Bad Miss Bennet by Jean Burnett

Author:Jean Burnett
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Pegasus Books
Published: 2012-11-25T22:22:31.362000+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

My brother-in-law was never noted for his sense of humour. I doubt that he would have recognised a jest if it ran up the main staircase at Pemberley and bit him on the nose. It seemed that he could not bear a little light joshing from his sister-in-law, either, although I have seen a faint smile appear when Lizzie teased him.

My ability to look on the bright side of life at the most distressing moments was either an enviable gift or a dubious one, depending on your point of view. On a morning of death, dashed hopes and unwelcome visitors I could not resist annoying Mr Darcy. He was so easily annoyed. I watched the purple hue rise in his cheeks as I smiled pleasantly and offered my guests a seat. At that moment I heard the front door close with a loud bang as the bailiffs finally left. I hastened to make the introductions.

‘May I present my dear brother-in-law?’ I said to the beaming Lord Finchbrook, who shook the hand unwillingly proffered, giving the impression that he had waited all his life for this meeting. ‘I am sure you must have met His Lordship in London at some time, dear Fitzie!’ I remarked wickedly.

‘I have not had the pleasure,’ Darcy retorted, adding between gritted teeth, ‘Do not address me by that ridiculous name, Lydia.’

While I rang for Adelaide to bring sherry and ratafia wafers for the visitors, Darcy unbent sufficiently to remark that he had endured a ‘dashed difficult journey’ from his London lodgings on account of the crowds gathered to watch the execution of some felon.

Lord Finchbrook nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes, that would be the unfortunate Getheridge. We knew him quite well, did we not, Mrs Wickham?’ I almost congealed with fright wondering what this ridiculous lordling would blurt out next. The man had the brains and sensitivity of a feather duster. Darcy turned to me with an expression of horror.

‘You, my sister-in-law, were acquainted with this felon?’ Lord Finchbrook interrupted hurriedly having realised his mistake. ‘Oh, do not be alarmed, sir. Everyone of consequence in London knew Getheridge. He was, until recently, a respected banker and confidant of the Prince Regent. His end was a most melancholy matter.’ I swallowed my sherry too quickly and choked a little. Thank heavens Lord Finchbrook had not poured out the details of my Fleet marriage. I was sure Miles would have told him of it. My brother-in-law wreaked vengeance on a ratafia wafer with his excellent teeth and regarded me suspiciously.

‘Your sister and I have been concerned about you, madam. Your letters have been sparse, to say the least. We were naturally concerned with your welfare, as a young widow in London.’ There was a wealth of unspoken accusation hanging in the air. I knew that his concern for me meant a fear that I might disgrace his august family in some way. I was the disreputable relative, the woolly-headed creature who had eloped at sixteen with the dastardly Wickham.

That episode had cost him ten thousand pounds.

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