Mr and Mrs Darcy 02 Suspense & Sensibility (6 page)

"Indeed?" With apparent reluctance, he withdrew his gaze from
Kitty to afford the archaeologist something that passed for polite interest. "Do
you dig up old bones? Mummies? That sort of thing?"

"I prefer to leave the dead at rest. My interest lies primarily in
art and ritual objects."

"Why, then, I should have you out to Norland sometime to have a
look through my attics. There are all sorts of musty old items gathering
cobwebs up there."

"I think his studies tend toward more ancient artifacts,"
Elizabeth said. "Do they not, Professor?"

"Actually, some astonishing treasures turn up in the attics and
cellars of old houses."

"I think an ancestor or two of ours did a good deal of collecting.
Lots of sculptures and such. An old looking glass, some Chinese vases. Mother
doesn't care for any of it, so it's never left the attics since we took possession
of the house. Huh! I haven't thought about that stuff in years. I used to
explore up there when I was a boy - it was a good place to hide from my nurse."

"I should very much enjoy the opportunity to see your collection,"
Randolph said.

"As would I," Kitty echoed.

Mr. Dashwood laughed. "You would like to traipse through my dusty attics,
Miss Bennet?"

"I would love to see all of Norland."

Elizabeth winced at Kitty's boldness but, not wishing to correct her before
the gentlemen, let it go unchecked.

Mr. Dashwood seemed surprised and flattered by her interest. "I
confess, the house never held much appeal for me. I'm hardly ever there, and
when I am I soon grow bored."

"The country
can
be tiresome," Kitty agreed, expressing
an
opinion Elizabeth had never before heard her utter. "But any place
can be made more pleasant by pleasant company."

"Miss Bennet, I believe your company could make even a month in the
country tolerable."

Kitty ducked her head, unused to receiving compliments from handsome
gentlemen.

"Fortunately" Mr. Dashwood continued, "I shan't be gone
that long this time."

His statement brought Kitty's head up sharply. "What did you say,
Mr. Dashwood?"

"I'm afraid I must leave town tomorrow. My mother is of the opinion
that I have delayed for too long some duties of estate since my father's death.
That is what she wanted to speak to me about today. She insists I take care of
matters at once."

Kitty's countenance held the look of a girl who'd been given a new ball
gown, only to have it taken away before she could wear it. "How long will
you be away?"

"I hope to conclude my business within a week."

"A whole week?" Kitty said the word as if it had been a twelvemonth.

"Sooner, if I can." He rose and held out his hand to draw her
up. "Might I call upon you when I return?"

"Most certainly - the minute you arrive in town."

"Kitty," Elizabeth gently admonished.

"I shall. I promise." He seemed about to say more, but then
became conscious that others observed them. And that he still held Kitty's
hand. With obvious reluctance, he released it.

Professor Randolph stood. "I'll take my leave, as well. It was a
pleasure to meet you, Mr. Dashwood."

"Likewise. While I'm at Norland, I shall have a look about the
attics to see if I spot anything worth your notice."

"I'd be honored to examine whatever you find."

The ladies escorted their callers to the door, where they
collected
their greatcoats and walking sticks. Kitty sighed heavily as the gentlemen departed.

"A whole week," she repeated. "How shall I ever survive?"

"Kitty, a se'nnight ago - no, a mere two nights ago - you did not
even know Mr. Dashwood. I'm sure that in all of London you can find something
to occupy yourself."

Four

"Nothing in the way of pleasure can

ever be given up by the young men of this age."

- Mrs.
Jennings
to Elinor,

Sense and Sensibility,
Chapter 30

"Good
match." The Earl of Chatfield removed his fencing mask to reveal damp,
dark blond locks pressed against his forehead. He offered his hand, which Darcy
grasped heartily.

