Mr and Mrs Darcy 02 Suspense & Sensibility (7 page)

"So, he wants seriousness and meaningful occupation. But then, so
do most of his peers. Dissipation is an epidemic among gentlemen in town. Have
you heard any real ill of him? Is he a drunkard? Does he have debts? Does he
treat ladies as a gentleman should?"

"By all reports, his reputation is sound in those respects."

She sighed and rose to prepare for bed. "Then I think we ought not
interfere with any courtship between Mr. Dashwood and Kitty."

He caught her by the hand to stop her as she passed. "You would see
her marry a man of so little substance?"

"I'd hardly consider six thousand a year 'little substance.'"

"His material circumstances are, of course, beyond objection. I was
speaking of his character."

"He comes from a respectable family. He seems to have few
real vices
and the ability to regulate them himself. More important, he has already
engaged Kitty's affections, and I believe his regard for her is sincere. Add to
that his generous income, and a young woman of Kitty's iortune cannot
realistically hope to do better, nor, at this point, do I expect she wishes to."

"But his idleness! Could you be happy with a man whose idea of an afternoon
well spent is selecting the perfect fob chain?"

"No. But I am not Kitty, and what makes me happy would not satisfy
her." Still holding his hand, she came round to settle on his knee. "Indeed,
that I found happiness with such a serious man continues to baffle most of my
family."

"I promised you that I would protect Kitty's interests as if she
were my own sister. Your father is relying on my judgment."

"Then let that judgment derive from a better observation of Mr. Dashwood
himself. He returns to town tomorrow. Why don't you call upon him? Invite him
to dine with us."

It was a sound idea. Darcy would not have wanted his future with Elizabeth
decided upon the basis of public impressions and reports in general circulation
about him when they had first met.

"I will," he agreed. "Perhaps I will also suggest that a
young man wishing to pay addresses to Miss Bennet would do well to conduct
himself in a more useful manner."

"Now Darcy, don't go scaring him."

Five

"My
protege, as you call him, is a
sensible
man,

and sense will
always
have
attractions for me."

-
Elinor
Dashwood to
Mr.
Willoughby,

Sense and Sensibility,
Chapter 10

Harry
Dashwood possessed an address as fashionable as the rest of his accoutrements.
Upon coming into his inheritance, he had taken a townhouse in Pall Mall from
which he could enjoy his new independence free from his mother's watchful eye.
From what Darcy had heard of Mrs. John Dashwood, Harry need not have bothered.
By all accounts, Fanny was an indulgent mother unlikely to curb any pleasure of
her only son, so long as he did nothing to seriously jeopardize his own or the
family's reputation.

Darcy handed his card to the servant and waited patiently at the door
while it was determined whether the master was at home. Mr. Dashwood's voice
emanating from the hall indicated that he had indeed completed his journey back
to London, but that didn't necessarily mean he was receiving visitors. A few
moments, however, brought the servant back with an invitation to step inside.

"Mr. Darcy!" Dashwood exclaimed upon sighting him. "You
honor me with this visit." He paused to direct three
footmen who carried a large looking glass. "Put
it in my dressing room."

The servants ascended the stairs with the mirror. Darcy noticed a pair
of trunks also awaiting relocation.

"Forgive me," Mr. Dashwood said, gesturing toward the baggage.
"I've just arrived home."

"Perhaps I should return at a later time."

"No - do stay! You must, however, allow me to change my shirt. This
one is travel-worn."

"Of course."

"Come along, then. This way."

Harry took the stairs two at a time, forcing Darcy to trot to keep up
with him. At the landing Darcy paused, presuming he was to wait in the drawing
room. Mr. Dashwood, however, urged him up the next set of stairs. "You
must
see the looking glass I brought home with me. Found it in Norland's attic."

Darcy followed Mr. Dashwood to his dressing room, where the servants
were propping the mirror against the wall.

"Leave it for now," Harry instructed. "You can mount it
when I've decided exactly where I want it." The servants departed.

The mirror was indeed a striking objet d'art. The glass itself was
perhaps five feet long and two feet wide, with a heavy gold frame that added
another six inches to the sides and bottom. Intricately carved images of nude
athletes stood out in bas relief, laurel leaves entwining their muscular forms.
At the top, a twelve-inch crown boasted a man's face at its center, his
features perfectly capturing the classical ideal of male beauty.

"What do you think?" asked Mr. Dashwood. "It has to be
centuries old, at least - a real antiquity. Looks to me like it could have come
from ancient Greece."

Darcy paused before replying. Though he appreciated its artistry, he
doubted the treasure could be as old as Mr. Dashwood believed. To his
knowledge, the ancient Greeks had made
only hand mirrors of polished metal; the
techniques used to fashion a looking glass of this size and construction were
much later developments. This mirror, therefore, must be a relatively modern
creation, designed to appeal to the current vogue for classical art and
architecture.

Yet the mirror seemed older. Despite the differences in construction,
somehow it could stand among other ancient artifacts in the British Museum and
not be out of place. He supposed Elizabeth would say it had the character of a
genuine antique - an aura of history about it. "How long has the glass been
in your family's possession?" he asked.

"I have no idea. My housekeeper thought it belonged to Sir Francis
Dashwood, an ancestor, but where he got it from, I don't know."

"You are descended from Sir Francis Dashwood?"

Mr. Dashwood grinned. "Heard the shocking stories, have you? The
Hell-Fire Club and all that? Yes, he occupies a branch somewhere in my family
tree, but he died childless, so I'm uncertain exactly how he fits in. I also
don't know how this mirror found its way to Norland, as his main estate was in
Buckinghamshire. But when I saw it, I simply had to bring it back here with me."

