Master Under Good Regulation

by Kara Louise

  “I am pleased Father allowed me to choose you. I feared he would not. Although Father told me to make my selection from the best litter, I could see something in you that none of those dogs of better breeding had.” As he talked, his hand stroked my fur from my head down to my tail and I basked in delight.

  He turned me around and cupped my face in his hands, looking directly into my eyes. “It is good to have someone with whom to walk these grounds, Reggie. Usually I walk alone, meditating a great deal upon who I am and what is expected of me. Father has instructed me my whole life on what it means to be a Darcy, to be proud of my name and connections, and how he has such high expectations of me.”

  He looked out across the lake, as if he were far away. “Mother was always there; ready to give me the reassurance I needed when it all seemed so overwhelming.” He took in a deep breath now and was silent as a lonely tear appeared and trailed down his face. He quickly wiped it away. “She always had a way of tempering what Father said with the gentle reminder that no matter what, they would always love me.”

  I felt his arms tighten around me. “And now she is gone…” He was silent again and I wondered where it was she had gone. He quickly wiped away another tear that threatened to roll down his face. “Father says if I am truly a man, I should not cry. I am but fifteen and he says I should act like a man. But sometimes, Reggie, it is not particularly easy.”

  I noticed, with complete amazement, a sudden steeling of my master’s faculties and the pain and grief quickly erased from his face, replaced by a stone-like countenance. As if no tear had been shed, no feelings had threatened to spill over, I watched him stand up and brush the dirt from his clothes, as if to brush away any trace of emotion that he may have just felt.

  We walked slowly back to the house; both sensing the bond beginning to form between us. Instead of taking me to the pen off the kitchen, he took me over toward the stables. A larger pen was situated there and I discovered that this was where I was to spend a good portion of the day. There were several other dogs in nearby pens; some grouped two or three together. But I was placed in a pen by myself and hoped they would still accept me. As I was put inside, the other dogs greeted me with barking, and although it was quite intimidating for me being such a small puppy, I felt that they all accepted me fairly well. My master returned several times that day to bring me out for a brief walk or simply to reach over the pen and scratch my head. When evening drew near, he brought me back into the house and returned me to my indoor pen. And that is how my first few days at Pemberley passed.

  *~*~*

  My master awakened me one morning and when he brought me out, I was dismayed to find water pouring down from the skies. Huddling over me and partly covering me with his coat, he scurried me over to what had become my favourite tree and quickly returned me to the house. Now I must interject here that my outdoor pen does have a small shelter I may go into to avoid the elements if I so need, but I was very grateful to be allowed to remain in the house this particular day.

  As he put me back in the pen indoors, he told me, “Reggie, your pen is going to be disastrously muddy today, so I am going to leave you indoors. Father says it is up to me to give you a bath when you need one and I believe this will prevent you from getting dirty.”

  With that, he closed the door. “Sorry about not being able to take our walk this morning. If it clears up, then I will come for you a little later.”

  He left and I heard him greet his father off in the distance. For a considerable length of time, I could just barely make out the conversation between my master and his father. Although I could not distinguish everything that was said, I believe my master’s father was giving him instruction, as I would often hear my master say, “Yes, Sir. I shall, Father.” The tone of their conversation was cordial, yet formal. But every so often, I would hear a very soft and high voice that I could not identify.

  I sat in my pen, waiting expectantly for the first sound of my master’s return. Occasionally, one of the kitchen help would come over to the door to look in on me and make some comment and smile. It was particularly gratifying when one of their visits was accompanied with some special treat from the kitchen.

  Finally, after what seemed an eternity, my master appeared and walked very slowly to my pen. He was carrying something in his arms. It was a little girl. A precious little girl.

  Our eyes met and she instantly buried her head against my master’s chest.

  “Georgiana, this is Reggie.” He tried to turn her around so she would look at me. “Georgie, he will not hurt you. Look.”

  He stooped down and reached out his hand toward me, but the little girl kept her face hidden from mine. I heard him let out a frustrated sigh.

  “Georgie, Reggie’s feelings will be hurt if you do not at least look at him.”

  “I do not want to! I do not like dogs!” she cried.

  My master’s jaw tightened but then quickly relaxed. “Georgie, he is not like Storm. I promise you that he will not hurt you.”

  She shook her head vehemently against him.

  “All right, Georgie. But poor Reggie will be sad all day because you think he is a mean dog. He is but the most gentle of puppies and you really should not judge him ill because some other dog frightened you.”

  “No!”

  “Georgie, you know I would never let anyone or anything hurt you and Reggie will do the same. If you get to know him, you will see that he will always look out for you.”

  Georgiana continued to shake her head.

  He turned to walk away and I was quite saddened that she did not seem willing to trust me. But as he walked out through the door, I saw her lift her head and take a quick peek at me. Just before they disappeared around the corner, I saw her eyes light up and felt that perhaps all she needed was a little time. I thought that indeed, someday, we would become good friends.

  Being in the house that day gave me the opportunity to learn more about where my master’s mother had gone. From what I heard from the servants, I found that she had just recently died. Being right off the kitchen, I heard the servants talk much about this and how heartbreaking it was for both my master and his sister. As they were scouring down the kitchen to make it spotless or were beginning to make the preparations for the next meal, I overheard much about this subject.

  “The poor young master is still heartbroken, I ken tell ye that much!”

  “His father puts on a strong face, he never lets anyone see his grief. But I think I have heard him cry when he is alone in his chambers at night. Methinks the young lad is holding in all his pain so he ken be strong like his pappa. He wants so much to be just like him.”

  “Terrible thing to go through at his young age. Not anymore a child, but not quite yet a man.”

  “And little Georgiana. One wonders if she will even remember her mamma, being such a young thing.”

  “I think letting the young man have his own dog was a right good thing. Have you noticed how his face just lights up when he comes down first thing in the morn and checks on him? I hadn’t seen that expression on him in a right long time.”

  “Gives ‘im something else to think about than missing his mamma, bless ‘im.”

  One of the women came over toward the door where I could see her. “Yep, that dog might just be what Master Fitzwilliam needs to get him through this heartbreaking time.”

  I suddenly was hit with the overwhelming realization that the elder Mr. Darcy had great hopes that I might help his son through his grief. I realized that there were some heavy expectations laid upon my office, but I was determined to do whatever I could to help my master through it.

  I could sympathize with my master in his loss, as I missed my mother heartily those first few days away from her and to own the truth, still did at times. I missed her cool, wet nose nudging me along when I needed some help. I missed her stern, but loving eyes warning me to behave properly around my brothers and sisters. And I missed the way she picked me up by the scruff of my
neck when I was wandering too far away and licked my fur if it was not clean enough for her liking.

  I let out a soft sigh. Yes, I did miss my mother. And I am sure my master missed his as well.

  Fortunately, the rain did not linger long and soon we were able to venture outdoors on our walks again. I made a decidedly concerted effort to add a playful liveliness to our walks. It placated my heart to see my master smile and hear him laugh. Although I am sure he had not completely forgotten his mother, as I had not, I do believe I was able to help him experience a little bit more joy than he had when I first came to Pemberley.

  *~*~*

  Almost immediately, my training began. Whilst my master’s instructions were simple and fair, it helped that I was also an eager learner. I was taught to sit, stand, stay, come, fetch, and a host of other commands. Once I learned the commands, he tried to improve the way I did them. He would say to me in a firm, but loving voice, “Reggie, sit up straight. You must never be in poor posture. You never know when there will be others watching you,” or “Hold your head up high when you walk, Reggie. You are a Darcy. You must always remember that,” or “Reggie, that was very ill-mannered to run off like that. You must behave in such a way that others will think highly of you.”

  Within a short time I had learned all the basic commands. Once I proved myself faithfully obedient, I was rewarded with the distinguishing privilege of being allowed inside the great home of Pemberley for brief periods of time.

  I quickly learned that my behaviour indoors was to be of a calm nature and only let loose my energy whilst outside.

  Initially, I was only allowed in select areas of the home, but as my temper was learnt to be most amiable among everyone, I was soon given almost full reign. There was in residence at Pemberley a Mrs. Reynolds, who seemed to be the person in command of the household. She was very adamant about where I could and could not go and what I could and could not do.

  When my master wanted me to go with him somewhere in the house, she would often say, “Young man! That dog is not to go into that room!”

  If I showed a little unrestrained enthusiasm, she would say, “Reggie, if you do not mind yourself, outside into your pen you will go!”

  Although she sometimes seemed harsh, I knew she had a soft place in her heart for me as she would often bring me scraps from the kitchen that were most satisfying.

  And Georgiana? Just as I hoped, she eventually did warm up to me. The next time my master brought her to me, she actually was able to look at me, although she still clung fiercely to her brother. Soon after, I sensed that a great amount of her fear had waned and she stood next to the pen whilst her brother reached in and she watched in awe as he stroked my fur. When my master brought her to see me the next time, he took me out of the pen and held me, coaxing Georgiana to gently touch my fur and see how soft it was.

  I was so excited for her to have progressed this far that I forgot myself and almost squirmed out of my master’s hands, which would have been disastrous for Georgiana. I remembered just in time that I needed to remain calm for her; all the while my heart was pounding that she would trust me not to hurt her. I could see the turmoil in her eyes. How greatly she wanted to do something that, for some reason, was going against her nature.

  I sensed that she wanted to like me, but something was hindering her being able to trust me completely. Finally, after a few moments, she gingerly reached out and touched my fur, quickly pulling back her hand, but looking up at her brother with a triumphant grin on her face.

  “You see, Georgiana? There was nothing to be afraid of, was there?”

  I took a particular liking to this young lady in residence. I had to learn to behave with a restrained delicacy around her, not because she was frightened of me anymore, but because she was quite small and fragile. She was but three years old when I first came and it was with great joy that I watched her grow into a beautiful and compassionate young lady. After that first time she reached out and touched me, she often wandered in by herself when I was there and we would have a very pleasant visit.

