The officers of the militia quickly acclimated to the accustomed schedule of entertainments in Brighton. The letters of the Lennox sisters had perhaps simplified matters, as the truth was there were invitations and social calls to make every day of the week, except for Sunday.

A grassy field called the Belle Vue, less than a mile from the fashionable Old Steine and Royal Pavilion hosted hundreds of white canvas tents in orderly rows as far as the eye could see. Beyond that, open fields and trails further into the chalk cliffs and valleys supplied ample opportunity for training.

Lieutenant Denny returned to his tent that he shared with Lieutenant Wickham one afternoon, unsurprised to see his friend finished with his military duties for the day and preparing for his social obligations.

"If you wait a few moments for your old pal, I'll walk with you into the village," Denny offered, and Wickham agreed. One officer walking alone invited duties. But two officers could change their conversation to military matters at the slightest observation, and avoid any delegation by appearing to be on official business.

As Denny began to use their meager means of washing up after a hard day drilling the men in their marches, he noticed his friend counting money behind him.

Curious, Denny inquired as to what Wickham's plans for the evening were.

"I've been invited to play cards with Mrs. Forster and Miss Lydia. Should be easy winnings," he said, with a grin.

When Denny looked at him in abject horror, Wickham adjusted his tune slightly. "Don't worry, I won't take your friend for all of her money. I am a gentleman," Mr. Wickham said, almost convincing himself with those words.

"You mustn't repeat what happened in Meryton. It would be unwise to rack up debts in an encampment with so many Regulars," Denny cautioned.

Wickham shrugged and put his coins away. He began brushing off the sleeves of his coat and then frowned with dismay as he found a small hole on the inside left elbow. Denny noticed his friend finding fault with his uniform.

"Besides, there's always better uses for your money," he said, sounding like a conservative, old bat.

"Soon enough, I won't have to keep up this endless routine of 'March here, March there. Yell this, yell that. Transport those goods over here. Inspect that barn over there.'" Wickham said, in a low, deep voice, that was a poor imitation of Captain Carter.

Denny shrugged.

"Before you gamble it all away, don't forget Friend, you still owe me quite a bit," Denny said, reminding Mr. Wickham that it was he who covered the man's debts when he left Meryton. At least, he had covered the debts that were to other soldiers in the unit and wouldn't be left behind when they were removed from the area.

Mr. Wickham thanked his friend. "That reminds me," Wickham said, practically ignoring Denny's thinly veiled request for repayment. "I need you to change the watch bill for Tuesday."

Denny took off his coat and proceeded to change the lawn shirt he wore beneath it for one freshly laundered.

"Oh no," he replied, "I've already taken you off once before. If Carter added you back on, then he noticed I changed it."

Wickham gasped in exasperation. "That's just it, I need you to add me back to the watch bill. Specifically for Tuesday," he said, still angry that he was no longer trusted to make corrections since he left Meryton. Chamberlayne and the others complained like old women to Captain Carter, claiming Wickham had been unfair. But the math had worked correctly for him. There were more than seven divisions, and instead of a complicated rotation, let each day be assigned to one platoon, and the others a reprieve until the following month. That way, every officer could make necessary social plans with confidence of his availability.

Mr. Denny stared at his friend in disbelief. He pulled the new shirt down over his head and began tucking it appropriately into his breeches. "You never volunteer for duty. What is this all about?" he asked and Wickham began to laugh nervously.

"Finish getting dressed. We are keeping lovely ladies waiting." Wickham began to move as though he was going to exit the tent, but Denny called after him.

"I mean it, Wickham. What is the reason I'm changing the watch bill?" he asked with insistence on an answer.

Wickham shrugged. "It's better if you don't ask too many questions. But if you want to be repaid your money back, change the watch bill."

Mr. Denny pressed his mouth into a firm line and for a moment, Mr. Wickham began to fear that his ever pliable friend was no longer yielding. But he was mistaken. It wasn't that Mr. Denny was unwilling to change the watch bill once more for his good old friend, Georgie. But he wanted something in exchange.

Acting as though the request was an onerous one, he combed his hair and tentatively agreed to Wickham's request.

"But if I do something for you, you need to do something for me."

Intrigued, Wickham crossed his arms over his chest. Denny never so much as stepped a foot out of line without his encouragement. Wickham was at a complete loss as to what favor he could provide Denny. Then he began to suspect it wasn't a real favor that he needed. Denny would give him another silly warning about being a good soldier.

"Do I have your agreement?" Denny asked and Wickham nodded, tentatively.

Picking up his coat, Denny began buttoning the brass buttons. "If anything happens to me, sell or burn my effects."

Wickham rolled his eyes. "That's not a real request. Besides, how could I do that to your mother and sister?" Wickham said, invoking what little family he knew of Denny.

But Denny was insistent. "I must have your promise. None of my personal effects should go back to my mother or sister."

Wickham grew suspicious, Denny was hardly a man anyone would believe to have shocking correspondence in his possession.

"Why?"

Denny seemed surprised by the question, but he didn't respond.

