Master Under Good Regulation

by Kara Louise

  The guests who called upon us at the townhome were comprised of a diversity of people with a wide sphere of grand worldly influence, the finest connections, abundant wealth, and profuse advantage. Some displayed their position proudly and boldly, whereas others were more candid and humble. They all, however, were quick to offer sympathy and condolences to Mr. Darcy for the loss of his wife the previous year. I could perceive by the faraway look in some of their eyes that it was of no small consequence just who would garner his affections now that he was widowed. It also did not escape my notice that these same people were admiring his tall, handsome son and contemplating much of the same. They insisted that this fine, tall, handsome young man must unquestionably accompany his father to all the assemblies, balls, concerts, and plays that he might attend.

  It became my habit to sneak my nose out from under the tablecloth to catch a glimpse of my master during these times of generous praise and overt perusals from these guests who were, I presumed, not particularly the closest of acquaintances. At least they did not know either gentleman well enough to value their reticent comportment. As I expected, my master sat respectfully still and managed to eke out a meagre, impatient smile. I easily recognized, however, the look of discomfiture spreading across his face. He looked as though he wished to be anywhere but here under their close scrutiny and open admiration.

  Inevitably, they would ask if they could see Georgiana and she would be summoned. The poor little girl would hide behind the long dress of her governess, Mrs. Tallor, whilst her father gently encouraged her to come out and say hello. She was perfectly capable of saying a polite “hello,” but her shyness exhibited itself in the company of those she perceived as strangers and prevented her from obliging. Her father seemed not inclined to press her further and she would be taken over to a corner of the room where she was allowed to sit with Mrs. Tallor. She usually had a doll or toy with which she played as she sat and cast an occasional, curious glance up at the adults across the room from her. Her father’s and brother’s reserve did not go unnoticed by her.

  Mr. Darcy made every effort to extend the same hospitality that had come so easily to his late wife, but it was obviously a great exertion for him. He struggled for equanimity as he spoke about her passing and how much he missed her. He graciously received everyone’s words expressing their great sorrow for his loss. However, if anyone even hinted at his seeking out another woman to marry, he would adamantly refuse to consider it.

  As Mr. Darcy made his feelings known, I could not help but notice the look of disappointment that swept across their faces. I am sure more than one of them had ideas for some fortunate lady, whom they hoped would sweep the widowed gentleman, or alternatively, his son, off his feet. No doubt more than one woman hoped they would be the one to win the heart of either of these excellent men.

  *~*~*

  We had been at the townhome several days when it happened. It being when Mr. Darcy could no longer deny that, despite his unwavering and quite vocal insistence that he had no intention of remarrying, the women of the ton had come to regard him as marriageable prospect Acquaintances of his, the Ludwigs, stopped by the townhome. Mr. Ludwig and his wife, whom Mr. Darcy seemed to know quite well, were accompanied by two young ladies that he knew not at all.

  Mr. Ludwig made the introduction to Mr. Darcy of his younger sister, Elyse, and his daughter, Mirian. From my concealed position, which by now was known to most of the servants (and they kindly turned a blind eye to my presence as long as I behaved), I observed Mr. Darcy as he made the sudden realization that these two women had accompanied the Ludwigs in hopes of securing both of the Darcy men’s regard.

  As he recognized the subtle flirtations that both ladies exhibited, he cast a nervous glance at his son. To his credit, my master had comprehended it much sooner than his father and was already putting up that wall around him that shielded him from such unwanted advances.

  From my concealed vantage point and overhearing the extent of their conversation, as well as being very observant of their manner and fashion, I determined that, from society’s standpoint, both women apparently had good connections, adequate fortune, and excellent breeding. Both were comparatively attractive and fawned over the two men. However prized their attributes were, however, they were both dull, exhibiting very little ability to converse in an intelligent manner. I watched as both men responded in much the same way to these ladies. Both my master and his father exhibited an almost unnatural degree of self-control, as if any sort of animated outburst or engaging response might be mistaken by these ladies as an encouraging affection!

  I thought back curiously to the day both men came to select a dog for my master. I was under the impression that breeding was of utmost importance in their consideration. However, I was pleasantly surprised when my master singularly pointed me out, when the dogs from the other litter were decidedly of better breeding. I believe that my personality -- and what I brought out in him -- had greater credence in his decision than did my breeding or lack of it.

  I had a reasonable assumption that my master, although mindful of the importance breeding played, was most likely looking for something else of greater value. What that was, he was probably not even aware himself. But I heartily believed it to be something that would be stirred deep down inside when he met the right woman.

  And seeing the similar way he and his father drew back in the face of such excellent prospects, I could not dismiss the fact that these two men were more alike than I ever imagined before.

  Little Georgiana, sweet and impressionable as she was, closely observed her two favourite men as they squirmed in discomfort at the intrigues of several ladies who favoured the house with their presence. She watched as her father struggled with this new status as an eligible man in which he did not feel comfortable nor wished to embrace. She would watch her brother, whom she so admired, as he sat for the most part silent, harbouring a dislike for the many masquerades that the women wore, their shallow efforts at conversation, and whose presence, he found to his dismay, held little to pique his interest.

