Chapter 8 Richard
Richard
Richard felt bellows-to-mend after a week of hard work, including volunteering for extra duty, plus hard drinking and high-stakes gambling at three of his favourite hells.
He had given up Madame Bertin’s for now, and instead took advantage of the presence of Cyprians in the hells. At the end of the week, he emerged exhausted, hungover, and broke…but still fixated on Elizabeth.
He decided that enough was enough. He was going to go to White’s that evening and would call on Elizabeth on the morrow.
Of course, such a decision required that he spend some time cleaning up, but when he was freshly bathed and shaved, and feeling more his usual self, he presented himself at White’s and looked around for friends.
The first person he recognised, Lord Russell, clapped him on the back and said, “Well met, Richard! The boys and I have been laughing at your cousin.”
“At Darcy?” Richard asked. Darcy was reliably sober and respectable, and he only became the object of jesting when his lack of experience with women came up.
“The word is, he is besotted!”
“Oh.” Richard knew the response was too understated, and indeed Russell pounced.
“So it is true? Who is the lady?”
“I know very little of my cousin of late. I have been working long hours this week. You know, ole’ Boney is not going to do us all a favour and just curl up and die. You must forgive me if I am less affable than usual; I have had too little sleep and even less sustenance these many days.”
“Well, you know that many of us thought Darcy must be a confirmed bachelor—” Russell winked elaborately—“but it seems we were wrong.”
Richard ducked his head as if he was either nodding or bowing goodbye as he hurried away from Russell and eventually found a table of friends who would not be troubling him with gossip.
What had happened in a week that gossip of Darcy and Elizabeth had reached even White’s? He almost dreaded to know.
The next day, Richard worked until noon, refreshed himself, and pushed down all his anxiety with ruthless determination as he presented himself at the door of 10 Gracechurch Street.
The housekeeper’s kind face lit up with recognition. “Good day, sir. It has been quite a while!”
Thinking to gird himself to know what he was going to see when he reached the parlour, Richard asked, “Is my cousin, Mr Darcy, here?”
“Yes, sir, he is.”
And she announced Richard and left him in a parlour full of people.
Mrs Gardiner and Elizabeth, of course. Darcy, who was sitting next to Elizabeth on a settee. Miss Allington, Lady Grace, and Lord Seymour. A young woman and a man he did not know—a man who sat in utter discomfort, likely a suitor who was discomfited by the sight of his eminent competitors.
Darcy and Elizabeth regarded him with matching joyous smiles. “Richard!” Darcy said as Elizabeth said, “Colonel!”
Richard plastered a smile on his face and bowed to the new acquaintances, who Elizabeth introduced as Miss and Mr Taylor. Then he made his way over to Darcy and Elizabeth.
Richard thought that Darcy had the biggest smile he had ever seen on his cousin’s face. They gave each other a back-slapping hug, and Darcy murmured, “Thank you a million times over, Cuz, for introducing Miss Bennet to me. She is a true gem.”
“You are very welcome,” Richard lied. He decided that such an affectionate greeting with his cousin should mean that he would be allowed a bit of affection for the lady at his side, and he took Elizabeth’s hand and bestowed a kiss on her soft skin.
He moved on to greeting the other ladies, flirting with Lady Grace and Miss Taylor, whoever she was.
He had come prepared with anecdotes about his general (who would remain nameless in the telling, for his protection) and about a delightful encounter between Lieutenant Jones’s Company, a flock of sheep, and a very lazy sheepdog.
Before long half the room was hanging on his every word and laughing in all the right places.
He shot a quick glance at Elizabeth to see if she saw his worth as an engaging fellow, and what he saw almost made him gag: she was gazing up at Darcy, who was gazing down at her, and they both looked utterly enamoured.
Richard sped through the end of a third anecdote, made his excuses and farewells, and exited as promptly as he could.
He gave directions to his driver to head to the docks.
When the carriage was close, and Richard did not think he could prevent his sick for even one more minute, he rapped on the roof of the carriage and bolted towards the water, where he gladly emptied his stomach, making plenty of room for the whiskey he wished to imbibe.