Page 51 of Affectations of Candour

“Why does this Elizabeth Bennet’s name sound so familiar to me?” James Wright snapped his fingers. “One of you wrote to me about her. Tell me, would I find her temptingly handsome? You know that I can resist everything except temptation.”

Graham, Darcy’s valet, had performed wonders with the young man. He was clean, and his hair had been trimmed. His trunk had been fetched from the cottage, and the clothing he wore looked to be from John Weston’s shop on Old Bond Street. Still, in Darcy’s opinion, the scoundrel was unworthy of even mentioning Elizabeth’s name, and he certainly could not be trusted anywhere near her.

Choosing to disregard his remarks, Darcy spoke to the young man’s father. “Now, Mr Wright, if your family will leave us in privacy, you and I need to have a word.”

Once they were alone, the two gentlemen sat facing one another in chairs beside an open window overlooking the formal gardens.

“Mr Wright, I am pleased to know that your eldest daughter is in better health this morning. However, that means that you and your family are now able to leave Strandsmere. I trust that this missing piece of jewellery is not a contrivance intended to delay your departure.”

“You cannot expect us to go now, Darcy. James has just arrived.” Mr Wright spoke in an indignant, aggressive manner. “And, while the necklace is certainly no deceit, you must understand that Hannah will be heartbroken to leave without her cherished piece of jewellery. As she said, it was bequeathed to her by my dear departed wife, so it has more sentimental value than monetary worth. One would have to be callous to expect her to leave it behind.”

All your bluster will have little effect, I am afraid. “Callous or not, I must insist that you go. Your son mentioned that a rough-looking man might turn up here asking for him. And I shall not have my sister, her friends, or my neighbours exposed to the dangers such an unsavoury character might bring to Wyman’s Cove. I know, sir, about your heir’s gaming debts.”

“Gaming debts? What balderdash! If James has written a few IOUs, vowels as they call them, what of it? They are nothing more than informal memorandums of debt and not promises to pay, such as promissory notes would be. It was just some jolly fun amongst young bucks out carousing, playing cards and dice, sowing their wild oats, and such. My son never would have expressed any sort of direct promise to pay. Now, if you will excuse me, I really must see about some breakfast.”

“Before you go, I must reiterate that I want the whole lot of you, except for Miss Althea, gone from Strandsmere Park by this time tomorrow.”

Horace Wright left without acknowledgement.

Remaining as he was, Darcy watched as a gentle breeze blowing in from the Channel occasionally made the dimity curtains billow. Through the window he could see a variety of pink, red, white, and deep purple spires of the hollyhocks that grew tall against a stone wall. He listened to birdsong from the garden and distant cries of gulls. Deeply he breathed the fragrant scent of heliotrope in beds below the window. The summer sights, sounds, and smells reminded him that all was not, in fact, wrong in his world. Georgiana was well. Elizabeth was near. And the Wrights would soon be gone.

Voices on the other side of the window intruded upon his thoughts, and he recognised Miss Margaret’s as one of them.

“Miss Darcy has probably taken Hector for a walk along the cliff, but the Heiress must be here somewhere.”

“An heiress! Who is she?” That was James Wright. “Whoever she is, I am as keen as mustard to be introduced to her.”

“Of course you are.” Miss Margaret sounded faintly amused. “Do not worry, Brother. You probably will have an opportunity to meet the Heiress before we are evicted.”

“Good, good. Pray tell, is she young and pretty or⁠—”

The voices faded into the distance while Darcy smiled.

In a chair in front of Darcy’s desk, the Wright heir stretched out his long legs, sitting in a languid manner while listening until his host finished speaking.

“Claims of creditors? Pecuniary distress?” James Wright’s eyebrows rose at such a suggestion. “No, no. Not at all. How greatly someone has traduced my family and me!” He laughed nervously. “Well, my father did decide to retrench, somewhat overcautiously I might add. And there might have been a trifling little imbalance between income and expenditure at some point in time. But it was all my father’s own fault, and Hannah’s, for squandering so outrageously. Now, Darcy, speaking of my elder sister, if I may introduce so delicate a subject… When you two marry, you must check your bride’s propensity for overindulgence and reckless extravagance. The amount my father allowed Hannah for pin money was exorbitant. A smaller provision would certainly support her in affluence. Yes, yes, the more I think of it, the more I believe that financial prudence will be necessary to overcome your wife’s profligacies. Not that I shall ever have need of such restraint, for I do not plan to marry. The life of a bachelor is the one for me.”

You mean that no woman in her right mind would have you. “Has no member of your family informed you that there will be no marriage, at least not one involving your eldest sister?”

“It was mentioned.” Wright brushed at something on his breeches, then held it up for inspection. “Is this cat hair? But, Darcy, I could not credit that you, of all people, would be so lacking in honour. What will it be, man? Pistols at dawn?”

“All your blather is rich coming from a gamester on the run from creditors. Tell me, Wright, where is the honour in that?”

“Ah. Well, as they say, Dame Fortune knocks on everyone’s door, but it was her daughter, Miss Fortune, who visited me. Come now, old boy, you must agree that I am blameless in all that. It is not my fault that my friends are far wealthier than I am and that, consequently, I was drawn into living far above my means.”

You conceited pup!

“And another thing. You must allow us to stay until September rolls round. The people leasing our London house have it for another fortnight. So, tell me, where are we to go?”

Darcy slammed his fist on the desk, and Wright jumped. “Do you really want me to tell you where to go? Kindly leave me in peace now. Enough is enough.”

For Darcy, though, there was no peace. He alone had invited the nest of vipers into his house, into his life, into Georgiana’s, and into Elizabeth’s. In actuality, it was more a case of Miss Wright having invited herself and her entire family to Strandsmere for the summer, but he had allowed it.

While his sister had benefited from Miss Althea’s friendship, Elizabeth had suffered through Miss Wright’s shrewish remarks, outright insults, untruths, theft, suspicion, accusations, and misfortune. Like a tolerant silver birch, able to sway without breaking while being battered by a salty, coastal wind, Elizabeth had taken a battering from a jealous, aggressive woman. Through it all, she had stood her ground and bravely smiled. But everything she had endured was his fault. He had been too trusting, too heedless, just as he had been with Wickham and Mrs Younge. It was utterly inexcusable, and he would spend a lifetime, if Elizabeth allowed it, making amends to her. And being loved by her. But, more than being loved by her, he wanted to give her his love and be the one to protect her for the rest of their lives.

Flipping open his pocket watch, he noted the hour, remembering that she and Miss Hughes had been invited to paint with Georgiana and Miss Althea. They could be making their way over at this very moment. His day gradually improved with each audible, rhythmic tick of the second hand.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE