"Fitzwilliam, why are we not driving by the sea?" Georgiana asked, impertinently as their carriage took a wide circle drive and stopped in front of a grotesquely large house of three flat facades of white limestone. The only bit of interest in the architecture was the recess of the middle facade, with the entryway, flanked by two dramatically arched windows. The home's scale, standing isolated from the other homes nearby, clashed horrendously with the smaller terraces they passed on the main road.
"We can see the shoreline tomorrow. You cannot pretend this is your first time to the sea," he said, cautiously and Georgiana gave a small sound of displeasure.
"This will not be a repeat of Ramsgate, if that is what you are afraid of," she said, meeting her brother in the eye as a sign of maturity.
Mr. Darcy nervously cleared his throat and looked for a reaction from Mrs. Annesley. His sister expanded on what she meant.
"I confessed my mistakes to Mrs. Annesley, and she scolded me for being so recklessly silly, Brother. But this time will be different. I'm a year older, and you and Richard are here with me," she pointed out, hoping her brother would not become irritatingly strict.
Darcy avoided answering his sister as the carriage pulled to a stop in front of Marlborough House. After spending two nights longer at his aunt's estate in Kent, where he managed to avoid bringing his cousin Anne and Lady Catherine to Brighton, Mr. Darcy felt quite keen on securing his freedom once more. He stood next to Georgiana and squinted up at the monstrous edifice before them.
"Why does it look so plain?" she asked, and he attempted to define the Neoclassical design elements, but finally sighed and gave up.
"Perhaps it looks better on the inside?" he suggested, making his sister smile.
"Was it truly the last place available to lease?" she asked, as they jubilantly walked into the house, with the exuberance only they shared from years of bonding over the mutual loss of their parents.
Standing in the marbled entry hall was none other than the man they had come to support.
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam made a great show of tsking at his pocket watch, a necessity for running drills and keeping military order. "You were expected hours ago, did you break an axle?"
Georgiana greeted him with an embrace and explanation. "Aunt Catherine was terrible! We scarcely survived three days of her nagging. And the food! Every meal lasted for over an hour, she required so much ceremony."
"Georgie," Mr. Darcy whispered, pointing out that they were not among only their staff. But she waved him off.
"I shall retire to my room and refresh myself. Then Mrs. Annesley and I can take a drive along the shore," she announced.
Mr. Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose. A small voice behind him interjected.
"Don't worry, sir, I won't let Miss Darcy leave the vehicle. I believe she needs a small dose of independence," Mrs. Annesley said, and Mr. Darcy reluctantly agreed with the woman he trusted with his sister's care for the many months he was away.
After answering the questions from his valet, and the butler of Marlborough House, Mr. Darcy attempted to excuse himself from his cousin. To his dismay, Richard insisted on following Darcy to his suite on the first floor, complete with an oversized dressing room and a shocking lack of alcoholic spirits.
Picking up the empty crystal decanter, Richard teased his cousin. "This is not to be borne!" he said, in a shrill voice to sound like their much-despised aunt just thirty miles north.
Mr. Darcy allowed his man to assist him in changing clothes, but Richard interrupted and gave instructions to his cousin. "You best have your man order you a bath. You have a ball to attend, sir."
Darcy frowned as his cravat was untied. "I did not leave London to ride some sixty miles so that I may suffer in a new society. I will join Georgiana on her drive around the village and then see to the various needs of this house be tended to," he complained.
The cost to lease Marlborough House had been steep, and it was a surprise as to why it had sat empty with its proximity to the Royal Pavilion. Unfortunately for the Beal family who bought the home some decades ago from the Member of Parliament who bought it from the Duke of Marlborough, the Prince Regent's closest friends neither wanted nor required outside lodgings. The Royal Pavilion had more than enough room to host all of his admirers, and their admirers.
Additionally, the nearly constant wars with France and lawlessness of the harbors with the Navy employed elsewhere put the Brighton real estate market in crisis. Marlborough House was no exception; the house was too new to be close enough to the shore for the spectacular views and too old to sport the latest interior comforts.
Still, Richard listened as Darcy complained about how adamant the agent had been to stress that the house was also available for purchase. When his cousin, at last, had changed his clothes behind the screen to alleviate the discomfort of the dusty road, Richard contradicted Darcy's wishes to stay home.
"I could not write to you and explain what I discovered upon arrival. Not in writing. My neck is quite literally on the line."
Darcy dismissed his valet and invited his cousin to sit down with him in the two chairs before the fireplace. He reached to pour them both a drink, only to have his efforts dashed by the empty decanter, making them both curse in frustration. Richard pulled a flask from his hip and took a swig, offering the same to Darcy. The gentleman declined. So Richard took another swig, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"How badly is it? Why didn't you tell me to leave Georgiana in London?" Darcy demanded.
