Chapter 27
“Why is he here?” Darcy demanded as he entered the carriage. Saye’s dog Florizel was perched on the forwards-facing seat; Saye claimed he suffered carriage sickness if he was made to ride facing backwards.
“He wants to help,” Saye replied, fussily adjusting his dog’s collar. “Poodle Byng never goes anywhere without his dogs.”
“We do not need the extra complication of your animal running about,” Darcy protested as Fitzwilliam thudded into the seat next to him.
“I will have you know it was a dog that saved the life of William, Prince of Orange in an assassination attempt,” Saye retorted.
Darcy rolled his eyes. “Just be sure he does not draw attention to us. I do not want anyone to take particular notice of me or observe my doings.”
“Nor mine,” Fitzwilliam said. “We cannot have anyone think that any of this pertains to Georgiana.”
“Then it seems it is to Florizel and me to play the rescuers.” Saye gave Florizel’s collar a little adjustment. “Challenge accepted.”
“Pray do nothing. Your methods tend too much towards the outrageous,” Darcy replied.
“We ought to keep ourselves as much concealed as we can and pray they come away easily,” Fitzwilliam said. “No undue notice ought to be given to us or to our conversations.”
Darcy nodded, then turned his face to the window.
A tumult of emotion ran through him: fear for his sister, worry for the reputation of both girls, delight that Elizabeth had turned to him, dismay that Hartham had once again arrived to take his place.
The last, he knew he must put out of his mind for now.
Georgiana and Miss Lydia were to take the chief seat in his concerns, though how he was to stop thinking of Elizabeth, he knew not, since he had not managed it for the last twelve months.
It was not long until they arrived. The party was being held amid one of the encampments; a large tent had been erected for, as far as Darcy could tell, the express purpose of card parties—a gentlemen’s club for the ungentlemanly.
They were greeted by the sound of male voices shouting, and arguing, and exulting.
A man in regimentals was vomiting near the door; they stepped around him carefully as they entered.
Darcy barely stopped himself from moaning aloud on his first sight of Sullivan’s party. ‘Sullivan’s debauchery’ would have been a more apt moniker, for the place was as much an example of hedonistic indulgence as ever he had seen.
Beside him, Fitzwilliam let out a low whistle. “This is a remarkable scene even by military standards.”
Within were above twenty tables crowded with men, officers, ensigns, and civilians alike.
A thick fog of tobacco smoke mixed with the acrid tang of cheap spirits hung over them.
Darcy’s eyes moved around the room, seeing men in various stages of dress, jackets discarded, cravats thrown aside, even shirts untucked over breeches.
Men in such games could rarely be prevailed upon to leave the table, for any cause, and even as he observed, he saw an older lieutenant stand, undo his pants, and relieve himself.
Darcy could only hope he had been aiming at a concealed chamber pot beneath the table.
“I would say that Georgiana might have got an eyeful, but so far nothing I have seen would qualify,” Saye said with a chuckle. He gestured towards a nearby table. “I should have never known what that poor sod was about had I not seen the stream.”
“It is not a joke,” Darcy snapped at him. “All this time spent shielding her maidenly sensibilities, and now this. She will never be permitted to visit another seaside resort again, if I have anything to say for it.”
“At least not until she marries,” Fitzwilliam agreed.
“Shall we divide up?” Saye proposed. “The three of us prowling about peering at people will not do.”
“We must be inconspicuous,” Darcy warned. “I am sure I do not need to remind you—”
“Secrecy is paramount, yes, yes, you told us no less than half a dozen times in the carriage.” Saye rolled his eyes. With a click of his tongue at his dog, he was off, looking disturbingly jaunty given their mission.
Darcy roamed about for what felt like an interminable time, stopping to speak to those he knew, giving a nod to those he did not.
Most everyone was very, very drunk which was a vast relief.
With a bit of good fortune, they might just escape this nonsense unscathed.
But first we must find them. He nearly growled with frustration.
After two full circuits of the tent, he met up with his cousins near the back.
“I saw them,” Fitzwilliam said under his breath.
“Where?”
“One of the high tables. Has one of the generals at it.”
This time Darcy did groan, but Fitzwilliam appeared to have scarcely heard him, simply beckoning him to come along.
A crowd had gathered round the table in question, and it afforded some measure of anonymity while they observed the situation.
Happily, there were two or three onlookers who were as tall as Darcy, and he kept himself concealed betwixt them as he pressed forwards in the direction Fitzwilliam indicated with a discreetly pointed finger.
He supposed it was a testament to the girls’ talents of disguise that he had not seen them previously.
Miss Lydia was playing, it seemed, and Georgiana stood behind her as if she were a valet or manservant.
“I passed right by them but a few minutes ago,” Darcy whispered.
“Cannot fault you for attributing them with more sense than to enact their little tricks among such a group,” Fitzwilliam murmured in reply. “I cannot decide if I fear for them or admire them.”
“We must remove them before they are discovered—or worse, before they lose more than they can afford to pay.”
“That, I am afraid, has already happened,” Fitzwilliam told him in a low voice. “I made enquiries.” He stated the sums owed and, again, Darcy could only shake his head.
“We will have to take care of that too, I should imagine. I shall send Fields over later to manage it.”
The hand was ended, and one of the men looked poised to deal a new round; then Saye pushed himself in, standing next to Miss Lydia.
“Deal me in, fellows,” he said loudly, with nary a glance towards Fitzwilliam and Darcy. Georgiana’s head whipped towards her cousin, then immediately froze, her face draining of colour.
“What is he doing?” Fitzwilliam hissed. “He will give us all away!”
