Elizabeth nodded and led the way thither.
“Bloody hell!” she cursed quietly as she entered one of the bedchambers on the uppermost floor. There was a heap of plaster on the floor and a determined stream of rainwater coming through the ceiling.
“Elizabeth!” Mr Gardiner arrived just in time to hear her curse.
“Forgive me, Uncle,” she said, still staring in dismay at the hole in the ceiling.
“I daresay you are spending too much time in the society of working men. Perhaps you ought to go to a few dinner parties, an assembly or two, to remember your place.”
She did not reply. It had become a gentle, then a not-so-gentle, refrain from the Gardiners as well as Mrs Millhouse. The social life of Brighton was gaining momentum almost as quickly as Elizabeth’s house repairs were. There were, as Lydia had gleefully proclaimed, balls every night, card parties, walking parties… If there was an hour to spare, a party was organised within it.
And thus far, Elizabeth had attended none, obstinately refusing to give any reason other than that she found a peculiarly enjoyable preoccupation in her house, derelict as it was, and could not comprehend being in a ballroom, trying to be an agreeable partner for a set while secretly thinking about floor joists and paint colours. This was not the whole truth, though neither was it untrue. Particularly at that moment, with water running through the ceiling. Excusing herself, she ran off to find some buckets.
She had only just reached the stair from the first floor when she heard a querulous voice at the front door demanding to be led to wherever Miss Bennet was hiding herself. She inhaled deeply and finished her descent.
“Lady Preston, how wonderful that you should call,” she said with a smile. “Will you introduce me to your friend?”
The dowager had not come alone but stood with a slender young gentleman who wore an aubergine coat and hat, and a cravat with an enormous ruby-studded pin through it. His ring, too, held an enormous ruby.
“Friend!” The lady snorted. “More like a pretentious fop. My nephew has spent too much time on the Continent and fancies himself a dilettante.”
Far from being offended, the nephew appeared to be repressing a grin at this assessment. “Indeed I do,” he said with mock gravity. “Why do you suppose I wear such enormous cravats? They hide a multitude of sins.”
He bowed to Elizabeth and said, “I am Mr Benoit-Antoine Hartham, ma’am, and you are?”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” She curtseyed while Lady Preston muttered something about how no one in their right mind ought to be proud of a French name these days, and she thought he ought to call himself Benedict.
“May I applaud you for your excellent foresight in restoring this charming home?” said Mr Hartham with a smile. “It has long been a favourite of mine.”
“Has it?” Elizabeth enquired. “You might be saddened, then, to see the state to which it has descended. I do not know when it was last inhabited, but the decay is considerable.”
“It is the sea air,” he informed her. “Wonderful as it is, it rusts and decays and pummels a house with vigour. Something that would last a decade in the middle of the country loses ground in a year here.”
“There you go,” Lady Preston announced. “I knew you two would get on. Benedict, ask Miss Bennet for a dance.”
“This minute? I fear we have no music, Aunt.”
Her ladyship rolled her eyes. “In my day,” she saidto no one in particular, “a man did not need to be told how to court a lady.” Her gaze sharpened on Elizabeth. “I am talking of the ball tomorrow night. Lady Rosse in Brunswick Place. You will not have been invited, but I have already told Lady Rosse that Benedict will be accompanying his friend.”
Elizabeth’s mouth fell a little agape. Was the whole world conspiring to get her out into society? Her family was one thing, but what did Lady Preston mean by making such arrangements on her behalf? They had only met once before! She supposed it might be meant kindly, but it was hard to tell. And as for her talk of courting? That idea must be quashed instantly.
“I thank your ladyship, for the compliment of your consideration, but?—”
“Good! Then it is all settled.” Using her cane, she gave her nephew a little poke. “Now, I am tired and in need of my breakfast. Help me walk home. Those steps outside—” She pointed her cane at Elizabeth. “—could make a person fall to her death!”
“There are only three of them. I doubt very much whether a fall would do more than twist your ankle,” said Mr Hartham patiently. He nevertheless offered his arm, and Elizabeth noticed the lady leant on him heavily. “Miss Bennet, it has been a delight,” he said over his shoulder. “I shall call again, in a little bit, to learn your direction and perhaps to prevail upon you for a tour of your charming property.”
They were very soon out of the door, and Elizabeth was left shaking her head. She had the notion that every meeting with Lady Preston would end in the same way, for she was quite the most bewildering creature. It could only be hoped that she would not be too offended when Elizabeth refused to go to the ball. Thetruth was that she could not even begin to imagine merry-making and flirting at such an event when Mr Darcy refused to leave her thoughts. When her mind was fixed on her house, she could forget him, but at a ball? He would confront her at every turn, she was absolutely certain of it. Besides, though she knew him but little, Mr Hartham had not seemed inclined towards her at all. He would no doubt be relieved to be freed of any obligation to a woman whose only connexion to better society was a falling-down house and a short acquaintance with his ill-humoured aunt.
8
In spite of his natural inclination to distrust Saye’s antics, Darcy had come around to thinking a sojourn to Brighton might not be such a terrible idea. London was doing nothing for his spirits—nor, apparently, for his waist—and it was the first time in many months that he had seen Georgiana so animated. Since she was not yet out andhewelcomed any excuse to avoid the usual obligations of the Season, they both agreed with alacrity to the suggestion to depart two weeks early.
When they arrived at the house to find its edifice surrounded by scaffolding, he began to have some doubts. Entering the vestibule wholly confirmed that he would have done better to go to Pemberley.
There must have been at least three dozen workmen careering around, getting in each other’s way and muttering obscenities as though they were going out of fashion—all of them indifferent to the party that had just arrived in their midst from London. Doors,windows, and even some walls were missing. The floorboards in some rooms were bare; in other rooms they had been removed entirely to reveal the innards of the house, rendering those spaces unsafe. There was no housekeeper—largely because there was no house to be kept—much less a butler. In short it was entirely unsuitable.
Saye stood beside him, surveying the place with an incongruous air of satisfaction. “This is looking very well indeed! You ought to have seen it when I visited last!”
