“Do not be silly, Caroline,” Rebecca said. “Do not change your plans. Of course, you should have your friends visit. You cannot disappoint them.”
“I will be poor company, I am afraid,” Caroline replied, still distressed over the letter fiasco.
Rebecca took her sister’s hand. “Sir John will receive his letter in a few days. All will be well. He would want you to be happy—especially at this time.”
Caroline considered as she caressed the very slight bulge in her midsection. She did want to see Anne de Bourgh, as well as renew her acquaintance with Marianne Brandon.
“Oh, very well.”
Mrs. Dashwood and Margaret had come up from Barton for an overnight visit, and Mr. and Mrs. Ferrars had joined Marianne in attending them. The ladies sat in the parlor, speaking of many subjects, save one—the impending war. Their conversation was broken by delivery of the mail. One letter caught Marianne’s eye, and she begged leave to open it.
“It is from Lady Buford,” she said, “and she invites me to a week’s stay in London at her relations.”
“Oh, how wonderful,” cried her mother. “Such diversions to be found! Marianne, you should go before Town grows too warm.”
Marianne was tempted, not only by the diversions London offered but also by the company. She wanted to know Caroline Buford better. However, she had responsibilities. “Nothing could be more delightful, but I should not leave Joy.”
“Nonsense, Marianne,” said Mr. Ferrars. “We should be happy to have our niece stay at the parsonage.”
“Indeed, Sister,” confirmed Elinor. “Enjoy yourself in Town.”
Marianne smiled. “Thank you. I believe I shall!”
Three colonels of cavalry strolled into the palace where expatriate British civilians were holding yet another ball. Brandon and Richard were in full-dress uniform, while Buford wore a suit of black with white stockings and his sash. Already the hall was filled with Dutch royalty, exiled Frenchmen, traveling members of the London
“Quite a crowd here tonight, eh, Buford?” offered Richard. Buford’s reply was noncommittal.
“I find it hard to believe that so many have come here from England,” observed Brandon.
“Bored, useless vultures—the lot of them,” grumbled Buford. “The
“Well, I am glad you are enjoying yourself, Buford!” cried Richard.
“The two of you, be quiet! We have to pay our compliments,” warned Brandon as the group walked towards the receiving line.
Having been presented and received, the three officers entered the main ballroom—right into the path of one who was very familiar to Buford.
“
Captain George Wickham could hardly believe his luck. Somehow, the colonel of his regiment had not realized there was a ball that night, and poor Hewitt was scheduled to serve as Officer of the Day. Wickham was finally out from underneath the colonel’s, and by extension Darcy’s, thumb and was free as a bird. He was under no illusion that this freedom would last or that it ever would be repeated. Therefore, Wickham was determined to enjoy himself as much as possible.
Helping himself to the first glass of wine he could secure, Wickham stood in his infantry-red best, looking for opportunities for diversion—if not more. Noticing one of his fellow officers conversing with a couple of ladies, he strolled over. There he was introduced to a Mrs. Norris, and he applied his considerable charm to the lady.
He was making progress when he noticed a familiar face out of the corner of his eye. He looked to make sure, and his countenance paled. Wickham beheld one of the two men in the world he least wanted to meet at a ball, or anywhere else for that matter—and this one was not Darcy.
After being accosted by Countess de Pontchartrain, the three colonels had separated. Richard walked about, taking in the dancing, when he almost walked into Major Denny. Turning away abruptly, cutting the man, Richard was surprised to see George Wickham not twenty feet away.
Richard stood rooted to the spot, staring a hole through his nemesis. His eyes narrowed and his fists clenched as he observed the creature—he could never call Wickham a man, much less a gentleman—who had labored so to ruin Georgiana, chatting with someone else’s wife. He unconsciously reached for the sabre that was safely in his trunk back at the boardinghouse.
The corners of Richard’s mouth twitched as he saw Wickham’s face go white when he became aware of his presence. Richard began to move in the blackguard’s direction. He had no plan; his legs moved of their own accord. Before he could take more than a few steps, he felt a hand restrain him. To his shock, it was Major Denny.
“Release me, sir!” Richard demanded.
“With all due respect—no, sir. You must come away. Wickham is not worth it.”
“I should have known
“Remember who you are and
Eyes blazing with rage, Richard looked about the room. Recalling he was in a packed ballroom with officers, diplomats, and ladies, he went still, his arms no longer twitching. His gaze returned to Denny. “Yes, you are correct.”
Denny looked past Richard. “He is gone now. You had better come with me.”
Richard was taken aback. “For what reason?”
The major looked back at him. “For a drink, sir—why else?”
“An excellent idea,” said Colonel Brandon from behind Richard.
The game room was determined to be the best location, and five minutes later the three men were sipping brandy.
“Well, a toast to Denny,” offered Brandon.
Richard snorted. “Defender of Wickham.”
Brandon gave him a withering look. “Actually, he is the rescuer of Richard Fitzwilliam’s career.”
“What do you mean?”
“Were you not going to challenge Wickham?” asked Denny.
Richard snorted. “No! Believe me, I have had plenty of opportunities to do that and chose not to. Your precious friend was safe from me.”
Brandon frowned. “Are you certain, Fitz? I saw your face. I had the same fears as Denny. What were you going to say to him?”
Richard took a drink. “Honestly, I do not know, but I must admit that I would not mind ridding the world of that useless piece of garbage, given half a chance. Wickham’s too much the coward to give me an excuse, more’s the pity.”
“Deuce take it, Fitz!” Brandon shouted as he slammed down his glass; by some miracle, it did not break.
