Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Wright,” was all Darcy had to say by way of a greeting as he nodded to the bedraggled, unwelcome guest standing in his vestibule.
The young man reeked of horse manure. His longish hair looked like he had been dragged backwards through a hedge, and he appeared older than his twenty-one years.
James Wright’s father had once said that a person’s manner of living could most horribly cut up their youth and vigour.
Ha. Wait until he sets eyes upon his own son.
“You need not look so delighted to see me, Darcy. By Jove, man, you make me feel as welcome as a boisterous dog in a game of skittles.”
“Did you truly expect me to be delighted by someone unexpectedly appearing at my door well past midnight? By what mode of travel did you arrive here?”
Wright explained that he had sat atop a Royal Mail coach going as far as the village of Wyman’s Cove.
“There being no vacant room at the hedge-tavern because of tomorrow’s auction, I managed to get a ride on a passing hay cart that took me to a Mr Miller’s cottage, where I left behind my one small trunk.
Portmanteau in hand, I walked the rest of the way to this fine villa of yours here in the middle of nowhere. ”
“Nearly a mile and a half in the dark. Are you mad, man?”
“Apparently, yes. And as cross as two sticks. I would have slept in Mr Miller’s hay loft, but the old man could not seem to understand what I was asking of him.
So on I stumbled blindly, hoping against hope that some Good Samaritan would come along and take pity upon me.
Of course, I was the only fool mad enough to be on the rutty road at this time of night…
other than a vixen with its eerie, wailing cry and a barn owl screeching like someone being murdered.
Criminy, Darcy, I was frightened beyond all frightfulness.
And although I managed to not be killed, I fell twice, once headlong into something nasty.
” Wright brushed at the front of his coat, then wrinkled his nose as his hand came away filthy.
“The second time I took a tumble, it was into prickly nettles. My portmanteau came open, and some of my clothing spilt out. They will require a good laundering and, perhaps, mending. And someone will have to fetch my trunk from Miller’s cottage. ”
“Where is your valet?” Please tell me that you brought your gentleman’s gentleman. How shall I face Graham if you have not?
“Ah yes, about that, I regret to say that Stanley could not accompany me. He was in another part of town on an urgent errand for me when I decided, quite on the spur of the moment, to leave London. I am terribly sorry I was not able to come earlier with my family. But, mere days ago, I realised I could no longer refuse myself the pleasure of profiting by your kind invitation. Now, Darcy, you must promise that if a rough-looking man turns up asking for me, you will not give me away.”
Oh, the temptation! “I give no such promise. Clearly, you are fleeing from creditors, and I should send you back to the gambling houses from whence you came.”
In the latest document from Darcy’s man of business, it was reported that Mr Horace Wright was paying over one quarter of his income from the lease of Barleybrae to settle the interest on his son’s debts.
During one week in July, James Wright had spent two days straight, without sleep, drinking and playing hazard at a West End gambling-house where he won two thousand pounds and immediately thereafter lost three.
He then staggered off to his friend’s apartments at the Albany for a few hours of sleep before the two of them travelled to Newmarket for the summer’s race meet, resulting in a further loss of five thousand pounds.
Added to what Wright already owed, the sum was a staggering amount.
“So, where is everyone?”
“If you mean your family, they are no doubt asleep in their beds, it being late and all. In fact, your eldest sister is indisposed. Now, what am I to do with you in your present condition? I suppose quarters could be found in the far end of the garret. There are a few bachelor rooms, as my uncle used to call them, up there. Monstrously small, though. But better than spending the night in a hayloft, a sponging house, or debtors’ prison where you undoubtedly belong.
You should consider yourself fortunate.”
After having caught several hours of sleep and knowing it was his duty to ensure the well-being of Miss Wright and her family, Darcy approached the small sitting room near their chambers.
Upon hearing the eldest daughter’s voice, raised but not in song, he hurried towards whatever unpleasantness Miss Wright had in store for him.
Had Mr Wright only just then informed her of their eviction?
Drawing nearer, he discerned that all five of the Wrights were within, speaking over one another and growing louder.
Before he entered the room, he stood to one side, listening for just a moment.
“When was the last time you had it?” That was Miss Wright’s father.