Saye and his purse were generally welcomed wherever he deigned to show himself, and this table was no exception. Taking full advantage of his position, he looked down his nose and said to Miss Lydia, “Go on there, lad, and take your valet with you.”
“Go on, Bennet.” One of the men grunted with a gesture towards Miss Lydia. Darcy repressed a curse. Elizabeth’s sister had been brazen enough to give the family name? “But he had best settle his purse before he goes.”
“Why should I step aside?” Miss Lydia, for all that she presently looked like a man, displayed all the petulance of an exceedingly immature young lady.
“My young friend, the viscount wishes to play, and so he shall,” said a man who stood at the general’s right side; his batman, presumably.
Georgiana, seeming to understand that the game was finished, bent and whispered something in Miss Lydia’s ear.
“But my luck was turning! I could feel it!” Miss Lydia protested. “Look at these cards! I could take his watch, his purse, perhaps even his—”
“Mr Bennet,” Saye said, making it sound like an epithet. “Do you know who I am? For I know who you are and how little your father will like to hear about gambling debts.”
Georgiana had begun to tremble, and tears were in her eyes, threatening her disguise as much as anything.
One of the men observing from the other side of the table looked at her curiously; she had the presence of mind to lower her face, but not before he had prodded the arm of the man next to him and murmured something that made that man nod and say, “Something very peculiar going on here, to be sure.” Rumblings began to move round the group, and many of the men began to look more closely at the pair.
“We need them out of here, now,” Darcy hissed to Fitzwilliam.
Saye had grown weary with Miss Lydia’s failure to give way. He gestured vaguely towards her and said to the general’s batman, “My man was unable to attend me tonight. Perhaps you would be so good as to provide me assistance?”
The officer, a beefy sort of fellow, stepped forwards, evidently well prepared to bodily remove the offending stripling. “Yield your place, Bennet,” he said sternly as he grabbed her arms and began to lift her from her seat. “Else I shall yield it for you.”
The cards that had lain in front of Miss Lydia scattered, and the chair scraped loudly in protest. Darcy took advantage of the attention on her to step forwards and grab Georgiana.
She looked up in terror at his touch. “Brother! Oh! I never meant—I only wanted to have a bit of fun, and Miss—”
“Shush,” said Fitzwilliam grimly, appearing at her other side. “We are not in the clear.”
Miss Lydia had been pulled to her feet and looked as if she wished to ring a peal over the general’s batman.
She had just told him what a brute he was when Saye made a little sound that his dog evidently took as his cue.
Florizel leapt onto the table, scattering everyone’s cards and sending drinks flying.
People cried out as he began to bark furiously at everything and nothing, and the players, dismayed, began to shout at Saye to control his dog.
Saye was busy taking a seat at the table and said, disinterestedly, “Florizel, down boy.”
Chaos ensued as both players and onlookers began to scramble about, collecting cards, or purses, or whatever else had been strewn over the tabletop.
Someone accused one of the onlookers of stealing coins, and someone else threatened a duel.
In the midst of it all, Fitzwilliam stepped in, grabbed hold of Miss Lydia, and hauled her, still protesting, towards the door.
“Come,” said Darcy to his sister, and pulled her after them, leaving Saye and his wild dog behind them.
They burst through the back tent flap into the cool night air, and wove quickly through the encampment to the road where the carriage awaited them. The door was open already, and the step down.
“In,” Darcy commanded, then he and Fitzwilliam climbed in and took the seat opposite, to better glare both girls into submission.
Georgiana burst into tears and by now, even Miss Lydia had gleaned that she was in trouble.
As the carriage began to move, she looked down at her hands and said sulkily, “I cannot see what all the problem is about. We only wished for a bit of diversion.”
“Your idea of diversion nearly got you ruined,” Fitzwilliam informed her, then handed Georgiana a handkerchief and told her to stop crying.
“It may have anyhow,” Darcy said darkly. “We do not know what tales will go round about all of this.”
“At least we managed it without bloodshed—so far at least.” Fitzwilliam chuckled despite the circumstances. “We can only hope Florizel does not bite anyone.”
Darcy’s jaw was still tight with the residual tension of their narrow escape, and he spoke in terse accents. “Clearly there will be consequences. Beginning with both of you returning home.”
“What?” Miss Lydia looked up, eyes flashing. “I am not going home.”
Darcy raised his brow. “Yes, you are. I shall return you to your relations in Brighton tonight, as it is plain Mrs Forster has not provided ample superintendence over you; we are for London at first light and then I shall see you to Longbourn the day following.”
“You have no authority over me, Mr Darcy,” Miss Lydia said with a little huff. “So I do not see why you imagine it is to you—”
Darcy interrupted firmly. “I shall arrange for your considerable debts to be settled, and you will repay me by leaving Brighton peacefully.”
Miss Lydia looked as though she was thinking about it. “My trunk is at Mrs Forster’s house.”
“I will see that your trunk is retrieved.”
“I cannot see why you should do all of this. This is none of your concern. I am none of your concern.”
Darcy leant forwards. He assumed he must have a fearsome expression on his face, for even Miss Lydia was cowed by it.
He spoke quietly, but in a tone he hoped would be understood.
“Your sister is very much my concern, and thus her family are as well. Unfortunately for us both, that includes you. You are a foolish child and I can only hope your father is moved to take you in hand now before the entire family is made to suffer.”
At the words ‘foolish child’, tears welled in her eyes.
Georgiana reached to hold her hand, leaning over to whisper something to her.
Miss Lydia only sniffled and looked out of the window, and such peace remained for the duration of the trip to Mrs Millhouse’s residence, where she could be relinquished to her uncle.