'Did Mr. Dashwood have the effrontery to address Kitty?'
'Thankfully, no. But tonight marks the third time diis week she’s encountered him in public. The mere sight of Mr. Dashwood is upsetting enough to her, especially since his immoderate habits seem to be taking their toll on his physical person. You should have seen him this evening, Darcy. He looked most unattractive — his complexion red, his cheeks heavy, his new clothes already too snug. I think he’s gained more than a stone in only a fortnight.'
'Too much of that brimstone concoction. Or too many lemon ices from that ridiculous larder he built. Perhaps he and Miss Ferrars are well suited, after all.'
'His appearance cannot help but remind Kitty of how much altered Mr. Dashwood is in character from the man she thought she knew. But beyond that, their mutual attendance at functions sends society’s gossip vultures circling. Their eyes stalk Kitty relentlessly, waiting to pounce upon the slightest word, expression, or gesture that could betray her present feelings toward him, so that they can describe her suffering in minute detail to their friends the next day. How can she possibly enjoy herself under that kind of scrutiny? And even if her heart were able to accept the attentions of another admirer, what gentleman will approach her under such intense exposure? When we left, not a single partner had invited her to dance.'
'If her time in London is no longer bringing Kitty pleasure, let us offer to take her home. The season is nearly over. By next spring, she will be ready to hear the addresses of a more worthy suitor, and the
'You are committing to doing this again next season?'
'If Kitty can bear it, I can.' Actually, the thought made Darcy’s head ache. Their months in London had been a failure all round — he had not even managed to find a suitable clergyman to fill the Kympton living. They would all have done better to stay in Derbyshire.
'I will suggest it to her. I believe she wants to go home, and would have asked us herself were it not for my mother’s exhortations to punish Mr. Dashwood’s wrongdoing by setting her cap for someone better.'
'Mr. Dashwood is unlikely to care whom Kitty eventually weds.'
'True. But marriage is my mother’s solution to most problems.'
The sound of a carriage arriving drew their attention. It was late for a visitor. Darcy crossed to one of the sidelights that flanked the door and looked out toward the street.
'Lord Chatfield is here.'
'Are you expecting him?'
'No.' He frowned. 'I hope nothing is amiss.' He and the earl had their regular fencing appointment on the morrow. If Chat-field sought him out tonight, he must have business that could not wait. He opened the door before his friend had so much as raised the knocker.
'Darcy!' The earl’s expression revealed surprise at being admitted to the house by the master himself.
'I was in the hall and heard your horses. Do come in.'
'I hope I don’t disturb you too late?'
'Of course not.'
The earl greeted Elizabeth, who echoed Darcy’s assurances of Chatfield’s welcome at any hour, then turned to Darcy. 'I wonder if I might trouble you this evening to discuss a matter of business?'
Elizabeth excused herself so that the two gentlemen might speak privately. Darcy led Chatfield to the library, where he hoped his curiosity would be quickly assuaged. The earl was so well connected, Darcy could not guess the nature of business that would require his aid above that of greater men Chatfield numbered among his friends, nor that would necessitate such urgent action as the timing of this visit suggested.
As Darcy had planned to spend the evening away from home, the fire in the library had not been lit, and die air held a chill. Rather than summoning a servant, whose intrusion would delay the earl’s business further, he knelt before the hearth to light the fire himself. Chatfield, meanwhile, took his customary seat but did not occupy it with ease. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands gripping his hat rather too tightly for the long-term welfare of its brim.
'I have never known you to appear so grim, Chatfield.'
'I have never had so much cause.' He released a sound of disgust. 'I have been these past two hours closeted widi Lady Chat-field’s brother Phillip. The countess and I are both deeply concerned about the company he keeps of late.'
Darcy began to suspect the origin of his friend’s distress. 'Mr. Dashwood?'
'Mr. Dashwood.' He paused, watching Darcy nurture the fledgling flames. 'It appears that Sir Francis’s spiritual heir has indeed restarted the Hell-Fire Club, and Phillip is one of its members.'
'If you speak of these absurd tales of reincarnation — '
The earl shook his head. 'I speak of facts. Since you shared that list of names with me, the authorities have maintained watch on those gentlemen. They, in turn, have led the observers to Mr. Dashwood. He is the other common link for the men on that list, is he not?'
'Yes,' Darcy confessed. 'I drafted the list after observing all of those men calling at Mr. Dashwood’s townhouse. Pray forgive my not revealing that at the time. When I showed you the list, he was still engaged to Miss Bennet, and I did not want to cause him unnecessary trouble. Even now, I have no proof that verifies the existence of a new Hell-Fire Club.'
'I do. Phillip admitted as much to me when I confronted him today. Mr. Dashwood has brought those old members together with younger ones to corrupt a new generation. He’s hosted gatherings at his house and other locations Phillip would not name, to conduct activities also held in secret. Much to my frustration, Phillip will drop only smug hints about their goings-on, considering any further communication a betrayal of a leader he has come to idolize beyond my comprehension.'
'I cannot myself understand the attraction of the Hell-Fire Club for any of them, Mr. Dashwood included.'
'They are callow boys who play at the games of men they should revile, not revere.'
Satisfied that the blaze was well established, Darcy rose but remained standing near the hearth. 'Is Phillip being watched?'
'I assume so. As I told you before, there are many in Parliament and the upper reaches of the government who do not want the Hell-Fire Club influencing England’s politics again.' He stared into the fire. 'I fear for him, Darcy. Powerful individuals are committed to stamping out this new Hell-Fire Club before it ignites into a full-blown version of its former self. I’m afraid Phillip’s involvement will ruin him — politically, socially, perhaps even financially or physically, the way these fellows gamble and drink. Moreover, I fear for his soul. Surrounding himself as he is with moral corruption — ' He met Darcy’s gaze. 'Lady Chatfield grieves to see the changes wrought in her brother already.'
Darcy nodded. 'We witnessed Mr. Dashwood’s transformation.'
'I realize that relations between you must be strained since Miss Bennet broke their engagement. But might you speak to him about this? Mr. Dashwood respects you — I could see that the day he came with you to meet Mr. Young. Can you not advise him that continuing this Hell-Fire nonsense jeopardizes his own welfare?'
'I have tried. When he was yet engaged to Miss Bennet, I attempted to explain just that. If he would not heed me then, I doubt he will hear me now.'
Chatfield rose. 'Then might you at least persuade him to exclude Phillip from the club? I beseech you, Darcy — if not for me, for Lady Chatfield. My wife cannot rest easy while her brother involves himself in such madness.'
Darcy knew not what to say. He sympathized with his friend. He and Elizabeth had been fortunate enough to rescue Kitty from the contamination of Mr. Dashwood and his Hell-Fire Club, and he wanted very much to help Chatfield extricate Phillip. But how? Mr. Dashwood was past Darcy’s ability to persuade. Indeed, Darcy suspected him past saving altogether.
Yet Darcy could not refuse the earl. Motivated by friendship alone, he would aid Chatfield in any matter it lay within his power to affect. Beyond that, he owed Chatfield several favors for which the earl had never once asked anything in return. To deny his present request, particularly one tendered in such distress, would be an unforgivable breach of honor and friendship.
Beyond that still, the Earl of Chatfield was a peer of the realm, a member of the aristocracy who wielded quiet power. He sat in the House of Lords, but it was the seat at the head of his own table, where he regularly gathered the greatest minds of the day, that invested him with the most influence. Darcy could not say no to any man who so commanded his respect.
