Master Under Good Regulation

by Kara Louise

  Though he was now seriously engaged in conversation, he had reached that most particular place on my belly that causes an uncontrollable shaking of my leg. I could do nothing to prevent its incessant trembling and resigned myself to the pleasure of his hand upon me.

  Suddenly he stopped and began to laugh. “Reggie, I would imagine that you are enjoying my scratching your belly more than you are my discourse on my aunt. I shall trouble you no longer with talk of her.”

  With that, we began a rumble and tumble of play upon his bed which prompted him to collapse in a fit of laughter. I contributed to our melee with the fiercest, albeit friendly, growl I could summon up as he playfully wrestled with me. The door to the room unexpectedly opened and we both abruptly stopped and looked up.

  Standing at the door was my master’s father, holding candle in hand and bearing a pained expression across his face. He took a deep breath and slowly issued these words to my master, “Son, there is no reason to behave in such an uncontrolled display. If you cannot behave in a more dignified manner with your dog, Reggie will not be permitted to accompany you to your aunt’s.”

  We both watched silently as he backed out of the door and closed it behind him. In the darkness, my master quietly said, “Good night, Reggie,” and rolled away from me in unquestioning obedience to his father.

  I could not help but ponder his father’s admonition. Just like my master, he was of a reserved nature himself. But there seemed to be a lack of tolerance for any sort of lively display in his presence. I wondered whether it could be due to the fact that he was still grieving for his wife. Perhaps he could not -- or would not -- allow himself to experience any pleasure and enjoyment anymore and, therefore, reproached my master when he exhibited the same. I was disconcerted that he considered it imprudent for my master to display any sort of a lively nature, for that was what I truly enjoyed doing.

  Whereas I was more determined than ever to engage my master in playful jousting, I deemed it best to limit those times to when we were away from the house or when the elder Mr. Darcy was away from home.

  *~*~*

  The day before we were to depart for Rosings, as we awaited the arrival of his cousin, my master gave one further bit of information about his aunt.

  Lowering himself to his knees, he grasped his hand under my chin and looked at me intently. “Most likely, my aunt will inquire after your lineage, believing it to be of utmost importance. Whilst your lineage is most acceptable to me, Reggie, she would be greatly displeased that you are not of the purest breeding. I confess that I will assert to her that you are of the finest breeding.” He smiled down at me, “I do not consider it an untruth, for to me, you are finer than any dog whose breeding rivals yours.”

  I felt only the highest esteem for my master and my assessment of Lady Cat was quite complete. I had the daunting impression that she was formidable indeed!

  *~*~*

  With the arrival of my master’s cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam, my fears and trepidations of making Lady Cat’s acquaintance were momentarily forgotten. A lively gentleman, a few years my young master’s senior, Fitzwilliam was the younger son of the Earl of Matlock, and never did I meet a man more eager to welcome me into his presence than he.

  These two cousins appeared to thrive off of each other and I could readily see that Fitzwilliam had the same liberating effect on him that I do. He brought out a spirit of liveliness in him that so few could do. I eagerly welcomed him into this exclusive club that boasts only Georgiana and me as the only other members.

  We set out for Kent early the following morning and the two young men enjoyed an endless discussion about every topic imaginable. Fitzwilliam had completed his education and boasting on the superiority of his school, which had educated future kings and statesmen in its time, found enjoyment in challenging his cousin on any and every subject. My master did not disappoint. Whereas his education had consisted solely of his tutor at home, he thrived on reading and gained much of his knowledge from the perusal of many books. Fitzwilliam was eventually forced to concede that my master’s knowledge on every challenge could not be found wanting.

  It is interesting for me to note that my master exhibited a completely different demeanour around his cousin. I did notice he was as lively in his company as he is in mine and Georgiana’s, yet he was clearly stimulated by the conversation in which the two cousins embarked. Whereas his conversations with his father are no doubt intellectually stimulating, I can see that my master holds in all emotion, thoroughly thinking through what he is about to say before he says it, and never contradicts him.

  Whereas, he and Fitzwilliam loved to argue and banter, laugh and cry. I comprehend, not for the first time, that he is a man full of passion and emotion and unfortunately, very few people have the opportunity to see it.

  *~*~*

  Upon arriving at Rosings, we disembarked the carriage; the two young men grateful for the opportunity to step out and stretch. My master motioned for me stay behind him and I gratefully obliged him as I saw what appeared not to be a cat, as she was so frequently referred, but instead, a giant pheasant-like bird coming out the door, marked by a disarray of large feathers protruding from her head.

  Upon deeper scrutiny, however, I was able to comprehend that perhaps she could be likened to a cat - one that had surreptitiously devoured a large fowl of sorts, leaving the evidence of plumage to be seen by all.

  She rushed up to my master, arms open wide, and after welcoming him, began lavishly praising him about how he has grown, asked why he had not visited sooner, and inquired after the family. After giving my master a superficial embrace, she instantly turned her attention to Fitzwilliam and it was all repeated.

  She then abruptly turned and commanded the two gentlemen to follow her inside.

