Mister Darcy's Dogs

by Barbara Silkstone

  I knew to remain silent as Darcy sorted out his thoughts.

  “In the period between the notice of intention to marry and the ceremony anyone with strong grounds for objecting to the marriage can do so at the Register’s Office. This has been in the making for weeks! Your daft sisters just expedited it with their gullibility. I’ll bet a pretty penny Wickham has been brewing this plan since his first failed attempt to wed and bed my little sister.”

  He held up his finger to silence us as he pressed some numbers on his phone. Squire lay at Darcy’s feet, tongue out, and wheezing. I wasn’t the only one out of condition.

  Georgiana, blinded by the optimism of a young girl in love was breaking her brother’s heart. I guessed she counted on Darcy’s eventual acceptance of her marriage. Little did she know or understand.

  “Yes. Yes.” Darcy stepped out of my hearing range.

  Jane reached out and grabbed my hand. Bingley took the liberty of wrapping one arm around each of us. “We shall find her. I just fear Darcy’s temper.”

  I pulled away from Bingley’s sweaty embrace. “His temper does not match mine. My sisters are doomed.”

  Darcy stomped toward us, his face lit with fury. “They are registered to be married today at St. Mary Abbots on Kensington High Street. It will be quicker to walk.” He turned to run, yelling over his shoulder. “It’s the tallest spire. You can’t miss it.”

  He dashed through the park leaving both bassets to me. I took off running after him. The excited dogs crisscrossed in front of me, bringing me down once more. I felt Bingley’s strong arms around my waist. He lifted me to my feet and unwound the leashes. We were off to stop a wedding. I hoped.

  Chapter 16

  Darcy, at a full run, disappeared from my sight over the crest of a hillock of dark green grass.

  The bassets and I developed an unspoken agreement as we sped after Darcy at stubby-legged velocity. I wouldn’t step on them if they stayed out from under my clumsy boots. The tree line thinned on Kensington High Street. I spotted the spire of St. Mary Abbots Church and aimed the dogs in that direction. Low profile, they plowed through the crowds and managed to leave half the pedestrians standing. Curiously, the other half had rather foul mouths.

  “We’re right behind you!” Jane yelled.

  I could not respond with all my energy drawn to my sled dogs. I reined them to a stop a few meters from the church as Darcy barged inside through a large wooden door.

  Dare I bring dogs into a church? It was an Anglican church and these were Anglican bassets. All creatures great and small. Derby, Squire, and I stepped into the cool dark-light of the church. The medieval vaulted arches and the stone floor gave a feeling of stepping back many centuries. I stood near the entrance to the cloister and looked down the long nave to the altar.

  The lovely stained glass windows cast a rainbow of colors on five people standing in front of the altar. Two pink puffs dominated the rainbow. I drew closer, the dogs pulling on their leashes. A large figure, either an avenging angel or a furious brother, advanced on the assemblage.

  Lydia and Kitty stumbled back while Mister Darcy moved on the group. The wedding party remained silent except for the blathering of the minister who oddly resembled… no, it was Mr. Collins!

  I drew closer so I could hear and slipped into a pew mid-church. Derby and Squire stumbled over my feet, then jumped onto the pew beside me.

  Collins’ mousy voice sliced the air, “They’re in love. I’d have them wed rather than commit a sin,” Collins babbled, a cross between righteous and panicky.

  “You’d have them wed? A defrocked clergyman?” Darcy said, his voice so overpowering the dogs got down and cowered under my seat.

  Jane and Bingley fell into the pew behind me but wisely remained silent.

  “I advised them to wait... but…” Collins covered his mouth with his prayer book and backed away.

  This crescendo moment belonged to Darcy and Wickham. The others were collateral and would be dealt with afterward.

  “Were we not in a church I would send you to hell!” Darcy said, advancing on Wickham.

  Surely he would not start a fight here?

  Wickham, dressed in a faux military uniform, pulled himself up to his full height. “Georgiana and I are in love. You can’t keep us apart. True love will prevail.”

  “Bollocks!” I muttered. At least I thought I muttered. My voice echoed off the stone pillars. All heads turned toward me. I prayed for the gift of invisibility.

