Pride and Prescience

around this family for long.”

Kendall’s gaze swept the company, coming to rest on Mr. Hurst. A glint entered his eye. “Not like the steadfast Mr. Hurst here. Nothing’s more important than family in times of adversity — right, Hurst?”

Startled by the direct address, Mr. Hurst nearly spilled his wine. “Er — right.”

“How about it, Hurst? Care to lay a wager with me regarding your new brother-in-law?”

“I — uh—” Hurst’s pasty face reddened. Perspiration dotted his forehead. “No, thank you,” he said hoarsely. “I’m not much of a gambler.”

“Indeed? I thought I’d heard otherwise. I must be mistaken.” Kendall hefted his bulk to a standing position. “I think I’ll retire early this evening. The servants were unbearably noisy this morning.”

“Perhaps you would find it more comfortable to return home and conduct any remaining business with Mr. Bingley via post,” Darcy suggested.

“If this damnable weather would cooperate, that is precisely what I would do. Unfortunately it lingers, therefore so must I.” As Kendall sauntered through the door, the wind howled outside.

Another storm was rising.

Twenty

Mrs. Hurst… had married a man of more fashion than fortune.

Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 4

The snow everyone anticipated did not come. Instead it rained: huge, angry drops that froze as soon as they reached the ground. Elizabeth woke to a world encased in ice. Sunlight glinted off the crystals, lending an ethereal sparkle to the landscape that would have been beautiful had it not also provided Mr. Kendall an excuse to trespass upon Netherfield’s hospitality and patience still longer.

“There will be no traveling today, I fear. For Mr. Kendall or anyone else.” Elizabeth left the window but did not succumb to the temptation of crawling back into her snug bed. Instead, she padded across the cold oak floor to the armoire and selected her warmest gown from among those Lucy had laundered after the fire.

“Can we not find him a pair of ice skates and send him off?” Darcy fastened his shirt and sat to pull on his boots. “I do not think I can tolerate his company at one more meal without developing indigestion.”

“He was insufferable at dinner, was he not? Spewing venom at everybody. I thought Mrs. Parrish might be reduced to tears for the second time in a day.”

“He seemed to be seeking a fight from any quarter. Had I my fencing gear handy, I might have obliged him.”

“I would like to watch you fence sometime, but against a more worthy opponent. Let Mr. Kendall exhaust his quarrelsomeness on lesser men — Mr. Hurst, perhaps. He seemed to pay that gentleman extra attention last night.”

“Yes. I do not think Hurst saw it coming.” He approached the mirror to fold his cravat.

“His invitation to wager struck me as odd.” So had Hurst’s reaction to it — the suggestion seemed to have made him nervous. “It reminded me of Lord Chatfield’s remark about Mr. Hurst. What was it the earl said?”

“That Hurst’s name appears often in White’s betting book.”

“He also mentioned losses at cards. Yet Mr. Hurst asserted that he wasn’t much of a gambler.”

“Elizabeth, I have seen you lose at cards in your own mother’s drawing room. Does that mean I married a gamester?”

“My surrender of a few shillings has never become an item of public conversation.”

“Idle gossip.”

“The earl hardly impresses me as a scandalmonger. Does he you?”

He met her gaze in the mirror, then returned his attention to the cravat. “No,” he admitted.

“Then perhaps the rumors have substance after all.” Though if they did, what would it matter? So Mr. Hurst wasted his money on speculation. He could afford it, could he not?

Perhaps he could not.

Elizabeth’s mind leapt. When the Hursts had first entered Hertfordshire, general knowledge had set their income at two thousand a year, derived from his own inheritance and Louisa’s settlement invested in the five percents. If he had lost more than his finances could bear, how would he pay off his creditors? What did indolent gentlemen do to generate income, other than sit around waiting for some wealthy relative to—

She caught her breath. No. Surely her imagination ran wild.

Didn’t it?

It must.

Maybe not?

Darcy’s question about Jane and Bingley’s recent “accidents” came back to her. Who would have anything to gain? Her pulse quickened. “What would happen to Bingley’s fortune if he and Jane died without heirs?”

“According to the will he drew up upon his inheritance, it would be divided evenly between his sisters. Though, of course, as they are married women, that money would fall under their husbands’ control,” Darcy said. “Now that he has wed Jane, he might change the terms to provide for your sisters as well, but to my knowledge he has not done so yet.”

“And if Caroline also met an untimely, childless end along with them?”

“Then the Hursts would—” He regarded her incredulously. “Surely you do not suggest that Hurst is behind the Bingley family’s recent troubles?”

“If he is hurting for money—”

“Elizabeth—”

“—an ‘unexpected’ inheritance would solve his financial problems.”

“Elizabeth!” He regarded her in horror. “Consider what you are saying! To accuse a respectable gentleman, without anything remotely resembling evidence—”

“Now that I think about it, he did answer his door awfully fast the night of the fire. Especially for a man who never moves quickly for anything except the sherry decanter. He could not have been sleeping when I knocked.” Not wanting to wait for Lucy to help her dress, she slipped into her gown and slid her arms into the sleeves. She was suddenly impatient to begin her day.

“This is absurd. I refuse to participate in this conversation further.” He put on his coat.

“If Jane and Bingley are in danger, we must consider all the possibilities.”

“All the reasonable ones.”

She crossed to him for aid in buttoning the back of her dress, lifting her braid to grant him better access. “At least let us learn more about Hurst’s finances. If you could write to Lord Chatfield—”

“You wish me to what?”

“There can be no harm in a discreet enquiry.”

“No harm except destroying a man’s reputation.”

“Mr. Hurst is managing that well enough on his own if rumors are already circulating.”

“Then we should not make matters worse.” He fumbled with the small buttonholes. “How many buttons does one dress need?”

“Explain to the earl that it’s precisely out of concern for Hurst’s reputation that you wish to know specifically what is being said about him. That you worry your friend is the victim of unsubstantiated gossip.”

“This pursuit is a waste of time.”

He reached the top button. She turned and caught his hands in hers. “Darcy,” she said softly, “I fear for my sister’s life. Please — indulge me in this.”

He looked away and uttered a sound of exasperation. She brought one of his hands to her face and cupped it against her cheek. His fingers were stiff at first, but she leaned into his palm, and eventually the muscles relaxed.