Suspense & Sensibility

Seventeen

'Much as you suffer now, think of what you would have suffered if the discovery of his character had been delayed to a later period.'

— Elinor Dashwood to her sister Marianne,

Sense and Sensibility, Chapter 29

'I wish she would allow me to handle this for her.'

Elizabeth wished so, too. Darcy would deliver the set-down that Harry Dashwood deserved. Kitty’s heart still lay in too many pieces for it to have hardened against him enough to fully castigate him for his villainy, and Elizabeth feared the imminent conversation would only lead to its being shattered twice in four-and-twenty hours. She would be happier not to provide Mr. Dashwood that opportunity.

'Kitty wants to break the engagement herself.' Needed to do so, in fact. Needed to see his expression when he issued an explanation, or uttered more lies, or brazenly mocked her naivete — whatever response the increasingly unpredictable Mr. Dashwood might offer. Though Elizabeth’s first instinct was to protect her sister from the unpleasant encounter ahead, she was glad to see Kitty taking a stand for herself. No matter what words fell from Harry’s lips, the engagement was over; to that much, Kitty had committed. She would leave Pall Mall minus a fiance but with her self-respect intact.

Elizabeth and Darcy waited in their foyer for Kitty to come downstairs. The three of them would go together to Mr. Dash-wood’s townhouse. He was not expecting them, but he would receive their call. On that point, Darcy and Elizabeth were determined. This matter would be resolved today. All that remained was to establish how much Kitty would rue ever having met Mr. Dash wood in the first place.

'Here she comes,' Darcy said.

Though Kitty had risen puffy-eyed from a sleepless night, Elizabeth’s maid had taken such care with her appearance that she looked every bit a young lady worth any gentleman’s notice. She carried herself with dignity as she descended the stairs, and held up her chin with barely a tremble.

'I am ready.'

If Harry Dashwood was still capable of regret, Elizabeth hoped it would pierce him at the sight of her sister this morning.

'This interview will go quickly, Kitty,' Elizabeth said. 'And should it become too unpleasant, Darcy will intervene.'

Kitty merely nodded her agreement.

The ride to Pall Mall was quiet, especially in contrast to the bustle in which they found Harry’s townhouse upon their arrival. Sounds of construction below and rearrangement above resonated throughout the residence. The subcellar larder project was well under way, and Mr. Dashwood apparently intended to celebrate its installation by reorganizing his furniture.

The housekeeper, a dour woman who looked as if she’d been in service forever, admitted them. Her gaze assessed them as they entered. Elizabeth instinctively disliked her.

'Did you not say a manservant turned you away when you last called?' she asked Darcy.

'Perhaps he has exchanged his salver for a shovel.'

They were forced to wait in the foyer ten minutes before being shown to the drawing room, as the staircase was monopolized by the removal of a very large and — from the groans it forced from the three footmen who struggled with it — very heavy mirror. The style of its detailed gold frame suggested it might be an antique and piqued Elizabeth’s curiosity. She felt at once drawn to and repelled by the looking glass; a sudden urge to gaze into it seized her, but her feet remained rooted to the floor. It was as if her body refused to follow where her mind would go, forbidding her to take close interest in anything having to do with Harry Dash wood.

As the servants wrestled the mirror down the stairs, it caught a beam of sunlight lancing the transom window. Golden arcs bounced off the varied surfaces of the gilt frame to splay upon the walls, and the glass itself reflected a fiery glow. The burst of brightness temporarily blinded one of the footmen, who cried out and stopped short. His sudden halt unbalanced his assistants, and for a few heart-stopping moments it appeared that the servants and treasure would tumble down the stairs together.

'Don’t drop it, you fools!' Mr. Dash wood’s voice echoed from above. 'That glass cannot be damaged!'

The men somehow regained their grips and footing. Elizabeth exhaled. As they slowly continued their descent, she raised her eyes to see Mr. Dashwood monitoring the proceedings from two flights up.

'Careful!' He bounded down to hover over them as they negotiated the final few steps. When they reached the base of the stairs, they gingerly leaned their burden against the wall and paused to catch their breaths.

'Pack it up securely for the journey. I do not want it arriving at Norland in pieces.' Mr. Dashwood then acknowledged Kitty and the Darcys. 'Your visit is a pleasant surprise,' he said. 'Do come upstairs.'

They followed him to the drawing room. He offered them a drink — some sort of sulfur-smelling liquor he called 'brimstone' — but they declined. While he poured a glass for himself, Elizabeth noted the portrait of Sir Francis above the fireplace, as Fanny Dash wood had described. She was struck, on this viewing, by how very much Harry resembled his ancestor not only in physical person but also in character. Their bearing at this moment was identical, their facial expressions the same, their countenances nearly indistinguishable — and their reputations more alike every day. Sir Francis may have been rich, but Harry had chosen the poorest of his relations to emulate.

'You must be feeling better if you plan a trip to Norland,' Elizabeth observed. In truth, however, he did not look altogether well, and had she not learned from Lady Chatfield the real reason he’d lain abed the past three days, she would have believed his recent claims of indisposition. His complexion seemed paler, and his jaw more slack than when she’d seen him last. Dissipation was not a flattering cosmetic.

'The glass is going. I am not.'

'I thought you were enamored of it?' Darcy asked.

'It has become rather too familiar to me.' Mr. Dashwood tossed back his drink. He poured a second, then sat on the sofa and patted the place next to him. 'Kitty, love, come sit beside me.'

She instead moved one step closer to Elizabeth. 'I think I shall stand.'

He shrugged and rose. 'As you wish. I would never deny a lady her pleasure.'

'Miss Bennet has a matter she needs to discuss with you,' Darcy said.

'Indeed? I am all attention.'

Kitty looked uncertainly at Darcy and Elizabeth, then took in a deep breath and began. 'Mr. Dashwood, it has come to my knowledge that — ' Her gaze slid back to Elizabeth, who nodded in encouragement. 'That is, I’ve been given to understand that — ' She became flustered.

Amusement played at the corners of his mouth. 'God’s teeth, child! Spit it out before we all die of old age.'

Kitty squared her shoulders. 'Mr. Dashwood, do you have a paramour?'

He did not so much as blink. 'Yes. Do you?'

Her eyes widened, and she took a step backward. Elizabeth caught her elbow to steady her.

Darcy approached him. 'You insult Miss Bennet with the very — '

'I believe this conversation is between me and my fiancee.'

'Former fiancee.'

'Indeed?' He glanced from Darcy to Kitty. 'Is this your wish? To break our engagement?'

She swallowed. 'Can you explain why I should not?'

'So I have taken a lover. Take one yourself, if you like.'

'Mr. Dashwood!'

'Mr. Dashwood!'

The first exclamation was Darcy’s; the second, following hard upon, was Kitty’s. Darcy appeared ready to choke the cocky youth. He opened his mouth to say more, but Elizabeth stayed him with a look. 'Go on, Kitty,' she said.