She supposed the morrow was too soon to expect the mirror's return anyway. She would wait a few days to invent some pretext to call upon Mr. Dashwood. Out of respect for Darcy's concerns, she would not visit Pall Mall alone, but she did not plan to reveal to her husband the true reason for her errand. Darcy would consider her entire discussion with Professor Randolph nonsense and utterly dismiss the possibility that the mirror was anything more than a dusty old artifact. She did not want to hear his criticisms until she'd had an opportunity to evaluate it herself.
"Then let us hope your sortie succeeds — and quickly, for Elinor Ferrars and I shall be waiting most impatiently for the two of you to return with news of your conquest."
"After subjecting myself to Mr. Dashwood, I shall be impatient to reclaim your superior companionship"
She took back the cloth and dabbed a few stray droplets on his temple. "Are you certain? You and the reverend won't find yourselves tempted to prolong your visit and stay for one of Mr Dashwood's notonous parties?"
He pushed damp locks from her forehead. "I have temptation enough here at home."
They kissed, then broke apart to continue dressing. He selected a shirt that she had recently made for him. She was pleased with the way it had turned out, it fit him well across the shoulders and its sleeves extended the perfect length. A second shirt was halfway to completion. In the weeks following Kitty's broken engagement and the abrupt end it had brought to preparing her sister's trousseau, Elizabeth had sought substitute em-
ployment for her needle. She'd tried to return to work on Jane's layette, but found herself unable to muster enthusiasm for it.
At breakfast. Elizabeth heard with restlessness the clock chime announcing that hours yet stood between the present time and the one that had been fixed upon for Darcy and Mr Ferrars's call in Pall Mall. She would accompany her husband as far as St. James's, where Elinor had invited her to meet the Brandons while they awaited the results of the gentlemen's errand.
"You and Mrs Ferrars seem to have formed a congenial acquaintance." Darcy observed.
"I like her very much." she replied. "She is an easy person with whom to converse. Had Kitty's marriage taken place, my sister would have been fortunate in her connection to Mrs. Edward Ferrars."
"And what of her connection to Mrs Robert Ferrars?"
"Conversation with Lucy Ferrars is easy, as well. No one else in the room need speak at all."
The designated hour at last arrived. She and Darcy drove to the Brandons' townhouse, where Elizabeth was shown to the drawing room and Edward Ferrars took her place in the carriage.
Elinor's mother, sister, and brother-in-law were gathered in the room when Elizabeth entered. Mrs. Ferrars introduced her to Colonel and Mrs. Brandon, who welcomed her graciously and apologized for having been otherwise occupied when she called the previous afternoon. Elizabeth judged the former Marianne Dashwood to be perhaps two-and-thirty, and her husband nearly twenty years older. Five minutes' observation of the couple declared that they had married for an affection that the intervening years had not diminished.
They spoke the pleasant nothings that fill the conversations of people first meeting, until Mrs. Brandon grew obviously weary of empty chatter and cut to the subject on all of their minds.
"I understand your husband accompanies Edward to try to save our nephew from himself," she said.
Elizabeth appreciated her directness and returned it. "I am afraid we cherish little expectation of prevailing upon him. Mr. Darcy attempted to guide Mr. Dashwood while he and my sister were still engaged, without success, and their acquaintance has become less cordial since. With Mr. Ferrars's aid, however, perhaps Mr Dashwood may be worked upon. We can but hope, especially following last night's debacle."
Marianne and the others regarded her in ignorance. "Something more occurred last night?"
Elizabeth felt the blood drain from her face. She had assumed someone would have informed Harry's relations by now that he had lost the estate they had once called home. She certainly did not want to he the bearer of tidings that would so shock and grieve these good-hearted people.
Fortunately, she was spared the unpleasant office by the timely arrival of Mrs. Robert Ferrars. who did not even allow the housekeeper to finish announcing her before bursting into the room with exclamations of astonishment and condolence.
"My dear Elinor and Marianne! Dear Mrs. Dashwood! I came the moment I heard about Norland. How devastated you must be!"
