by Nicky Roth
Dare one wonder why?
'Aunt Cathy, a decent joint of beef is between ten to sixteen Pounds per kilo, minced beef is a quarter of that. Pheasant, last time I checked was at around thirty Pounds a bird and there isn't much meat on there.'
'See, it's not all that expensive.'
'Last I know your budget was at around twelve Pounds per person per day. That's three full meals plus tea. It is fucking expensive!'
'Don't use profanities with me, boy!'
'Sorry, Aunt. It's just the traffic... - However, it doesn't change the fact that it is too expensive for the budget you have set.'
'Oh come now, a kilo of beef feeds a good ten people, I am absolutely sure of it and a pheasant can easily feed four if not more.'
The temptation to bang his head against the steering wheel grew with every passing moment he spent on the phone with his aunt. Perhaps he should take a break... Okay, Leicester was ahead and so was the predicted traffic jam. Swell! Road services were still another ten miles off.
But at least he hadn't lied, the traffic was increasingly horrible.
'Oh, and I've ordered new duvets for the rooms. You know, the ones with the magnetic properties I have told you about?'
Thank goodness, change of subject. No need to explain how the food was calculated. Not that he hadn't tried before anyway. It was plain pointless. Seriously, if it weren't for his cousin Anne, Rosings would have deteriorated a long time ago. Poor creature, actually.
Hm, odd his aunt hadn't said anything for a full half minute. - Oh, shit, she expected a reply for once...
'Magnetic properties? Okay, sounds, eh, interesting...'
'Don't sound so sceptical, Fitzwilliam,' Lady Catherine scolded sounding indignant.
'I'm not in the least sceptical. Sounds very reasonable to me. Where did you get them from?'
'The teleshopping canal. At least they know what they are talking about. And I got a good deal, too.'
Well, then it couldn't possibly be a scam...
'They are really an asset to my accommodation, and I recommend them to every one of my guests. I mean, a lot of people are not even aware that they are so incredibly beneficial for one's health. And on top of that, they are easy to maintain. You can just pop them into the washing machine and they are neat and clean as if they were new. Which reminds me, I should actually get the pillows as well. The old mattress covers will do for the time being, but yes, just a moment, I just quickly write it down... - So. But why I am actually calling is that I've got a nice course coming up that might interest you, Fitzwilliam.'
Oh fuck, no! Not again. Did she have to try to have him attend one of her nonsensical courses each and every time they spoke to each other? He really wasn't much into “contemporary ikebana”, “painting shapeless pottery”, “train your budgy how to draw” or “controlled musical farting”, or whatever else someone invented to drag money out of peoples pockets.
'I am quite busy right now, Aunt Cathy, if I am being honest.'
“And if not, I will find something to keep myself busy...” Darcy added in his mind.
'I thought you were driving...'
'I mean once I get home, Aunt.'
'You need to relax more, nephew. All this work all of the time, no wonder you are still single. If you carry on like that you'll never find a wife. But listen, I have a wedding crash-course coming up, how about it?'
'Why would I want to attend a wedding crash-course? As you have just pointed out so aptly, I am nowhere close to getting married.'
'It's dancing classes, Fitzwilliam, and if I remember correctly...'
'Yes, yes, yes, I know I can't dance. Thank you for pointing out my shortcomings so accurately and in such delicate a fashion.'
'So, shall I put you down then? - Oh, but you will need to bring a partner, of course. Naturally, all the other participants will be couples.'
Of course...
The memory of a pair of beautiful eyes crept up on him. Eyes in which he had wished to drown for the whole of last week and now more so than ever. Just to see them sparkle and see Elizabeth smile with those lovely lips of hers..
'Yes, put me down for it.'
'Brilliant. I see you in two weeks then, Fitzwilliam. The details are on our website. Bye! - Oh and drive carefully.'
WTF? - Was that really all it took to cut short a call from his aunt? Good to know...
Oh shit, what had he done? Bloody idiot!