“Last evening,” said she. “Meg, you helped me prepare for bed. Where did you put it?”
“Upon the bedside cabinet.”
“Well it was not there when I awoke.”
Eavesdropping was ungentlemanly behaviour, so Darcy cleared his throat before walking in and nodding. “Good day, everyone. Miss Wright, I trust that you are in better health this morning.”
“Oh, sir, I am terribly distraught! Papa tells me that we are to leave here.” Miss Wright rushed forwards but, evidently remembering herself, stopped short of touching him. “And my carbuncle is gone!”
At first assuming that she was alluding to the enduring eruption upon her forehead, Darcy bit back a retort.
However, due to the worried and upset state she seemed to be in, he presumed Miss Wright was instead referring to the necklace she often wore—a pendant with a large, bold red en cabochon garnet suspended from a gold chain.
“It was my mother’s, and the gem is supposed to protect its wearer against plague, poison, and bad dreams.” Miss Wright muttered that it had not performed well at all against Elizabeth Bennet.
Then she forgot herself and grasped Darcy’s sleeve.
“It must have been her! Miss Bennet was in my bedchamber last night, standing right next to the bedside cabinet. She took my necklace!”
“No! Miss Bennet would never steal, especially something so ugly,” cried Miss Althea.
Smiling at the girl, Darcy thought she was only partially correct. She would never steal someone’s property, but Elizabeth is more than capable of stealing a man’s heart.
In an attempt to placate Miss Wright, he spoke in a gentle tone.
“Let us not be hasty in assigning blame. Perhaps the jewellery is merely misplaced or fell upon the floor. I shall instruct the chambermaids to search for it. In any event, I assure you that Miss Bennet is not responsible for its disappearance.”
“Why does this Elizabeth Bennet’s name sound so familiar to me?” James Wright snapped his fingers. “One of you wrote to me about her. Tell me, would I find her temptingly handsome? You know that I can resist everything except temptation.”
Graham, Darcy’s valet, had performed wonders with the young man.
He was clean, and his hair had been trimmed.
His trunk had been fetched from the cottage, and the clothing he wore looked to be from John Weston’s shop on Old Bond Street.
Still, in Darcy’s opinion, the scoundrel was unworthy of even mentioning Elizabeth’s name, and he certainly could not be trusted anywhere near her.
Choosing to disregard his remarks, Darcy spoke to the young man’s father. “Now, Mr Wright, if your family will leave us in privacy, you and I need to have a word.”
Once they were alone, the two gentlemen sat facing one another in chairs beside an open window overlooking the formal gardens.
“Mr Wright, I am pleased to know that your eldest daughter is in better health this morning. However, that means that you and your family are now able to leave Strandsmere. I trust that this missing piece of jewellery is not a contrivance intended to delay your departure.”
“You cannot expect us to go now, Darcy. James has just arrived.” Mr Wright spoke in an indignant, aggressive manner.
“And, while the necklace is certainly no deceit, you must understand that Hannah will be heartbroken to leave without her cherished piece of jewellery. As she said, it was bequeathed to her by my dear departed wife, so it has more sentimental value than monetary worth. One would have to be callous to expect her to leave it behind.”
All your bluster will have little effect, I am afraid.
“Callous or not, I must insist that you go. Your son mentioned that a rough-looking man might turn up here asking for him. And I shall not have my sister, her friends, or my neighbours exposed to the dangers such an unsavoury character might bring to Wyman’s Cove.
I know, sir, about your heir’s gaming debts. ”
“Gaming debts? What balderdash! If James has written a few IOUs, vowels as they call them, what of it? They are nothing more than informal memorandums of debt and not promises to pay, such as promissory notes would be. It was just some jolly fun amongst young bucks out carousing, playing cards and dice, sowing their wild oats, and such. My son never would have expressed any sort of direct promise to pay. Now, if you will excuse me, I really must see about some breakfast.”
“Before you go, I must reiterate that I want the whole lot of you, except for Miss Althea, gone from Strandsmere Park by this time tomorrow.”
Horace Wright left without acknowledgement.
Remaining as he was, Darcy watched as a gentle breeze blowing in from the Channel occasionally made the dimity curtains billow.
Through the window he could see a variety of pink, red, white, and deep purple spires of the hollyhocks that grew tall against a stone wall.