Had anyone else appeared so conveniently, Elizabeth would have marveled at the coincidence. But Lucy Ferrars was like the herald of a Greek tragedy, invested by her creator with the ability to enter a scene just when her communication could provide its most dramatic result. If only she would then exit as quickly, instead of staying on like a chorus to comment on her revelations, her dedication to performing the office might earn
her more appreciation.
All the room regarded her with dread — most in apprehension of what they were about to hear, Elizabeth in anticipation of its effect.
"We have received no news of Norland today," Elinor said.
"Be so land as to enlighten us."
"Why. I can't believe you haven't heard! Harry lost Norland! Gambled it away in a card game to Lord Lovejoy. The whole estate!"
Marianne gasped "Norland — gone?" She looked to her mother "I cannot conceive of it. Strangers in our home?" She turned her gaze back to Lucy. "You are quite certain? There has been no mistake? You know how the ton—"
"Oh, I'm certain! I had it from Harry himself"
Elizabeth wondered what occasion Lucy would have had to see Mr. Dashwood already today, but given the magnetic pull between her and tidings of misfortune, some meeting between them in the wake of Harry's ill-fated whist game had probably been inevitable.
Mrs. Dashwood looked as if she'd been struck. "I am thankful Henry and Uncle Albert are not alive to witness this," she said quietly "What an ungrateful child John and Fanny raised."
"Yes. poor Fanny!" said Lucy, oblivious to the fact that Mrs. Dashwood had been ascribing some of the responsibility to Harry's parents. "As a mother, my heart just breaks for her. Don't all of yours? Well — not yours, Mrs Darcy. since you don't have any children. But if you were in the family way like your elder sister, I'm sure you'd understand."
Elizabeth smiled thinly and said nothing. The last person from whom she cared to hear observations about her family state was Lucy Ferrars.
"Thank heavens Fanny disinherited him before he could gamble away her fortune, too," Lucy continued. "Mrs Darcy, your younger sister is well rid of Harry. I'm relieved that Regina avoided connection with him. I suspected he was developing an attachment to her, but obviously that will be most soundly discouraged now. Besides, she has so many gentlemen
pursuing her that she hardly need settle for her own cousin. "
Elizabeth, still vexed by Lucy's earlier remark, could not let this one pass unchallenged. "Indeed? I don't recall Miss Ferrars ever mentioning a suitor."
"Why, we had so many callers yesterday we could paper the parlor with their cards."
Fanny's bequest had evidently transformed Regina into a more eligible commodity in the marriage market. Elizabeth wondered if her newly enhanced dowry would prove enough to make up for inheriting Lucy Ferrars as a mother-in-law.
"Had you not better return home soon, then," Elinor suggested. "In case a caller appears whom Regina would like to receive?"
Elizabeth knew there was a reason she liked Elinor.
"No. I've told her a gentleman must come three limes before we'll admit him — to prove he's serious." She rose. "But I do need to supervise her toilette. We are going to Almack's tonight"
She made as dramatic an exit as possible given that no one in her audience took interest in watching it. Her departure did, however, occasion a collective expression of relief on the part of those remaining.
"Norland — lost!" Marianne said as the curtain fell on Lucy's performance. "I
still can scarcely comprehend it. I hope Edward is soundly lecturing Harry this minute. Though what further evil our nephew can commit, I cannot imagine."
"Nor can I," Elinor said. "But I am sure that if he gets himself into any more trouble, Lucy will most thoughtfully keep us informed."
Twenty-Three
When people are determined on a mode of conduct which they know to be wrong, they feel injured by the expectation of anything better from them.
— Sense and Sensibility, Chapter 2
"Mr. Ferrars and Mr. Darcy" Mr. Dashwood repeated his servant's announcement. "Come to call on me together. How congenial."
Harry received them in his dining room, where he sat behind large dish of ice cream. Though the glace looked appealing on this warm June afternoon, Darcy begrudged Mr. Dashwood the simple pleasure of it. In sacrificing his estate so capriciously he had injured not just himself and his family, but all those who relied on Norland for their livelihoods. One ought not, it seemed to Darcy, taste anything but remorse on the day following a dere-
iction of duty and honor such as he had committed.
