Suspense & Sensibility

'A great many people have seen you in London during the time you claim to have been gone from town,' Elizabeth said.

Mr. Dashwood shook his head. 'I assure you, I have been in Devonshire. Or on the road in between. These people, whoever they are, must be mistaken.'

'I am one of them,' said Darcy.

Harry stepped toward him. 'Upon my soul, Mr. Darcy, you must have seen someone else.'

'In your own house?'

Harry opened his mouth, but no words came out. He stared at Darcy as if trying to comprehend him. 'You saw me in my townhouse?'

'On Tuesday.'

He pondered that a moment. 'What was I doing?'

'Observing me from your window as I returned to my carriage. After you refused to receive me.'

'I would never ref — ' He stopped, seeming to remember something. 'Which window?'

'The one in your bedchamber, I believe. Two stories up, overlooking the street.'

Mr. Dashwood’s bluff had been called. He looked bewildered at first, as if he couldn’t believe his deceit had been discovered. Then agitation seized him.

'Forgive me, Miss Bennet,' he said, putting on his hat. 'I will call again in the morning, if I may. I–I have to go.'

Darcy followed Mr. Dashwood down the stairs. He had words for Kitty’s fiance that ought not be spoken in the ladies’ hearing. He stopped Harry in the front hall before he reached the door.

'Mr. Dashwood, have you anything further to say for yourself?'

'Upon my honor, Mr. Darcy, you quite mistake me.'

'Your honor is in serious question at present. Perhaps you ought to swear on something more dependable.'

'You doubt my honor because you think you saw me at a window?'

'No — because of some of the other places you have been sighted of late. Mr. Dashwood, do you honestly believe I would allow my wife’s sister to marry a man who frequents gaming hells? Who surrounds himself with drunkards and rakehells?' He dropped his voice. 'A man who visits nunneries?'

Harry turned white. 'You accuse me of spending my time with prostitutes?' He looked as appalled by the idea as Darcy.

'I do not. But hearsay does.' He glanced up to the drawing room, relieved to see that the door remained closed. 'Mr. Dash-wood, I do not, as a rule, give credence to public gossip. I have witnessed too many reputations unfairly destroyed by rumor-mongers to believe every on-dit that circulates. But when my own firsthand knowledge catches a gentleman in one lie, I find it hard to trust his word on other matters, or the principles by which he governs himself. I want to believe that the tales reaching my ears are not true, because I want to believe you are a better man than the one they describe. But you cannot restore my faith in your character without first revealing what you have actually been doing this week.'

'I have been in Devonshire.'

Darcy turned away in disgust.

'Mr. Darcy — ' Harry moved round until he stood before him. He looked weary, and nervous, and more than a little desperate. He ran a hand through his hair, gripping the roots before letting go. 'Something has happened — rather, may have happened — may be happening — ' He broke off, distraught. 'I cannot explain it just now.'

Darcy studied Harry. He was obviously in some sort of distress. 'Mr. Dashwood, are you in trouble?'

He shrugged vaguely. 'No.' He stared at some distant point. 'Perhaps. I do not know.'

What kind of mess had he gotten himself into? Was he in debt? Had he compromised a young lady? Darcy’s mind raced with all the possible fixes in which an imprudent young gentleman could find himself. Despite recent events, Darcy still felt a strong interest in Mr. Dashwood’s welfare. He wanted to assist Harry if he could.

'Mr. Dashwood, if you would but confide in me, perhaps I can help you out of this scrape.'

Harry sighed and shook his head. 'No. I–It may all prove to be naught.'

'I wish you would reconsider.'

'There is nothing to tell. At least, not presently.' He crossed to the door. 'Please excuse me, sir. I have to go home. There’s something to which I must attend without delay.'

Twelve

'Suspicion of something unpleasant is the inevitable consequence of such an alteration as we have just witnessed in him.'

— Elinor Dashwood to her mother,

Sense and Sensibility, Chapter 15

Darcy stood still for only a moment after the door closed behind Mr. Dashwood.

'Mrs. Hale?' he called. 'I require my greatcoat. I am going out.'

The housekeeper hurried into the hall, followed closely by Darcy’s valet bearing his cloak. 'Shall I have the carriage brought round, sir?'

'No.' If he was going to follow Mr. Dashwood, he did not have time to order his own carriage. Besides, the family crest on its door would give him away. 'Summon a hackney.'

Mrs. Hale’s face betrayed a flash of puzzlement before returning to the standard-issue whatever-you-say-sir expression of all well-trained English servants.

He jammed his arms into the coat sleeves. 'Tell Mrs. Darcy that I left with Mr. Dashwood and may be quite late.'

'Tell her yourself,' Elizabeth said as she reached the bottom step. 'But if you are leaving with Mr. Dashwood, where is he?'

The sound of Harry’s carriage departing answered that query. She raised a brow.

'Perhaps not so much with Mr. Dashwood, as behind him,' Darcy clarified.

Her eyes widened. 'You are following him? I shall need my mantle.'

'You cannot come with me.'

'Darling, Mr. Dashwood has already left. We haven’t time to argue.'

'How disappointing. He actually went home.' Elizabeth leaned back in the hackney and pulled her cape about her more tightly. The warm spring day had given way to a cool night, and she wished she’d thought to bring her muff. She’d have to remember it the next time she flew out of the house on a whim to spy all night on a future brother-in-law. 'But will he stay?'

'That is precisely what I intend to learn.'

Darcy instructed their driver to remain at their present position, about thirty yards down the street from Mr. Dashwood’s townhouse. The location offered a clear view of Harry’s front door, a sight enhanced by the light of the full moon. Mr. Dashwood had just entered the house; his driver had then taken his carriage away. Fortunately, steady traffic in Pall Mall had helped prevent either man from noticing the Darcys’ surveillance.

Candlelight brightened an upstairs window a few minutes after Mr. Dashwood’s entry. 'That is Dashwood’s suite,' Darcy said.

'If he simply goes to sleep, we are in for a dull night,' she replied. Mr. Dashwood had looked so tired that he might just do that.

The window remained lit for some time, prompting in Elizabeth a desire to consult the hour. After her conversation with Professor Randolph some weeks back, she’d begun occasionally carrying the watch she’d received from him. She now withdrew it from her pocket and tilted it to catch the moonlight.

Darcy frowned. 'What are you doing with that?'

'Determining how long we have been sitting here.'