He listened to birdsong from the garden and distant cries of gulls.
Deeply he breathed the fragrant scent of heliotrope in beds below the window.
The summer sights, sounds, and smells reminded him that all was not, in fact, wrong in his world.
Georgiana was well. Elizabeth was near. And the Wrights would soon be gone.
Voices on the other side of the window intruded upon his thoughts, and he recognised Miss Margaret’s as one of them.
“Miss Darcy has probably taken Hector for a walk along the cliff, but the Heiress must be here somewhere.”
“An heiress! Who is she?” That was James Wright. “Whoever she is, I am as keen as mustard to be introduced to her.”
“Of course you are.” Miss Margaret sounded faintly amused. “Do not worry, Brother. You probably will have an opportunity to meet the Heiress before we are evicted.”
“Good, good. Pray tell, is she young and pretty or—”
The voices faded into the distance while Darcy smiled.
In a chair in front of Darcy’s desk, the Wright heir stretched out his long legs, sitting in a languid manner while listening until his host finished speaking.
“Claims of creditors? Pecuniary distress?” James Wright’s eyebrows rose at such a suggestion.
“No, no. Not at all. How greatly someone has traduced my family and me!” He laughed nervously.
“Well, my father did decide to retrench, somewhat overcautiously I might add. And there might have been a trifling little imbalance between income and expenditure at some point in time. But it was all my father’s own fault, and Hannah’s, for squandering so outrageously.
Now, Darcy, speaking of my elder sister, if I may introduce so delicate a subject…
When you two marry, you must check your bride’s propensity for overindulgence and reckless extravagance.
The amount my father allowed Hannah for pin money was exorbitant.
A smaller provision would certainly support her in affluence.
Yes, yes, the more I think of it, the more I believe that financial prudence will be necessary to overcome your wife’s profligacies.
Not that I shall ever have need of such restraint, for I do not plan to marry.
The life of a bachelor is the one for me. ”
You mean that no woman in her right mind would have you. “Has no member of your family informed you that there will be no marriage, at least not one involving your eldest sister?”
“It was mentioned.” Wright brushed at something on his breeches, then held it up for inspection. “Is this cat hair? But, Darcy, I could not credit that you, of all people, would be so lacking in honour. What will it be, man? Pistols at dawn?”
“All your blather is rich coming from a gamester on the run from creditors. Tell me, Wright, where is the honour in that?”
“Ah. Well, as they say, Dame Fortune knocks on everyone’s door, but it was her daughter, Miss Fortune, who visited me.
Come now, old boy, you must agree that I am blameless in all that.
It is not my fault that my friends are far wealthier than I am and that, consequently, I was drawn into living far above my means. ”
You conceited pup!
“And another thing. You must allow us to stay until September rolls round. The people leasing our London house have it for another fortnight. So, tell me, where are we to go?”
Darcy slammed his fist on the desk, and Wright jumped. “Do you really want me to tell you where to go? Kindly leave me in peace now. Enough is enough.”
For Darcy, though, there was no peace. He alone had invited the nest of vipers into his house, into his life, into Georgiana’s, and into Elizabeth’s. In actuality, it was more a case of Miss Wright having invited herself and her entire family to Strandsmere for the summer, but he had allowed it.
While his sister had benefited from Miss Althea’s friendship, Elizabeth had suffered through Miss Wright’s shrewish remarks, outright insults, untruths, theft, suspicion, accusations, and misfortune.
Like a tolerant silver birch, able to sway without breaking while being battered by a salty, coastal wind, Elizabeth had taken a battering from a jealous, aggressive woman.
Through it all, she had stood her ground and bravely smiled.
But everything she had endured was his fault.
He had been too trusting, too heedless, just as he had been with Wickham and Mrs Younge.
It was utterly inexcusable, and he would spend a lifetime, if Elizabeth allowed it, making amends to her.
And being loved by her. But, more than being loved by her, he wanted to give her his love and be the one to protect her for the rest of their lives.
Flipping open his pocket watch, he noted the hour, remembering that she and Miss Hughes had been invited to paint with Georgiana and Miss Althea. They could be making their way over at this very moment. His day gradually improved with each audible, rhythmic tick of the second hand.