An Assembly Such as This

their way down the sidewalk. “Why are so many leaving, Darcy?”

“Because not everyone has taken leave of their senses!” was all the answer Darcy was willing to offer. The evening had been, in truth, an unmitigated disaster. How had such a simple plan gone so very wrong? A shout caused the two men to look to the street, where they beheld Darcy’s carriage pulling smartly up to the curb. Harry leapt down and opened the door. The vehicle’s noble occupant leaned out, filling the doorway.

“Brougham’s Hackney Service! Can I take you two gentlemen anywhere?”

“Brougham…Bingley. Bingley…Lord Dyfed Brougham. Now move aside, Dy!” Darcy followed Bingley into the carriage and then turned to his groom. “Harry, let’s go home.”

Chapter 13 The Wounds of a Friend

“Mr. Darcy!” a much surprised Witcher exclaimed as he opened the great front door of Erewile House to admit his master and two companions several hours in advance of when he had been expected.

“Brandy in the library, if you please, Witcher.” Darcy flung his cloak and other accoutrements into the hands of the downstairs footman and motioned his friends to do the same. “And direct whatever kitchen staff is about to see what may be had to eat.”

“Nothing for me, Darcy,” Bingley broke in. “Had enough of those dashed biscuits to founder a horse while I was entertaining Miss Cecil. Or trying to,” he added in an undertone.

“Well enough! Gentlemen, if you please?” Darcy indicated the stairs to the library and then led the way. Once inside, his friends disposed themselves in the comfortable chairs to await the ordered trays. A thoughtful silence pervaded the air as Darcy leaned down and stoked up the fire in the hearth.

“Here now,” Bingley’s straining curiosity broke the quiet. “Will someone tell me what happened that turned the soiree out into the street? My lord” — he turned to Brougham — “I apply to you, sir, as Darcy will not breathe a word of it.”

Brougham looked over to their host, his brows peaked in question. “He’s bound to read it in the scandal sheets tomorrow, Fitz.”

“True, but it is to be hoped we got out in time.”

“In time for what? What scandal is this?” Bingley looked back and forth between them. “I demand to know!”

“In time, my dear Mr. Bingley, to avoid having your initials printed in the newspaper as a participant in the bacchanalia we just left,” Brougham dryly informed him. “For you, sir, I have every hope, but for Fitz…Well” — he sighed dramatically — “it is unlikely he will escape mention. Not after having brought Brummell to his knees! Oho, I think not!”

Darcy met Dy’s snicker with a thunderous frown, but at the last bit his countenance dropped. “Brummell! I had forgotten! The blasted cravat!” He fell into a chair and nursed his temples.

“Darcy bested the Beau?” Bingley sat up straight and peered at both men, trying to detect if they were playing him a joke.

“Win, place, and show! Unmanned the trumpery fellow to the point that he retired the Sphinx! By the by, Fitz, when do you give Fletcher the news?” Darcy’s searing glare and Bingley’s guarded disbelief encouraged Brougham into further displays of mirth, which were curbed only by a knock on the library door.

“Enter!” Darcy growled, and in moments several trays of food wafted their way through the door and onto tables. He rose and poured a round as the servants quietly left, and handed the glasses to the others. “I would propose a toast, if I could think of one,” he muttered, “but at the moment —”

“To friendship,” Brougham interrupted him in a quiet but firm voice. Darcy studied him for several heartbeats; the regard Brougham returned him was both steady and warm. Under such an onslaught, it was not long before a grin reluctantly tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“To friendship, then!” he responded, and held out his glass. Brougham brought his up, and Bingley eagerly joined his to them both, vowing the same. Tossing back the contents with a laugh, the three fell upon the viands supplied by Darcy’s staff and then settled back into the comfortable depths of cushions before the hearth.

While Dy regaled Bingley with an account of the events of the evening far more humorous than he recalled experiencing, Darcy watched Charles closely. It had not gone at all well. In point of fact, it had well nigh been a disaster, and he could not help but wince at the thought of what the morning papers would bring. As Charles was alternately amused and astounded by Brougham’s narrative, Darcy sensed an underlying wistfulness in his friend’s demeanor. When he answered Dy’s questions concerning Miss Cecil, Darcy’s unease was confirmed as Charles tentatively compared the lady unfavorably with one he had but lately met in Hertfordshire.

“Hertfordshire! Darcy told me. Will you offer?”

“Dy!” Darcy warned.

“On the estate. Make an offer on the estate.” Brougham made a face at him, then turned his attention back to Bingley.

“I had been considering it,” Bingley replied, oblivious to the exchange, “and had almost made up my mind. But now I am not sure. Darcy advises me to take more time and look about.”

“That is, in general, excellent advice; but there may be other considerations.”

“Yes,” Bingley agreed, rather too quickly for Darcy’s peace. “I thought there might be, but Darcy…Well; I could be mistaken.”

“I see…” Brougham let the thought dangle. “Quite right to be sure of your ground before charging your fences. Did I tell you about Samson, Fitz?” Brougham leaned back into his chair. “Lost him at Melton, the old sod!”

“No!” Darcy responded feelingly to the regret in his friend’s voice. At Bingley’s question, he explained, “Brougham’s favorite horse, and gotten by the same sire as my Nelson. What happened, Dy?”

“Stupid accident, really. I have been over Melton any number of times, know it like the back of my hand; save that this year one of the local landowners took his fields out of the run. I arrived too late to have a look at the new fields and, for certain ‘considerations,’ which I shall not name, rashly joined the fray.” He paused to sip at his brandy and looked solemnly across to Bingley. “There was a hedge, you see, tallest I have ever tried and, unknown to me, a ditch on the other side like to reach China. Samson took the hedge like a hero, but the ditch caught us both by surprise. We went down hard, but Samson took the brunt of it, allowing me to roll away with only a twisted ankle and a bruised shoulder. I had always laughed at the formality of Melton: the pistol and shot in the saddlebag and all that. But I tell you now, that day I was glad of it. To condemn him to hours of such pain while I dragged myself off to find a farmer…and all because of my folly —” Brougham stopped abruptly and looked down into the amber liquid in his glass before taking a swallow. “Be sure of your ground, my friends, be damn sure.”

The crackle of the fire in the hearth was all that disturbed the silence for a few moments after Brougham’s adjuration. From under lowered eyelids, Darcy observed Bingley’s response to Dy’s story and was gratified to see the thoughtful turn of his manner. He glanced then over at Brougham, nodding his head in thanks for his help.

Dy gave him an almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders accompanied by a quick, tight smile and then rose to his feet. “Gentlemen, I must bid you good night. This has been a very eventful, not to mention revealing, evening. I think it safe to say we saw more of some people than we bargained for.” Groans interrupted him, but he persisted. “And were exposed” — more groans — “to some new experiences.” As Bingley chuckled over his puns, Brougham offered him his hand. “Mr. Bingley, a pleasure, sir!”

“The pleasure is entirely mine, Lord Brougham!” Bingley clasped his hand and bowed over it, utterly pleased to have been granted entree into His Lordship’s interest.

“Fitz” — Brougham turned to Darcy — “I doubt I will see you again before you leave for Pemberley. You will give my love to Georgiana?”

“Have no fear!”

“Good! Send me a note when you return to Town, or I shall have to try to bribe Witcher again, much good will it do me. Oh! Give Fletcher my very best regards and congratulations. Would it puff him up too much if I sent