"How you will explain away any part of your guilt in that dreadful business, I confess is beyond my comprehension."
Lord Chatfield frowned as he scanned Darcy’s list. "You wish to know what all these gentlemen have in common? Is this some sort of riddle, Darcy?"
"I am afraid not." Darcy paced the earl’s library, hoping Chat-field could provide insight into the gathering he and Elizabeth had witnessed — or tried to witness — the night before. Their hackney driver had scaled a tree to peer inside Harry’s window but had attained his perch only in time to see a white-robed figure draw the draperies once more. No other clue as to the activities within had presented itself until Dashwood’s visitors had tumbled out — many of them deep in their cups — just before dawn.
Elizabeth still slept, but Darcy had risen after only a few hours. Eager to identify the men who had called upon Dash-wood, he’d consulted his peerage books to match their coats of arms with family names, then had come to his friend. Lord Chat-field knew absolutely everybody worth knowing in London — from peers and politicians to poets, scientists, and scholars. The earl’s own gatherings were legendary for drawing together seemingly disparate individuals for evenings of stimulating conversation. If any common interest linked the names Darcy had written down, Chatfield would know.
"Steepledown… Flaxbury… Westinghurst… Many of these men enjoyed considerable political influence years ago, but one hears little about them now." The earl leaned back in his chair and studied the list more closely "Parkington is well known as an art collector. He owns an extensive collection of sculpture. I’ve never seen it, but I understand much of it is of a, shall we say, suggestive nature — definitely not something for public display. He was a notorious libertine in his day."
"So was Longcliffe." After encountering him at the fencing club, Darcy had made some enquiries about him. He was also a heavy gambler.
"Bellingford… Bellingford… Why is that name familiar?" Chatfield absently tapped his finger against the paper. "I seem to recall a scandal several years back. Something about a mistress. Whatever it was, it ended badly." He regarded Darcy apologetically. "I am sorry — I wish I could be more helpful. Might I ask where this list came from?"
"I would rather not say. At least presently."
"That’s quite all right. I just thought the context might shed enlightenment." He scanned the names once more. "Darcy, may I keep this list for a day or two? I know someone who might be able to help us. I assure you, I will be most discreet."
"By all means."
Chatfield called upon Darcy the very next afternoon. The normally genial man appeared more serious than was his custom.
"Are Mrs. Darcy or your sisters at home?"
"No, they are gone out shopping."
"Good. I have news on the matter we discussed yesterday that I would not wish a lady to accidentally overhear."
Darcy ushered his friend into the library and closed the door. The earl declined Darcy’s offer of refreshment, or even a seat.
"I hardly know where to begin."
"No one will interrupt us. Start wherever seems best."
Chatfield paused. "Perhaps I’ll take that wine, after all."
Darcy pulled the stopper from a crystal decanter on the side table. The interview was not off to a favorable start for Mr. Dash-wood. Chatfield was one of the most forthright men Darcy knew; his present hesitation presaged ill tidings.
"I shared your list with an acquaintance of mine," the earl continued, "a fellow highly placed in the Home Office. I kept your name in confidence, of course, though he was very curious about the source of the list — for reasons I shall soon relate."
"I thank you for your discretion." Darcy handed him the glass and poured one for himself.
Chatfield took a fortifying draught. "You have, I presume, heard of the Hell-Fire Club? Sir Francis Dashwood and his so-called Monks of Medmenham?"
"I know of it generally — what any young man hears from his schoolmates. But no real particulars."
"No one knows all the particulars, save those who participated in its activities, and most of them are long dead. The ‘monks’ kept the details of their rituals secret. Given what is known of their exploits, I cannot imagine what they considered too terrible to reveal. It was a most shocking organization."
"Most of the tales I have heard are too outrageous to be believed. Schoolboy exaggerations of sexual exploits and Black Masses."
"They are not exaggerations. The Friars of Saint Francis conducted obscene mockeries of Christianity. According to accounts, the rituals involved Satan worship, fornicating on altars, drunken orgies, black magic, and other wickedness I cannot even bring myself to say aloud. Its motto was Fay ce que voudras."
"‘Do what thou wilt,’" Darcy translated.
"And apparently, they did. Horrible, horrible business! Yet many of the club’s suspected members were intelligent men who wielded considerable political power, especially during the years just before England’s loss of the American colonies. Their influence secretly extended into the highest reaches of the government."
"But the Hell-Fire Club, so far as I understand, died with Sir Francis more than three decades ago. How does it relate to my present enquiry?"
"Darcy, all of the names on that list are men believed to have been members of the Hell-Fire Club. Not Sir Francis’s inner circle, the superior members known as his Twelve Apostles,’ but inferior — junior — members."
And Harry Dash wood was associating with them. Worse — had hosted a gathering of them at his home. To what purpose? A lark? A means of rebelling against his mother? A darker motive? Darcy could only begin to speculate.
"Is the organization still active?"
Chatfield shook his head. "Not to anyone’s knowledge. But it is a secret society, after all, so who would know with certainty? I can tell you this — my source indicated that the government does not want to see the Hell-Fire Club rekindled. Given the current state of war with France, England cannot risk a group of depraved geniuses exerting the kind of political influence they enjoyed before the War of American Independence. Which is why your list generated no small amount of interest — one wonders how those names came to be collected, and why."
Though Darcy considered Chatfield a good friend and trusted him implicitly, he thought it best not to reveal Mr. Dashwood’s involvement with the men in question. At least, not at the moment. Until he had a chance to confront Harry himself, he would not jeopardize Mr. Dashwood’s reputation, or Harry’s friendship with Lady Chatfield’s brother, by informing the earl or anyone else of the gathering he’d observed.
And question Mr. Dashwood he would — this very day, if possible. If Harry indeed played with hell-fire, he dabbled in more danger than he realized. Someone needed to intervene before he got burned.
"I am in your debt," Darcy said. "I am afraid, however, that at present I cannot divulge the list’s origin without betraying a trust."
"I understand."
"I hope my silence on the subject will not create difficulties between you and your acquaintance at the Home Office?"
"Nothing too unpleasant. Though should you come into possession of evidence that the Hell-Fire Club is re-forming, he would be very interested in that intelligence."
"Of course."
He was not the only one.