He was accompanied by his valet. Both men were dressed with immaculate precision, though the sea breeze ruffled Mr Darcy’s hair into a state of distracting disorder. He did not look like the severe, untouchable Master of Pemberley, but as someone who had not slept, yet had the energy of a soldier marching into a final battle.
Elizabeth stopped walking, and gripped the wooden handle of her parasol with both hands to prevent them from trembling.
The gentlemen came to a halt three paces away.
Darcy executed a formal bow, his eyes fixed upon Elizabeth’s face.
Horlicks executed an equally flawless bow. His attention, however, was directed firmly to the maid.
“Good morning, Miss Bennet.” Mr Darcy spoke with a rough voice. “I trust the sea air is agreeable this morning.”
“It is perfectly agreeable, Mr Darcy.” Elizabeth offered a curtsy. “It is remarkably peaceful without the presence of the regiment.”
Horlicks stepped forward. He bypassed the customary polite greetings and gazed at Winslow with unvarnished, professional reverence.
“Winslow.” Horlicks placed his hand flat over his heart. “I must offer my congratulations. Your execution of the midnight carriage stratagem was a masterpiece of tactical deception. The Duke of Wellington himself could not haveorchestrated a more flawless ambush.”
Winslow lowered her apple and offered a smile.
“Thank you, Mr Horlicks.” Winslow wiped her chin. “The young man was easy to deceive. I’d be better if he’d delivered me to the Scottish border before he realised that he was about to marry me under the anvil.”
Horlicks nodded with solemn understanding.
“A shame, really. But your abilities deserve my utmost respect, Madam.” Horlicks stood perfectly straight. “I only wish I could have contributed more directly to the physical capture of the target. However, I believe I have provided a suitable supporting manoeuvre.”
Elizabeth looked at the valet with curiosity.
“What do you mean, Horlicks?” Elizabeth tilted her head.
“Allow me to explain, Miss Elizabeth.” Horlicks did not break his formal posture. “The valet grapevine operates with a speed and efficiency that the Royal Mail can only envy. I found it necessary to pay a visit to the kitchens of several prominent households early this morning.”
Mr Darcy crossed his arms behind his back, fighting and losing the battle with a smile.
“I informed my colleagues regarding the exact nature of Mr Wickham’s failed elopement.” Horlicks continued smoothly. “I provided a detailed, factual account of his attempt to steal a wealthy heiress, only to be outwitted into absolute submission by a seventy-six-year-old servant.”
Elizabeth stared at the immaculate gentleman’s gentleman.
The brilliance of the strategy was staggering. Gossip among the Brighton elite travelled quickly. Gossip among the Brighton servants travelled at the speed of lightning. By noon, the entire town would know the story. They would not knowLydia Bennet’s name, and even if they did, it would be on the positive side. They would only know that the dashing George Wickham had been comprehensively defeated by an elderly maid.
The humiliation would be legendary.
“His ruin is complete.” Mr Darcy spoke the words with lethal satisfaction. “Colonel Forster stripped him of his commission before sunrise. He was dismissed from the militia with utter disgrace. He can never show his face in polite society again. He will be laughed out of every assembly room in England.”
Elizabeth felt a wave of worry wash over the triumph.
“What of his creditors?” She looked up at Mr Darcy. “According to Lydia, Ensigns Burton and Miller were quite specific regarding their threats. They promised to break his legs if he did not produce the fifty pounds he owes to each one of them.”
“That is an excellent question.” Mr Darcy held her gaze. “It is also his problem.”
“Mr Horlicks.” Winslow turned to Mr Darcy’s valet. “There’s a bench over there. Shall we go and sit for a while?”
Horlicks offered his arm with the grace of a courtier.
“It would be my honour, Madam.”
The valet and the maid walked away. They moved at a slow pace, leaving their employers alone upon the empty expanse of the Brighton stones.
The silence rushed back in, but it was no longer peaceful. It was charged, and crackling with unspoken words.
