Mr and Mrs Darcy 02 Suspense & Sensibility (15 page)

As arranged,
Darcy met Mr. Dashwood at the younger man's townhouse before proceeding to the
earl's. He arrived promptly at the appointed time, Darcy considering tardiness
the eighth deadly sin. Harry, however, kept him waiting in the drawing room a
full quarter hour. Darcy paced impatiently, thankful that at least upon this
visit he hadn't been invited to attend Harry in his dressing room. Despite his
growing kinship with Mr. Dashwood, he preferred to maintain more formality in
his relationships. He did have to admit, however, that the previous opportunity
to see Mr. Dashwood's newly discovered looking glass had proven an unexpected
pleasure. He wondered if the portrait of Sir Francis had also found its way to
Harry's suite, as he had not seen it more publicly displayed when he'd been
ushered to the drawing room.

When Mr.
Dashwood at last joined Darcy, he appeared to have rushed his toilette. His
cravat slanted asymmetrically, and his hair looked even more unruly than was
the current fashion. 'Twas a far cry from the style-conscious buck who had held
court before his looking glass, or even the elegant host who had so recently
entertained them at Norland.

"Mr.
Darcy, do forgive me." Harry immediately sent for his hat and greatcoat. "But
one minute more, and we can be off."

"I hope
nothing is amiss?"

Harry
shrugged into the overcoat. "Pray remind me, who are we meeting?"

"Mr.
Arthur Young."

Harry stared
at him blankly.

"One of
the greatest English writers on agriculture?" Darcy prompted.

"Oh,
yes - yes, of course. And we will be discussing what, exactly?"

"Land
enclosure." Darcy suppressed his growing annoyance.

When he'd tendered the earl's invitation a se'nnight ago, Mr. Dashwood
had accepted enthusiastically. Darcy's review of Norland's records had revealed
that, far from cheating Harry, Norland's steward had seized upon the lack of
direct supervision following John Dashwood's death as an opportunity to
implement practices the estate should have adopted years earlier. Harry's
father had enclosed the land but not altered its tillage methods to take
advantage of the larger holdings; as a result, crop production fell far short
of its potential. Darcy had suggested that Harry study Jethro lull's
agricultural theories to better understand the changes his steward now sought
to make, and Young was a strong advocate of Tull's methods.

Darcy remained undecided about whether to enclose Pember-ley's lands.
Though there was no doubt that the practice vastly improved productivity, it
turned small farmers into landless laborers with no stake in the earth they
worked so hard to cultivate. Darcy disliked the thought of robbing his tenants
of their independence. Yet he had to consider the greater good of the people in
his care, and with England at war, growing enough food to feed its families was
the duty of every landowner. In Harry's circumstances, since Norland was
already enclosed, the fields ought to be cultivated to their full potential.
Mr. Dashwood had agreed, and welcomed the invitation to learn more. Now,
however, Harry seemed completely uninterested.

"Do you still wish to accompany me, Mr. Dashwood?"

"What? Oh - yes. Certainly! I remember our conversation now. I'm sorry
- I just forgot for a moment there. I'm sure this afternoon will prove most
instructional."

They stepped into the street, where Darcy's carriage waited. A light
mist enveloped the city, casting everything in greyness. In the dreary light,
Darcy noted circles under Harry's eyes. Had he been out all night? If he had
risen late, that might explain his careless appearance and distracted demeanor.

"Mr. Dashwood, are you quite well?"

"Hmm?
Oh, fine - fine. I didn't sleep well last night, that's all. But I assure you,
Mr. Young shall have my full attention."

Mr. Dashwood
remained true to his word and managed to attend to Arthur Young's discourse
well enough so as not to embarrass Darcy, who'd gone to some trouble on his behalf
to obtain a coveted invitation to the private party. His distraction, however,
returned at dinner the following evening. Harry was their guest for a family
supper, but poor Kitty had all she could do to carry on a conversation with her
fiance. Were it not for Elizabeth, Georgiana, and Darcy, the confused
bride-to-be would have spent most of the meal in soliloquy.

