgiana to seek the refuge of their own chambers for the
night.

"You have been in ill temper since your private conversation with
Mr. Dashwood," Elizabeth observed when they were alone. "What took
place?"

"More of what you witnessed at dinner."

"Mr. Dashwood attempted to seduce you, too? I hope you told him I
would object."

His scowl indicated that he was in no humor for humor. "I informed
him that there were numerous elements of his behavior to which I object."

"And he said...?"

"Essentially, that the devil may care, but he does not."

"Well!" She sank against the sofa, taken aback by this latest
evolution - or, more accurately, devolution - in Mr. Dash-wood's character. "Was
it the wine talking?"

"I wish it were. Then we could hope he would awaken tomorrow embarrassed
by this whole evening. But no, I think he knew exactly what he was saying to
me, and the effect it would have. He knows everything, you see. At least, more
than I do, or so he told me. He
is
one-and-twenty, after all -
practically a sage."

"Careful - I am one-and-twenty."

"You
possess common sense.
I am in serious doubt as to whether Mr. Dashwood does."

"He had sense enough to fall in love with Kitty."

"And that is the last sensible act he performed. Since we left
Norland, he has demonstrated nothing but poor judgment,
self-absorption,
and flagrant disrespect for the rules and conventions of society. He has
brazenly told falsehoods right here in this house. He displays an irresponsible
attitude toward money, a childish indulgence in the pursuit of pleasure, and an
adolescent obsession with lewd innuendo. He has discarded his friends for the
company of aging roues and blackguards - and all of this, on the eve of his
marriage to a young woman of good family who cannot possibly countenance his
conduct."

Elizabeth could not argue. Darcy had, in fact, articulated many of her
own thoughts. "He was so affable when we first met him," she said. "Yet
in the span of a fortnight, he has managed to offend nearly all his acquaintance
- from his own family to William Middleton to us. At his current pace, the only
persons still speaking to him by week's end will be the elderly gentlemen who
gathered at his townhouse, and they, only because they cannot hear half of what
he says and fall asleep through the rest." She shivered and crossed her
arms in front of her. It had grown chilly in the room. "Did you learn yet
who those men were?"

Darcy lifted the fire poker from its stand. "I learned more than I
wanted to know."

"Well - -who were they?"

"They were - are - former associates of Sir Francis Dash-wood."

"That distant relation of Harry's? The man in the painting from Norland?"

"The same."

"You never told me what he was so infamous for - I assumed it was because
Kitty was with us in the gallery that day. But we are alone now."

He turned his back to her while he stirred the embers. He took an overly
long time about it; she'd never seen someone lavish half so much attention on a
blaze.

"Darcy?"

He returned the poker to its place but continued to avoid her gaze as he
crossed to the sherry decanter and busied himself in pouring a glass. "Sir
Francis Dashwood founded a secret society that came to be known as the
Hell-Fire Club."

"If it was a secret, how do people know about it?"

"Many of its suspected members were men of significant political
and social standing. You have been in London long enough to know that nothing
can remain a secret among the
ton
forever. Eventually tales of the organization
and its activities created an enormous scandal."

"Of what were the club's members accused?"

"Shocking acts of blasphemy and debauchery."

"Such as?"

"Deeds, Elizabeth, that a gentleman does not speak of to a lady."
He replaced the stopper, but his hand remained atop the decanter.

"Not even to his wife?"

"Especially
his wife."

He finally met her gaze. She'd expected his expression to be shuttered,
for him to withhold himself from her along with the information he so obviously
wished to keep back. But she instead found in his eyes a certain sadness that comes
from knowing more than one wishes about the depths of human wickedness, and a
desire to protect her from that. She let the matter drop.

"So, Mr. Dashwood brought the portrait of Sir Francis back to
London with him, and now he's behaving like a rakehell himself and entertaining
the old fellow's friends," she said. "One wonders what prompted this
sudden interest in his family tree."

"It defies reason. Of all his ancestors, Sir Francis is the one Mr.
Dashwood should least admire - especially now that he is engaged to a respectable
young lady."

"Maybe that is his motive. By demonstrating to his mother what a
truly wayward son he could be, he hopes to reconcile her to a marriage with
Kitty as the lesser of two evils."

"If so, his method is shortsighted. He risks ruining himself in the
process, and his behavior jeopardizes the likelihood of the marriage ever
taking place."

"True. And were his plan indeed that of extorting his mother's
approval, one might expect him to take Kitty into his confidence, which he has
not. Instead, he left her bewildered by avoiding her for over a se'nnight."

Darcy studied his sherry glass, then set it down untouched. "Perhaps
rather than bringing his mother around to his way of thinking, he has come
round to hers."

"He regrets the proposal?" She contemplated that scenario. "His
ardor has cooled, and now he wishes himself free to follow his mother's advice
and marry more advantageously. So he conducts himself like a cad in hopes Kitty
will cry off the engagement." She shook her head. "That might work if
he confined his misconduct to Kitty alone. But his public behavior has left him
ill qualified to recommend himself to another young lady, particularly one
considered a better catch in the marriage market."