  “Excuse me, Aunt,” my master interjected.

  She turned with narrowed eyes, as if this parting from her customary routine was an umbrage. “Nephew?”

  “I hope you do not mind, but I brought along my dog, Reggie. He is very well trained and if it is agreeable to you, I should like to keep him in my chambers. He will be in no one’s way.”

  I cautiously peeked around him and watched as she slowly looked down, raising one eyebrow with the sternest look of anyone I have ever seen. After studying me for a brief moment, she looked to my master, who was nervously rubbing his fingers together, but he did manage to eke out a disarming smile. Despite that, I was quite confident that she was not inclined to approve of my presence in the home.

  “Springer Spaniel, I see. Breeding?” It was almost not a question. She spoke with great authority as if to say, His breeding is top of the line, of course?

  “Only the finest, Aunt.” I noticed a slight quiver of his voice. I wondered if it was simply because he was under interrogation by his aunt or because he slightly disguised the truth.

  She turned her attention back to me, eyeing me with piercing scrutiny. “Good. Only the finest breeding will naturally grace this house. You are to keep him out of my way and do not let him venture too close to Anne. You know how frail and sickly she is and she is positively terrified of animals.”

  “Yes, Aunt!” My master gave his cousin a wide-eyed grin and then looked down at me, giving me a covert wink. We entered the great home and I recalled that in my master’s chronicle of what to expect, he had told me we would next come inside, meet her daughter, and then would be made to hear all of her complaints. I wondered whether I would be allowed to remain with them and wished to make myself as invisible as possible, hoping Lady Cat would forget about my presence there.

  We were led into the drawing room, darkened by the drapes being drawn across the window. A young girl, probably no more than ten years old, sat with a blanket about her. I found her to be a thin girl with pale skin. She shyly glanced up to her cousins as we all walked in and a very slight smile appeared on her face that very quickly disappeared. I wondered how much of her nature was due to her sickly disposition -- of which her cousins h
ad spoken much in our journey hither -- or perhaps simply boredom with her circumstances.

  Her two cousins politely greeted her and I watched as Lady Cat looked on with a gratified smile on her face. It painted a picture, in my mind’s eye, of a cat that had just caught and eaten the pet canary. She was obviously very happy to have the two men here, particularly my master.

  When Anne’s eyes met mine, I sensed within her a conflict that likely stemmed from an inherent fear of dogs, (and therefore a fear of me), coupled, however, with a curiosity about me. I stationed myself in a secluded alcove, which was situated between the couch and small end table. Here I was able to watch little Anne and frequently met her hesitant and questioning glance with an affable one of my own.

  She kept her head down for the greater part of her time with us, which allowed her to furtively observe me. I did not dare approach her, lest her mother send me out to sleep with the chickens in the distant barn of some neighbour. So the two of us quietly eyed one another as her mother continued her grievances about how little anyone in the neighbourhood appreciated all she did for them.

  As I watched her, I also saw her look admiringly at her cousin, my master, the one whom she believed would someday be her husband. I could not help but notice my master strictly avoided her eye, as if any attention paid to her might encourage her hopes and her mother’s very absurd assumption. But I liked this young girl and could not blame her for the sickly state in which she found herself nor the dreary conditions her mother forced upon her.

  My strategically placed alcove was also completely out of Lady Cat’s scrutiny. As I have aptly learned to make myself disappear from view and, therefore, from someone’s recollection, by lying down on the far side of some piece of furniture, I was of the firm opinion that the great lady had quite forgotten about me. My strategy proved effective and whether or not she simply tolerated my presence or forgot I was there, I am at a loss to know. But I was allowed to stay.

  However much she ignored me, I found I could not ignore her, let alone forget her. Her incessant complaints and grievances refused to escape my ears. On this particular day, Lady Catherine’s complaints focused on how difficult it was to find capable servants.

  “I have had to replace three of my kitchen staff and four of my maids in just one year’s time. One would think they would be a little more willing to learn what my wishes are and anticipate them. How I dislike having to repeat a directive over and over! It is not to be borne!”

  The two men sat quietly, hoping this tirade would end quickly and they would be able to politely excuse themselves.

  “I only hope they get everything right for the small dinner party tonight.”

  From where I was situated, I was unable to see my master’s face. As he was seated next to me on the couch, however, I could feel a definite tensing of his muscles and heard a slight intake of breath.

  Fitzwilliam asked, “A dinner party tonight, Aunt? Here?”

  “Of course! I would not wish to be derelict in my duties to you and not introduce you whilst you are here. It shall be a simple party. I have invited a small selection of families from only the finest circles in the surrounding neighbourhood. There are but a few. It shall be an intimate gathering.”

  I looked up and saw my master and his cousin exchange wary glances. Fitzwilliam gave a slight nod of encouragement to my master as if he were telling him that all would be well, there would be nothing about which to be troubled. I was not quite certain that it did anything to ebb my master’s concerns. I could see it in his face that all he could envision was a room full of people that he did not know.