"I
cannot account for Mr. Dashwood's conduct this evening," Elizabeth
remarked later, when they had retired for the night.

Darcy could
not explain it, either. "He behaved similarly on our way to Chatfield's
yesterday. When I enquired whether he was all right, he said he had not slept
well."

"He did
look tired."

In fact, the
circles under Mr. Dashwood's eyes had darkened in the four-and-twenty hours
since Darcy had last seen him. "I wonder what disturbs his rest."

"I hear
his mother has returned to town. Perhaps she provokes him."

"From
the exchange we overheard at Norland, it does not sound as if her
disapprobation is likely to cost him any sleep."

"He did
seem quite confident in his decision, and equal to the challenge of opposing
her."

Darcy hoped
nothing too grave caused Mr. Dashwood's sleeplessness. He indeed now regarded
Harry as a brother. Independent of Mr. Dashwood's relationship with Kitty,
they'd struck a rapport in which they both seemed to take pleasure. Harry was
eager to benefit from Darcy's greater experience of the world, and Darcy found
that he enjoyed lending his guidance. He looked forward to their friendship
soon being reinforced by a true family connection.

As Darcy's
reflections strayed to the approaching wedding, a troubling thought entered his
head. One that would explain an apparent lack of sleep.

Elizabeth
noted his frown "What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing.
Idle musings." He reached for the candle snuffer, but she stayed his hand.

"Darcy?"

He sighed. "Many
an engaged young man has spent his last precious days of bachelorhood sowing
wild oats."

Her brows
rose. "And you think Mr. Dashwood - "

"Not
necessarily. Mr. Dashwood seems to have settled down since meeting Kitty."

"But
now that he has secured her hand, perhaps he indulges his more carefree
impulses?"

"London
offers plenty of temptation to a young man about to lose his freedom." The
clubs abounded with tales of prewed-ding excess on the part of prospective
bridegrooms. Were dissipated nights of drinking, gaming, or worse to blame for
Harry's recent fatigue?

"We
shall give Mr. Dashwood the benefit of the doubt," Elizabeth declared. She
released his hand, freeing him to extinguish the candles. She watched as he
snuffed out all but the one beside their bed.

"So,
how did you spend them?" she asked.

"Spend
what?"

"Your
last
precious days of bachelorhood
- before you
lost your freedom?"
She
gave him an insouciant look. "Another wife might take language like that
amiss, you know."

"Then
thank heaven I have only one." He blew out the last candle. "For if I
had two with tongues as saucy as yours, I should never be able to keep up."

Ten

The imaginations of other people will carry them away
to form wrong judgments of our conduct, and to decide on it by slight
appearances.

- Sense
and Sensibility,
Chapter 36

"Now
Kitty - I may call you Kitty, mayn't I, since we are to be family soon? Kitty,
dear, I wouldn't bring this up to save my life if I didn't think it was
something you ought to know. But people are
talking."

Lucy Ferrars, her daughter in tow, had called upon Kitty and Elizabeth
early. This was their second visit to the Darcys' town-house, the first, motivated
far more by duty than delight, having taken place the day Kitty and Harry's
engagement announcement appeared in the papers. It had been returned with equal
brevity and palpable lack of interest. Today, however, Lucy had made a dramatic
entrance, announcing that she had desperately important news about Harry to
impart.

Kitty held her breath, unable to utter a syllable as she sat beside Lucy
on the sofa. Elizabeth had ordered tea, but no one save Regina partook of it.
Kitty simply regarded Lucy in bewilderment as Harry's aunt completed her
oratorical warm-up exercises, priming her audience with avowals of her
reluctance to speak. As Miss Ferrars helped herself to a third jam
tart, Elizabeth poured the last of
the tea into Regina's cup and motioned the maid to bring more refreshments. She
could only hope Lucy's gossip would run out before their provisions did.

