Chapter Three
4 June, 1813
Sanditon, Sussex
The Tremont Hotel was a spectacular structure. Indeed, the entire village of Sanditon proved to be, as Georgiana had exclaimed, “Like something from a fairy tale!” She had persuaded her brother to fold down the collapsible hood of the barouche for the final length of their journey, and even Darcy could not deny that the picturesque coastal vista and the charming clifftop hamlet were among the finest scenery he had ever beheld. Darcy could feel the many worries that plagued his family dissipate, as if carried away on the bracing saline breeze. It was well worth appearing a little blowsy from their windswept arrival.
As they approached the chipper little village, the narrow dirt road that had wound through the gentle gills and open countryside now turned westward, giving way to Grand Avenue, a wide cobblestone thoroughfare lined with quaint shops on the north side of the street. On the southerly side, looking out on the tranquil sea, sat a row of townhouses freshly painted in cheerful pastels. Visible from a considerable distance, the Tremont Hotel perched atop a cliff at the end of the avenue, its stucco edifice drenched in sunlight.
It sat on a low rise, perhaps a dozen feet higher than the rest of the village, where the cliff extended southward, affording the four-storied palatial building incomparable ocean views. The peninsular site seemed to have been designed for the hotel, which rivalled the former glory of Pemberley in its harmony with its surroundings. As their open barouche reached the end of the avenue, the road forked. The northernmost path was a gravel track that led into wilder terrain; they took the short, southerly lane that brought them directly into the courtyard of the hotel, which towered over them on three sides, each stretching about a hundred feet wide.
They were not the only arrivals; several other carriages had queued in the massive courtyard, though Darcy had no objection to waiting. He exchanged a tranquil smile with his sister and then turned to observe his cousin, who was reclined in a leisurely and indecorous posture on the rear-facing bench. Richard slowly tilted his head upward, taking in the splendor of their destination, and let out an appreciative whistle.
The three made easy companions, and they observed their new surroundings in a comfortable silence that rendered the hustle and bustle around them a thing of unlikely beauty. The cry of seagulls floated on the breeze, the laughter and lively chatter of other guests echoed across the cobblestones, and the splashing of water in an ostentatious stone fountain at the center of the courtyard lulled Darcy into a serenity that was nearly optimistic.
One by one the other carriages made a slow circuit of the courtyard, coming to a stop before an ornate set of steps that led to the flower-adorned entrance. Footmen in the Prussian blue and cerulean livery of the hotel assisted guests out of their carriages and hauled in trunks and traveling cases, and then the carriages were driven off to the large stables across the road.
“Brother, look!” Georgiana pointed at the western side of the building. Near the center of the building was another grand entrance, and above it, etched into the stone above the wide double doors, were the words Sunset Ballroom. “How perfectly wonderful,” she exclaimed, giving a little clap of her hands. “Roberta says they have weekly assemblies – she helped me practice my steps when we were in London!”
As if in anticipation of Darcy’s distaste for dancing, Richard voiced his hearty approval. “My lady mother has reminded me of my duty to the family, which as you may imagine has always been ever-present in my thoughts – and so I shall not return to London without an heiress on my arm. Perhaps a ball or two might even help you woo your wayward lady, Darcy. You shall dance your way back into her good graces, and we shall all be excessively diverted.”
Darcy turned sharply toward his cousin, stunned by that turn of phrase which she so often used in her letters. When he managed to recover himself, Darcy could only agree that their time in Sanditon would be a fine thing for them all. He had no doubt of Richard’s ability to recommend himself to the fairer sex, nor of Georgiana’s capacity to shed the anguish and anxiety of the past two years and begin to blossom in preparation for her debut in society. And with the sun on his face and his environs so idyllic, Darcy was filled with a confidence in his own endeavors that he had not felt in far too long.
