It was not long until they arrived. The party was being held amid one of the encampments; a large tent had been erected for, as far as Darcy could tell, the express purpose of card parties—a gentlemen’s club for the ungentlemanly. They were greeted by the sound of male voices shouting, and arguing, and exulting. A man in regimentals was vomiting near the door; they stepped around him carefully as they entered.
Darcy barely stopped himself from moaning aloud on his first sight of Sullivan’s party. ‘Sullivan’s debauchery’ would have been a more apt moniker, for the place was as much an example of hedonistic indulgence as ever he had seen.
Beside him, Fitzwilliam let out a low whistle. “This is a remarkable scene even by military standards.”
Within were above twenty tables crowded withmen, officers, ensigns, and civilians alike. A thick fog of tobacco smoke mixed with the acrid tang of cheap spirits hung over them. Darcy’s eyes moved around the room, seeing men in various stages of dress, jackets discarded, cravats thrown aside, even shirts untucked over breeches. Men in such games could rarely be prevailed upon to leave the table, for any cause, and even as he observed, he saw an older lieutenant stand, undo his pants, and relieve himself. Darcy could only hope he had been aiming at a concealed chamber pot beneath the table.
“I would say that Georgiana might have got an eyeful, but so far nothing I have seen would qualify,” Saye said with a chuckle. He gestured towards a nearby table. “I should have never known what that poor sod was about had I not seen the stream.”
“It is not a joke,” Darcy snapped at him. “All this time spent shielding her maidenly sensibilities, and now this. She will never be permitted to visit another seaside resort again, if I have anything to say for it.”
“At least not until she marries,” Fitzwilliam agreed.
“Shall we divide up?” Saye proposed. “The three of us prowling about peering at people will not do.”
“We must be inconspicuous,” Darcy warned. “I am sure I do not need to remind you?—”
“Secrecy is paramount, yes, yes, you told us no less than half a dozen times in the carriage.” Saye rolled his eyes. With a click of his tongue at his dog, he was off, looking disturbingly jaunty given their mission.
Darcy roamed about for what felt like an interminable time, stopping to speak to those he knew, giving a nod to those he did not. Most everyone was very, very drunk which was a vast relief. With a bit of good fortune, they might just escape this nonsenseunscathed.But first we must find them.He nearly growled with frustration.
After two full circuits of the tent, he met up with his cousins near the back.
“I saw them,” Fitzwilliam said under his breath.
“Where?”
“One of the high tables. Has one of the generals at it.”
This time Darcy did groan, but Fitzwilliam appeared to have scarcely heard him, simply beckoning him to come along.
A crowd had gathered round the table in question, and it afforded some measure of anonymity while they observed the situation. Happily, there were two or three onlookers who were as tall as Darcy, and he kept himself concealed betwixt them as he pressed forwards in the direction Fitzwilliam indicated with a discreetly pointed finger. He supposed it was a testament to the girls’ talents of disguise that he had not seen them previously. Miss Lydia was playing, it seemed, and Georgiana stood behind her as if she were a valet or manservant.
“I passed right by them but a few minutes ago,” Darcy whispered.
“Cannot fault you for attributing them with more sense than to enact their little tricks among such a group,” Fitzwilliam murmured in reply. “I cannot decide if I fear for them or admire them.”
“We must remove them before they are discovered—or worse, before they lose more than they can afford to pay.”
“That, I am afraid, has already happened,” Fitzwilliam told him in a low voice. “I made enquiries.”He stated the sums owed and, again, Darcy could only shake his head.
“We will have to take care of that too, I should imagine. I shall send Fields over later to manage it.”
The hand was ended, and one of the men looked poised to deal a new round; then Saye pushed himself in, standing next to Miss Lydia.
“Deal me in, fellows,” he said loudly, with nary a glance towards Fitzwilliam and Darcy. Georgiana’s head whipped towards her cousin, then immediately froze, her face draining of colour.
“What is he doing?” Fitzwilliam hissed. “He will give us all away!”
Saye and his purse were generally welcomed wherever he deigned to show himself, and this table was no exception. Taking full advantage of his position, he looked down his nose and said to Miss Lydia, “Go on there, lad, and take your valet with you.”
“Go on, Bennet.” One of the men grunted with a gesture towards Miss Lydia. Darcy repressed a curse. Elizabeth’s sister had been brazen enough to give the family name? “But he had best settle his purse before he goes.”
“Why should I step aside?” Miss Lydia, for all that she presently looked like a man, displayed all the petulance of an exceedingly immature young lady.
“My young friend, the viscount wishes to play, and so he shall,” said a man who stood at the general’s right side; his batman, presumably.
Georgiana, seeming to understand that the game was finished, bent and whispered something in Miss Lydia’s ear.
