“But that will not do,” Elizabeth protested. “No matter how wealthy he is, why should Lord Saye wish to invest in my house? Unless he imagines he is making an investment of a more permanent nature, and I cannot agree to that. The house is mine, and I intend that it should remain so.”
“I assure you there is no intention of encroaching upon your ownership, ma’am.”
She shook her head in bewilderment. “Then it is nonsense, utter nonsense.”
“Lord Saye does not agree.” Mr Tucker reached into his pocket and withdrew a page, then showed Elizabeth the sums written on them. “You see, extensive enquiry has led his lordship to conclude that there is simply not another place its equal in Brighton. People who have homes of such elegance and size as this are generally very reluctant to lease them, even to a man so esteemed as Lord Saye.”
“Be that as it may,” Elizabeth said, pointing to the final sum on the page, “this is an extraordinary sum for a summer’s diversion.”
“Not in his lordship’s estimation.” Mr Tucker then turned over the page, revealing a list of names with sums attached to each. The Prince Regent wasincluded among them. “Each of these men plays cards and gambles with his lordship regularly, and each intends to be here in Brighton by July. Lord Saye calculates that he will break even on the expense within his first fortnight here, and after that, the entire venture brings him a profit.”
Elizabeth hardly knew what to say. “I still cannot imagine that it could be done in such a short time, or even close to done.”
Mr Tucker calmly folded the page and replaced it in his jacket. “It will be done because it must be done. Leave it to me.”
7
After being told—or rather laughed at—by Saye that he had grown stout, Darcy tried, quite earnestly, to avoid Benjamin and Gerald’s, but Thursdays were difficult. The fateful assembly in Meryton had been on a Thursday. Elizabeth had rejected him on a Thursday. He had come to thoroughly despise Thursdays.
To permit himself the sweet comfort of a cream ice on that day had seemed, therefore, not terribly egregious, and in any case, he had been exercising vigorously for a se’nnight.
“Mr Darcy, sir,” said Mr Gerald Green as he handed him his usual order. “How good you are to us. I hope you know how very appreciative we are for your patronage.”
Darcy took the glass bowl of rich chocolate cream ice with burnt almonds and a unique coffee and chocolate sauce on top. “Thank you.”
“I hope you will not feel it an impertinence that we have chosen to name this particular concoction foryou?” Mr Green smiled as if he believed Darcy would be delighted, but in truth, he was embarrassed.
Perhaps sensing his customer’s chagrin, Mr Green hastened to add, “We have done so for many of our esteemed patrons. You see?” He held out a page on which a variety of combinations were written and named. With relief, Darcy espied The Lady Jersey, The Regent, and The Lord Byron. He was not the first of thetonto have his favourite concoction named for him, but nevertheless he prayed Saye would never learn of it.
He ate his confection at one of the small tables by the windows, staring sightlessly outwards while he morosely considered the morning after his proposal when he had given Elizabeth his letter. Had she read it? Had she learnt to think better of him? Or had it made her hate him even more? He arrived at no greater understanding than he had on any other of his multitudinous retrospections on the same subject. With a heavy sigh, he pushed his empty bowl aside and exited the shop.
“Well, well, well,” said a familiar voice.
He looked up to behold Saye standing beside his curricle. “What on earth are you doing down here?” he asked. “Not your usual haunt at all.”
Saye ignored him. “How many times this week, then? Four? Five?”
“Once,” Darcy replied. “And in any case, here you are, meaning to have a bit of indulgence yourself, it seems.”
“Not at all,” his cousin replied loftily. “With a seaside sojourn approaching, I should not like my own coats refusing to button. A man never knows when the ladies might spy on him while sea-bathing in the nude.”
Darcy rolled his eyes. “Then what do you do here?”
“I followed you. I was coming to yours when I saw you drive off in your curricle. You had a furtive air that seemed promising. May I?”
The last was said with a gesture towards the small bag in Darcy’s hand. The proprietor had insisted on giving him some of the biscuits they often served alongside the cream ices as he departed.
Darcy handed the bag to his cousin, presuming Saye meant to take one. Instead, his cousin opened the bag and blew his nose directly into it. He then refolded it and extended it towards Darcy, who merely stared at it, horrified.
“You are welcome,” Saye told him, shaking it impatiently. When Darcy did not take it, he huffed indignantly and handed it to a passing urchin, who snatched it and ran away. “Now let us get back to your house and get that man of yours busy with the trunks. I see now that nothing but removing you from London will do. She is not in town, is she?”
“Who?”
“The lady who has broken your heart.”
“I have no idea what you mean.” Darcy began to climb into his curricle, doing his best to pretend that his heart had not begun hammering at a rate of knots at his cousin’s words. “What are you doing?” he asked when Saye moved to enter along with him.
“Having a ride with you,” his cousin replied. “I have already paid a boy to take my own horse to Mayfair for me, so you must drive me. We can talk about her on the way.”
