Lady Helen said, “I confess I share your fears, but he instructed us to stay here, and here we shall remain until he returns. This concerns gentlemen, not swooning females.”
Elizabeth had no opportunity to reply, for a sharp familiar voice sounded to her right. Miss Bingley stood staring down at her.
“Miss Eliza, what do you do here in London, ma’am? I cannot conceive how you gained admittance to this assembly.”
Lady Helen’s brows lifted in astonishment.
“Why, Miss Bingley, is your brother also present tonight?”
“I observed you dance with Mr. Darcy. You are a brazen woman, ma’am. How dare you waltz with him in such a scandalous fashion?”
Lady Helen intervened, and though her voice remained low, her tone was sharp. “You are disrespectful, ma’am. You will govern your tongue or remove yourself from our company. I have no patience with a grasping upstart such as yourself.”
“Who are you to address me as though I were a foolish child? I never…”
Elizabeth rose, interrupting the angry redhead, and performed the introductions.
Miss Bingley reddened. “Lady Helen, Countess of Matlock? "Forgive me, my lady. I did not know." Her curtsy was low and respectful. Then, with cheeks as red as her hair, Miss Bingley retreated in haste.
Lady Helen rose. “Elizabeth, let us visit the retiring room. I stand in need of refreshment.”
“Yes, my lady.” The two ladies withdrew, both worried about Mr. Darcy and his dealings with Lord Dunwich.
Darcy strode up to Dunwich and in a confidential voice said, “I would speak with you privately.”
His lordship smirked. “Growing too hot for you, Darcy?” Yet he followed his rival from the house and into the garden.
“You will stay away from my wife. You disgust her.”
“Do I? Are you certain? Or does the way she looks at me provoke your jealousy?”
The rake spewed other vile insinuations. Then Darcy struck, and Dunwich ducked, but he was too slow. Darcy then drove his fist hard into the man’s flank, and Dunwich doubled over and stumbled backward into the shrubs. Darcy seized him by the coat and hauled him upright, then struck his stomach and forced the breath from him. Another snapped the cad’s head to the side. Then came the final blow, brutal and squarely delivered. Blood spilled from the man’s nose, and he lay sprawled amid the crushed hedge, dazed.
Darcy loomed over him. “I repeat, you will stay away from my wife.” As he turned, Darcy nearly collided with Lord Beckingham.
“Darcy, I am indebted. The fellow has gone too long without being checked.” Lord Beckingham stepped nearer the fallen man and nudged him with the toe of his dancing shoe. “His conduct has demanded correction for years.”
Darcy raised a hand toward the butler, who watched from the entrance of the house. “The man is a cur, Beckingham. He ought not to be tolerated within decent society.”
The butler approached. “Yes, Mr. Darcy?”
“Call for his carriage and ensure Dunwich is removed from here posthaste.”
“At once, sir.”
Meanwhile, Beckingham addressed the fallen man, who had rolled onto his side. “Dunwich, I shall send my second to you tomorrow. If you do not quit the country, I will meet you upon the field of honor.” He turned to the man’s servants. “Get him out of here.”
Darcy drew on his gloves, and the two men reentered the house together.
In the ballroom, Elizabeth leaned close to her aunt and whispered, “Lady Helen, shall we attempt to discover what became of Mr. Darcy and Lord Dunwich?”
“No, Elizabeth. Such matters do not belong to women. We shall visit the retiring room and afterward return to our places. My nephew instructed us to wait, and wait we shall.” She patted Elizabeth’s arm.
“It may ease your mind to know my nephew frequents Jackson’s Saloon. Richard informs me he acquits himself admirably and matches Richard in skill with his fists. Fitzwilliam stands perfectly capable of defending both himself and you. Come.”
When they entered the retiring room, the voices of two ladies drifted toward them.
“I cannot conceive what attracted either gentleman to her.”