  *~*~*

  I sat comfortably on my master’s bed one night as I watched Wheaton, my young master’s valet, dress him in an elegant pair of trousers, vest, crisp white shirt, and then fashion a most constricting neckcloth around his neck. I crumpled my brow as I watched the discomfiture of my master as he was being so tediously dressed and fussed over. It was very apparent to me that he was going out that evening and that I would not be able to accompany him.

  Wheaton departed after the neckcloth was in place and knotted to his satisfaction. Immediately after his taking leave, my master ran his fingers inside of it. I suspected that, much like my collar, it was too taut and constricting. He adjusted his coat and shirt in the mirror and ran his hand through his hair. Now, I rather admired his hair, as it was curly and unruly, much the same as my fur. But this evening he seemed quite perturbed with it and it was some time before he was able to get it to do what he wanted. Or he may just have resigned himself to the fact that there was nothing more he could do with it.

  I watched as he and his father left the house, walking silently side by side, fastidiously dressed on the outside, but, I sensed, in much disarray on the inside.

  My master was now taller in stature than his father and was not as lanky as he had been when I first made his acquaintance. He was growing into a fine young man and I could not have been prouder. I had the deepest conviction, however, that neither of these men were looking forward to their evening out together.

  As I feared that I would spend the evening in lonely solitude, I determined that I would go and amuse Georgiana, at least until she was taken up to retire for the night. We had a marvellous time. She brushed my fur, we had a pretend tea party, and, of course, we practiced our dancing. Whilst I enjoyed my admirable status as providing for Georgiana’s exclusive amusement, I wondered several times if my master was enjoying himself tonight. I certainly hoped so.

  I waited patient
ly for their return, eager to discover what they might have done at this event called a ball. Now to me, a ball is something that is round and is thrown so that I may run after it, catch it, and return it. But considering the immaculate manner in which my master and his father were dressed, I was greatly convinced this was not the case.

  When they returned, I eagerly greeted my master and his father at the door.

  The both handed off their hats, coats, and gloves to the servants in complete silence. It seemed a hopeless business that either would utter a word of comment on their evening’s activities. The elder Mr. Darcy walked straight to his study and closed the door. My master looked down at me; fatigue and weariness consuming his features.

  “Come, Reggie. It has been a long night.”

  Those were his only words to me that night. A few days later, when our favourite cousin stopped by to take leave, as he was departing London for a few weeks, I was able to catch snippets of conversation about all that had transpired.

  “So tell me, Darcy, what do you find to be your preference here in London during the season? Do you prefer the grand balls, the elegant dinner parties, or the small intimate gatherings?”

  My master casually shrugged his shoulders. “I prefer very small gatherings with my closest friends!”

  “What? What of all the available ladies at the balls? Are the ladies not pretty enough for you? I thought the ladies at the Gladstones’ ball the other night were quite remarkable!”

  “It is true, Fitzwilliam, there were several fine looking ladies at the ball.”

  “And so which ones struck your fancy? Was it Miss Enders? I believe I saw you dancing with her.”

  “Yes, I danced with Miss Enders, Miss Coulter, Miss Ralston, and Miss someone whose name I cannot recall.”

  Fitzwilliam clasped his hands together heartily. “All good choices, there, Darce. So who is she? Who is the one whose heart is now inexorably entwined with yours?”

  “I have no inclination for any woman I met at the Gladstones’ ball.”

  “I would find any of these women satisfying! Unfortunately none of them take notice of me. What is your excuse?”

  “I found that when they opened their mouths, nothing protruded but idle chatter, meant only to flatter me and flatter themselves. If that was all I wanted, I would be a happy, content man.”

  Fitzwilliam slapped my master on his knee and laughed. “Perhaps my expectations for you are too hasty. You are still young, Darcy. I forget how much younger you are than myself. I will content myself to wait another year in the hope that you will then be so smitten with every woman who comes your way that you will be required to pass one or two in my direction.”

  A look of surprise, suspicion, and then relief passed across my master’s face as he caught his cousin’s teasing nature. “So, that is the reason you are pressing me to find enjoyment with these ladies. So that when I break their heart, you will be there to help mend it!”

  “You have found me out, Cousin!”

  Fitzwilliam soon left and I could not help but think that even though he had mercilessly teased and goaded my master, he had a great respect for him, albeit that he could not settle on the reason for my master’s decided indifference for the women he had met. But I think if he knew him as I knew him, he would realize my master had a difficult time discerning the true character of any person he met for the first time. It was exasperating when they hid behind the deceit and charades that many exhibited, particularly when they had the ulterior motive to secure my master’s attentions because of his wealth and connections.

  But that was not all. I knew my master had a liveliness that was rooted deeply inside and wished to be freed. There were, at present, only a handful of us that could evoke that. I was convinced that he truly hoped, sincerely believed, that one day he would meet a woman who would bring that repressed liveliness out in him, who would also be honest, intelligent, and most of all, in love with him, not with the things he owned.

