Chapter 18 #2
“I am sorry you are ill,” he said gently.
She looked up at him in surprise. “It is hardly your fault!”
“I hope it is not. I should not have pressed you to go onto the balcony.”
“You were not to know it was going to rain. Or that I would wrench the handle off the door.” She wrinkled her nose ruefully—an astonishingly charming expression. “I am sorry I got angry. You did not deserve it. I was feeling unaccountably defensive.”
“And I am profoundly sorry that, yet again, I gave you good reason to be angry with me. I beg you would believe that it was not my intention to belittle you at the card table. Only to protect you. Saye can be relentless where wagers are involved.”
She huffed a small chuckle. “Yes, that much was made clear when he asked me to throw the game.”
“I confess, I was surprised you agreed to do it.”
“Why? Do you think I am too good for such hijinks? You mistake me for Jane, in that case.”
“No, I…” He grimaced wryly, regretting mentioning it, but he had said too much to withdraw now. “I was surprised you agreed to scheme against your friend. I thought you held Mr Hartham in higher esteem.”
She cocked her head and regarded him for a moment, the laughter now back in her eyes and amusement dancing at the corner of her mouth. “Well, naturally I told him of his lordship’s intentions. He agreed, because he supports my wild inclinations. Perhaps it is love after all.”
Darcy was not sure what he had hoped she would say.
That she enjoyed the idea of scheming against Hartham?
That she hated the man and had no qualms in throwing a game that might cost him hundreds of pounds?
She was not that sort of woman, and he knew it.
It was one of the many reasons he loved her.
Still, he could not bring himself to be pleased that Hartham should be the recipient of her compassion.
“That was good of you.”
“I would do the same for any of my friends, but Mr Hartham has been particularly kind to me since I arrived in Brighton. It would have been rotten to return his solicitude with duplicity.”
“Yes, I suppose it would,” he replied unhappily.
“I think you would like him, if you knew him better. He is perfectly amiable. Indeed, I am not sure why Lord Saye was in such a rage to fleece him.”
Darcy shifted in his seat. He did not think Elizabeth would like to hear how Saye had wished to humble the vexatious little princock—or how well he had been looking forward to seeing it.
“I hope he did not go too hard on him when he returned to the party,” Elizabeth added.
“He never came back,” Darcy replied. “Much to my cousin’s annoyance, for it deprived him of the opportunity to recoup his losses.”
She smirked. “Somebody less politic than I might say that was just deserts.”
Jealousy rose like bile in Darcy’s throat. “You are uncommonly protective of Mr Hartham. You must like him a great deal.”
“I think very highly of him, but it was not him I was thinking of. If Lord Saye had not interfered in the game, you and I would never have argued.”
And just like that, the bubble of jealousy popped, and hope surged up to throw a smile across Darcy’s face.
“That is very true. One gets used to the mayhem Saye creates everywhere he goes, but you are right—he deserves more punishment for the trouble he causes. And he has been especially troublesome of late.” At her querying look, he added, “Do not imagine that I ended up in the sea without assistance.”
“He pushed you?” she cried, laughing incredulously. “Why would he do such a thing?”
“My brother does not need a reason to misbehave, Miss Bennet,” Fitzwilliam interrupted from his seat nearby. “Mischief is his middle name.”
“Indeed it is,” Miss Hawkridge agreed. “Georgiana, tell them what Saye did to us the other night, after the card party.”
Darcy looked at Georgiana, certain she would be abashed to have all the eyes of the room directed upon her, but after a little encouragement from Miss Lydia, who seemed delighted at the prospect of some family tattle, she spoke with uncommon courage and even a hint of enthusiasm.
“Georgette and I were minding our own business in my room, thinking the men were all still playing at cards downstairs, when something banged against the window. We looked out to see a ghostly apparition floating about outside and it frightened us out of our wits, no doubt because Saye has been filling our heads for weeks with stories about the house being haunted. But it turned out to be him, dangling a cravat on a string from a stick from the window of one of the upper rooms, making it flap about in the wind.”
“He had drawn a ghastly little bat face with fangs on it, too, the toad,” Miss Hawkridge added, though she evidently found it at least a little amusing, for she was smiling about it now. “I think punishing him is a fine idea.”
“Why not give him a taste of his own medicine?” Elizabeth suggested. “Make him wonder whether the house truly is haunted.”
“Now that is a spectacular idea,” Fitzwilliam said with a grin. “But we shall have to be cunning if we wish to best him at his own game.”
“Never underestimate the ingenuity of a woman who has grown up with four sisters.” Elizabeth looked at Miss Lydia, whose eyes were positively gleaming in anticipation. “We have come up with some suitably mischievous schemes in our time, have we not, Lydia?”
“Do not get carried away, girls,” Mrs Gardiner warned.
“It is my house,” Elizabeth replied with mock indignation. “If I wish to have it haunted, that is surely my prerogative.”
“You are very quiet, Mr Darcy,” Miss Hawkridge said. “Are you opposed to the idea as well?”
“Not at all,” he answered. “I was trying to think where we could get our hands on some animal bones and when would be best to plant them in Saye’s room without him noticing us at it.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You do surprise me. I thought you were far too sensible to approve of such silliness.”
“I would advise you not to try and sketch Mr Darcy’s character based solely on his demeanour,” Elizabeth said, smiling and shaking her head. “He will always confound you.”
The look she turned on him made Darcy’s pulse quicken.
It did not slow for the remainder of the visit, which was largely taken up with plotting Saye’s reprisal.
He almost felt sorry for him by the end of it, though if his cousin’s torment was the price of Elizabeth’s allegiance, then it was a price he was more than prepared to pay.