Mr and Mrs Darcy 02 Suspense & Sensibility (22 page)

"I am ready."

If Harry Dashwood was still capable of regret, Elizabeth hoped it would
pierce him at the sight of her sister this morning.

"This interview will go quickly, Kitty," Elizabeth said. "And
should it become too unpleasant, Darcy will intervene."

Kitty merely nodded her agreement.

The ride to Pall Mall was quiet, especially in contrast to the bustle in
which they found Harry's townhouse upon their arrival. Sounds of construction
below and rearrangement above resonated throughout the residence. The subcellar
larder project was well under way, and Mr. Dashwood apparently intended to
celebrate its installation by reorganizing his furniture.

The housekeeper, a dour woman who looked as if she'd been in service
forever, admitted them. Her gaze assessed them as they entered. Elizabeth
instinctively disliked her.

"Did you not say a manservant turned you away when you last called?"
she asked Darcy.

"Perhaps he has exchanged his salver for a shovel."

They were forced to wait in the foyer ten minutes before being shown to
the drawing room, as the staircase was monopolized by the removal of a very
large and - from the groans it
forced from the three footmen who struggled with
it - very heavy mirror. The style of its detailed gold frame suggested it might
be an antique and piqued Elizabeth's curiosity. She felt at once drawn to and
repelled by the looking glass; a sudden urge to gaze into it seized her, but
her feet remained rooted to the floor. It was as if her body refused to follow
where her mind would go, forbidding her to take close interest in anything
having to do with Harry Dash wood.

As the servants wrestled the mirror down the stairs, it caught a beam of
sunlight lancing the transom window. Golden arcs bounced off the varied
surfaces of the gilt frame to splay upon the walls, and the glass itself reflected
a fiery glow. The burst of brightness temporarily blinded one of the footmen,
who cried out and stopped short. His sudden halt unbalanced his assistants, and
for a few heart-stopping moments it appeared that the servants and treasure
would tumble down the stairs together.

"Don't drop it, you fools!" Mr. Dash wood's voice echoed from
above. "That glass cannot be damaged!"

The men somehow regained their grips and footing. Elizabeth exhaled. As
they slowly continued their descent, she raised her eyes to see Mr. Dashwood
monitoring the proceedings from two flights up.

"Careful!" He bounded down to hover over them as they
negotiated the final few steps. When they reached the base of the stairs, they
gingerly leaned their burden against the wall and paused to catch their
breaths.

"Pack it up securely for the journey. I do not want it arriving at
Norland in pieces." Mr. Dashwood then acknowledged Kitty and the Darcys. "Your
visit is a pleasant surprise," he said. "Do come upstairs."

They followed him to the drawing room. He offered them a drink - some
sort of sulfur-smelling liquor he called "brimstone" - but they declined.
While he poured a glass for himself, Elizabeth noted the portrait of Sir
Francis above the fireplace, as
Fanny Dash wood had described. She was struck,
on this viewing, by how very much Harry resembled his ancestor not only in
physical person but also in character. Their bearing at this moment was
identical, their facial expressions the same, their countenances nearly
indistinguishable - and their reputations more alike every day. Sir Francis may
have been rich, but Harry had chosen the poorest of his relations to emulate.

"You must be feeling better if you plan a trip to Norland,"
Elizabeth observed. In truth, however, he did not look altogether well, and had
she not learned from Lady Chatfield the real reason he'd lain abed the past
three days, she would have believed his recent claims of indisposition. His complexion
seemed paler, and his jaw more slack than when she'd seen him last. Dissipation
was not a flattering cosmetic.

"The glass is going. I am not."

"I thought you were enamored of it?" Darcy asked.

"It has become rather too familiar to me." Mr. Dashwood tossed
back his drink. He poured a second, then sat on the sofa and patted the place
next to him. "Kitty, love, come sit beside me."

She instead moved one step closer to Elizabeth. "I think I shall
stand."