  Throughout that first winter in town, I came to realize that even though my master preferred Pemberley, he did ardently embrace the finer accoutrements London had to offer. He greatly enjoyed accompanying his father to the theatre and concerts, the opera, and even literary readings. He confided in me that he was just now beginning to appreciate these culturally enriching activities.

  His father was prodigiously proud of him. He had high expectations for his son and wished every advantage for him. Despite his own reticence, I knew he felt the need to introduce his son to Society properly and he took great pains to introduce him to those of polished society who, someday, might become the Mistress of Pemberley. Without actually saying it, he was making every effort to ensure that Pemberley would have a new mistress through his son. I believed him to be of the mindset that, for whatever reason, he would never remarry.

  I saw the look of admiration in his father’s eyes as he took note of his son, growing and maturing into a remarkably handsome and principled man before his very eyes. But I could not help but notice that look of apprehension as he anticipated bringing his son into a throng of ladies that would throw him, as well, into the foray.

  This was, consequently, how we spent the whole of the winter season. Georgiana and I became quite proficient at dancing and tea parties. But I noticed that just as the reserve in her father and brother had increased and become more fixed whilst at London, so did hers. She had been very perceptive to the emotional climate that hung in the air that season, and whereas I made every attempt to overcome that outpouring of reserve, she absorbed it; her shyness becoming firmly entrenched.

  Mr. Darcy and son endured their first season in town as conspicuously eligible men and both had come through with an adamant conviction. The elder Mr. Darcy was quite convinced he would never find and had no desire to find another wife as suitable as Anne had been, and the younger was quite convinced he would never find a woman who lived up to his meticulous expectations.

  I rather hoped I would live long enough to find out whether he would one day find someone. I had the odd sensation it would take him a rather long time.

  Chapter 6

  I would be remiss if I did not comment briefly on our yearly visit again to Rosings. In the midst of our time in London, the cold winter days began to wane. The first warm days of spring cast upon our grateful countenances, announcing the coming of spring and consequently Easter, compelling us to journey again to Rosings. I must admit that I was a bit more prepared for this visit with Lady Cat, although I really cannot say whether that was good or bad, for she certainly remained a puzzle to me. As for my master, I knew that it would only be trying. I was conflicted in that I desired to further my friendship with Miss Anne whilst my master would most likely wish to distance himself from her as much as possible.

  When we arrived, we found that not much had changed since our last visit. However, we were both pleased and surprised to discover that Lady Cat had kept her word to her daughter. Anne now had in her possession her very own dog. At least, I assumed it was a dog, but he was a tiny little creature who, for the most part was content to sit upon Anne’s lap and did very little else. At first he was reluctant to accept my friendship, perhaps in part due to my larger size. Over the course of the next few weeks, however, we became quite comfortable with each other, particularly when he discovered that it was our shared intent to bring some joy and happiness into little Anne’s life. Consequently, we got along perfectly well.

  Anne seemed more like a young lady this year than last. But even though she had grown noticeably since our visit last year, she remained small and frail for her age. Her life was still a prison of restrictions, which in my opinion, did her more harm than good. She obviously longed for any attention that my master might extend her way, whilst he withheld any affection that would normally pass from one cousin to another because of his adamant refusal to give consideration to the promise upon which his aunt was resolved to insist.

  Our short visit was comparable to last year’s, and we
came through it without a great deal too many hardships. I observed the slightest change in my master’s dealings with his aunt. He still showed her great respect and did not counter her assertions, no matter how ridiculous they sounded, yet he appeared a bit more self assured. Unfortunately, he also continued to feel the greatest uneasiness as he came again under the scrutiny of those who wished to make his acquaintance or further their acquaintance from the previous year.

  After our obligatory three weeks away at Rosings, we returned to London to finish out the Season. There was much to occupy my master’s time with the theatre, opera, accompanying his father to his club, and of course the plethora of balls to which he was invited.

  I honestly cannot say, however, who yearned more for the open grounds, fresh air, and sublime quiet of Pemberley. I knew I was anxious to return, and I believed my master was of the same mind.

  At the end of the London Season, we joyfully returned to Pemberley and settled again into our familiar, comfortable, and altogether more preferable routines. I eagerly welcomed our return to pleasant times of walking, hunting, and simply soaking in the serene country ambiance. London had long ago worn out her welcome to me.

  Our pleasant summer days were filled with numerous -- and I might add very successful -- hunting excursions. I had grown most proficient at questing, flushing, and retrieving game whilst my master was a most adept sharpshooter. We made an admirable team.

  But my joyous days at Pemberley with my master that summer were soon to come to an abrupt end. I came to understand that he was to leave shortly to pursue further education beyond what his tutor was able to provide. He would soon leave for this place about which he had been recently speaking called Cambridge. All that I could decipher about the place was that I would not be allowed to accompany him and he would remain there several years, returning home only occasionally for short visits. This seriously grieved me as I did not understand what this place would be able to teach him that I could not. And I was of the impression that they would certainly not understand him as well as I did.