Master Under Good Regulation

by Kara Louise

  As the carriage pulled up to the front of the estate, the door was opened and I eagerly sprang out, anxious to expend a bit of the energy that had built up over the course of the day. I ran over to some bushes before I did anything else, but returned promptly and watched as my master conversed with Mrs. Reynolds, who had come out to greet us. As other servants came out to help unload the luggage, my head was tousled a few times by several who seemed to have missed me.

  We walked indoors and I know my master, disappointed that his father had not come out to welcome him home, inquired of his whereabouts so he could greet him. Mrs. Reynolds informed him that he was in his study. As we walked to the study, I observed him watch for Georgiana, but we did not see her. As we approached the closed door to the study, we heard laughter and suddenly I was stopped in my forward progress by the detection of a particular scent of which I was not especially fond. I let a growl escape, but my master did not heed it.

  As he approached the door, he heard laughter again and he looked at me oddly. He had not heard his father laugh like that in a long time. He tapped on the door and his father bid him to enter. As he opened it, his father stood up to greet him and the person sitting opposite him in a chair, beaming widely, stood up and turned around. My master was standing face to face with George Wickham!

  Whether his father recognized the tension that suddenly spilled into the air, I do not know. He warmly came around from his desk and welcomed his son home.

  “Fitzwilliam! You are home! I hope you enjoyed your visit with your aunt!” He stretched out his arms and placed his hands firmly on my master’s shoulders. “It is good you are home. Come, sit down. George and I were just discussing schools. He seems inclined to attend Cambridge next year, as you are.”

  The two young men turned toward each other and a capricious smile again displayed itself on Wickham’s face. “Your father is too good to me, Darcy. He has most generously offered to provide for my university education. It would appear that the two of us will be attending school together.”

  My master flinched slightly. “Is that so?”

  “We have been discussing my desire that the church become George’s profession and the living he may expect once he has completed school.”

  My master’s eyes narrowed at this and he either seemed at a loss for words or simply refrained from speaking out of respect for his father.

  “Well, Sir,” Wickham quickly interjected, noticing the disturbing look. “I must go.” He reached out and shook Mr. Darcy’s hand. “You are most kind. I shall do all I can to live up to your expectations.”

  “I am sure you shall, George.”

  Wickham gave my master a nervous, but polite bow and quickly exited the room.

  “Friendly, engaging young man, that George Wickham.”

  My master closed his eyes briefly and pursed his lips together. “Father, you have promised him an education and a living?”

  “Yes, it is the least I can do. His father has been a most excellent steward for many years. He is my godson and I want to do this to assist him.” His father looked over at his son, noticing the look of displeasure across his face. “You do not seem pleased with my actions.”

  My master took in a deep breath as if to say something, but then stopped. I could see the battle going on inside of him; whether to lash out against the young man his father seemed to favour.

  The ensuing calm in him voice masked the anger I perceived roiling inside him. “His easy charm and amiability may not reflect who he truly is on the inside, Father.”

  “Oh, come, Fitzwilliam. You two used to be best of friends when you were younger. Certainly I can see that you both have grown apart, but that is no reason for you to think ill of him. You two may have very different dispositions, but do not allow that to sway your opinion of him. Just remember that he has not had all the advantages and opportunities that you have.”

  “Father,” my master implored, “consider his behaviour of late. If I may be so bold, Sir, he is reckless and lazy. Certainly, he is not worthy of your patronage.”

  His father looked at my master sternly. “Fitzwilliam, he may have an uncultivated side to him, but that is only because he has not received the formal training you have received. Once I take him under my wing, I am quite sure he will apply himself. He has told me himself that he greatly appreciates all I have done for him and will gratefully accept and be faithful with whatever patronage I bestow on him.”

  “Father! He is…”

  His father’s eyes narrowed as he looked at his son, surprised by his outburst. “Son, George Wickham’s father has been a most faithful and excellent steward for me for many years. George has always treated me with the utmost kindness and respect. I will do no less.”

  “You do not know him as I do!”

  “That is enough, Fitzwilliam. You have had advantages and privileges in life that he will never come close to having. I will do what I must to secure him an education and a living that will situate him most comfortably. Now enough talk of that, tell me about your visit with your aunt.”

  My master stood silently for a moment, wishing he could detail all the times Wickham had been disrespectful, disorderly, and dissolute. How I wished my master could make him see how his behaviour was self-indulgent and reckless. But instead, he acquiesced to his father’s request and related to him our stay at Rosings. I could discern all the anger and resentment seething within for the willing blindness of his father to George Wickham’s true nature. I hoped that eventually, he would see Wickham for the rake he really was.

  *~*~*

  After that encounter, we easily and joyfully returned back to the routine we had before we left for Rosings. We spent the remainder of the spring and summer at Pemberley. My master seemed to flourish within the confines of the estate and soon the disquiet, which weighed heavily upon him at Rosings and immediately upon returning, was diminished to almost nothing.