  Lady Catherine stood up abruptly, bringing the two young men to their feet, and me, as well. She looked at her daughter and cackled out an order to her governess, Mrs. Jenkinson, to take Anne to her chambers as she had had enough activity for the day.

  We watched as Mrs. Jenkinson helped the young girl up and quietly exited the room. Little Anne gave me one last glance before she walked out.

  Then Lady Cat advised her nephews to prepare for the evening’s activities as they would commence in less than two hours.

  The two men politely excused themselves and I followed. Once we had climbed the stairs, my master, quite angrily, spoke to his cousin.

  “You did not tell me she would be having social gatherings whilst we were here.”

  Fitzwilliam looked at him with a wide grin. “This must all be due to you, my young cousin. In all the years I have visited, she has never held a dinner party in her home on my behalf.” He patted my master on his back as he continued his teasing. “Most likely, she will be showing off her future son-in-law to all her well-bred, refined acquaintances.”

  My master gave his cousin an annoyed thrust with his shoulder. “You know I will never marry Anne!”

  “Quiet, Darcy! Someone may overhear you. She does have her spies throughout the house.”

  I could sense the desperation in my master’s voice. “What am I supposed to do? I cannot have her continuing to spread that kind of falsehood around!”

  Fitzwilliam put a calming hand upon his shoulder. “You are still young. Anne is even younger. By the time Anne is of age, you will be old enough to stand up to her. Presently,” here, he gave an up and down glance at my master, “you may be tall and you may be disgustingly handsome, but you are still her inferior. If I were you, I would not speak to her of your contrary notions.”

  My master let out a frustrated breath. “So you are of the opinion that I should just let her inform all of Kent that I am promised to her daughter?”

  “I believe you are.”

  “It was a promise I never made.”

  “I understand that. Just calm down, assure yourself you will get through this evening, smile graciously at our Aunt Catherine and all her guests, and tell yourself you will never see any of these people again… hopefully.”

  “You are a great help indeed, Cousin,” my master spoke with resignation.

  “Thank you! I have never been paid a kinder compliment! Since I am not entitled to everything that you are, being merely a second son, at least I can content myself with being considered a help to the great Master Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley. If I accomplish nothing else, I shall die peacefully knowing that I once helped you.” Fitzwilliam cheerfully smiled, my master groaned, and the two parted to their respective chambers.

  *~*~*

  I must admit that my master paints an exceedingly handsome picture when fitted with his finest clothes. It was no wonder to me, then, why his aunt favoured him so. And perhaps Anne, at a young ten years of age, had dreams of him coming and sweeping her away from this apparent dark and sheltered life that she led.

  As the time drew nearer for my master to make his way downstairs, his pacing grew more intensified. He occasionally glanced in the mirror, straightening his neck cloth and tugging at his waistcoat. I could see that he was particularly nervous about all the acquaintances he would be forced to endure tonight.

  I take great pleasure in meeting new people and thoroughly enjoy getting to know them (which, I flatter myself, I can do most proficiently with a few delicately, but strategically, placed sniffs); whilst my master, in stark contrast, stands back, sometimes in the shadow of his father, sometimes under the guise of indifference or pride, guarded and silent.

  Whereas he is reserved by nature, as is his father, there is something else causing this reserved behaviour in him that I was at a loss to discern. I determined, from the first time I had noticed it, that I would watch and I hoped that someday I would discover the reason behind this. I believe it was this night that I first formulated an opinion on the matter.

  *~*~*

  For my own sake, as well as I believe my master’s, before anyone else arrived he led me outside. This time I was able to survey the grounds without the ominous bird-cat woman intimidating me. Whilst opulent in size, it had a more forced and manicured appearance than Pemberley. It was very obvious to me that people had been involved in the shaping
of the grounds surrounding her house. It appeared to have its landscaping imposed upon it, unlike the natural beauty of Pemberley’s park.

  But I could not complain as my master and I took a quick walk. He made several attempts to take in deep breaths, as if they would calm him. Finally, just as we were to slip back into the house, he paused. He looked at me and said in a clearly anxious tone, “Reggie, do not think me ill bred, but there is nothing I dislike more than a room full of people with whom I am not well acquainted.”

  That was all he said. We entered the house and he returned me to his chambers. I expected to see nothing more of him until he returned later that evening.

  *~*~*

  That night, I made myself as comfortable as I could, listening with a most acute ear to the sounds which had begun to stir below. As guests began to arrive, I began to assess that this was not the small gathering Lady Catherine had promised. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

  I could hear only rumblings of voices and surprisingly, as hard as I tried, I could not distinguish my master’s voice. Occasionally I heard Fitzwilliam let out a hearty laugh and even more frequently I heard Lady Cat raise her voice about some particular subject, but never once did I discern my master’s voice.

  I settled down on the floor, giving one hearty stretch before closing my eyes, anticipating a long evening of solitude. It was difficult to sleep soundly, however, as the noises from below kept sparking my interest. I was also acutely aware of the variety of scents that wafted their way upstairs from the kitchen. I could only imagine sitting at the feet of my master, hoping for some juicy morsel of duck, roast, or ham to be accidentally dropped at my feet.