So Wickham asked again.

"Why?"

Denny approached his friend and gave him a playful shove, to get him out of the way to leave the tent. As the two began their walk into the village, Denny finally gave his reason.

"You are not the only one who has left a member of the fairer sex behind after she allowed you to take liberties. I've been in the militia longer than you," he explained, "and I used to have my tent to myself. Many nights I would reread the letters of affection from women I could never offer for but had gladly offered themselves."

Wickham gave his promise that if anything happened to Denny he would make sure none of his personal effects reached his mother or sister. But all the request had done was make Wickham keen to find out what was in his mate's trunk at his first opportunity. Denny kept his personal effects locked, but that wasn't too hard of a barrier to break.

If his friend Denny had been some great Lothario, then he was by far the most circumspect lover to ever bother a farmer's daughter. No, George Wickham suspected Mr. Denny's letters were far more dangerous than merely love letters of broken hearts he had left behind.

They arrived together at the townhome of Colonel Forster, though Wickham told Denny he didn't have to walk past the Old Ship Inn with him to call on Miss Lydia. But Denny said he didn't mind.

Unfortunately, Lydia Bennet was in an uproar because her sister, Elizabeth, had not returned yet from Marlborough House.

"Imagine, Lizzy putting on airs that Mr. Darcy would ever be interested in her. She doesn't ever practice the pianoforte at home," Lydia said, interesting Mr. Wickham, but making Mr. Denny uncomfortable with her insult.

"Perhaps she lost track of the time," Denny said, judiciously. He looked to see if Colonel or Mrs. Forster would soon join them in the parlor.

"She is playing duets with Miss Darcy?" Mr. Wickham asked.

Lydia made a grotesque face and then nodded.

"And we will be late to the card tables if she does not hurry back," she whined.

Their conversation was interrupted when Mrs. Forster came downstairs, aided by her husband. Her face was pale, and she did not look like herself at all.

"Mrs. Forster," Mr. Denny said, in a concerned tone. "Should you be out of bed?" he asked, looking at Colonel Forster for support.

She batted away his concern. "I am having a spell, but I shall be fine after dinner. Come, we might as well start as I've sent a note to Marlborough House for Miss Elizabeth to return."

The two officers glanced at each other, happy for the good luck of being fed supper instead of paying for a tavern meal before the evening's festivities. Lydia continued her complaints to Mr. Wickham as he led her into the dining room.

"See, Mrs. Forster is just as cross with Lizzy as I am. We aren't home at Longbourn where everyone waits for her to return from her walks."

Lizzy returned from Marlborough House just after supper concluded. Lydia, emboldened in her favored position in the household, promptly scolded her sister.

"You've missed the meal, and now you won't have time to eat anything before we go," she taunted.

Colonel and Mrs. Forster looked at each other uncomfortably, as they were not yet parents and entirely unprepared for the constant bickering that occurred between the two sisters. Thankfully, Elizabeth did not rise to Lydia's bait.

"I am late because I dined at Marlborough House. Mrs. Warrender was quite keen to stay since Mrs. Fitzherbert was invited," Elizabeth said, stressing how it was not her fault she was late. Mrs. Warrender had agreed to be Elizabeth's chaperone to visit the Darcys when Mrs. Forster was unwell.

"They must eat early, we only finished our meal," Colonel Forster commented.

"I believe it's the habit of Mrs. Fitzherbert?" she said questioningly, unsure what Mr. Darcy's normal eating habits were.

"How did you get to meet Mrs. Fitzherbert?" Lydia demanded to know, and Mrs. Forster calmly reminded Lydia that she was Mr. Darcy's neighbor.

Angry that she regretted refusing to go with her sister to visit the Darcys, Lydia loudly asked if it was time to leave for the Old Ship Inn.

"Please, forgive me for changing our plans. But will you play cards without me? I have a terrible headache coming on," Elizabeth said, and the Forsters quickly agreed to the elder Bennet sister's request.

Increasingly, Elizabeth was learning that the less time she and Lydia spent together, the less time they spent quarreling. She had overheard the Forsters talking about sending the girls home early and selfishly, Elizabeth wanted more time with Mr. Darcy.

In her heart, she hoped that if she had to leave Brighton early, he would come to visit her. But he had not fully declared himself and they'd only been reunited for a little more than a week. How could a man such as Mr. Darcy be certain of a lady's feelings when they were so radically changed from their last meeting, and less than the length of a bad cold?

Sending the Forsters off with Lydia, and the two officers that hung around far too much for her taste, Elizabeth relished a night alone. She asked the butler if there was any post, but he shook his head and Elizabeth shrugged it off. Jane could not have received her last letter that Colonel Forster posted for her two days ago, and Jane couldn't send a reply until she had the Brighton address.

Still, feeling elated from her time with the Darcys, Elizabeth walked up the stairs two at a time. She would start another letter to her sister, and a note of gratitude for Miss Darcy for the invitation. She wished Jane was with her in Brighton and hoped that her sister was not falling too deeply into her melancholy from the loss of sisters.