  But as I was generally the young Darcy’s companion, he and I became inseparable and the strength of my attachment grew daily.

  I looked forward with great anticipation to being trained to do what I was bred to do. I was to be a sporting dog for my master. Whilst it seemed to be inherent in me to nose out the birds, flush them out, and retrieve the ones that my master expertly shot down, I had to learn his signals and, the hardest thing for me to learn, restraint.

  How I wished to scamper all about the countryside, following every scent and lead! But if I did not remain in close proximity to my master, it would all be lost to him. So I had to listen and learn to apply myself to his commands. After weeks and weeks of concerted effort and lessons, we soon become an admirable team.

  I had been at Pemberley close to four months when my master came down late one night after everyone had gone to sleep. He reached into the pen, picking me up, and putting his finger to his lips to quiet me.

  “Now you keep quiet, Reggie. We must not awaken anyone.”

  He took me up the stairs and into his sleeping chambers. He had made a bed for me on the floor next to his. He had collected a pile of old blankets and placed them in the corner. He then situated me on top of them all and told me that was where I was to sleep.

  He told me to stay and then he climbed into his own bed. Once he was settled in his large bed for a considerable length of time, I decided I had stayed quite long enough, got out of my bed, and walked to the edge of his. From my perspective, being the puppy that I still was, the top of the bed appeared quite high. Nevertheless, I made an attempt to jump up, grabbing the top coverlet with my paws but unfortunately, slid back down, taking the coverlet with me, to the floor.

  My master awakened, unsure what had just happened.

  “What…?” He laughed as I looked remorsefully at him, feeling extremely mortified at my failure to stealthily join him. I think he took pity on me, or perhaps he did not want me to make another attempt and destroy his bed, because he lifted me up onto it.

  “Now, Reggie, if you are to remain up here with me, you must stay on the other side; down at the foot of the bed. Do you understand?”

  I made an attempt to lick his face and he promptly put me down at the far end of the bed. But gradually, throughout the night, I worked my way closer to him and was pleased to discover that he was more than willing to give my belly a scratching. I was in raptures and quite pleased how exceedingly well my scheme had worked out!

  It was there, in the company of Master Darcy and in the private quarters of his bedroom that I really came to know him most acutely. How many talks we had there that burst forth from the depths of his being, I cannot say. Of course, I listened most attentively, giving him an occasional whimper or nudge with my cool nose to assure him I understood. Whilst he occasionally would talk on our walks as he had that first day, it was here, after a long, hard day, that he would quietly speak of those things that were on his mind; things that perplexed him or angered him; things that hurt him or greatly pleased him. I was privy to it all.

  In the evening, when we would both retire, he would softly talk with me all the while he stroked my fur. I would listen to him faithfully, fighting the tendency to moan in ecstasy, as he knew exactly what pleased me. I sometimes felt as though his hand gently stroking my head all the way down to my back helped calm him as well; which I felt very privileged to help facilitate.

  It was one night a few days after he first snuck me into his room (which was soon discovered but gratefully, I was permitted to continue), when I began to understand the demands placed upon him because of his prestigious birth. “Reggie,” he confided in me, as his hand ran repeatedly down my back. “I hope you realize how happy you have made me. I do not have to be Fitzwilliam Darcy, Heir of Pemberley, in your presence. How I wish I could have your lively and playful disposition.” He sighed and was still for a moment. I nudged his hand to encourage him to con
tinue his ministrations. “It is not inherent in my disposition to be lively unless someone brings it out in me. Presently, the only other ones who do that are Georgiana and my cousin, Richard.”

  “At times I feel so burdened by who I am and the responsibilities that Father wants to ensure I possess. It is only when I am alone with you out rambling throughout the countryside that I actually feel free from all that my name requires.”

  With that he turned over and I am quite sure he immediately fell asleep. I lay there, content to listen to the sound of his steady breathing, and marvelled at how by sharing those thoughts with me seemed to lighten a bit of the load he felt in the face of all the responsibilities that would some day come upon him. As I pressed my head against his hand, breathing in his all too familiar scent, I closed my eyes, hoping I might be able to make just a little difference for the better in his life.

  Chapter 2

  Over the next few months, my master and I would take every opportunity to walk as the weather permitted. I sensed that he was exhibiting more and more of an unrestrained nature -- at least in my presence. He remained very formal and reserved in the presence of others, but he would toss sticks for me to return with wild abandon, challenge me to a fiercely competitive game of tug-a-war, or engage me in a race, as he had that first day. Sometimes, however, we would simply amble aimlessly about the grounds. We grew to have a mutual attachment and admiration for each other.

  Apart from his family, the only other person that vied for my master's time was his tutor. He had been in the Darcy household teaching my master since he was a young boy. This gentleman lived in residence at Pemberley and even accompanied us to Town. Apparently, my master was required to spend a certain amount of time with him, although I do believe I would have been most capable to have been the one to guide him in all of life's most important lessons in life. I reluctantly, though nobly, relinquished that responsibility to his tutor.