Where Mr. Denny steps up.

Chapter 10:

Three days after the hunt, Mr. Denny invited the Wickhams, Kitty, and Mrs. Gardiner to his house to dine.

"Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham seem quite close," Mrs. Gardiner remarked upon receiving the invitation. "Is this not the second time he has hosted us in his home?"

Kitty nodded, unwilling to lend her voice to a lie about the true state of things, that Mr. Denny had agreed to help her and Lydia in their plans to do away with Mr. Wickham. Instead, she said, "They served together in the militia, and I suppose since they were stationed here together, well..."

"Indeed." Mrs. Gardiner gave a thoughtful hum. "It is a shame your sister does not have the means to do more entertaining. I had thought Mr. Darcy more supportive of our relations, but I suspect there is bad blood between the men, for how little either speaks of their childhood at Pemberley. Still, while Lizzy and Lydia were never as close as she and Jane, she should insist her husband do more to see to Lydia's wellbeing. For his nieces' sake, if nothing else."

"I think the fault lies more in Mr. Wickham's poor management of funds," Kitty said, knowing how Lydia had turned her skill with the needle into supplementing her household income.

"Hmph," Mrs. Gardiner replied. "It is a warning to us all to be prudent in the choice of a husband. "Affection is well enough, but it can cloud your judgment if you let it. Though perhaps Mary and Mr. Farnsworth might have escaped so dire a fate."

At this, Kitty couldn't resist saying, "One could never accuse either of being driven by passion to impropriety."

Mrs. Gardiner laughed. "No, indeed."

Upon arrival at Mr. Denny's home, they soon seated at a large table set with gleaming china, the scent of roasted meats and hearty potatoes mingling with the perfumes of the ladies. Lydia's face had a careful veneer of gaiety, but Kitty caught the furtive looks Lydia sent to Mr. Denny every time she thought he wouldn't notice.

"And then, would you believe it, the poor man tumbled headfirst into the fountain!" Mr. Denny recounted, his voice carrying across the elegantly appointed dining room, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows on the walls. "It was quite the spectacle, I must say."

Lydia tittered, her hand resting on her husband's arm, but Kitty could see the strain in her sister's eyes, the tightness around her mouth that belied her outward composure. Kitty forced a smile as she sipped her chilled soup. She couldn't taste the delicate flavor, her mind consumed with the weight of their shared secret and the uncertainty of Mr. Denny's intentions.

Mr. Wickham, cheeks flushed, seemed more interested in the vintage port that flowed freely than in the conversation. "Yes, yes, quite the laugh," he said, waving a hand airily. "Though I assure you, Denny, it was a far greater feat to lure Miss Isabel to the gazebo in the first place!"

Denny's lip twitched, though his expression remained pleasant. "That is a talent," he said dryly.

Mrs. Gardiner gave a tinkling laugh.

Kitty's gaze drifted to Mr. Denny. He had promised to help Lydia, but in the days after, he had given no indication of what he planned to do. Maybe he did not know either. Or had he changed his mind? Would he expose their plot, condemning them to the full weight of the law? Or worse, would he stand by and do nothing, leaving Lydia to suffer Mr. Wickham's brutality forever? The uncertainty gnawed at Kitty, knotting her stomach in knots and making her palms damp with sweat.

As if sensing her scrutiny, Mr. Denny turned to her, his hazel eyes locking with hers. "Miss Kitty," he said, his voice gentle, "you must try the roast duck. It is a specialty of my cook's, and I daresay 'tis quite exceptional."

Kitty nodded, forcing a smile as she reached for the dish, her movements stiff. The duck was indeed superb, the meat tender and succulent, but it might as well have been sawdust in her mouth for all the enjoyment she took from it.

As Kitty tried to eat, Mrs. Gardiner engaged Mr. Denny in lively conversation. Her gaze swept from Mr. Denny to Mr. Wickham to Lydia, and Kitty noted the slight furrowing of her aunt's brow. Did she suspect?

But Kitty's worries soon shifted from her aunt as Mr. Denny raised his glass. "I must say, Mr. Wickham," he began, his voice smooth and measured. "I have heard talk of a new boxing club in Newcastle. 'Tis said to be quite the spectacle, drawing in gentlemen from all over the county. Perhaps it might be an exciting outing for us all to attend together."

Kitty's gaze darted to Lydia, who sat across from her, her posture rigidly perfect and her face a mask of polite interest. But Kitty knew her sister well enough to detect the faintest flicker of hope in her eyes. Her husband, while a brute, was not a pugilist. Or at least, not in recent years.

Mr. Wickham, his cheeks flushed with the warmth of the wine and the satisfaction of a well-filled belly, leaned forward in his seat, his interest piqued. "A boxing club, you say? I must admit, Denny, the idea holds a certain appeal. It has been far too long since I've had the chance to test my mettle in the ring."

Lydia's hand tightened around her fork. Then she donned her smile as a knight might wear armor and looked at her husband. "Oh, George," Lydia cooed, "I have never seen you at fisticuffs!"

"Well, perhaps I'll get to show you the full extent of my talents, my dear." Mr. Wickham gave her a smarmy wink and reached for his glass.

"I should like to see you in the ring. You are, no doubt, a most formidable opponent." Lydia giggled, tapping the tines of her fork against the rim of her plate.

Kitty fought back a wave of nausea at her sister's words, knowing the bitter truth that lay beneath them. The evidence of Mr. Wickham's "strength" was etched into Lydia's skin.

But Mr. Wickham preened under the praise, his chest puffing out with self-importance. "You flatter me, my dear. But there is some truth to your words. Many in my day were no match for me. Why, when I was in training in Lambton, my coach used to tell me that I showed a real propensity for the sport."

Kitty only hoped his training in Lambton did not match that of Pemberley's Master of Horse, else this too would end in failure.

Mrs. Gardiner, seated beside Kitty, nodded her approval. "I think it is a splendid idea. A bit of friendly competition can be quite invigorating, and it might provide an outlet for any pent-up aggression. Heavens know we could all use a bit of excitement in our lives."

"Well," Mr. Denny said, "the next bout is scheduled for this Thursday. I shall send round an invitation posthaste, and we can settle on the details?"

Mr. Wickham nodded, a broad grin stretching across his face. "The very idea of it gets the blood pumping, doesn't it?" He patted Lydia's hand, and Kitty saw her sister suppress a shudder.

"It is settled then," Mr. Denny declared. "I am happy to secure tickets for us all, if you are amenable."

"It sounds positively thrilling!" Lydia agreed.

Mr. Wickham grinned, his teeth flashing white against the ruddy hue of his cheeks. "Indeed. What better way to spend an afternoon than in the company of friends, watching me trounce a worthy opponent?"

THANK YOU FOR READING! Next chapter tomorrow, where we get to enjoy some fisticuffs!