Suspense & Sensibility

'I hope nothing is amiss?'

Harry shrugged into the overcoat. 'Pray remind me, who are we meeting?'

'Mr. Arthur Young.'

Harry stared at him blankly.

'One of the greatest English writers on agriculture?' Darcy prompted.

'Oh, yes — yes, of course. And we will be discussing what, exactly?'

'Land enclosure.' Darcy suppressed his growing annoyance.

When he’d tendered the earl’s invitation a se’nnight ago, Mr. Dashwood had accepted enthusiastically. Darcy’s review of Norland’s records had revealed that, far from cheating Harry, Norland’s steward had seized upon the lack of direct supervision following John Dashwood’s death as an opportunity to implement practices the estate should have adopted years earlier. Harry’s father had enclosed the land but not altered its tillage methods to take advantage of the larger holdings; as a result, crop production fell far short of its potential. Darcy had suggested that Harry study Jethro lull’s agricultural theories to better understand the changes his steward now sought to make, and Young was a strong advocate of Tull’s methods.

Darcy remained undecided about whether to enclose Pember-ley’s lands. Though there was no doubt that the practice vastly improved productivity, it turned small farmers into landless laborers with no stake in the earth they worked so hard to cultivate. Darcy disliked the thought of robbing his tenants of their independence. Yet he had to consider the greater good of the people in his care, and with England at war, growing enough food to feed its families was the duty of every landowner. In Harry’s circumstances, since Norland was already enclosed, the fields ought to be cultivated to their full potential. Mr. Dashwood had agreed, and welcomed the invitation to learn more. Now, however, Harry seemed completely uninterested.

'Do you still wish to accompany me, Mr. Dashwood?'

'What? Oh — yes. Certainly! I remember our conversation now. I’m sorry — I just forgot for a moment there. I’m sure this afternoon will prove most instructional.'

They stepped into the street, where Darcy’s carriage waited. A light mist enveloped the city, casting everything in greyness. In the dreary light, Darcy noted circles under Harry’s eyes. Had he been out all night? If he had risen late, that might explain his careless appearance and distracted demeanor.

'Mr. Dashwood, are you quite well?'

'Hmm? Oh, fine — fine. I didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all. But I assure you, Mr. Young shall have my full attention.'

Mr. Dashwood remained true to his word and managed to attend to Arthur Young’s discourse well enough so as not to embarrass Darcy, who’d gone to some trouble on his behalf to obtain a coveted invitation to the private party. His distraction, however, returned at dinner the following evening. Harry was their guest for a family supper, but poor Kitty had all she could do to carry on a conversation with her fiance. Were it not for Elizabeth, Georgiana, and Darcy, the confused bride-to-be would have spent most of the meal in soliloquy.

'I cannot account for Mr. Dashwood’s conduct this evening,' Elizabeth remarked later, when they had retired for the night.

Darcy could not explain it, either. 'He behaved similarly on our way to Chatfield’s yesterday. When I enquired whether he was all right, he said he had not slept well.'

'He did look tired.'

In fact, the circles under Mr. Dashwood’s eyes had darkened in the four-and-twenty hours since Darcy had last seen him. 'I wonder what disturbs his rest.'

'I hear his mother has returned to town. Perhaps she provokes him.'

'From the exchange we overheard at Norland, it does not sound as if her disapprobation is likely to cost him any sleep.'

'He did seem quite confident in his decision, and equal to the challenge of opposing her.'

Darcy hoped nothing too grave caused Mr. Dashwood’s sleeplessness. He indeed now regarded Harry as a brother. Independent of Mr. Dashwood’s relationship with Kitty, they’d struck a rapport in which they both seemed to take pleasure. Harry was eager to benefit from Darcy’s greater experience of the world, and Darcy found that he enjoyed lending his guidance. He looked forward to their friendship soon being reinforced by a true family connection.

As Darcy’s reflections strayed to the approaching wedding, a troubling thought entered his head. One that would explain an apparent lack of sleep.

Elizabeth noted his frown 'What is it?' she asked.

'Nothing. Idle musings.' He reached for the candle snuffer, but she stayed his hand.

'Darcy?'

He sighed. 'Many an engaged young man has spent his last precious days of bachelorhood sowing wild oats.'

Her brows rose. 'And you think Mr. Dashwood — '

'Not necessarily. Mr. Dashwood seems to have settled down since meeting Kitty.'

'But now that he has secured her hand, perhaps he indulges his more carefree impulses?'

'London offers plenty of temptation to a young man about to lose his freedom.' The clubs abounded with tales of prewed-ding excess on the part of prospective bridegrooms. Were dissipated nights of drinking, gaming, or worse to blame for Harry’s recent fatigue?

'We shall give Mr. Dashwood the benefit of the doubt,' Elizabeth declared. She released his hand, freeing him to extinguish the candles. She watched as he snuffed out all but the one beside their bed.

'So, how did you spend them?' she asked.

'Spend what?'

'Your last precious days of bachelorhood — before you lost your freedom?' She gave him an insouciant look. 'Another wife might take language like that amiss, you know.'

'Then thank heaven I have only one.' He blew out the last candle. 'For if I had two with tongues as saucy as yours, I should never be able to keep up.'

Ten

The imaginations of other people will carry them away to form wrong judgments of our conduct, and to decide on it by slight appearances.

— Sense and Sensibility, Chapter 36

'Now Kitty — I may call you Kitty, mayn’t I, since we are to be family soon? Kitty, dear, I wouldn’t bring this up to save my life if I didn’t think it was something you ought to know. But people are talking.'

Lucy Ferrars, her daughter in tow, had called upon Kitty and Elizabeth early. This was their second visit to the Darcys’ town-house, the first, motivated far more by duty than delight, having taken place the day Kitty and Harry’s engagement announcement appeared in the papers. It had been returned with equal brevity and palpable lack of interest. Today, however, Lucy had made a dramatic entrance, announcing that she had desperately important news about Harry to impart.

Kitty held her breath, unable to utter a syllable as she sat beside Lucy on the sofa. Elizabeth had ordered tea, but no one save Regina partook of it. Kitty simply regarded Lucy in bewilderment as Harry’s aunt completed her oratorical warm-up exercises, priming her audience with avowals of her reluctance to speak. As Miss Ferrars helped herself to a third jam tart, Elizabeth poured the last of the tea into Regina’s cup and motioned the maid to bring more refreshments. She could only hope Lucy’s gossip would run out before their provisions did.

Finally, Lucy got to the substance of her report. 'At Almack’s yestereve, Lady Pendleton told me that she saw Harry in Bond Street one night earlier this week, wearing the most peculiar clothing. A long coat with a full skirt and huge, embroidered cuffs — a ruffled shirt — high heels. The fashionable Harry Dash-wood, in a suit so out of style it