Darcy and Deception

“That would be delightful.” Mr. Darcy’s voice was carefully neutral.

The prince wheezed a bit. “Yes, yes, yes, yes.” He teetered on his elegantly shod feet; for a moment it appeared the servants might be pressed into service to catch him. However, with the help of his mistress and the cane, the prince regained his balance. “Perhaps I should sit for a while.” He glanced about, but they were in the midst of a cobblestone street, now closed to carriage traffic; no benches or chairs were in evidence. “Hastings, find me a chair.”

One of the servants hurried into the nearest house, emerging immediately with a rather plain wooden chair that he set behind the prince, who sank into it with a sigh. “Damned gout!” he exclaimed. “Sea bathing is supposed to be beneficial for it, but I do not know.”

He peered up at Mrs. Fitzherbert, standing by his side. “Hastings, obtain a chair for Maria.” The servant repeated the process, retrieving a chair from the same house and setting it beside the prince’s. Standing in their doorway, the owners of the house were

peering wide-eyed at the spectacle. They did not appear particularly well off, and Elizabeth wondered if their household owned additional chairs or if the prince had commandeered their entire supply. I hope the prince would not think to order chairs for us!

Now that he was seated, the prince seemed to be of a more amiable disposition, arranging his face in a rather grotesque smile. “Who were you walking with just now?” he asked Mr. Darcy. “Do you have a wife?”

“No, Your Highness.” Mr. Darcy gestured for Elizabeth to come forward. “This is my friend, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” She made another awkward curtsey, devoutly hoping it was the proper one.

The prince’s attention immediately drifted away; evidently Mr. Darcy’s friends were not of interest. Seconds later, the prince was seized by a great coughing fit that shook his entire frame. Mrs. Fitzherbert and the servants bustled about, offering water—or some other liquid—from a flask and patting his back, but their efforts served no obviously beneficial purpose.

After many long minutes, the prince was finally able to speak again, with a wheezier and hoarser voice. “Damned consumption! It never seems to improve.”

“I am very sorry to hear that,” Mr. Darcy said.

“Yes…well…” The prince waved irritably, obviously finished with the conversation. “I would like some cake. Hastings, find somewhere that will give me some cake.”

The servant evinced some surprise at this order but immediately ran down the street in search of cake. Elizabeth hoped the man would buy it from an establishment that sold cake rather than stealing it off the table of some hapless family.

The prince pointed to Darcy. “Contact my secretary about a dinner engagement, and I shall show you those designs. Such turrets! Such domes! It will be quite grand!”

“I will,” Mr. Darcy said.

“Be sure to take your lady here to the beach. It is very pretty at this time of day,” the prince wheezed.

“We were going there just this minute,” Mr. Darcy said.

“I should love to walk along the beach!” Mrs. Fitzherbert sighed.

“Would you, Maria?” The prince gave her a fond smile. “You know how I hate the sand and stones, but perhaps after I have rested, we may take a short walk on the beach.”

“That would be most delightful!” She beamed at him.

The prince waved at Mr. Darcy. “Perhaps we shall see you at the beach by and by.”

Recognizing their dismissal, Mr. Darcy bowed again, took Elizabeth’s arm, and set a brisk pace along the street, not slowing until they had turned the corner. Once they were out of the prince’s sight, he gave a long exhale and allowed his shoulders to sag. He shot Elizabeth an anxious look. “I apologize for subjecting you to such an…awkward situation.”

She shrugged. “Lydia will be quite jealous that I have met the prince regent and she has not.”

“I suppose. I would happily send her in my stead to the Pavilion.”

“How are you acquainted with the prince?”

Mr. Darcy removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. “I am not—not really. We have met upon a few occasions. My father lent cash to the king some fifteen or twenty years back; as a result, our family was often invited to state occasions. I was fairly young at the time and found them quite tedious.”

“You would probably find them tedious today as well.”

“Ha! Probably.” He carefully folded the handkerchief and replaced it in his pocket. “The debts were repaid, my father died, and the king…grew ill. Intercourse between our families dwindled, and I did nothing to encourage it. I did encounter the prince at a ball some five years ago, and he was eager to talk about ‘old times.’ Still, I am surprised he recognized me.”

Elizabeth was not quite so surprised. Mr. Darcy was a striking man. Even someone as self-centered as the prince regent would find him remarkable. “Do you believe he will actually invite you for dinner?”

Mr. Darcy sighed. “I suppose it is possible; he is obviously eager to share his architect’s renovation plans. I must contact His Highness’s secretary; that was practically a royal command. However, it is just as likely the prince will have lost interest in two days’ time.” His tone suggested that he would prefer to be forgotten. She understood; excessive royal scrutiny could be unnerving, particularly from such a prince.

He took her hand and set it firmly back on his arm. “But enough of princes and royalty. Let us walk along the beach and think on pleasanter subjects.”