“Lieutenant Denny!” she said upon recognising him. “It is good to see you. I have been wanting to thank you, most sincerely, for…” She could not think how to mention the note he had sent from Colonel Sullivan’s party without mentioning Lydia’s transgression, but Denny yet again proved himself a friend by not requiring her to do so.
“Think nothing of it, madam. I trust you are still enjoying your time in Brighton? And your sister, Miss Lydia, hers?”
“Lydia has gone home to Longbourn, but she enjoyed her stay, thank you, sir. It was blessedly uneventful.” Elizabeth could feel Mr Hartham’s curious gaze on her and thought it prudent to change the subject. “You remember Mr Hartham, do you not? You were introduced at Lady Rosse’s ball, I believe.”
Denny turned to him. “Yes, I recall. And I beg you would forgive me my manners—I ought to have begun by offering my congratulations to you both.”
Elizabeth felt something tighten inside her. Panic, perhaps. Anguish? This wretched rumour seemed set to dog her forever. She regretted not having brought a maid to chaperon her; it was too easy to forget how stepping out with Mr Hartham might appear to others simply becausesheknew there would never be anything between them.
“No congratulations are necessary. We are not engaged,” she replied tightly. “That report has been wildly exaggerated. We are good friends, but nothing more.”
“Gosh, I do apologise,” Denny replied.
“Do not distress yourself,” Mr Hartham said jovially. “I have been rumoured as being engaged to far less handsome ladies than Miss Bennet.” He laughed, and Elizabeth smiled, but Denny only grimaced.
“You might be less grateful to me than you were a moment ago, Miss Bennet,” he said. “I, um…I am afraid I mentioned your engagement in my latest letter toa friend of mine in Meryton. I am sure he did not mention it to anyone, but?—”
Elizabeth let out a long breath; this explained a good deal. “She mentioned it. My mother has heard the report and spun it into afait accompli.”
Both Denny and Mr Hartham groaned and apologised again.
“I shall write directly to correct the error, of course,” Denny assured her.
“Good man,” Mr Hartham said. He looked as though he would say more but was interrupted when a white dog appeared from nowhere and began sniffing around his boots. “Hullo! Who’s this fellow?” he asked, picking up his feet and dancing about on the spot to avoid being licked.
Elizabeth was fairly sure she knew whose dog it was and looked around for his owner, spotting him immediately, leaning against the wall of the confectioner’s behind them, inspecting his nails. She felt a rush of anticipation, which was absurd, for Darcy’s cousin was no substitute for the man himself. He was, however, the nearest person to him that she had seen for days, and the possibility of hearing news of him made her giddy.
She curtseyed. “Good day, Lord Saye.”
“Miss Bennet. Mr Hartham.” He did not acknowledge Denny, who took the opportunity to give a quick bow and make his escape.
“My lord,” Mr Hartham said with a small bow. “How did you fare at Colonel Sullivan’s table in the end?”
His lordship made a disgusted noise and pushed away from the wall, clicking his tongue at his dog to call him to heel. “I lost an indecent amount of money, myleft boot, and some of my chest hair, which is still baffling me.”
Elizabeth felt a pang of guilt; she had quite forgotten his part in rescuing Lydia. “That sounds excessively trying. I am sorry for you. I did hear that there were some success stories from the evening, though? That is something to be grateful for.”
She could not tell from his expression whether he had taken her meaning, and his next words certainly did not shed any more light on the matter.
“I did have the comfort of knowing my dear boy here was excessively diverted by, um…shall we sayrelieving himselfin Sullivan’s tricorn. And besides, it seems my evening was not as bad as yours, for you were engaged when I left Marine Parade, and now it seems you are not. At least I did not have to contend with a broken engagement while I was gambling my fortune away.”
Elizabeth opened and closed her mouth as she sought for, and failed to find, the right words with which to reply. To her relief, Mr Hartham cleared his throat and spoke up.
“There is no broken engagement, my lord, only a regrettable error on my part. I was…precipitate in announcing that Miss Bennet and I were betrothed.”
This time, there was no mistaking what Lord Saye thought; his amusement was blatant. “Badly done, Hartham! Even I would trouble myself to ask the question first.”
Seeing Mr Hartham blush furiously, Elizabeth hastened to say, “He did ask, and he cannot have all the blame for the ensuing misunderstanding. I have learnt the hard way what pain and regret can come from a carelessly made refusal, and I wished to be kinder tohim than—” She left ‘Mr Darcy’ unsaid. If Lord Saye knew about his cousin’s proposal, then it did not require saying; if not, then she had no intention of breaking Darcy’s confidence. Instead, she finished, “I may have couched my ‘no’ in terms so gentle, it became indistinguishable from a ‘yes’.”
Mr Hartham shook his head, muttering about it being entirely his fault, but it seemed Lord Saye had tired of the conversation, for he yawned loudly and announced his intention to be gone. “I must escort my cousin back to London.”
“Mr Darcy?”
Lord Saye barked a laugh. “It has been about twenty-seven years since Darcy required anyone to hold his leading strings—and even longer since we all gave up trying to tell him where to go or what to do. No, I refer to Miss Hawkridge.”
“Will you return to Brighton?” Elizabeth asked, hoping he would answer for Darcy as well as himself.
“My plans are not yet fixed. But you must not worry that I shall renege early on the lease. Despite the house’s sincerest attempts to scare me off.”