  My master and I eagerly set out again upon our favoured paths. He and his father participated in several shooting parties, and I displayed my excellence at being a well-trained hunting dog. I could not imagine a more pleasant occupation than roaming the grounds of Pemberley with my master and I could not quite fathom what it was about “society” that would be an improvement over this for my master; especially when everything about it seemed to cause him undue distress.

  It was good to see Georgiana again and she was growing by the day. Her vocabulary was increasing considerably, although her shyness exhibited itself in her reluctance to connect more than two or three words together at a time. She was quite content to sit quietly and listen. Like Anne, I could see that she was a keen observer, and was absorbing everything around her.

  Georgiana had a quick mind and learned rapidly, so her governess was inclined to begin teaching her to read and to play the pianoforte even at her young age. Georgiana was, by the summer’s end, reading simple books and playing easy songs on the pianoforte; her governess assured her father that she was well on her way to someday becoming a very accomplished young lady. She became quite proficient at playing and even at the tender age of four, seemed to have a gift and an innate love for music. It seemed easier for her to express herself in music than express herself in words.

  My master’s father, still grievous over the death of his wife, sadly seemed more resigned than accepting of it. He spoke very little of her, but went about his day with a determination to keep himself busy; I think, to keep himself from dwelling on her absence. We had several enjoyable hunting outings where he joined my master and I. Father and son seemed to have a strong bond between them that may have grown a bit stronger in the time we were gone. I believe Mr. Darcy missed his son and although he did not show an overt display of emotion around him, I could perceive he was glad my master was home. I could not help but recall, however, the joviality and laughter that Mr. Darcy shared with George Wickham when we encountered them that first day back from Rosings. I wished there was something I could do to encourage this sam
e liveliness between my master and his father.

  As traces of winter teased away the pleasant fall days, plans were set into motion to travel to London, where, I understood, we would spend a great deal of time. Last year at this time, the move to Town for the Season was deferred for the period of mourning the elder Mr. Darcy was observing. He had no inclination to move about in the circles of Society without his beloved wife, and therefore he remained at Pemberley for most of that year.

  So now I was faced with having to endure the whole of winter in Town with my master, who was more than reluctant to put the effort into making acquaintances with those who eagerly wished to seek out an introduction; his father, who now being an eligible, wealthy widower, was about to become a very much sought after gentleman, much to his disinclination and consternation; and little Georgiana, as shy as she could be, would keenly observe the discomfiture of her father and brother in the company of strangers, which would only serve to reinforce her timidity by their behaviour.

  I sensed that it would be a very long winter.

  Chapter 5

  It was far too soon for my liking that we departed Pemberley for London for the winter.

  Whilst I had absolutely no complaints about Town or the manor that the Darcys owned there, it was not as fine as Pemberley. Granted, the grounds were sufficiently laden with trees and shrubs, but my master and I could not take our long leisurely walks as we so frequently did at Pemberley unless we ventured beyond the grounds of the home and out onto the street. As I mentioned previously, I am of an amiable nature and I am most interested in the acquaintance of any dog we might encounter, but walking in town proved far too disagreeable.

  The streets were heavily burdened with people in far too great a hurry; crowding the avenues with horses and carriages that appeared to care not of one’s safety. I am ashamed to say that most of the dogs who aimlessly roamed about had, for the most part, very poor manners. Moreover, London was noisy where Pemberley was quiet. The smells in Town were quite repugnant compared to the fresh air of the country.

  I willingly endured these distasteful conditions in order to remain by my master’s side. I knew my particular reasons for preferring Pemberley and I sensed that my master shared the same.

  For the first few days after our arrival, our time was occupied with settling in. The distinguished Earl of Matlock, Lady Matlock, and their son Richard were the first to pay a call. It was good to see my master and his cousin together again.

  As we sat together in the drawing room that first evening, the conversation meandered to the parties, concerts, theatre performances, and other events that they all would enjoy attending together. Whilst all this was wholly perplexing to me, I enjoyed being in their company, especially as it was still early and Georgiana had been allowed to remain. She was happily situated by my side, brushing my coat with a small brush that, I assume, she also used to brush her favourite doll’s hair.

  The Earl, who was the late Mrs. Darcy’s brother, attempted to broach a sensitive subject with my master’s father. “Frederick… ahem,” he cast a sly, nervous look to his wife who nodded her head in encouragement for him to continue. “There has been much talk amongst the ton recently…” He paused and appeared to swallow something with great difficulty.

  “Yes?” Mr. Darcy looked curiously to him to continue.

  “About your participation in society this season.”

  “And of what interest is it to them?”

  “Well, it is not expected that you will remain in mourning forever.”

  “Excuse me, I am not sure I understand your meaning,” the elder Darcy flatly declared.

  An awkward glance again to his wife, another encouraging nod from her, and then, “I… we thought it best to advise you…” He stopped, struggling to continue.

  “Just what are you trying to say?”

  “Have you considered that you will now be looked upon as a most eligible match? There has been very animated conversation amongst the ladies who… who…”

  At this point Mr. Darcy started, steeling himself to interject in as calm a tone as I felt he could muster under the circumstances, “I did not come to town for the season to humour ladies who are seeking a husband! There will never be another like Anne. I have no wish to seek out another wife.”

