Page 49 of Affectations of Candour

Closing her eyes, Miss Althea took a deep breath, seemingly needing a moment to compose herself. “First of all, I wrote an unsigned note for Miss Bennet, warning her about Hannah. I tucked it into her friendship book, marking the place where my sister made her entry. But I fear my message was too enigmatic. Instead, I should have spoken directly to Miss Bennet.”

Darcy drummed his fingers on the chair’s mahogany arm. “Do you know anything about one page of a letter that your eldest sister professes to have found aboard my punt? She told me it was tucked between the gunwale and the thwart. Also, do you have anything to impart about Miss Bennet being pushed into the mere?”

“Oh yes.” Miss Althea told Darcy that while they had walked to the dock, she had caught the end of a conversation between her father and sisters. “They mentioned someone ending up in the water, but I thought they might be referring to Hector going for a swim. In any event, once Hannah stepped on board your punt, I closely watched her. I do not know whether it was done purposely or accidentally, but she trod upon Hector’s paw, then bumped into Miss Bennet. Even after the lady fell into the water, I kept an eye on my sister. I know for a fact that Hannah did not retrieve a piece of paper. She had nothing in her hands at any time while on that boat. Whatever the paper is, as far as I know, it was never there.”

From where she sat beside Miss Althea, Georgiana reached over and held her friend’s hand. “When we called at Cliff House the next morning, did you notice anything peculiar about your sister’s conduct? To me, Miss Wright seemed nervous, and I do not recall ever before having seen her so.”

“Yes, now that you mention it. Hannah appeared”—Miss Althea squinted her eyes and gazed into space—“almost mistrustful or, perhaps, threatened. I cannot quite put my finger on how to describe her behaviour that morning.” She sat up straighter. “Guilt. I think it was fear of being caught in some wrongdoing.”

“Brother, Miss Bennet told me that she has been awaiting a letter from her sister Jane.”

“Yes, she mentioned the same to me.”

“Good heavens!” cried Miss Althea. “When we arrived at Cliff House, a maid tossed a couple of letters onto the console table in the vestibule. They were not there when we were leaving, but Mr Baker did have a single one in his hand. Neither Miss Bennet nor Miss Hughes took the other, for they were in the sitting room with us the whole time. And Miss Baker was gone to the village.” She gasped. “Later that afternoon, I caught Margaret feeding papers to the fireplace in our bedchamber. When I asked what the pages were, she told me it was just an old letter from Miss Bingley. Her face was red, and I assumed it was from the heat of the flames. But she may have lied to me. She colours whenever she tells a fib. Hannah is the only one of us three sisters who does not blush.”

It finally made sense to Darcy, but his strongest sensation of all was astonishment that so much iniquity had been occurring under his nose. To his disgust, he had a nest of perfidious vipers—a group of unprincipled people—congregated together beneath his roof. And he had been remiss. He should have taken better precautions against such a possibility. It was his duty to provide and protect.

Darcy tried to smile but feared it was more of a grimace. “Thank you for your candour, Miss Althea. I am about to speak to your father, and I regret that it will be necessary to ask him and your sisters to leave as soon as possible. However, if you so wish, you are welcome to remain. I know I also speak for Georgiana when I say that we hope you will decide to do so.” He felt for the poor girl, knowing her loyalties were divided between devotion to a spiteful, felonious family and her friendship with Georgiana. “If you do decide to stay, how do you suppose your father might feel about such a decision?”

Miss Althea stared down at her hands. “Papa will be delighted to have one fewer daughter for a while. Meg and I are of little consequence to him.” She raised her chin. “So, thank you, both. I very much would like to stay here as long as possible.”

Of little consequence? Damn him. I would cherish such a daughter.

In the small sitting room where Mr Wright and his middle daughter sat, Darcy asked after Miss Wright’s health, and Miss Margaret informed him that her sister was still sound asleep and not to be disturbed.

Although he had been offered a seat, Darcy preferred to stand. “Mr Wright, in light of recent events, and having gained knowledge supporting my suspicions of mischief, falsehoods, and thievery, you and your two eldest daughters have until Miss Wright has fully recovered or until the end of this week, whichever comes first, to pack and begone from here. Upon your departure, and with the exception of Miss Althea, your family is prohibited from ever again setting foot on my property at Strandsmere, at Pemberley, or on Upper Berkeley Street.”

“You cannot be serious, Darcy.”

“This is preposterous, sir! Both of Papa’s houses have been let for the nonce. Where shall we live if you oust us?”

Mr Wright gave way to the most violent indignation. “What of Hannah? You have used my dear daughter abominably ill. She spoke of having an understanding with you, and by God, man, I shall have you sued for breach of promise!” He stood toe-to-toe with Darcy, apparently attempting to unsettle or threaten him, but he was not the one with the advantage of height.

Admitting to himself that he never should have allowed the man’s favourite daughter to assume she had any chance of an engagement, especially once Elizabeth had come back into his life, Darcy knew he was at fault. But he would not be forced into a marriage and certainly not one with Hannah Wright.

“There was no understanding, sir, other than as a product of your daughter’s overactive imagination and inebriated state. No evidence exists of an engagement.”

“It was implied!” cried Miss Margaret.

“Hush, Meg! Go. Leave us men to resolve this matter.”

Once the two gentlemen were alone, Darcy suggested they sit and act in a civil manner.

“No, I shall not sit. And how can I be expected to act civilly towards a rake such as you?” He gave a hard poke to Darcy’s chest. “You courted my daughter for half a year, implied an understanding, served her too much wine and other sedatives, and, no doubt, intended to seduce her tonight. Now you cry off and banish us to live in the hedgerows. You, sir, lack honour!”

If there was an insult certain to incite Darcy’s anger, it was one that dared to question his honour. He crossed his arms. If he tries to poke me again, I shall respond. And my pugilistic skills will not be found lacking. “My honour and integrity are renowned within the ton. And were I morally obligated to offer for your daughter, I would certainly do my duty. However, at no time were signs of affection given by me to her, nor were words of promise ever uttered or written by me to her. Amongst your daughter’s possessions, you will find no tokens of esteem from me. There was polite interaction between us, yes, but no intimacy. When there was dancing, I never stood up with her, or any lady, more than once. For confirmation of this, you may ask anyone. So, where, sir, is your evidence of an engagement?”

“A secret understanding is as good as an engagement announcement, and I shall have you taken to court.”

“No, it is not ‘as good’. This supposed understanding was, apparently, a secret from me as well. Again I ask, where is your evidence? Were I to enter into any promise, there would be documents—a contract, a marriage settlement signed by both you and me. But such does not exist. There never was even a hint of an offer being made. I am a man of principle, sir. Therefore, had I been so inclined, I would have come to you first to ask for your daughter’s hand.”

“You speak of your honour, Darcy, but the Wrights have honour too. And I shall not have Hannah exposed to scandal or ridicule.”

“You will certainly do so if you sue for breach of promise, for there is sure to be disgrace and malicious gossip. There is, you see, the matter of Miss Wright’s improper conduct—the aforementioned mischief, falsehoods, and thievery.”

“And where, Darcy, is your proof of such?”

“I have witnesses.” Those three words took the wind out of the man’s sails. “Your daughter is of low character. And you, sir, are in debt, which is, no doubt, why you wish to sue me.”