  Darcy kept Wickham pinned with his eyes but pierced Collins with his words. “You, Mr. Collins, would be wise to leave now and never cross my path again. Do not return to my home. Consider yourself banished with no references and no severance pay.”

  Darcy stepped toward Wickham. Georgiana launched herself at her brother clinging to his arm. “We’re in love!” She glanced at the shivering clergyman. “Please don’t be angry with Mr. Collins for arranging our ceremony. He is a dear to help us.”

  “You have greatly disappointed me attempting to marry in secrecy. If this vermin means so much to you…” Darcy’s voice cracked.

  “Please be happy for us.”

  Collins foolishly attempted to justify his position as wedding planner, “If these young people desire –”

  Darcy turned his dark eyes on Collins, who, this time slithered into the shadows.

  Georgiana continued her plea to her brother, “I love him with all my heart. You’ve kept us apart for over two years. And yet he has stayed loyal to me. Through Mr. Collins, we have been able to plan our future together. We would have taken the time to tell you, but my love’s squadron leaves in two days.”

  “Squadron? Is that how gigolos travel now? In squadrons?”

  “Brother! Wickham is a colonel in the Royal Air Force.”

  I could stand it no longer. Stepping out of the pew and catching my wellies in the leashes, I tromped to the center of the tableau, forcing myself to make eye contact with Wickham. “You told me you were with Interpol,” I said cutting a glance at Georgiana’s face.

  She appeared confused and looked at the object of her affection for an explanation.

  The dog strained at their leashes to get to their former playmate, Collins. I tugged them back. He managed to fade into the pillars and disappear.

  “Which is it? Interpol or RAF?” I said, confronting the lying gold-digger.

  Wickham reached for Georgiana’s hand. She hesitated then took his hand.

  He turned to me with a leer. “You see before you true love and trust. Your fantasy of Interpol… is it? will not fly with my beloved. I rejected your flirtations and this is how you retaliate, with lies?”

  Stunned, I pushed my dropped jaw shut with my hand. Darcy, who despite his anger, smirked with the knowledge of a man holding the winning card.

  Chapter 17

  “Georgiana, did you remember to tell your hero about the codicil to your trust fund?”

  “Brother! No!”

  Hands on hips Darcy words were spoken softly but packed a punch. “If Georgiana marries before the age of twenty-one without a pre-nuptial agreement she inherits nothing.”

  Wickham blanched. He squinted his eyes as if by seeing better, he might hear something different.

  “Clearly you have been proceeding under a misguided opportunity,” Darcy said.

  Wickham appeared to have been slammed in the head. He let go Georgiana’s hand and rubbed the side of his face. I imagined he expected a migraine. He cut his eyes from Darcy to Georgiana. “Is this true, my love?”

  Georgiana blushed a shade short of fuchsia. “I… I’ve never been clear on the details. Indeed, this cannot matter to you, my love. I am more than happy to live on your RAF salary.”

  Wickham sidled away from Georgiana. “I thought we had a future built on honesty. How could you not share this with me? How can I ever trust you?”

  The bride-to-be broke into tears. Tugging the bassets, I stepped to her side and put my arm around her. “Dearest gi
rl, please see this man for what he is. He is no more a colonel in the RAF than an agent for Interpol. He is a fraud.”

  I snuck a peek at my sisters-in-pink. Kitty’s eyeballs spun and a frown bit into her brow. Lydia appeared to be bracing for a fainting spell. She keeled back into her sister’s arms.

  Darcy tore his eyes from Wickham searching the chancel. Collins had wisely evaporated. “I had a viper in my midst. I gave him shelter when no one else would.”

  “I think it prudent for you to follow Collins and make yourself scarce,” I said to Wickham, prying the sobbing Georgiana from my shoulder.

  Lydia, fresh from her faint, ran to Wickham clutching his pseudo-uniform lapels. “What of your brother? Will you still introduce me to your twin? I’m ready to leave for Wales.”

  Darcy cut me a look asking for permission to speak to my brilliant sister.

  I gave him a slight nod.

  “Wickham lied, you twit!” Darcy said. “He has no brother.”

  Lydia fell back into Kitty’s arms in a repeat swoon.