Chapter 29:
ID10 TS
After his aunt had hung up, Darcy's mind had been reeling. Okay, it had been morris-dancing a la Mary Bennet rather. He still couldn't believe that he had agreed to attend one of his aunt's courses. Okay, it usually wasn't his aunt who taught them, which was a fortunate, but it didn't mean that she didn't get involved some way or another. Oh no!
Though she usually had a lot of advice to give, it was usually as nonsensical as it was unasked for. Pictures of her doing nude yoga, which had been extremely disturbing, to say the least, were replaced by ones of her teaching him how to waltz: “One, two, three, and now turn, and never forget, no food after eight in the evening and no sex after sunrise, one, two, three - one, two, three, spin around. By the way, cottage pie is an unacceptable food for someone with an income of over 24k per annum - one, two, three.”
Right, it definitely was time for a break and thank goodness, he had advanced far enough to be only about half a mile from the road services – or in other terms roughly twenty minutes if he was lucky...
He was not. Of course not. What had he expected?
Just after he decided to take a break there had been an accident two cars ahead of him and though no-one had been injured, the traffic had gotten stuck completely while the police arrived and then the two vehicles involved were towed away. With the road as clogged as it was, it had taken them an hour. Well, it seemed Gloria wasn't the only person driving without the necessary glasses or contacts. And why the fuck was the guy behind him honking his frickin' horn? It was not as if he could go any faster than the person in front of him or disappear into thin air. Though it would have been nice, truth be told.
At last, he had made it. To the road services that was.
Pemberley was still a couple of hours away.
Whoohoo, what a glorious prospect!
Finding a parking space was yet another challenge. It would have been tricky enough with a car, but with a car pulling a trailer, it was close to impossible. Close to, but not impossible, thank goodness. Admittedly half the population wouldn't have managed to park a normal car in a spot like the one he squeezed his Landrover and horsebox in, but hey, he normally manoeuvred a tractor through country lanes that were too narrow for a bicycle so seriously, this was a piece of cake.
'You almost scratched my car!' a furious looking elderly man with an expression of permanent indignation screeched at him as soon as Darcy had climbed out of his vehicle, while the wife of said fellow emphasised his words by pulling the corners of her mouth so much southward that they almost touched her shoulders. Almost, not quite. But she was as close to achieving this feat as a specimen of the human race possibly could get.
'Yes, but I didn't,' Darcy smiled in what he hoped was a disarming manner.
It was not, apparently.
'But you easily could have! I'm going to call the police, I am! Dangerous driving should be a hanging offence in my opinion. It really should be. - Agnes, the phone please.'
Right, perhaps now was not the ideal moment to point out that had they not taken up two spaces with their Vauxhall Corsa there wouldn't have been any space-problems in the first bloody place. Oh, and that there was a police car parked not twenty paces away.
Too late anyway, the unpleasant bloke was already on the phone.
'Hello, I want to report a case of dangerous driving - no, but it easily could have led to a collision. No, the chap is still standing here, Sir. Where I am? At the northbound Leicester Road Services. Yes. Alright, I'll wait. My name? Of course. Richard Sucker, Sir.
I drive a red Corsa with the registration number ID10 TS. You'll find us easy enough, the chap endangering me pulls a horsetrailer. I mean not literally, his car does, of course.'
Really? Who would have thought?
From the corners of his eyes, Darcy could already see one of the exasperated policemen approaching them listening to the radio, his face darkening with every step he took before suddenly it broke into a wide grin.
'You've called the police, Mr Sucker?'
'I have, Sir.'
'Right, and what is the problem? Have you been hit?'
'Almost, Sir.'
'Any scratches?'
'No, Sir. But with the way, he parked it is by sheer luck that nothing has happened, Sir.'
'If I may say so, Mr Sucker, it is more the way you have parked that concerns me. Just out of curiosity, did you chose your number plate or was it assigned to you?'
