Darcys Wedding Wager – Sylvia Johnston

Elizabeth sat next to Darcy, and picked at her food, her stomach in knots. Mr. Bennet and his wife addressed each other only when necessary and in overly polite tones. Lady Matlock complained of a headache, but continued to sit at the table declaring it was a most dreadful evening in between the interminable courses. Lady Catherine persisted in addressing her remarks solely to Darcy.

She scarcely deigned to do more than glance at Elizabeth, unlike Caroline Bingley, who stared at Elizabeth with ill-concealed malice in her lovely eyes. Only Bingley and his Jane persisted in attempting something resembling normal dinner conversation. “So, when are you leaving for Pemberley?” Bingley asked, reaching for his wine. His cheerful voice only served to make the tension in the air more pronounced.

“Tomorrow,” Darcy replied tersely. “Impossible,” Lady Catherine said. “I don’t see why, madam,” Mr. Bennet replied. “In fact it will be quite the best thing.” “Look at her. She’s pale and has no appetite. Girl’s health is compromised,” Lady Catherine answered, her voice cold. Feeling more and more as if she was in some sort of nightmare, Elizabeth watched Darcy’s face turn hard and implacable. “She is my wife. She will come with me. Tomorrow.” “Of course she will.”

Caroline gave a high, tinkling laugh. Her face was flushed, her eyes over-bright. “The terms of the will state they must live together for six months after the wedding. Or he will not fully inherit Pemberley. Everyone knows he would do anything to possess it. And of course there was the wager. So he has won everything.”

There was dead silence. “What wager?” Mr. Bennet demanded. “Why, the wager—” “This is not the time,” Darcy told her in a low voice. “I want to hear about the wager.” Mr. Bennet’s voice was starting to rise. “Papa!” Jane said. “Quiet!” Jane turned pale, but said nothing more. “What wager?” Mr. Bennet turned back to Caroline.

Hurst stared at the cards as if he thought they would bite. “Damn it, Darcy. You’re more drunk than I thought! You never lose!” “That or he is in love,” Charles Bingley drawled. He raised a negligent brow in Darcy’s direction. “I’ve never seen you play so poorly.” “It’s hardly love.” A scowl marred Darcy’s dark brow.

He motioned to the passing waiter and ordered another bottle of the establishment’s excellent claret. The three men sat in a private room in one of Meryton’s most notorious gaming hells. They had been playing since early evening and now, at past three in the morning, seemed unlikely to quit. Several empty bottles sat on the table. And the three men had removed their coats. Hurst looked rumpled, Bingley had lost none of his splendid elegance, and Darcy looked untouched by the amount of alcohol he’d consumed.

Only the rather wild look in his usually cool gray eyes betrayed the fact that he was perhaps less than sober. “Well, I won’t question my luck,’’ Bingley said. He was a tall, broad- shouldered man with blond hair and a pair of lazy blue eyes. “However, I do question the wisdom of consuming a fourth bottle of claret. No plans tomorrow, I take it?’’ “No,” was Darcy’s curt reply.

“What could one possibly do in this county?” Suddenly Bingley lost his indifferent pose and sat straighter. An alert expression popped into his eyes. “Damn! The will! I’d nearly forgotten. It was read today.’’ “What will?’’ Hurst asked. “My father’s,’’ Darcy said. He watched the waiter set the bottle down, then reached for it and poured himself another glass.

“I assume you are drinking yourself to oblivion in celebration, then?” Bingley inquired. Darcy raised his glass. “Yes, most certainly in celebration to the terms of the will.” “Not too favorable? But you’re rich enough. Don’t know why you need more,” Hurst said. “So you didn’t get Pemberley?” Bingley asked. Darcy laughed shortly. “Oh, yes. It is mine. But there are certain conditions attached.” He was surprised to find his voice as articulate as it was. Bingley leaned forward. “Such as?” “Such as I marry within six weeks and my bride and I must reside for the next six months in the house.”

Hurst’s mouth dropped open. “Good God!” “Yes.” Darcy grinned sardonically. Bingley stared at him. “How very interesting. The old man found a way to make you settle down after all.” Darcy looked away. “Leg-shackled! Good God!” Hurst said again. “So, who is the fortunate woman to be?

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: dcdd4c456534f003
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 333,482 bytes (0.318 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 69
• Language: English (en)

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• Estimated Reading Time: 97.75 minutes
• Total Words: 19,549
• Total Characters: 107,517
• Average Words per Page: 283.32
• Average Characters per Page: 1558.22

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