"Indeed," Darcy agreed. Their bout had proven an intense
contest. Both he and his friend Chatfield were men of varied interests who did
few things by halves, and their mutual pursuit of perfection extended to their
training at Angelo's fencing school. Several years ago they had established a
standing weekly appointment to cross foils whenever both were in town, an engagement
Darcy considered one of the highlights of any trip to London.

"When you left town with Mrs. Darcy in December, I did not expect
to enjoy the challenge of your blade for some time," the young earl said. "I
hope nothing urgent called you from Pemberley?"

Darcy laughed. "That is a matter of opinion. To my mother-in-law,
chaperoning my wife's sister through her first London season is a matter of
utmost urgency."

"Ah, the obligatory premarital promenade! You have my deepest sympathy.
How many times have you endured Al-mack's thus far?"

"None."

"You truly lead a charmed life. You cannot avoid it all season, you
know."

"I can if Miss Bennet meets an acceptable gentleman elsewhere."

"Any prospects yet?"

"Perhaps. A Mr. Harry Dashwood has come to call. Do you know him?"

"Dashwood," Chatfield repeated as he and Darcy removed their
gloves. "I think he's a friend of my wife's youngest brother, Phillip. Bit
of a wild bunch, their set. Most of them barely finished university - more
interested in learning sixteen different ways to tie a cravat than in learning
anything from a book. Tumbled out of Oxford and into town to pursue a full-time
occupation of general carousing. Too much money and not enough responsibility.
You know the type."

Unfortunately, Darcy did; it was all too common among his peers. Born
into privilege and untempered by duty or conscience, many of his fellow "gentlemen"
behaved like anything but. They lived lives of self-absorbed leisure,
frittering away their time and fortunes on meaningless pursuits. The worst of
them carried this extravagance to excess - slavish attention to clothes,
overindulgence in drink, high-stakes games of chance, fast horses, faster women
- and in many cases ultimately found themselves undone by it.

"I am sorry to hear this of Mr. Dashwood. For Miss Bennet's sake, I
had wanted to like him."

"Those are just my general impressions of Phillip's crowd, Darcy.
I've heard no genuine harm of Mr. Dashwood in particular," the earl said. "Say,
he isn't related to old Sir Francis Dashwood, is he? Now
he
was a
hell-raiser."

"Let us hope not." Sir Francis Dashwood, though dead more than
thirty years, had been a libertine so notorious that schoolboys still talked of
him in the dormitories of Eton and Westminster when they wanted to impress
younger schoolmates with their worldly knowledge. Perhaps, Darcy mused, that is
why Mr. Dashwood's name had sounded familiar.

"So, you are here long enough to find a husband for Mrs. Darcy's
sister, and then it's back to Pemberley. Is that the scheme?"

"Essentially. I do hope to locate a good clergyman while in town. I
recently received word that the vicar of Kympton is taken quite ill, so the
living will likely become vacant by year's end."

"How much is it worth?"

"About four hundred a year."

"You have not already sold it? A living that valuable? I should
think someone would have paid you handsomely to hold it for him."

Darcy had never much cared for the practice of accepting payment from a
gentleman or his family in exchange for appointing him as a parish priest.
Fortune and connections had their place in the worlds of business, law,
politics, and the military, but not, he believed, in matters of the spirit. The
men who guided their parishioners from baptism through death, who married and
buried them, who counseled and consoled, should be selected for their office on
the basis of merit alone.

"According to my father's will, it was to be held for an individual
who has since elected not to take orders," Darcy said. "When the
living became vacant about three years ago, I granted it to the best candidate
I could find, despite his advanced age. Now that his health is in decline, I
once again wish to select a clergyman based on aptitude alone. I would grant
the benefice free and clear to the right person."

"Simply circulate that fact, and you'll have half the clerics in
Christendom knocking on your door."

"I would settle for a single good one."

As they left the fencing club and entered the street, the earl invited
Darcy to dinner. "Lady Chatfield wishes very much to see your wife again.
Can you come round on Wednesday?"

