“Have you ever chaperoned adolescent females?” Mr. Crosgrove asked innocently.
“Never! My sister had a nurse and a governess when I returned from university. Then, she was established with a companion. I had very little interaction.” He watched the two youngest Bennets closely. The task would not be easy. Yet, he owed atonement to Miss Elizabeth, and unlike Wickham, he always paid what he owed.
Mr. Crosgrove again slapped him on the shoulder. “This I have to see.”
Elizabeth listenedto the two men discussing tactics for managing her sisters as they stood next to her. She almost snorted when Mr. Crosgrove suggested with no little amusement that Mr. Darcy collect handkerchiefs from all assembled to stuff in their mouths, along with a short piece of rope to tie their hands together, keeping them from touching where they should not. Mr. Darcy replied light-heartedly that reins and a bridle with a sturdy bit might work better. She might be offended by their sense of comedy at the expense of her sisters if she had not agreed.
Since she had known Mr. Crosgrove all her life, she knew him to be a trustworthy man. Her judgment of Mr. Darcy was based solely on her observations during the evening. If he were a rake, he would thank her for handing him two easy targets on a silver platter. If he was not, then there was a slight possibility that her sisters would feel at least a measure of restraint. Or, knowing them, they might be emboldened by having the comely newcomer pay attention to them when he had not shown favor to anyone else. Either way, she would watch Mr. Darcy like a hawk does a fat mouse, trusting that wise Mr. Crosgrove would not allow his efforts to go astray.
When the ideas became more and more outlandish, she turned to them.
“Mr. Crosgrove and Mr. Darcy, I fear you need to become far more creative. I have already attempted everything you have mentioned.”
Mr. Darcy’s brows rose almost to his hairline. His mouth gaped open.
“Well, perhaps noteverythingyou suggested. You should know that Lydia is exceedingly stubborn as well as foolishly young. It will take far more than attaching a plow to her skirt and placing a bit in her mouth to keep her in line. Perhaps a ring in her nose? Do keep in mind that she has had fifteen years of daily practice in plotting her course.”
Mr. Darcy’s arms stretched out wide. “What is a man supposed to do, then?”
She shrugged. Oh, how Elizabeth enjoyed this. She still felt the sting of his slight despite his apology. Even so, Mr. Darcy’s efforts promised to be the most entertaining part of the evening, at the least. After all, getting the two silly girls to behave? Impossible!
Darcy dreaded the confrontation.What else could result from trying to teach good manners to a wild child?
He could hardly believe what he saw. Miss Lydia was running her fingers down the chest of a young man whose tongue hung almost to the ground.
The first time he saw a brazen female do that was when he was still in school with…Good lord! Wickham!By the time George Wickham was fifteen, he was an experienced flirt. All the years keeping his former friend out of trouble trained Darcy well for this occasion. He rubbed his palms together.I will conquer this!
As with Wickham, the direct approach was most effective.
“Come, Miss Lydia. I believe the next is our set.”Darcy gave her no opportunity to protest before clasping her arm to lead her to the floor.
“But I am to dance with Maria.”
He stopped their progress once they were at the end of the line. “Behave.”
Rather than fight him, which he expected, the girl chortled. “What a joke! The rich man chooses me as his first partner over Jane or Elizabeth.” She stood across from him with a haughty grin on her face. Stepping scandalously close, she lifted her hand to tease him as she had done to the younger gent.
He stood his ground like he did years ago when training his rambunctious pup. General was a long-legged hound with more energy than sense. Using the same tone as he did his dog, Darcy said, “You will act the part of a lady when you are inmycompany, Miss Lydia.”
“Why? What fun would that be?” she taunted.
He grinned. “Fun? I cannot imagine that you are old enough to know the true definition of the term.”
Her head tilted sideways as the musicians began the introduction. “What do you mean? You cannot tell me that a stoic man like you would know anything at all about what is fun or what is not.”
With General, he always kept a pocket full of treats when the puppy’s behavior was good. Keeping that in mind, he suggested, “There is a game played often in London ballrooms where a debutante is selected to accomplish a specific task. Success earns her a significant reward. The ladies vie to be the one selected. Tonight, I chose you.”
“Ooh! This sounds interesting. What happens if the lady is not successful?”
“She is required to pay a forfeit.”
Miss Lydia missed the first step because her attention was fully on him.“Like what? A kiss? A lock of her hair?”
He could almost see the squirrels running in a cage in her brain. “She is given a task that she would not want to do.”
“Hmm…” The dance separated them. When they came back together, she asked, “How high is the reward?”
“What is the one thing you want at the haberdashery that your father insists you do not need?”