  “You have two minutes to get out of my sister’s life. If you contact her in anyway, ever again, I shall not be responsible for my actions,” Darcy said.

  “I’m hardly afraid of you, Mister William Darcy. I know enough about you to topple your empire. But for now, it’s sufficient to know your sister misled and beguiled me. The betrothal is off!” He took Georgiana’s hand and bent to kiss it.

  I pushed his head away from her hand. “Go, while you still have a chance.”

  Wolf-like he looked down at me, spun on his heel, and walked away.

  “You had a close call, Georgiana,” I said. “Often the most charming of men are like empty vessels. They make lovely sounds but their hearts are hollow. When the right man comes along, you will know it.”

  Her eyes followed Wickham as he stomped down the aisle. From the rear with his tails and epaulettes his uniform resembled that of an extra from the Pirates of Penzance.

  Georgiana wept and moaned.

  I hugged her again. “You are fortunate your brother loves you so very much. He acted to protect your heart from being broken and your future destroyed.”

  Darcy stepped away into the shadows. I assumed he was bringing his temper under control. Aside from the sobbing of Georgiana and the theatrics of Lydia, the church was silent. Derby and Squire studied the humans trying to decode what had just occurred.

  Jane had taken a seat in a nearby pew. Bingley stood at the ready.

  My mind mishmashed. How close Georgiana had come to disaster, with my foolish sisters aiding her misguided search for love. How would I take part in the hunt tomorrow? Lydia, now thwarted in her dreams of yet another uniformed lover, might be more than Jane could handle. I couldn’t leave my youngest sister unsupervised, but to bring her with me would be folly. My first big client might just be my last.

  Darcy held his phone to his ear, his voice low. The conversation seemed to last for ages. He clicked off and returned to my side.

  I looked at him expectantly. Has he called off the hunt? Did he intend in someway to punish my sisters?

  He addressed me. “With your permission, Doctor Bennet, I will take Lydia and Kitty to One Snyde Park until after the Barkley Hunt tomorrow. Your mind will be clear to focus on the event if you do not have to concern yourself as to their behavior.”

  My mind tossed with this new information. What sort of punishment did he have in mind placing my sisters in his giant-size Tiffany box? A chill raced from my head to my Wellington toes.

  He smiled, his once angry eyes now twinkling. “I think you will be more than satisfied with my plan. My aunt Catherine de Bourgh has just agreed to baby-sit these errant young ladies. Perhaps she can teach them proper behavior while we are about the hunt with Miss Jane and Bingley.”

  Georgiana screamed. “No! Not Aunt Catherine!”

  Merely by the girl’s reaction, I knew this had to be a good plan.

  “Lady de Bourgh is known for her, shall we say, strong opinions on the manners of young women. I believe a day or two under her tutelage will leave your sisters to reconsider romance in anyway but the most proper.”

  Georgiana clutched her brother’s arm. “Please! Not Aunt Catherine.”

  “That sounds like the perfect solution, Mister Darcy,” I said.

  He let go with a sigh of satisfaction.

  “My car is parked in Sloane Square,” Bingley said. “I’ll see Miss Jane and Lizzie safely to their cottage in Maidenhead.”

  “Good plan, Bingley. Shall we all walk together as my car is also in the Square?”

  I led the almost-wedding party from the church. The bride and her bridesmaids sandwiched between Darcy and me with Bingley and Jane hemming them in from behind, the bassets scooting between our feet.

  “Is your Aunt Catherine that bad?” Lydia whispered within my hearing. I smiled.

  “You don’t want to know,” Georgiana answered.

  Darcy touched his hand to his brow in a chipper salute directed at me. “See you tomorrow. Bingley will take care you are safely delivered to your doorstep. He will pick you up tomorrow before eight.”

  Georgiana and her two demoralized bridesmaids climbed into Darcy’s Range Rover. Derby and Squire took the front seat, pressing their noses to the window. Lydia managed to send me a pointed glare. Hah! Finally, someone who could handle my little sister. I felt the burden lifted from my shoulders, at least for the night.

  Bingley’s car, a dark blue sedan, spoke of quiet money. I settled in the back seat, enjoying the scent of new car and knowing I did not have the new smell, but rather could use a long soak in extremely large bubbles.