"Your uncle and I share a common purpose this afternoon."
"I would invite you to sit," Harry said, "but that would suggest that I want you to stay. Which I do not." He swallowed a spoonful of ice cream. "You are come, I suppose, to admonish me once more for my wicked ways? You should have saved yourselves the trouble. I have heard enough already from you, Mr. Darcy, and from your wife, Mr. Ferrars."
Edward appeared puzzled. "Elinor has been in contact with you?"
The spoon paused halfway to Mr. Dashwood's mouth. "Forgive me, I meant my other aunt Ferrars. One loses track of them."
Darcy noted the full glass and half-empty bottle beside him and deduced the nature of Harry's genealogical impairment.
"Harry," Edward began, "all your family is very concerned about you."
Mr. Dashwood swallowed more ice cream. "This is splendid stuff. I cannot decide which I prefer — water ices or cream ices. I shall have to order Cook to stock both in the new larder."
"Harry," Edward continued, "I did not come to lecture you about Norland, or about your mother's fortune. Those losses cannot be restored. But the rest of it can be mended."
Harry tossed back his wine, or brimstone, or whatever it was he drank, and refilled the glass. "The rest of what?"
"This 'Hell-Fire Club' in which I understand you have immersed yourself."
Irritation flashed across Mr Dashwood's face. "I do wish everyone would cease calling it that. I have never called it that."
"What do you call it?"
He shrugged. "The Monks of Medmenham, the Friars of Saint Francis, the Knights — choose whichever you fancy. I prefer the Knights of late. But it has never been the Hell-Fire Club. That's an old name the ignorant persist in using"
Darcy's patience ebbed. He had many words to describe Mr. Dashwood, his companions, and his activities, none of which I he expected Harry would care to hear. "Whatever its name, your continued promotion of and I volvement with the organization threatens more than your fortune,"
"What else do I risk, Mr. Darcy? My life? It will run out in due course. My sacred honor? In their day, many great men associated with the Knights."
Darcy regarded Mr. Dashwood with contempt. Naught but respect for Lord Chatfield could compel him to carry this mission any further.
"You are not a great man. Mr. Dashwood. Great men consider the influence they bear on those around them. If you will not check your behavior for your own sake, at least do not ruin others' futures along with yours."
"My Knights are grown men who make their own choices."
"To the grief of those around them." Darcy leaned on the table, so that his eyes were level with Harry's. "Mr Dashwood, when you broke faith with Miss Bennet, you also betrayed the friendship I extended to you. My wife and I accepted you into our home, into our family circle, and into our lives. When you came me to me seeking guidance, I gave it willingly I regarded you my brother."
Mr. Dashwood sighed, his expression bored. Darcy swallowed both his scorn and his pride, and continued.
"In remembrance of that former esteem, I ask one boon of you. Grant it, and I will trouble you no further."
The petition seemed to amuse him "The righteous Mr. Darcy begs a favor from the fallen Mr Dashwood? I am all attention. "
"Lord Phillip Beaumont."
"What of him?"
"Drop him. From your Knights, from your acquaintance, from your memory"
Dashwood studied him. "What is Beaumont to you?"
"He has friends who wish to avoid heanng his name linked with scandal."
A sardonic smile twisted Harry's lips. "And who, in turn, pressure you to intercede." He laughed coldly "I am afraid, Mr Darcy. you will simply have to bear their displeasure at your failure, for I choose my own society, and so does Beaumont."
He emptied his glass again and reached for the bottle. "You may both leave now, for I have done with you."
Darcy and Edward stared at the rude dismissal. Mr. Dashwood waved them away. "That's right 'Stand not upon the order of your going, but go at once'" He returned to his ice cream, now half-melted in its dish. Darcy hoped he choked on it.
"I am astounded," Edward said when they reached the hall.
"I thought your description had prepared me for his degeneration, but I had not comprehended us extent. He conducts himself in this manner all the time now?"