He shrugged and rose. "As you wish. I would never deny a lady her
pleasure."

"Miss Bennet has a matter she needs to discuss with you,"
Darcy said.

"Indeed? I am all attention."

Kitty looked uncertainly at Darcy and Elizabeth, then took in a deep
breath and began. "Mr. Dashwood, it has come to my knowledge that - "
Her gaze slid back to Elizabeth, who nodded in encouragement. "That is,
I've been given to understand that - " She became flustered.

Amusement played at the corners of his mouth. "God's teeth, child!
Spit it out before we all die of old age."

Kitty squared her shoulders. "Mr. Dashwood, do you have a paramour?"

He did not so much as blink. "Yes. Do you?"

Her eyes widened, and she took a step backward. Elizabeth caught her
elbow to steady her.

Darcy approached him. "You insult Miss Bennet with the very - "

"I believe this conversation is between me and my fiancee."

"Former fiancee."

"Indeed?" He glanced from Darcy to Kitty. "Is this your
wish? To break our engagement?"

She swallowed. "Can you explain why I should not?"

"So I have taken a lover. Take one yourself, if you like."

"Mr. Dashwood!"

"Mr. Dashwood!"

The first exclamation was Darcy's; the second, following hard upon, was
Kitty's. Darcy appeared ready to choke the cocky youth. He opened his mouth to
say more, but Elizabeth stayed him with a look. "Go on, Kitty," she
said.

"Mr. Dashwood, I hardly know you anymore." Kitty repeated the
words she'd rehearsed with Elizabeth this morning. "You are not the man I
consented to wed. Ever since we returned from Norland, you have treated me and
my family with disrespect."

"How so?"

"Through your conduct toward me and your falsehoods to me. You lied
about being indisposed these past three days - "

"I said I could not rise from bed. What you inferred from that is
your own misconstruction."

"You lied about not seeing me at Grafton House."

"I acknowledged you as soon as you spoke to me."

"You lied about having gone to Devonshire - "

"Devonshire? Why the devil would I go to Devonshire?"

"That is the very thing I wondered as you stood before us
insisting
that you had." Her voice wavered. "Mr. Dashwood, I don't understand
what has come over you. My affection for you would have enabled me to bear a
great deal, but I cannot, and will not, tolerate a mistress."

"Then I hope you enjoy leading the apes."

Kitty looked as if she'd been slapped. Indeed, indignation stained her
cheeks red. "I do not intend to die a spinster."

"Oh, Kitty, you are so green! That's what I found charming in you.
Your husband, whoever he is, will have a lover - perhaps a dozen of them. And
if you think he does not dally, that only means he is less honest about it than
I."

Kitty's face contorted at the bleak portrait Mr. Dashwood painted of
men's fidelity Even Elizabeth cringed at his cynicism.

"Not all men share your dishonorable nature," Darcy said.

"Of course you would say that, Mr. Darcy. You must - your wife is
present."

"I think we have all said quite enough," Elizabeth declared.
She took her sister's hand. "Come, Kitty. Mr. Dashwood can add nothing
worth your hearing."

Kitty stood motionless, seemingly unable to wrest her gaze from Mr.
Dashwood's face. It held complete indifference. Her own exhibited an expression
so full of sorrow and incomprehension and hurt and grief that Elizabeth
suffered to witness it.

"Come," Elizabeth repeated gently.

They went downstairs, where Mr. Dashwood's footmen were covering the
mirror in preparation for its transport to Norland. Kitty paused to cast a
final look of regret toward the drawing room above.

Elizabeth put her arm around her sister's waist and directed her toward
the door. "You are better off without him, Kitty," she said. "Though
the broken engagement pains you today, you shall be relieved by it tomorrow."

Kitty nodded and allowed herself to be led away Elizabeth's own gaze
rose one final time to the drawing room door. Her
mind's eye compared again the
Dashwood on the sofa to the Dashwood above the fireplace. Their uncanny
resemblance struck her. Which one of them would time prove the greater
miscreant?

