Page 26 of Her Affections and Wishes

They walked toward the booths, but Elizabeth saw a large shed had been erected with barrels before it. “Oh, can we go inside?” she asked hopefully. “It would be just like going into a tavern!”

“You cannot go into a tavern.”

Irritation settled over her. “Darcy, do not spoil my entertainment. No one will notice me in a packed place like that.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “That shed has a door and windows. It is inside.”

She stared blankly. “Men are allowed inside, are they not?”

“And what do men do indoors, Bennet?” He touched his hat, but she did not understand. “Men remove their hats. Women do not. And unless you committed to this masquerade more fully than I realised, your pinned-up hair will give you away.”

She gave an embarrassed laugh. “Well, a porter outside on this warm day would be refreshing.”

He smirked, but they went to the nearest booth. Elizabeth soon learnt she did not like it, but under Darcy’s watchful eye, she kept a brave face and gamely took a few more swallows. He gave a sideways look, but he let her continue to pretend.

“Well met, Darcy.”

She looked up to see Sir John striding toward their table where he sat across from Darcy. The brim of his hat was not enough to shield his eyes from the sun behind them, and he squinted. “I just lost ten guineas at the cockpit, but I have hopes for the Woodcote Stakes. Have you had a fine afternoon?”

She thought him invariably rude to ignore her. But whilst he and Darcy spoke, she realised it was not that Sir John cut her, but he did not recognise her. Her disguise was not that good, even if she was seated and her hat was low over her face. But people saw what they expected to see, and Sir John did not expect Darcy to be seated with a woman dressed as a man with a mug of beer.

“Will you introduce me to your friend?” he asked good-naturedly.

Darcy was a man with a steady countenance, but his eyes were laughing. “Sir John, my dear friend Bennet. Mr Bennet, Sir John Whitney, of Clare Court.”

“How do ye do?” he said, touching his hat, and Elizabeth copied the gesture, keeping her head tilted down. The sun was behind her, so perhaps her face was also in shadow. “Bennet, did you say? There is a Bennet staying at Woodcote.”

Once she spoke, he would realise the ruse. “A distant cousin, sir.”

Sir John nodded. “She is a pretty girl.”

Darcy loudly set down his mug. “That is a forward thing to say, and to her relation, no less.”

He shrugged. “A mere observation, Mr Bennet. Your relation is too poor for me. I have no intentions there.”

She bowed, but was clearly expected to say something. Lowering her voice a little, she said, “Miss Metcalfe is also in residence, should you require a larger competence than my cousin has.”

Sir John barked a laugh. “When I tire of the freedom I have now, I will purchase further independence by uniting myself to a very rich woman of inferior birth. I can do better than Miss Metcalfe’s five thousand pounds. If either lady wanted less enduring entertainment, I would oblige, but Miss Bennet has made it clear she is not interested, and Miss Metcalfe is wildly determined on our friend Darcy.”

“Miss Metcalfe will have better luck with any man other than me.”

“Maybe she ought to try for old Travers,” Sir John mused. “He is close in age to her mother, though. Lady Metcalfe might take him herself if she did not have a daughter to marry off.” He chuckled. “Miss Metcalfe might have to share Travers’s bed with her own mother if they married.”

Elizabeth dropped her head to hide her reaction. Men spoke plainly when they thought no women were around.

“You have shocked my young friend, Sir John,” Darcy said warningly.

“A green lad like Mr Henry Tessier, then. I suppose he has not made use of the Cyprians? Have you, Darcy? Any recommendations?”

She sensed the irritation and the derision roiling beneath Darcy’s still countenance. “No.”

Sir John laughed again. “I will give you some advice, if I may, Mr Bennet, the same as I told Mr Tessier when I saw him this morning. Darcy, clearly, will be of no help to you. You ought to try coitus digitus or have a dry bob with some girl of your station or lower before you waste your coin on a prostitute without knowing what to do with her.”

Elizabeth choked and coughed on her drink. She knew what the first meant, and could imagine some possibilities for the second. She wished she could unhear this entire conversation. That Sir John would openly canvass such a topic with a man he had just met, and in public, was appalling.

“Sir John, I will thank you not to corrupt any minor in my hearing,” Darcy said in a haughty tone whilst Elizabeth wiped her spilt beer as best she could.

Sir John slapped the table and rose before touching his hat. “I am off to enjoy what I am not likely to find at Woodcote. Well met, Mr Bennet. Darcy.”