  Lady Matlock reached out and gently patted Mr. Darcy’s hand. “Frederick, we know how deeply you loved Anne. And I believe we are of the same mind that you are not ready to consider remarrying. We just felt it best to advise you how you are going to be perceived.”

  The two young men were listening to the conversation and Fitzwilliam leaned over to my master and quietly asked him with a teasing air about him, “And you, Darcy, what are your intentions in regards to the ladies for the season? Will you oblige them with your attentions and irresistible allure?”

  “You know I have no such intentions.” Darcy declared resolutely.

  “Come, Darcy! You missed coming to town all of last season and will be going off to Cambridge next year. Enjoy your last chance at gaiety with the ladies before your four years of studies consume you.”

  “There is plenty of time for that.”

  Fitzwilliam let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head at his young cousin in bewilderment. “If I did not know you better, Darcy, I would suppose you are actually acquiescing to the idea of Anne becoming your bride! How long are you willing to wait… five, six, seven years for her?”

  My master’s jaw tightened and he sent a threatening glance his cousin’s way. Fitzwilliam softly chuckled as he reached over and tousled Georgiana’s hair. “Perhaps Georgiana here may be your companion to the balls this season?”

  A smile beamed across the young girl’s face as she looked up at her brother. “May I go to a ball? Will you teach me to dance with you?”

  “Someday, Georgiana, when you are a little older,” my master reassured her.

  Her eyes darkened and the smile was replaced with a pout. “I want to dance with you before I am older.”

  My master looked at his cousin sternly. “Now look what you have done!” He turned to Georgiana, “Georgie, I promise I will dance with you… before you are older. But you must learn first.”

  “Will you teach me?”

  My master smiled at Georgiana’s small, pleading face. “If you would like, Georgie, I shall be happy to teach you.”

  “Good!” exclaimed the little girl, who wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Now I had heard of dancing several times, but was not quite sure what to make of it. I had certainly never espied any such activity in all my time at Pemberley. I was to discover just what this dancing was the very next day.

  *~*~*

  The next afternoon, after Georgiana had unceasingly implored my master to teach her to dance, he finally relented to her pleas in hopes of pacifying and entertaining her. He promptly placed her across from him and they stood facing one another.

  “Now, we must imagine that Mother is playing the pianoforte. Do you remember how Mother used to play so proficiently?”

  Georgiana nodded, but I doubted she had any recollection.

  “She played very well. And I am sure you will, too, someday. You shall play as beautifully as she did.”

  He bent over and reached out his long arms to take her hands in his. “Now, we must take two steps together, like this,” he said as he demonstrated, “and then two steps apart.”

  I was sitting on the floor just to the side of them, watching in amusement as they turned, walked, and occasionally, my master would pick her up and fling her around, much to her glee.

  “Now we must pretend there are other dancers alongside us. You go to the partner over there and I go to the one over here.”

  My master pretended to take someone else’s hand, but Georgiana had other ideas. The next thing I knew, she had reached down for my front paws and I was pulled up onto my hind legs. My master laughed, but Georgiana was decidedly serious.

  I could not help but feel somewhat
awkward at first, especially as Georgiana wished me to turn one way and then another. When she let go of one paw I almost went down, but in order to please her, I did my best to remain upright.

  For me, that was my introduction to dancing and it was on many subsequent occasions that she would solicit my paws for a round or two. And I do believe I became quite proficient at it and was undoubtedly her favourite partner.

  In addition to spending time teaching Georgiana to dance, my master also joined his father in paying visits to close acquaintances they had in town. Several people, in turn, stopped by the townhome to return the call.

  My natural disposition was to eagerly greet these visitors as they entered. In truth, I was at the door to welcome them as soon as I heard the clapping of the door knocker. I could hardly contain myself and rushed to the door with tail wagging, eager to greet any guests who happened by.

  It was unfortunate that I soon discovered my welcome was not always appreciated. I found it hard to believe that some of these acquaintances questioned whether a dog ought to be permitted in the company of guests, let alone be allowed in the house. As for me, I questioned whether these people with such narrow insight should be allowed in the house!

  It became very apparent that Mrs. Linden, the housekeeper, preferred that I not be present when these guests, or any guests for that matter, were invited in. She looked down at me sternly, shaking her head and pointing her finger at me, calling to one of the servants to take me away before she even answered the door. To my dismay, I would be either confined to my master’s quarters or sent back behind the kitchen.

  I soon devised a plan that aided in my being left to observe. When I heard the bell ring, I fought that natural inclination to dart out and greet the unsuspecting guests and instead, surreptitiously hid under a conveniently placed table covered with a floor length lace cloth. To the casual observer it may have appeared that my hiding was the consequence of being timid of the guests, but quite the contrary, hiding there enabled me to be forgotten whilst the guests paid their civilities. No one seemed to take notice, with the exception of my master, who was well on to my scheme but fortunately never drew anyone’s attention to it.