Melrose held up both hands. “I was there for cards and to provoke my friends into setting aside their scruples. I remained downstairs.”
He was relieved to know Melrose had a few scruples of his own. “It must cost him several guineas to go upstairs in a place like that. I would have thought a shilling for a girl on the street would be all he could afford.”
“That is the thing, my friend. When he came down, he asked me for money. He wanted in on the game, and as you know, our set plays high for someone in his situation.”
“Did you give him any?”
“No, and neither would anyone at my table. Everyone now knows he never repays his debts of honour. And aside from him not being good for it, everyone also knows you have cut him—and anyone of sense knows whom to side with. He grew angry when someone suggested he go to Lisle Street or Covent Garden instead.” Such cheaper gaming places would be beneath the notice of a better sort of gentleman, beneath what Wickham thought he deserved.
“I cannot imagine he was in spirits after that.”
“Wickham…well, he grew indecorous,” Melrose said while avoiding his gaze. “Usually he is such a charmer, but whatever fine mood his company upstairs gave him did not last when he realised none of us would loan him any money, and that we would instantly take your side in any quarrel.”
His poor sister was tied for life to a selfish man. But the story made him more adamant that he not support them. Wickham had to reap what he had sown, and Georgiana would realise the mistake she had made and agree to live apart from her husband. Yes, it would be a disgrace if she left him and if Darcy maintained her thereafter, but a life with a gamester with the pox would be worse.
If Wickham was spending the last of their money on expensive prostitutes rather than finding employment and supporting her, perhaps Georgiana would leave him before the end of the year.
“Thank you for telling me, Melrose. I doubt he will do me any harm beyond being an embarrassment.”
“He is broke, my friend. We all know he ran off with your sister in the hopes of her fortune, and now that you have withheld it—rightly so—he is desperate. And angry that he is not accepted in the circles he wanted to be.”
“Then he ought not to have spent five guineas in a brothel.”
“Well, that man is not known for his good principles or his good judgment,” Melrose said with a laugh. “I just thought you ought to know he is in town and he is resentful. Your sister’s marriage will become a matter of serious regret to you, I am afraid.”
“It already is,” he mumbled.
“At least your wife is respectful and respectable,” Melrose said brightly, trying to cheer him. “It must be difficult, of course. The world was a little astonished at the union, as your alliance would have been accepted by the first families. There were many daughters of earls and barons who were disappointed.”
Darcy turned to watch the dancers, admiring Elizabeth as she smiled at her partner and moved gracefully down the line. “I have reason to congratulate myself on my choice.” It may not have been much of a choice, but he had no cause to repine. In the last month, he had come to admire and love her, and that was what mattered.
“But you are not congratulating yourself on your new brother-in-law.”
“Certainly not,” he agreed, his gaze still on his wife, “but for myself, I must admit that I am very glad with how things turned out.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When they had left the ball this morning, there were five or six determined couples still hard at work, and the sounds of the country dance followed him and Elizabeth to their carriage. Within moments, her head lolled on his shoulder, her pretty hair ornament preventing him from resting his cheek atop her head. Had his wife not been the person of honour, Darcy would have left hours ago. However feverish with hopes and fears, however restless and agitated he felt about what his relationship would be with Elizabeth, the ball was delightful because he saw how much his wife enjoyed herself.
When they arrived home at three o’clock, it was far too late for any discussion about life or love. Elizabeth was not used to these sorts of hours, and he was likewise exhausted and due to be on the road by ten. She had staggered up the stairs with her eyes half closed but with a smile on her lips.
When his valet woke him at nine, Darcy grudgingly readied for his trip to Derbyshire. He did not want to leave Elizabeth when he felt matters between them were on the verge of changing for the better. He did not expect her to get up before he left and had only the hope that she would write to him.
Darcy was in the library awaiting the carriage when he heard harried female voices through the hall from the lobby above.
“But am I too late?” Elizabeth cried.
He entered the hall and looked up to see his wife in a dressing gown talking to her maid. She then looked over the railing and saw him, and grinned, although she closed her gown tighter around her and smoothed down her hair.
“Mr Darcy, I feared you had left without saying goodbye.”
When the footmen at the bottom of the stairs noticed her state of undress, they disappeared into the woodwork and then her maid scurried away.
“I had told them to let you sleep as long as you could, and never mind me.” He gestured for her to come into the library and wait with him. She looked down at herself, likely debating the propriety of being downstairs in her own house while undressed, and came down.
She must have forgotten he had seen her with her hair down and in a dressing gown when they awaited Georgiana in Gretna Green. He had been distracted that night by how pretty she looked, and angry at himself because he little wanted to be attracted at such a time. Now, he wished he was at his leisure to admire her.
“I heard you order the carriage,” she said as he closed the door behind her. “I meant to get up and breakfast with you. It will be the last time, you know.”
