Chapter Five An Alliance on the Promenade #2
“It’s salty, Sir.”
Elizabeth snapped her mouth shut. The sound had not come from the seagulls nor from Mr Darcy.
Winslow adjusted the shawl around her shoulders and looked directly at Horlicks. “The salt plays havoc with my joints. It’s, however, better than the smell of boiled cabbage in Hertfordshire.”
Elizabeth stared at her maid, her mouth agape. The world tilted sideways, the wood under her feet suddenly unstable.
Elizabeth pointed a trembling finger at the elderly woman. “You can hear.”
Winslow turned her gaze upon her mistress. The blank, vacant stare vanished, replaced by a look of sharp intelligence.
“My hearing is perfect, Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth gripped her pelisse. “You are deaf. You have been deaf since before Lydia was born!”
Winslow offered a short, dry sniff. “I hear every single word spoken in front of me. I just choose not to respond.”
Elizabeth felt the breath leave her lungs. “You choose! You deliberately choose to be deaf?”
Winslow folded her hands neatly over her crisp white apron. “I have to, Miss. Your mother has a very shrill voice. She suffers from nerves and asks the servants to run about the house to fetch her smelling salts. I’m too old to run like a headless chicken. That’s why I stopped hearing her.”
Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. The magnificent audacity of the deception was staggering.
For more than fifteen years, this woman had avoided every unpleasant task, every fit of nerves, and every family dispute by staring blankly at a wall and nodding.
She was not a useless piece of furniture; she was a genius of the highest order.
Horlicks took a step closer to the elderly maid. His impassive face transformed, a look of shining reverence washing over his features. He looked at Winslow as though she had just descended from the heavens holding a pressed waistcoat.
Horlicks held a hand flat against his heart. “That is the most magnificent display of personal fortitude I have ever witnessed in my life. You remind me of my late grandfather, madam. He avoided my grandmother for twenty years by pretending he could not hear a thing.”
Winslow offered a firm, approving nod. “A sensible man.”
Elizabeth stared at Horlicks. Then, at the single tooth visible in Winslow’s proud smile. She then turned her head and glanced at Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Mr Darcy was staring at his valet in bewilderment. He looked down at the diminutive, ancient maid and then turned back to Elizabeth.
The corners of his mouth twitched.
Elizabeth felt a bubble of hysterical amusement rise in her chest. The tension of the previous night, the crushing weight of Wickham’s scheming, the awkwardness of the assembly—it all collided with the image of Winslow faking a disability to avoid Mrs Bennet’s nerves.
A laugh escaped Elizabeth’s lips. It was not a polite, drawing-room chuckle, but a snort of utter disbelief and delight.
Mr Darcy’s broad chest shook. He pressed his gloved fist over his mouth, but the effort was useless. A deep, rich laugh broke free, echoing clearly across the empty promenade. It transformed his entire face, revealing a man who fully appreciated the absurdity of the world around him.
They stood there, laughing together, ignoring the strict rules of polite society. Beside them, the two servants solemnly continued to discuss the benefits of feigned ignorance. The ice of the previous evening did not merely melt. It completely evaporated.
The laughter finally subsided, leaving behind a comfortable, sparkling silence.
Elizabeth wiped a tear of mirth from the corner of her eye, and her gaze landed on Mr Darcy. He was still smiling, a genuine, relaxed expression that made him appear different. Approachable. Handsome.
The smile faded from his features, replaced by intense focus. He took a step closer to her, lowering his voice so it would not carry over the sound of the crashing waves.
“I did not travel to Brighton for the sea air, Miss Elizabeth. I came solely because Wickham is here.” Mr Darcy held her gaze.
“I made a grievous error in Hertfordshire. I remained silent when I should have spoken, allowing a dangerous man to traverse freely among polite society because I was fiercely guarding another. I came here to remedy that mistake. I intend to ensure he does not attempt to ruin any unsuspecting ladies in this town.”
Elizabeth felt a sudden tightness in her throat at the clear reference. He was speaking of the letter he had handed her in Kent, the painful history of his sister he had trusted her to read. He was trying to protect others from the same fate.