Her money
said the one swallowing brimstone.

Eighteen

"As he required the promise, I could not do less
than give it."

- John
Dashwood
to Fanny Dashwood,

Sense and Sensibility,
Chapter 2

"You returned home early."
Darcy, having himself just en-tered the townhouse, helped his wife remove her
wrap.

"Mr.
Dashwood was there."

"I see."

He had
expected to arrive home to an empty townhouse but had found the ladies
returning at the same time. Elizabeth had escorted Georgiana and Kitty to a
ball, where all hoped the amusement would elevate Kitty's spirits. In the
fortnight since she broke her engagement, Kitty had done her best to project an
air of cheerfulness to those around her, but she was a poor actress. Anyone
could see that Mr. Dashwood's mistreatment had left wounds that would not soon
heal.

Kitty said
little as she and Georgiana removed their own wraps. He'd never known a young
lady to return home from a ball in such subdued spirits. Out of deference to
Kitty's feelings, Darcy withheld further comment on the owner of Norland in her
presence. But he gave free rein to his own thoughts. A plague take Mr.
Dashwood! The scoundrel had
also been the reason Darcy cut short his evening
at White's.

In a span of mere weeks, Mr. Dashwood had risen to prominence as the
Bacchus of the
beau monde
and had attracted to himself an entourage of
like-minded new friends bent on testing the limits of how far decent society
would excuse dishonor in men of fortune and rank. The Polite World was at once
repulsed and fascinated by the new Pied Piper of London, scandalized by the
spectacle but unable to tear away its attention. Drawing rooms and coffeehouses
reverberated with tales of his exploits - speculation as to the identity of his
mistress, lurid accounts of parties he'd hosted, amazed descriptions of his
capacity for drink and boldness at games of chance. It was said his appetites,
for everything from wine to women, were insatiable.

The Darcys were no longer the only ones drawing comparisons between
Harry Dashwood and his notorious ancestor. Sir Francis enjoyed fresh renown in
the discourse of the
ton,
and it was speculated that Harry would achieve
even greater heights - or depths - of infamy. The Hell-Fire Club was openly
discussed in gentlemen's clubs, and even ladies became acquainted with its
name, if not its more salacious details. It was even said that Harry was Sir
Francis reborn, his new band of merry men the former Monks of Medmenham, all
reincarnated from the ashes of the underworld to fan the flames of Hell-Fire on
earth once more.

That last, of course, was fiction surpassing anything Mrs. Radcliffe
could write, but the gentlemen at White's Club tonight had talked of little
else. Darcy had quickly become weary of the subject and departed.

Kitty and Georgiana bade them good night almost immediately and went to
their own chambers. When Elizabeth's sister was out of auditory range, he
turned to his wife.

"How was Mr. Dashwood this evening?"

"About the same. No - worse. Poor Kitty couldn't bear to be
in the same room with him.
Fortunately, he spent most of his time at the card tables."

"He
gambles so much at the clubs that I wonder he troubled himself to attend a
private ball to hazard his fortune."

"He
seemed to be there with his Ferrars relations. Lucy Fer-rars dragged him away
from
vingt-et-un
long enough to dance a set with Regina, and another with
herself. Now that he is a free man once more, I think Mrs. Ferrars works harder
than ever to orchestrate a match between Mr. Dashwood and her daughter. They
had their heads quite close together several times."

"She is
not bothered by his licentiousness? Or his mistress?" The identity of
Harry's paramour remained secret, but her existence was by now generally known.

"So
long as he has money, matters of character would constitute secondary
considerations - if, indeed, considerations at all - regarding any gentleman
who paid court to Regina. Lucy intends a profitable match for her daughter, and
suitors are not exactly circling."

"They
probably fear being devoured if they get too close."