'What has my number plate to do with how this man has parked his car, Sir? And for that matter, what is wrong with my parking? I haven't endangered anybody.'
'Regarding your first question, nothing, and regarding your second, you are taking up two spaces with one car which is an administrative offence, if I may point that out.'
'So does this chap!'
'He's pulling a trailer, and that counts as two vehicles, Mr Sucker. You, on the other hand...'
'Oh, really? Now that's typical! That is what is wrong with our world. Any wanker can park however he likes and a law-abiding man has to suffer such unfounded accusations. Appalling that is!' Sucker flared up.
'Be as it may, nothing has happened. This gentleman has done nothing but park his car, however, he's done it is beyond me, but he did it without causing any damage and as it is, that does not count as dangerous driving. - Anything else?'
Richard Sucker just shook his head, then climbed into his car and drove off without setting the winker, almost running over a young woman and her son.
'I can't help it, but I think the number plate is spot on...,' Darcy couldn't help remarking.
'Yep. And I am pretty sure now, that it was assigned to them, after someone had to deal with them for any length of time,' the policeman added before tipping his hat with a conspiratorial glance and turning around to leave.
The cup of tea he got for himself was more than needed, not to speak of the visit to the loo. Fascinating how much liquid a human bladder could hold, or how much of a vacuum a human skull could contain.
Taking a quick look at the horses Darcy refilled the water bucket and the hayrack and then cracked on.
At least the traffic had thinned considerably within the last half hour that was something.
He had just decided to call Georgiana, just to speak to someone sensible for a change when... - Wow, was that Mr Sucker and his miserable wife? If so, he hadn't gotten very far.
Yep, it was Dick Sucker, no doubt about it. And he had his hazard flashers on, stomping angrily up and down the hard shoulder while Mrs Sucker gesticulated in a way that made her look as if she attempted to fly off. No-one had as yet bothered to stop, and perhaps he shouldn't either, but his conscience got in the way, as it always did. Blast!
Setting his winker, Darcy pulled over and alighted, bracing himself for what was to come, for surely it would be none too pleasant.
'Do you need help, Mr Sucker?' he asked as politely as he could.
'No, I'm waiting for the AA. I don't need the help from the likes of you,' Sucker spat, before turning to march the other way again and then back.
'Okay, only asking,' Darcy stated with some irritation, though somehow he managed to stay polite nonetheless.
'Dickie, if we wait until they arrive we'll never make it to Pemberley today,' his wife whined, her gestures still resembling a flightless bird and her face that of an unpleasant Basset hound, if ever there was such a thing.
'Pe...-Pem...-Pemberley?!' Darcy could not help stuttering.
Why? What had he done to deserve this? He seriously started to doubt there was such a thing as a God, though he could easily believe in the devil at this point. Now all that was missing was R.E.M. playing “Losing my religion” on the radio.
'Derbyshire, young man, not that you would know where that is. Young people have little interest in geography these days.'
No, not at the moment at any rate, but the age-old question of how to commit the perfect murder was still as interesting as it had always been...
'As a matter of fact I do know where Derbyshire is, and even Pemberley, but that aside, what's wrong with your car?'
'It just stopped working.'
Yes, presumably because he'd parked too close to it...
'Did it overheat?'
'No.'
'Did it make any weird sounds?'
'Are you a mechanic or something?'
'No, but I have some experience with fixing engines. So?'
'No weird sounds, the car is as good as new.'
Sucker eyed Darcy's own old Landrover with some suspicion. Yes, alright, it could do with a wash and the finish could do with some polishing up, but it was a bloody four by four. In his opinion, a spotless Landrover was like a married virgin, looking pretty but not put to any proper use. Seriously, what was the point? There was a reason there was such a thing as canned dirt to spray onto an off-road vehicle to at least give the impression it was used for its exact purpose, namely to get off the fucking road. He at least did exactly that. No married virgins for him. Ha!
'Did you check your petrol gauge?'
'Do you think I'm senile?'