  We drove in silence, Bingley and Jane casting sidelong glances at each other and smiling. I might have snoozed as within a wink we were in Maidenhead.

  Bingley walked us to our cottage door. He leaned in and kissed Jane’s cheek. Then perhaps to cover his move, he air-kissed mine as well.

  My hands felt strange not being pulled by the bassets’ leashes. But the barking of the whippets inside and the greyhounds outside told me my evening was not yet over.

  I left Jane and Bingley on the front porch and let the whippets out the backdoor. They ran joyously happy to be free. If only humans were so easily pleased. Sitting on the porch step, I rubbed the raw spots on my legs as I replayed the day’s events.

  My heart went out to Mister Darcy having seen the betrayal of both his sister and Collins.

  And what, pray tell, did Wickham mean by threatening to topple Darcy’s empire? What empire? And what did he know that made him a threat?”

  Tomorrow morning Bingley would be back to chauffeur us to the Barkley Hunt.

  Jane stepped out on the porch and sat down next to me. “It would be very hard to match today. I’m fearful of what tomorrow may bring. Caroline Bingley is not a woman to be trusted.”

  A shiver tip-toed down my spine. For Jane to speak ill of a person was unsettling.

  Chapter 18

  As we sipped our morning coffee, I took stock of Jane. She wore tan riding jodhpurs, a lovely brown tailored jacket, and a red and tan ascot. Her long blonde hair pulled back in a clip, she could have been a model in Vanity Fair. She was comfortable with the horsey set and made many of her business connections through riding clubs.

  I was not at ease around horses. My one Jane-induced horse adventure had ended in near disaster when the recalcitrant animal threw me. I landed on a fence rail barely avoiding a concussion. Leary of animals with big bodies and big teeth, I’d avoided them, confining myself to lap-sized creatures.

  Caroline Bingley would use my non-horse talents as an example of my lack of good breeding if I failed to take part in the Barkley Hunt. I needed to make a good impression today. The publicity adherent to riding the hunt as a dog psychologist could only benefit my practice, if I lived.

  I borrowed Jane’s riding-to-the-hunt outfit with its breeches, one size too long; riding boots, one size too big; a red coat that drooped over my wris
ts; and a black riding helmet that fell over my eyebrows. I gave the appearance of having shrunk in my sleep.

  “It’s he!” Jane said at the sound of Bingley’s knock on our cottage door. “I mean, who could that be this early in the morning.” We shared a giggle.

  “I’ll let him in.” Jane fairly squealed as she dashed to the door.

  I gulped the last of my coffee, which had been done little to energize me, and rinsed the cup.

  Bingley followed Jane into the kitchen, his eyes fixed on her face with a nearly palpable longing. I wondered if I would ever stir that emotion in a man. Not that I cared, you understand. My career came first. Time enough for romance after I had built a successful business.

  “Good morning, Lizzie,” Bingley said in a most dreadfully cheerful voice.

  I smiled and did a faux curtsy.

  “Coffee? Tea?” Jane offered.

  “No, thank you, Jane. The hunt awaits. We’d best be off.” The man was all sunshine, perfect for my sister.

  I petted the whippets goodbye, locked the cottage, and joined the couple in Bingley’s sedan. He started the engine and the conversation, simultaneously. “This is going to be jolly good fun. Darcy woke early to meet Caroline for breakfast. They should be at Barkley by now. He has a splendid horse set aside for you. He tells me you are an experienced rider. Did you start riding as a child?”

  Jane made a strange sound between a choke and a laugh.

  “Gesundheit,” Bingley said.

  Jane’s irritatingly indiscreet reaction diverted his interest in my riding skills. I seized the opportunity to send him down another path by saying, “This has all been so hurried, I never did get the chance to ask what Mister Darcy does for a living.”

  Bingley grew deathly quiet. Was Darcy blinking James Bond? I caught a glimpse of Bingley’s eyes in the rear view mirror. A frown cut his brow.

  “Do you usually query all your clients’ acquaintances or is Darcy a special case?”

  If he was trying to embarrass me into silence, it worked. I sat back and concentrated on worrying about the hunt, hoping Darcy had assigned me a short, toothless horse.