“And I shall need my handkerchief if Richard tries to make love to Jane Bennet,” Bingley said with earnest dismay.
Richard waggled his eyebrows, and Rebecca beckoned for him to sit beside her. “Brother, I cannot think why are you taking over the regiment at all! I heard all about your high-stakes game in November.”
Phillip laughed. “You missed some jolly good fun at the club while you were in Hertfordshire, Darcy! This drunken boor – I forget his name – he was far too in his cups to be at the card tables. His friends tried to talk sense into him when he had lost more than enough to Richard, but he was determined to win itall back, and he wagered the deed to his estate, some drab place in Sussex – the entail was broken when he inherited.”
Bingley gaped at him. “Did you win?”
“I did,” Richard said with a serious scowl. “I cannot think it right to deprive the man of his home, even if he was an ass.”
“So give him the Scottish pile you despise, and keep the manor. It cannot be far from London.” Rebecca shrugged her shoulders as if they were talking about a mere trifle, and not an entire estate.
Richard stroked his chin. “I thought I may agree upon a sum, and give him some time to satisfy it, for the return of the deed to the place, Norfolk or something.”
Rebecca screwed up her face. “Norfolk is not in Sussex.”
Richard glanced over at Darcy. “What do you think?”
“Your plan seems fair – what sort of man would gamble his own home? I cannot think he deserves it. But I do not like the notion of you all going to Hertfordshire; Georgiana will need your support, for she is to have a sort of practice season, with limited privileges to attend events with good people, and begin to mix in society.”
“I should be the last person to be of use in such an endeavor,” Rebecca said dismissively, “I am too prone to meddling, and I do not wish to inveigle her in any of my mischief – it would only make you more severe with me, Darcy. And anyhow, I should rather watch Charles and Richard have it out over the famous Miss Bennet. I hope she is a lively creature who shall appreciate their quarrel as much as I shall.”
“She is not,” Darcy said. “Her younger sister Miss Elizabeth is witty, but I found Miss Bennet rather insipid. She is not worth the quarrel you mean to incite.”
Bingley scowled. “She is very sweet – perhaps a little too demure – but….”
“She is shy? Oh no, that will never do. Perhaps for Richard, but you are so agreeable, Charles, that you must find a lady who will give you a little trouble. What of this Miss Elizabeth? Is she pretty? Is she as wicked as me?”
“Nobody could be that,” Darcy said with wry affection. He refused to admit that she was very pretty – she was perhaps the handsomest woman of his acquaintance, for all her laughter and looks of intelligence.
Bingley shifted uncomfortably, as if sensing Darcy’s disapproval of his return to Hertfordshire. “But why have we not teased Darcy? He finally got the ring, and the crow – I should dearly wish to see what that portends!”
“Just the same as I prescribe for you,” Rebecca chided him. “He will fall in love, and she will give him a great deal of trouble before he wins her heart.”
“Ha! Darcy in love!” Phillip shook his head as he emptied the decanter into his glass. “But we cannot have him too distracted, for I shall rely on him as I rejoin society. I have spent my year of mourning at Matlock, and I am ready to be flirted with by all the ladies of the ton. I shall require his good judgement, so that I am not taken in.”
Rebecca gave Darcy an arch look. “And I suppose you would rather play nursemaid to Phillip and Georgie than find romance yourself?”
Darcy sipped at his brandy, those fine eyes lingering in his memory. “Absolutely.”
Chapter Four
London
In the space of a week, Mrs. Jennings and Mrs. Bennet had arranged everything, and the day after the new year it was the two eldest Bennets, rather than the Dashwood sisters, who travelled to London. The solicitous Mrs. Jennings had generously offered to bring all four of the girls to her home in Berkeley Square, and Elizabeth pressed her cousins to consider it, but it was Jane who insisted that Marianne and Elinor be permitted to demur.
It pricked at Elizabeth’s conscience, that she and her sister should discover they possessed a secret fortune, and then were treated to a week of rigorous shopping before being conveyed to a fashionable neighborhood in London, while their cousins remained so dejected. Elinor had done what she could to ease Elizabeth’s conscience, promising that the invitation to remain at Longbourn had been all the kindness she and Marianne needed at such a time. Marianne agreed that the prospect of meeting with their treacherous beaux was daunting enough to completely diminish the allure of the trip, no matter the affection they held for Jane and Elizabeth.
All four of the Dashwoods promised to make merry with the three younger Bennet girls, for the youngest were very vocal in their vexation at being excluded from the London scheme,even if their mother made up for it with new frocks and fripperies to beguile the officers.
As they refreshed themselves from their travels, Jane assured Elizabeth that all would be well. “We shall have the satisfaction of knowing that Mary will be a great proficient at her instrument when we return, for all the time Marianne has promised to spend hours playing duets with her and coaxing her to read novels.”
Elizabeth returned her sister’s playful look. “And if we are unsuccessful in the mission Mamma had tasked us with – catching husbands with our new fortunes – we shall be amply consoled, for the tunes Mary learns are all sure to be terribly melancholy.”
“They will not be so morose with Kitty and Lydia about,” Jane said sweetly. “I think it will do them good to distract themselves from their sorrows by tearing apart hideous bonnets, and imagining half the regiment to be in love with them.”
“And perhaps they shall be,” Elizabeth drawled, waggling her brows. “The new colonel arrives in a few days, and I believe Mr. Wickham is perfectly willing to charm Marianne. Of course, Mamma may not be pleased to see her daughters forced to share the admiration of the officers with their cousins.”
“Aunt Maggie knows well enough, as Mamma perhaps forgets, that the officers cannot be real prospects for any of us, even with our fortune – especially because of that. Papa is sensible of it, I am sure. Elinor and Marianne only want a little reminder that they are lovely, and worth flirting with.”