Yes...
'No, but these things happen,' Darcy remarked casually, though through gritted teeth.
This guy was a serious pain in the butt. Even his aunt could learn a thing or two from Dick Sucker, and that really had to say something.
With a huff, said Sucker went and turned around the key. The car gave some strangled noises, but that was it, and as suspected, the needle of the meter stayed where it was, right on zero.
'That's all your fault! I had wanted to get petrol and then you came along and almost caused an accident...'
Ohhhkay... - Would it be very mean to just leave despite the fact that he had a whole jerry can sit in the back of his car? No.
Well, yes, perhaps. Ah, but vengeance was so very sweet, and who was he to deny himself this wondrous feeling of being a dick himself once in a while?
'Well, it appears I can't help you, Mr Sucker, so you will indeed have to wait for the AA. Have a nice day. Oh, and enjoy your stay at Pemberley. Nice place that, though I heard the owner is a right old wanker.'
'Now really!'
'No, really. Absolute ruffian that man is. Bye.'
While Mr Sucker looked at him open-mouthed as he left, his wife had begun scolding her husband.
'Now we have to wait here forever, Dick!'
Dared one hope?
He would not be the first Richard to be defeated close to Market Bosworth which was just to his left, though actually, the other one sounded like a much much nicer chappie.
Right, Georgiana. Now! Gods, please pick up.
'Georgie?'
'Is that you, Will? Is everything okay? You sound weird somehow.'
'Tell me about it. I had the weirdest day imaginable. I agreed to
attend one of Aunt Cathy's courses...'
The snicker on the other end was unmistakable. Yes, okay, it was funny.
'Then it must have been a weird day indeed,' his siter eventually managed to sqeeze out. 'She must have caught you completely off guard. Are you on your way back home?'
'Yes, as you can hear. Georgie, how would you like to go to school in Lambton?'
'But didn' you say it is a crappy one?'
'I did. I have been thinking about Sheffield or Chesterfield, or possibly Derby, but I think all of them are too far off to commute. However, perhaps Lambton will do until we find something better? If you like that is.'
'If I like? Will, that would be absolutely wonderful! I could hug you. You are th
e best brother anyone could ever wish for. And I can really come back home?'
'Yes. I will sort everything out on Monday and see that you'll start at Lambton asap.'
His sister's answer was a relieved sob. Bloody hell, how could he have missed how bad she was faring? Best brother indeed. Not! He should have realised. That was what he was there for. To protect his little sister.
'So, how are things between you and Elizabeth?'
'Well... - Okay, I guess. She was ill these last couple of days, but she's getting better. As a matter of fact, I'm thinking of asking her to join me for the course our aunt has dumped on me.'
'Nude painting? I am sure you would look good in a painting, though I recommend not to hang it up in the salon, or anywhere I can see it. No offence, but...' Georgiana giggled, sounding surprisingly like Lydia Bennet.
Good! She was too severe most of the time anyway.
'No. Though if I enjoy that one, perhaps... - It's a dance course.'
He refrained from adding that it was a little more than just that, but there were things even a little sister need not know. He would never hear the end of it, for sure.
'Now it was about time you learned how to dance, Will.'
'Why?'
Georgiana had spoken with so much vehemence that it took him by surprise.
'Just imagine you get married one day and you can't even manage a waltz. I don't think your Elizabeth would be thrilled at the prospect.'
Okay, it had been a wise decision not to say that it was actually a wedding crash-course he intended to attend with Elizabeth.
'Who says I am going to marry Lizzy?'
'I am.'
'Oh, okay. Do I have any say in it then? Or Lizzy?'
'No.'
'Right, does that mean I can leave the planning up to you then?'
'No problem, Will. I will get to work straight away. But you'll have to wait until spring at the very least. Winter weddings are not half as romantic as a ceremony under a flowering tree or in a blooming garden is.'
'Good point. Apart from that, I still need to make her fall in love with me first, and then will have to propose.'