the doorway, Darcy and the earl could barely see Harry for the crowd that had gathered round his whist table. The deep play of Mr Dashwood's party had lured others away from their own tables to observe; indeed, the stakes had risen so high that men had wandered in from elsewhere in the club, hoping to be able to say come morning that they'd witnessed a fortune won or lost.
'What son of reinforcements?' Chatfield asked.
'Mr. Dashwood's uncle, a minister. I enlisted his aid, and he came to London as swiftly as he could. He arrived yesterday.'
After Elizabeth had returned home with news of Harry's disinheritance, a note from Edward Ferrars followed that suggested a gentleman-to-gentleman talk might prove the best way to approach Mr. Dashwood. Darcy had concurred, though he thought 'man-to-man' a more appropriate term, as Mr. Dashwood had not conducted himself anything like a gendeman in
weeks. Darcy half wished Mr. Ferrars would undertake the mission alone, as he himself had suffered quite enough of Harry, but he wanted to be able to assure Chatfield firsthand that every possible means of persuasion had been attempted.
Raucous guffaws and whistles from Dashwood's table drew Darcy's attention to that quarter, where the betting had escalated to dizzying heights Harry called for more wine.
'Is that your third bottle, Dashwood?' someone called.
'Fourth' He raised his glass and took a long draught. Elizabeth was right. Darcy reflected Harry Dashwood did look dreadful. His face had grown round and flaccid, his color bad. his girth expansive. Weeks of dissipation had wrought years of hardship on his person. But he held himself like a man without burden, someone intent to seize life's pleasures and leave the rest for others to trouble themselves over. He was confident, he was cocky, and he was having a high time.
'All right. Dashwood — you've stalled long enough,' his opponent prodded. 'You heard my wager. Now what's yours?'
'Norland.'
His challenger laughed. 'Your Sussex estate? Are you certain that's only your fourth bottle?'
Dashwood reclined in a cocksure attitude. That's my wager, Lovejoy. Take it or leave it, for thanks to my dear mother, I've nothing else to offer.'
'And what will I do with an estate in Sussex?'
'I don't intend to lose it.'
The bet was accepted, and play commenced. Dashwood and his partner won the first game of the rubber, their opponents won the second. Between honors and tricks, Harrys team was ahead by one game point. The room fell silent as Dashwood dealt the final hand.
He turned up the ace of spades as trump. 'My lucky suit,' he said.
'Not tonight,' Lovejoy responded.
Dashwood took the first trick, his partner, the second. The third trick, trumped with the ace, went to them, as well. After the fourth trick, however, the lead shifted to their opponents.
And never returned.
Short on trump and long on liquor, Dashwood forfeited trick after trick to bad cards and worse judgment. The hand ended abysmally for the owner of Norland. Or, rather, the former owner of Norland. All waited to see how Harry Dashwood would respond to having lost the rubber — and his estate.
No one expected him to laugh
'Ha! You have bested me, Lovejoy.' He called for pen and paper. 'Take this promissory note for now, and in the morning I will instruct my solicitors to draw up the proper papers regarding Norland.'
Lovejoy watched Harry uncertainly as the lalter dispassionately set down his debt in ink. Indeed, the victor looked more unsettled by the wager's outcome than the loser. Dashwood's hand moved rapidly across the paper, as if he couldn't sign away his birthright fast enough.
'The transfer needn't take place immediately,'' Lovejoy said. 'I presume you shall want time to retrieve your personal effects and items of sentimental value.'
'Norland holds nothing of particular meaning to me.' He continued wnting, then paused midstroke. 'Oh — save one object. I just sent a looking glass there from my townhouse to be stored. If I might have that back?'
'Of course. Anything else?'
He shook his head and went back to writing. 'Just the glass.'
The crowd soon dispersed to spread the tale far and wide; the ton would breakfast upon it along with their morning chocolate.
Harry completed his note, handed it to Lovejoy with a dramatic bow, and exited the card room.
On the way out, he passed Darcy and Chatfield. Darcy could not help feeling that he'd just witnessed a tragedy.
'I am sorry for your loss, Mr. Dashwood.'
'Whatever for, Mr. Darcy?' He gnnned. 'Things won are done; joy's soul lies in the doing' It has been a tremendously entertaining evening, has it not?'
'I cannot fathom what my own feelings would be upon losing
Pemberley,' Darcy said to Elizabeth the following morning, 'but nonchalance — nay, amusement — would not number among them.'
'You never would have risked Pemberley for so ridiculous and irresponsible an end '
She had heard his account of Mr. Dashwood's latest exploit with all the amazement he'd still possessed while delivering it.
The loss was as stunning as it was stupid, not at all what she would have predicted from the master of Norland who had eagerly led them about his house. The whole business supported her conjecture that perhaps another influence was at work upon Harry — if not the Mirror of Narcissus, at the very least too much brimstone.
She poured water into the basin, splashed her face, and blindly reached for the towel. Darcy handed it to her.' I dread our call today,' he said. 'I do not know what Mr. Ferrars and I shall say to him that has not already been said, and a man who has just lost two fortunes in two days will be unlikely to appreciate advice from any quarter.'
'Perhaps the losses will sober him — literally and figuratively.'
He made a sound of disgust. 'I doubt anything can do that.'
'Are you quite certain I cannot persuade you to let me accompany you?' Since yesterday's conversation with Professor Randolph, she had tried to devise some means of obtaining a second look at Mr. Dashwood's mirror. Darcys report that it was now on it's way back to London lent her hope that she might get a glimpse of it yet.
'I dislike the idea of your being in his house at all, even with me.' He washed his own face and accepted the towel from her. He is ungentlemanly, unpredictable, untrustworthy, and unfit for the company of a lady — nay, any respectable person. Rejoice in avoiding further exposure to him. I wish I myself did not have to go '
She supposed the morrow was too soon to expect the mirror's return anyway. She would wait a few days to invent some pretext to call upon Mr. Dashwood. Out of respect for Darcy's concerns, she would not visit Pall Mall alone, but she did not plan to reveal to her husband the true reason for her errand. Darcy would consider her entire discussion with Professor Randolph nonsense and utterly dismiss the possibility that the mirror was anything more than a dusty old artifact. She did not want to hear his criticisms until she'd had an opportunity to evaluate it herself.
'Then let us hope your sortie succeeds — and quickly, for Elinor Ferrars and I shall be waiting most impatiently for the two of you to return with news of your conquest.'
'After subjecting myself to Mr. Dashwood, I shall be impatient to reclaim your superior companionship'
She took back the cloth and dabbed a few stray droplets on his temple. 'Are you certain? You and the reverend won't find yourselves tempted to prolong your visit and stay for one of Mr Dashwood's notonous parties?'
He pushed damp locks from her forehead. 'I have temptation enough here at home.'
They kissed, then broke apart to continue dressing. He selected a shirt that she had recently made for him. She was pleased with the way it had turned out, it fit him well across the shoulders and its sleeves extended the perfect length. A second shirt was halfway to completion. In the weeks following Kitty's broken engagement and