"Not always. He is often worse."
Mr Ferrars shook his head "He looks terrible. I have seen men whose health was mined by drink or gluttony, but I have never witnessed an appearance deteriorate so quickly. And his eyes — his gaze is wizened, as if he possesses knowledge best left unknown."
"Candles that burn all night dwindle faster."
A knock at the door summoned the housekeeper, who answered it to admit, of all people, Phillip Beaumont. Providence had created a final opponunity for Darcy to fulfill his pledge to the earl. Darcy greeted Lord Phillip and presented Edward to him.
"Lord Phillip." Darcy said, "I wonder if I might speak to you about a matter of some concern."
Mr Ferrars, recognizing his presence as superfluous and likely detrimental to the achievement of Dairy's objective, excused himself to wait in the carriage. Once he departed, Beaumont regarded Darcy expectantly.
"Lord Phillip—" Darcy considered his words, conscious that he had but moments to form an argument to which Beaumont might prove receptive. If the earl's entreaties had gone unheeded, how could the cautions of a near-stranger expect to find audience? Chatfield had already appealed to Phillip's sense of honor, family duty, and safely But Beaumont was young, too young to believe himself or his reputation vulnerable to harm.
Harry Dashwood had believed himself similarly impervious, and look at him now.
Yes — look at him. Darcy would appeal to Beaumont" s vanity. "Lord Phillip, I have just come from Mr. Dashwood. As his friend, I desire your opinion. Does he seem much altered to you in recent weeks?"
"Of course. He's more lively and amusing. And he throws much better parties than he ever did at Oxford."
"But do you not think his pursuit of pleasure has taxed his physical person?"
"Perhaps a little."
The housekeeper hovered, obviously impatient to announce Lord Phillip to her master so she could get on with her other duties. A look from Darcy induced her to retreat a few steps.
"Only a little?"
"Well, all right — Dashwood is hardly cutting a dash these days. But what of it? He is seizing life."
"Do you not fear that participating in his dissipation will work similar effects upon you?"
He shrugged. "It hasn't thus far."
From the dining room, Mr Dashwood summoned his housekeeper. Harry probably wanted to know who had knocked on the door Darcy had at most a minute more with the countess's brother.
"Lord Phillip, it is not my business, but I urge you to take care in your intercourse w
ith Mr. Dashwood."
"You are correct, Mr Darcy. It is not your business."
Darcy accepted the rebuff without answer. This trip to Pall Mall had soundly thrashed his dignity. Having been curtly dismissed by both Dashwood and Beaumont, he would not tarry long enough to be run out by the housekeeper, as well. With a nod of farewell to Lord Phillip, he departed His obligation to the earl had been discharged.
Twenty-Four
Her thoughts were silently fixed on the irreparable injury which too early an independence and its consequent habits of idleness, dissapation and luxury had made… The world had made him extravagant and vain — Extravagance and vanity had made him cold-hearted and selfish.
— Sense and Sensibility, Chapter 44
Elizabeth called in St. James's for what she expected would be her last visit to the Brandons' townhouse. Elinor had written that morning to report that, given the failure of Darcy and Edward's meeting with Mr. Dashwood, the Ferrars saw little reason to continue their stay in town and would depart for Devonshire on the morrow.
Darcy, too, had expressed his desire to get Kitty and themselves out of London by weeks end.
So Elizabeth set out to take proper leave of Mrs. Ferrars and assure her that, whatever had transpired between Elinor's nephew and Elizabeth's family, the Darcys valued their acquaintance with Mr. and Mrs. Edward Ferrars, and desired its continuance.
To her disappointment, she arrived to find Elinor just going out.
"You shall have to excuse me," Mrs. Ferrars said, "but I am on my way to see Harry, and this is my only opportunity to do so."
Elizabeth accepted this announcement as good news. Perhaps Edward, upon review of yesterday's interview, had struck upon a novel strategy to reclaim Mr. Dashwood. She did not, however, see Elinor's husband anywhere about.
"Does Mr. Ferrars accompany you?"
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