"Only if you engage to be our guests the Wednesday next. I believe
Mrs. Darcy and I are already one dinner in your debt."

"Agreed. Bring Miss Darcy and Miss Bennet, too. We'll invite some
young gentlemen. Perhaps, Darcy, we can save you from Almack's this season
after all."

Though the Chatfields' dinner party was a success by all other standards,
it failed to interest Kitty in any gentleman lacking the name Dashwood. Even
the attendance of Lady Chatfield's brother, Lord Phillip Beaumont, could not
excite her beyond his status as a friend of Mr. Dashwood's. From this
association, they all managed to learn that Mr. Dashwood preferred faro to
hazard, surtouts to box coats, and curricles to gigs. He bought his boots at
Hoby's, rode a thoroughbred stallion named Dionysus, and was among the
thrusters in any foxhunt.

And so it was that Kitty left the earl's home satisfied that she knew
all the essentials of Mr. Dashwood's character, and the Darcys, none of them -
a deficiency they undertook to correct as expediently as possible.

"Your report first," Elizabeth said to Darcy. She sank into a
chair before the fire in their bedchamber, looking exhausted by their seemingly
endless social engagements. The week of Mr. Dashwood's absence had seen them
attending soirees, assemblies, and dinner parties every night. The events had
helped keep Kitty occupied and had also provided the Darcys with opportunities
for discreet enquiries regarding Mr. Dashwood. Between evening events and
daytime conversations - Darcy's at
various clubs, Elizabeth's in social calls -
they had learned all they could about the gentleman.

Darcy stirred the fire. He'd heard enough about Mr. Dash-wood to form an
opinion of him already, but he wanted to hear what Elizabeth had discovered. "I
defer to the superior communication of women in matters of gossip. What have
you learned?"

"Harry Dashwood is the son of Mr. and Mrs. John Dash-wood of Norland
Park in Sussex. He is twenty years old and will reach his majority next month.
Upon his father's death last autumn, he came into possession of Norland, which
provides him an income of four thousand a year. John Dashwood's remaining
estate, a sizable fortune inherited from his mother, went to his widow, Fanny
Ferrars Dashwood. As Harry is an only child, this fortune, along with Fanny
Dashwood's own legacy of ten thousand pounds, presumably will pass to Harry
upon her death, adding another two thousand a year to the income derived from
Norland."

He took the other chair and sat facing her. "This confirms what I
heard. What have you learned of his connections?"

"Mr. Dashwood's mother has two brothers. Edward Ferrars, a clergyman
in Devonshire, is married to John Dashwood's half-sister, Elinor. They have two
children, or perhaps three - the couple never come to town and Fanny Dashwood
seldom talks about them. Her other brother, Robert, though the younger of the
two, became the heir to the Ferrars estate following a breach between Edward
and his mother. Apparently, the family row somehow involved Robert's wife, the
former Miss Lucy Steele, but that story could fill a book by itself. Lucy
Ferrars brought to their marriage no fortune or connections of her own. The
couple have a house in Norfolk and one daughter. Regina Ferrars came out this
season, and by all reports, her mother is promoting her prospects quite
aggressively."

"My, you
have
been busy. Did you also learn the name of Mr.
Dashwood's favorite hunting hound?"

"Rex."

He smiled at her thoroughness. When his wife undertook a mission, she
saw it to completion.

"I also heard that he has a few more relations through his
grandfather's second marriage, all quite respectable. One of them is married to
a colonel," she said. "So much for his fortune and family. What have
you ascertained about the man himself?"

Darcy leaned back in the chair. "Lord Phillip's intelligence,
shallow though it was, unfortunately forms an accurate summary of Mr. Dash
wood. Never serious in his studies, he attended Oxford only at the insistence
of his parents. Now that his father's death has granted him complete independence,
he spends all his time gadding about town with his friends. When not otherwise
engaged, he can be found lounging on Bond Street from one to four o'clock,
riding in Hyde Park at five, then off to some social affair or the theatre."