“I understand your reasoning.” Elizabeth lifted her chin, meeting his intense look.
“Because I share it. I had absolutely no desire to visit a seaside resort. I volunteered to accompany Lydia the moment the invitation arrived. I read your letter very carefully, Mr Darcy. I knew exactly what he was capable of, and I could not allow my youngest sister to walk into this town unguarded.”
He nodded gravely. “I observed them at the Ship Inn last night.”
Elizabeth felt her breath catch, the memory rushing back, bringing the dread with it. She looked down at her feet.
“It was a terrible sight.” She adjusted her shawl against the wind. “I was trapped by Lady Metcalf. I could do nothing but watch.”
“He is desperate.” Mr Darcy clasped his hands securely behind his back. “His debts are legendary, and his avenues for securing a wealthy heiress are dwindling. A man in such a position becomes unpredictable.”
He paused and looked out at the churning water of the English Channel before turning his eyes back to her face.
“Your sister is in a precarious position.” He spoke softly, treating the delicate subject with immense care.
“She lacks a fortune, but she is young, lively, and she is eager for attention. He will use her. He will attempt to secure an elopement to force a settlement from your family, or to exact revenge upon those who have thwarted him. We have to stop him.”
“If she suspects I am managing her,” Elizabeth warned, “she will do the exact opposite out of spite. She views any guidance as a personal insult. She must believe every decision is her own.”
“Then we must be subtle.” He stepped another fraction of an inch closer, the space between them becoming charged, crackling with shared purpose. “We must form an arrangement. A partnership. We will work together to keep him contained.”
Elizabeth nodded, and he continued. “We must block him from the wealthy visitors. My understanding is that two heiresses have arrived recently, and they are his most lucrative prospects. I will use my presence to discourage his approaches, and you will use your conversation to extract the ladies when he corners them. Simultaneously, we must keep Miss Lydia distracted. We must ensure she is constantly surrounded by other amusements, so she has no opportunity to seek him out.”
Elizabeth listened to the plan. It was brilliant, logical, and, most importantly, shared.
The weight she had felt since reading his letter in Kent vanished. She was no longer carrying the sky upon her shoulders alone. She did not have to roam the assemblies alone. She had a partner with a quick mind, a grand fortune, and an imposing scowl that could frighten a rogue in twenty paces.
“I accept your terms.” Elizabeth offered a bright smile. “It is a most excellent arrangement. But we shall need a method of communication. We cannot be seen whispering in corners at every assembly. It will cause gossip.”
Horlicks, who had been listening politely while pretending to examine a seagull, stepped forward.
“If I may be of assistance, Sir. There is an apothecary situated directly off the Steine.” Horlicks pointed at a respectable-looking establishment with jars of coloured liquid in the window.
“They sell an exceptional variety of mint pastilles. I find I require a fresh tin every day at precisely noon.”
Winslow nodded sagely.
“My throat gets dry around midday.” Winslow pointed at her throat. “I need a medicinal lozenge. It’s a terrible affliction, brought on by the sea air and the shrieking of young ladies.”
“It is a completely respectable errand.” Horlicks looked at his master.
“A valet and a maid, acquiring medicinal supplies for their respective households. We could easily exchange any necessary correspondence or verbal intelligence whilst debating the merits of peppermint versus liquorice. Servants meeting upon the high street constitute absolutely no impropriety. It is a flawless system.” Horlicks beamed at the elderly maid.
“We shall be the very models of discretion.”
Elizabeth looked at Mr Darcy. The amusement had returned to his eyes.
“It appears our households are fully integrated.” He offered a small bow. “I shall leave you to finish your morning walk, Miss Elizabeth. I will inform the Colonel of our plans, and we will commence our societal venture posthaste.”
“I shall look forward to it, Mr Darcy.”
He bowed and began walking back to the more fashionable end of the promenade, Horlicks trailing a respectful step behind him.
Elizabeth stood by the iron railing. The breeze ruffled the ribbons of her bonnet. She took a deep breath, and the air tasted different.