His valet entered. The servant removed Mr. Dashwood's coat and started
to unfasten his cuffs.

Darcy took this as his cue to leave. "Shall I await you in the
drawing room?"

"No. Do stay! I've always aspired to be like Beau Brummell,
entertaining visitors while completing my toilette." He shed his rumpled
shirt for a clean one.

"Quite a lofty ambition," Darcy said dryly.

"I wish I had but half his skill with cravats." The valet
offered a highly starched neckcloth. Harry stationed himself before the mirror.
"What do you think, Mr. Darcy? Should I try
the
mathematical today? Or settle for the Napoleon? Which does Miss Bennet prefer?"

"I am not privy to Miss Bennet's opinions on the subject of
gentlemen's neckwear." Darcy ardently wished for another topic of conversation
altogether. To emulate the vain Brummell's practice of holding court in his
dressing room seemed the most ridiculous form of idolatry. A rooster imitating
a peacock.

Mr. Dashwood attempted the mathematical, fumbled its folds, and had to
discard the cloth for a fresh one. "I'm told Brummell often goes through
stacks of neckcloths before achieving perfection."

"Such a practice sounds like an incredible waste of his own and his
servants' time."

Mr. Dashwood met Darcy's gaze in the mirror. His natural exuberance
dimmed at the disapproval he detected in Darcy's eyes. "I suppose you are
right in that." He began tying the next cravat in the simpler Napoleon
style.

Darcy studied Mr. Dashwood's reflection. He was so very young - not only
in age, but also in knowledge of the world. In many ways, Darcy had never been
that young. But he also recalled his own sense of lost direction in the period
following his father's death. Harry Dashwood was even younger than he had been,
and Darcy suspected his own foundation was steadier than Dashwood's to begin
with. Perhaps cravats and looking glasses claimed Harry's attention because he
did not feel adequate to the responsibilities he had just inherited along with
John Dashwood's estate.

Darcy regretted the mild criticism he'd tendered. "Forgive me. I
meant only that an intelligent man benefits from devoting his resources to more
worthwhile endeavors. And you strike me as a man possessing the potential to do
much more with his life than Mr. Brummell ever will."

Mr. Dashwood turned from the mirror to face Darcy directly. "I do?"

"Did you not, I would never have come here today bearing an
invitation. If you are not previously engaged, Mrs. Darcy would be pleased to
have you at her table tonight for dinner."

"Tell her I am most gratified and look forward to her hospitality.
Will Miss Bennet be among the party?"

"Assuredly."

"Then I can think of no pleasanter way to spend an evening."

Seven o'clock had been the appointed hour for Mr. Dashwood to present
himself at the Darcys' townhouse. He arrived at half past six, bearing flowers
for Kitty and a bouquet of apologies for his hostess.

"Pardon my untimely appearance," he said as Elizabeth received
him in the drawing room, "but the anticipated delight of seeing Miss
Bennet this evening caused the day to grow unbearably long. At last I found I
could not wait thirty minutes longer."

"You may have to," Elizabeth replied, "as my sister is
still readying for dinner. But I will tell her you are come."

In truth, the announcement was hardly necessary. Like a thunderclap
proclaiming the arrival of a spring storm, Mr. Dash-wood's presence reverberated
throughout the house, sending Kitty into a flustered frenzy of preparations
she'd thought she had more time to complete. Elizabeth had left her upstairs
rushing to make up her toilette, torn between equally violent desires to
perfect her appearance and have done with it.

Elizabeth believed, however, that she could forgive Mr. Dashwood nearly
anything with an earnest devotion to Kitty as its motive. She gestured toward
the flowers. "Shall I deliver those to Kitty now, or would you prefer to
present them to her yourself?"

"Oh, please take them now, with my most sincere compliments."

"Those
I will leave you to
tender yourself, as I surely possess neither the inspiration nor the eloquence
of their true author."

She was spared the trip by the immediate entrance of Kitty herself, wearing
an entirely different gown than the one in which Elizabeth had seen her just
minutes earlier. Her hair was attractively arranged, though swept into a much
simpler style than the maid had been working on when Elizabeth left to greet
their visitor.

Mr. Dashwood presented his flowers and compliments to the lady, who
accepted both with equal delight.

"I adore daffodils!
Are they from Norland's gardens?"

"Covent Garden, I'm afraid. My trip to Norland did, however,
inspire the gift. The daffodils and crocuses were in bloom, and as I walked the
grounds, I found myself thinking of you and wishing you could see them. I
consulted my gardener about bringing some back for you, but we both doubted
they would survive the journey from Sussex."

"If they arrived utterly wilted, I should have valued them. But I
do appreciate these." She admired the bouquet again before relinquishing
it to a servant for placement in a vase.

They were joined presently by Darcy and Georgiana, and soon went down to
dinner. Mr. Dashwood enquired how Kitty had kept busy in his absence. She
rattled off their list of entertainments.

"I declare, Miss Bennet," he said when she'd finished, "you
have been more engaged in a single day than I was the entire se'nnight."

"Did you conclude your business at Norland?" Darcy asked.

"Yes and no. I handled the affairs that originally took me there,
but it seemed that with every dispatch, another item of business arose to take
its place."

Darcy nodded, his eyes reflecting perfect understanding. "As your
father no doubt taught you, proper management of an estate requires constant
vigilance. Even when in town, I maintain
close
communication with my steward. Rarely do more than two days pass without a
letter between us."

"Indeed?" Mr. Dashwood appeared surprised by the revelation.
He seemed about to say more, but Kitty spoke.

"I hope these new matters won't force you to leave again?"

"Actually, I intend to return to Norland three weeks hence."

Disappointment clouded Kitty's face. "So very soon?"