"Georgie? She's perfectly safe. No, it's Shawcroft."
Darcy stared at his cousin pacing back and forth in his temporary dressing room with a look of utter bewilderment. So Richard expounded.
"Winmarleigh."
The mention of the ancient barony near Matlock finally jostled Mr. Darcy's memories.
"The man who nearly killed us both in that stupid phaeton race." Darcy reached for the flask from his cousin and thought better of his decision to abstain. Richard nodded.
"Framed Farrington. He's been skimming off the top. Fobbing the ledgers. Got the whole bloody officer unit on his side." Richard spoke, gasping for air as he held back a belch.
Mr. Darcy shook his head as the cheap spirits in the flask inflamed his senses. He closed his eyes and smacked his lips as he handed the offending flask back to his cousin. "Your letter said the Major-General was impressed with your work."
Richard held up his hands. "Oh, I convinced them that we had to turn the unit around, or the upper brass will never believe it was all Farrington's failure. They're pretending to be good men of the King to hide their larceny!"
Mr. Darcy sighed and stood up from the chair, uncomfortable talking to Richard while he was so agitated and Darcy was sitting like an old matron by the fire. "And so I must go to a ball?"
Richard nodded. "Shawcroft will be there. I don't know how I will catch him, but I can't do it alone."
Mr. Darcy closed his eyes once more and recounted the details of Richard's letters to him. "There's a new regiment in town, you mentioned."
"From Meryton," Richard said, and Mr. Darcy's eyes flew open.
"An outfit commanded by Colonel Forster?"
Richard shrugged. "That's the fellow's name," he said, walking to the far window as though to check for an enemy threat. But the lane below was full of fashionable vehicles and smartly-dressed men and women taking their mid-day stroll. The seaside village stood in stark contrast to the hectic bustle of London.
"George Wickham is in that ragtag bunch of red coats," Mr. Darcy said, through clenched teeth.
Holding up his hands, Richard urged his cousin to have caution. "His name was not on the roster, I verified."
Mr. Darcy slanted his eyes, unwilling to believe such luck. "He was a member this past winter when I left for London."
"I believe you, but the militia is a different breed altogether. They come and go like actors on a stage. But . . . if you know this Colonel Forster . . ." Richard started to form new solutions to his problem, but his cousin cut his hope short.
"I do not. At least, not well."
"Damn."
The two cousins remained silent for a moment. Darcy waited for Richard to acknowledge the terrible position he had placed Georgiana.
"There's a chance Wickham is here. I will leave with Georgiana in the morning," Darcy said.
"You can't! The penalty for theft is not a slap on the wrist!"
"However did Farrington merely get reassigned?" Mr. Darcy asked, stalking toward his cousin by the window out of frustration. But Richard stood his ground against his taller cousin.
"The man has money and friends. I only have one of those," Richard declared.
"I'll pay . . ."
But Richard walked past his cousin, being sure to knock his shoulder with his own in a demonstration of dominance. "Your money won't be good enough, not in this case. I don't think Shawcroft will pull the same stunt he did with Farrington, but I can't be certain."
A knock earned a cross shout from Mr. Darcy and the poor butler opened the door looking very embarrassed.
"I'm sorry, sir, I wished to inform you that your vehicles are unpacked, and Miss Darcy has requested one of them for her drive. Er, with Mrs. Annesley."
Darcy started to step forward, but Richard stayed in front. "Thank you, Saunders. I will ride with Miss Darcy. My cousin needs to prepare for this evening's ball."
"The hell I do!" Mr. Darcy roared, but the butler accepted Richard's orders, to the consternation of his cousin. "Oho, that man answers to you? What game are you playing, Richard?"
Despite his anger, when Richard turned around Darcy witnessed an expression in his cousin's face that gave him pause. The man who stood as Colonel in His Majesty's Finest set his jaw in a rigid display of complete resolution. Understanding that his cousin, who often played foolhardy with ladies and was keen to make a friend, declared the circumstances to be most dire finally made Darcy accept there was no choice.
"I am keeping myself alive. Not just for my sake, but yours and hers. I fell for this snare by way of my pride, and I'll not lose my reputation or life for that cretin Shawcroft.
Darcy sighed. He then turned away and held his hands up in defeat. "Fine, I will attend your ridiculous ball. But I will be leaving with my sister in the morning."
"We'll see," Richard retorted, and then left the room.
Looking around the dressing room for something to throw at the door as it closed, Darcy clenched his fists and growled in frustration. Of the few items in the room within reach, he owned none of them. Never one to lose his temper so badly as to destroy another man's property, Mr. Darcy jerked open the door and yelled for his bath.
If what Richard said was true, he needed time to think.