"I disagree. His misdemeanors among the
beau monde
amount to
little of long-term consequence. So far as the Polite World is concerned, he
has cut a few acquaintances on the street, been seen dressed out of fashion,
and haunted some seedier gaming hells - nothing of which half the youngbloods
in London cannot also stand accused. Even if the manners Mr. Dash-wood
exhibited here tonight find display in more public venues, his fortune can more
than make up for that in the eyes of the right young lady's family,
particularly if he eventually corrects himself. A month or year from now, when
the ton's interest has fixed upon someone else, his performance
will be
forgotten altogether or, at worst, remembered as an eccentric phase."

"But what about the gathering he hosted, this 'Hell-Fire Club? Cannot
his new associates damage his reputation?"

"At present, only you and I know about that meeting. Those who attended
are unlikely to speak of it."

"Have you any idea what went on there? Do you think they have renewed
their former activities? I cannot imagine Mr. Dashwood participating in acts so
dreadful that you refuse to describe them to me." At least, not the Mr.
Dashwood she thought she knew. But his conduct tonight left her doubting both
his character and her own ability to judge it.

"I am afraid that I now believe him capable of anything."

"Can he not be saved?"

"I tried to prevail upon him, or at least gain his confidence, but
he is past the point of listening to me." With an air of resignation, he
sank into the chair opposite her. "I think we need to advise your father
of the situation."

Had it gone that far, that fast? "We must be quite sure. One word
from us, and the engagement will be broken." Along with Kitty's heart. "Perhaps
if I talked to Mr. Dashwood myself - "

"Alone?" Darcy's expression made it clear what he thought of
that idea.

"Do you not trust my ability to handle Mr. Dashwood?"

"It is Mr. Dashwood whom I no longer trust."

A Dashwood indeed called at the Darcys' townhouse the following day, but
not Harry. Mrs. John Dashwood arrived as early as was socially acceptable,
demanding to see Kitty. Elizabeth, who had been completing needlework in the
parlor with Kitty, remained with her sister for moral support despite
Fanny's request for a private
interview. Fanny's displeasure, obvious upon her arrival, was compounded by Elizabeth's
polite unwillingness to abandon Kitty to a cozy tete-a-tete with her future
mother-in-law.

Mrs.
Dashwood accepted Elizabeth's invitation to sit, but perched so far on the edge
of her seat that Elizabeth mused whether enough chair supported Harry's mother
to keep her from sliding to the floor. Fanny managed, however, to maintain her
balance, aided, no doubt, by the ramrod reinforcing her back.

"I have
just left Harry in Pall Mall." Apparently, this declaration ought to have
furnished the sisters with sufficient explanation for Mrs. Dashwood's present
visit. They, however, required more clarification.

"I hope
you left him well?" Kitty asked.

"I
should say not!" Fanny scowled at Kitty as if she'd had something to do with
it. Kitty melted into the sofa, holding her embroidery frame before her like a
shield. Unfortunately, it lacked the power to deflect self-righteous
indignation. "Oh, he was in high spirits, to be sure. But not well. Not
behaving well at all!"

After the performance
they'd witnessed the night before, Elizabeth could only imagine how Harry had
treated the mother with whom he was already at odds.
That
was an
exchange she wished she could have overheard.

"Since
I returned to town, I have heard nothing but what a scapegrace my son is making
of himself. I will not have him dragging the Dashwood name through the gutters
of St. James's, to become the latest
on-dit
at Almack's. And I told him
so. His aunt Lucy was there when I arrived, telling him the same thing."

How
delighted Mr. Dashwood must have been, to have two harridans descend upon him
in the early hours to continue Darcy's conduct lecture where it had left off
the night before.

That Lucy had taken it upon herself to correct Harry surprised
Elizabeth, as she presumed Mrs. Ferrars was still trying to maneuver her
daughter into his affections, but perhaps hope that Regina would one day share
the Dashwood name had motivated her desire to preserve it.

"The whole house was at sixes and sevens!" Fanny continued, apparently
neither requiring nor desiring another participant in the conversation. "Workmen
coming in to dig some sort of larder under the cellar! They continually
interrupted us. You would think, from the amount of instruction Harry was
obliged to offer, that he had just hired them this morning to start the
project! Then two footmen brought a portrait of that dreadful Sir Francis down
from Harry's chamber and on his orders started hanging it immediately - while
we were sitting there conversing. The place was such a jumble I could scarcely
hold his attention!"

"Mr. Dashwood has hung the portrait in his drawing room?"
Elizabeth asked. She was starting to think Harry obsessed with his ancestor.

"Right above the fireplace! I didn't even know he'd removed it from
Norland. I took one look at the thing and asked why he wanted that portrait
displayed instead of the one I'd given him, and do you know what he said to me?
'Madam, five minutes in your presence have convinced me that Sir Francis is
better company than any you can provide.' He said that! To his own mother!"
She launched a piercing look at Kitty. "He never would have said such a
dreadful thing to me before he met you, Miss Bennet."