He maintained his sanguine self-assurance as they entered the hotel, leading his sister on his arm through the crowded lobby, while Richard ambled jauntily behind them. The foyer was elegant and expansive, and the excitement within was palpable. A handful of the guests were making their way up the prominent staircase just beyond the front entrance, while a few others demanded the attention of the concierge, and a great many simply milled about in conversation, their voices carrying on the marble floors.
Darcy hesitated for but a moment as his face resumed the inscrutable mask that had always served him so well in society. Knowing his countenance revealed only the dignity of his station, and nothing of his true sentiments, Darcy took another step forward. The crowd of people shifted, fortuitously clearing a path for him to the large oak desk at the back of the room. A woman wearing the same shade of blue as the liveried footmen stood behind the desk, a few wisps of dark hair falling loose as she skimmed through several ledgers laid open before her.
She looked up, her fine grey eyes landing on Darcy with startling intensity. Her lips twitched upward as her gaze lingered on him and she nodded slowly, making a subtle gesture to summon him toward her. Darcy’s arm fell away from Georgiana as he strode forward, fixated on the buxom beauty that beckoned to him. He stopped a few feet from the desk and bowed; she dipped into the barest of curtseys before staring expectantly at him, mirth and a trace of recognition in her beguiling countenance.
Her lips parted and then pressed together again as a lovely tinge of pink shaded her cheeks. She ran an ungloved finger over one of the ledgers, finally dropping her gaze for a moment. “Your name, sir?”
“Mr. Darcy?” The voice was not his own, for he had hesitated once more, instinctively searching for someone who could perform the introduction. Fortunately, a plump woman of about thirty, who might have been plain but for the look of supreme contentment on her visage, had joined the siren he now realized was an employee of the hotel.
Darcy nodded and gave another bow. “Fitzwilliam Darcy at your service, madam.”
“Lady Parker of Trafalgar House – but I was Miss Charlotte Lucas when you met Miss Bennet and myself in Hertfordshire.” Lady Parker shared a significant look with Miss Bennet, missing the twinge of distaste that tugged at his upper lip at the mention of that name – Parker.
Miss Bennet furrowed her brows for a moment, smiling as if amused by her own confusion. “Forgive me, I – I am much occupied by the influx of guests this morning.”
Lady Parker grinned wolfishly. “Mr. Darcy accompanied Mr. Bingley to an assembly, though he was not inclined to dance – if I am not mistaken.”
Darcy searched his memory. Of course he recalled accompanying Bingley when his friend took possession of a charming manor in the country – it was where Bingley had met his wife, if his memory served him. But that visit had been curtailed by a series of calamities that had not yet ceased to confound Darcy, and he could recollect nothing further. Miss Bennet, on the other hand, appeared inexplicably alarmed. She drew in a sharp breath, her rosy lips parted in a perfect o .
“Yes, I remember. Well, Mr. Darcy, though you are a friend of my brother by marriage, I regret I must inform you that I do not see any reservations in your name, nor do I see you on the list of guests expected by the Parkers, and we have no rooms to spare at present.”
Though Miss Bennet spoke without the slightest trace of remorse, Lady Parker offered him an apologetic smile. “You may blame my brother by marriage for that. Sir Sidney has invited a large party of friends from London to enjoy the delights of Sanditon for the summer.”
Richard and Georgiana had come to stand beside Darcy; his sister picked up a pamphlet from the desk and studied the information provided about the hotel, while his cousin leaned in with a charming smile, ready to apply his considerable charm to the ladies. But whatever Richard said was lost to Darcy, who had turned about, following Lady Parker’s gaze across the room.
It was easy to guess which of the gentlemen loitering about the lobby was Sir Sidney Parker. The man was tall, broad-shouldered, and undeniably well favored in his appearance, with a pleasing countenance, fine clothing, and an air of decided self-assurance. His posture was relaxed and his popularity was evident, for he was surrounded by a group of merry companions. And at his side, laughing at Sir Sidney’s jokes and clutching his arm, fawning over him with nauseating adoration, was the woman Darcy loved.