Finally,
Lucy got to the substance of her report. "At Almack's yestereve, Lady
Pendleton told me that she saw Harry in Bond Street one night earlier this
week, wearing the most peculiar clothing. A long coat with a full skirt and
huge, embroidered cuffs - a ruffled shirt - high heels. The fashionable Harry
Dash-wood, in a suit so out of style it could have belonged to his
greatgrandfather! She could only surmise that he wore a costume. What else
could
she think? But when she encountered him in Hyde Park the next day and asked
if he'd participated in a theatrical, or attended a masquerade, he claimed to
have no idea what she was talking about."

This was
Lucy's momentous news? "How well does Lady Pendleton know Mr. Dashwood?"
Elizabeth countered. "She spied the costumed gentleman on a dark street.
Can she be certain that it was he?"

"Quite
certain."

"Lady
Pendleton's youngest daughter's brother-in-law went to Eton with Harry,"
Regina declared with the air of one revealing profound truths. Unfortunately,
the effect was marred by her need to dab jam from the corners of her mouth.

Elizabeth
slept with Darcy, and she wasn't confident she could with certitude identify
him
so attired in a casual sighting on a dark street. She sensed, however, that
any further attempts on her part to add intelligence to Lucy's "intelligence"
would prove equally ineffectual.

"Well,
then," Elizabeth conceded, "there is no denying her authority."

"None."
Lucy shook her head sadly at Kitty. "I wouldn't trouble you with the
incident, curious though it may be, for all the world. But it happened a second
time. Mr. Sutton saw Harry
the following night, dressed the same way. And in the morning, he denied
it again!"

Elizabeth
emitted an exaggerated gasp. "No!"

"Yes!
And I'm afraid there's more." Lucy leaned toward Kitty, her voice dropping
to a conspiratorial tone. "I do so hate to be the bearer of ill tidings,
my dear Kitty. It pains me beyond anything. But it is best you hear of this
from someone who loves him." She took a deep breath and touched her hand
to Kitty's. "William Middleton encountered Harry on Wednesday evening
outside Boodle's Club, and Harry gave him the cut direct - walked right past
him without acknowledgment!"

"Not
the cut direct!" Elizabeth said, her sarcastic tone completely lost upon
Lucy.

"Indeed!"
Lucy pressed a hand to her chest. "Can you believe it? Our Harry!"

Regina
started on a fourth tart.

Kitty looked
to Elizabeth, at last finding her voice. "William Middleton is one of Mr.
Dashwood's particular friends. Neither could have mistaken the other."

"I am
certain some explanation exists," she assured her sister. Elizabeth had
her own theory about the events - if "events" they could be called
without investing them with more significance than they deserved. She suspected
Lucy still harbored ambitions of a union between her simpleminded daughter and
the very eligible Mr. Dashwood. With Harry's mother now united in purpose, she
had called this morning to launch a campaign against Mr. Dashwood's character
in hopes that Kitty would cry off. Every charge Lucy had brought forth would be
forgotten by the
ton
in less than a fortnight, but if in the meantime
she could convince the inexperienced Kitty that his offenses held greater
import, the way might be cleared for Regina to ease the sting of a broken
engagement.

Elizabeth
could see that tiny seeds of doubt had already taken root in Kitty's mind. It
was time to end this interview.

"Mrs.
Ferrars, we are most grateful for your kindness in coming to us with these
reports. Is there anything further we must hear?"

"Gracious
me, I hope not. You don't know how I pray that these are Harry's only
transgressions."

Lucy looked
as if she wished she had more bad news to spread so reluctantly, but having run
out, she had little excuse to prolong her call. She soon rose and pressed
Kitty's hand as she took her leave. "Do not let this morning's
communication lead you to doubt Harry. What are a few barefaced denials and the
mistreatment of a childhood friend? Try to disregard these incidents as you
prepare for the wedding."

Regina cast
a look of sympathy at Kitty, and one of regret at the remaining tart, before
following her mother out the door.