Darcy's Wager by Penelope Swan

Author:Penelope Swan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Pride and Prejudice variation, Jane Austen fan fiction, Regency romance historical, Mr Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet fanfiction, Jane Austen variation, Jane Austen inspired books
Publisher: Wisheart Press
Published: 2015-09-27T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Darcy stood before the discreet frontage of the townhouse on St James’s Street and looked up at number 12. Like many of the other gambling hells along this strip, its elegant facade concealed a den of sin and debauchery in its interior. Many a young gentleman had lost his entire fortune in an evening of despair as he fell prey to the cardsharps within such establishments.

This house looked no different to many of the other dwellings along this road, except that the front door was left ajar—a common signal to show that it was open during the hours of play. Darcy pushed the door open and stepped into the darkened hallway. He found himself immediately facing another door in the centre of the hall, this one a plank of solid wood, bare except for a single small spyhole in its centre. He went up to the wooden door and rapped, then waited.

A second later, a beady eye appeared in the spyhole, examining his form intently. Darcy saw the eye travel up and down his figure, no doubt taking in the expensive simplicity of his evening attire. A moment later, he heard the sound of a bolt being thrown back and the door creaked open.

He stepped inside and was led farther down the hall to a flight of stairs. These he ascended until he reached the top, where he was met by another door, this time made of iron. He subjected himself to another scrutiny, but quicker this time, and he gained entry easily, stepping at last into the main hall of the gaming den.

It was a vast, elegant room with soaring ceilings and a huge crystal chandelier dominating the centre. It was furnished in a sumptuous style, with plush sofas in several corners and a side buffet offering a selection of wine, port, tea, coffee, and some light refreshments. A few oil paintings in gilt-edged frames decorated the walls and thick red velvet curtains were hung at the windows—purposely closed, Darcy knew, to keep out any natural light and heighten the sense of disconnect with the outside world. They were all tricks devised to encourage players to lose all notion of time and engage in recklessly prolonged gambling sessions.

The real spectacle in the room was the enormous green baize table at the centre, surrounded by a group of gentlemen, some sitting, some standing. Several of them had flushed faces and a few showed trembling hands as they watched the outcome of the game. Unlike the gaming rooms at White’s and other respectable gentlemen’s clubs, there was no sense of restraint or refinement here. All caution was thrown to the winds as men staked their fortunes on the single roll of the dice or the turn of a card.

Darcy moved towards the table, where he could see a game of hazard being played. A cry rang out suddenly and a man reeled back in dismay, his face ashen. He stood up from the table and stumbled backwards, shaking his head, although whether in denial or protest, it was unclear.

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