The Darcy Brothers

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The Darcy Brothers Page 2

by Abigail Reynolds


  “Hey ho! What now?” With a start, Darcy looked over at Theo, who had awoken as the carriage drew to a precipitous halt. “Do we arrive so soon?”

  Frowning, Darcy dropped the window, but before he could question the driver, a footman appeared at the door.

  “’Tis the ford, sir, swollen by the rains and impassable just now.” He waved a hand back down the lane. “There is an inn back along the way. I will enquire for another direction.”

  Sitting back in his seat, Darcy glanced over at his brother, who had resumed his usual slumped position, his feet stretched out in front of him. Thankfully, he had not returned them to the squabs.

  “Dash it.” Theo sighed dramatically. “And I was so anticipating our imminent arrival. Let us hope the diversion takes several days, hey Brother?”

  “Aunt Catherine expects us to arrive today; if we do not, she will be displeased.”

  “Surely the Old Bat cannot object to delays caused by the elements; they answer to none of us.” Theo turned to stare out of the window. “She will hardly be contemplating my arrival with any pleasure. She will bemoan the absence of the good Colonel, and I will be at the receiving end of her displeasure from dawn until dusk, as is her custom.” He threw a keen glance at his brother. “I am her whipping boy, you know, for I favor the wrong side of the family.”

  Before Darcy could muster a response to this, the footman reappeared at the window. “I am sorry, sir, the nearest bridge is a ten-mile detour. As the waters peaked some hours ago, the ford should be passable fairly soon. The innkeeper suggests you tarry a while.”

  Theo snorted. “Aye, and we are likely not the first, nor the last, traveler the innkeeper has managed to turn into good business as a result of this storm!”

  With little option, however, the coaching inn was where they were bound.

  Theo, soon in possession of a flagon of ale, joined some local men near the hearth and took little time in settling down to enjoy their conversation, his open countenance and his ready smile more than overcoming the brevity of the acquaintance.

  Unwilling to be witness to Theo charming yet another room full of strangers, Darcy walked into the inn’s dining room, picking up a newspaper as he went, and before long he was engrossed in its pages in a corner of the room. Yet his peace did not endure. Before long a party, hindered likewise by the swollen waters at the ford, came into the room to partake of a meal, and try though Darcy did to focus on the political news, their voices would intrude. With a frustrated sigh, he turned his attention to the financial reports but then his attention was caught by the mention of his aunt’s name.

  Lowering the paper, he peered over it. A middle-aged couple, accompanied by an elderly lady with a wizened face, and a young lady of indiscriminate age, were sat to table partaking of their fare and freely discussing their business aloud.

  “Aye, under her patronage at Hunsford parsonage.” The man continued. “Mr. Collins has done well for himself.”

  Darcy frowned. That was it! Collins was the ridiculous cousin’s name. He turned back to his reading. There was little of interest for him in that person’s concerns.

  “Indeed. There was much speculation when he brought home a wife,” added the lady. “And Mrs. Collins very kindly invited me and Sarah here to take tea with her. She showed us great courtesy, but then she was raised a gentleman’s daughter.”

  Unable to prevent it, Darcy’s interest was stirred, and he slowly lowered the paper again.

  The man nodded. “Aye, she is a good soul is Mrs. Collins. You do not see the like in this neighborhood often; the air of Hertfordshire must be agreeable, to breed such a fine woman!”

  Darcy’s attention was fully caught as the sickening sense of doubt in his mind took firmer hold. Could it be? Had Caroline Bingley been correct after all? The uncomfortable lurching of his insides vied with the distaste in his mouth at such a conjecture. Yet it was not impossible…

  “There you are!” Darcy started and dropped the paper into his lap as Theo appeared in the room. “The water has receded sufficiently; we may proceed. What joy!”

  Theo’s intelligence was of interest to the party at the table, and they dropped any further conversation in favor of their repast, and Darcy had no choice but to follow his brother from the room.

  Though Theo cast him a curious glance every now and again as their journey resumed, he refrained from speaking for some reason or other, and Darcy welcomed the respite. They had soon negotiated a careful crossing of the ford and before long they approached Hunsford and the lane leading to the entrance to Rosings Park.

  He had never paid any mind to the modest parsonage before, but now it drew his gaze immediately. Before he could study it with any purpose, however, his eye was caught by the sight of the aforementioned Reverend Collins who hovered in the lane and, as the carriage passed him by, made several low sweeping bows in its general direction.

  Darcy blinked rapidly; Theo was staring out of the other window, looking somewhat morose as they passed through the ornate gates, and he glanced back at the parsonage before it disappeared from view. The figure of a woman had emerged from the shadow of the doorway, unbeknownst to the parson who continued to bow as the coach faded into the distance.

  Turning back, Darcy swallowed hard on the sudden constriction of his throat. It was impossible to say at this distance, but he had an awful suspicion he had just seen Elizabeth—at the home of his aunt’s parson, who had found himself a wife in Hertfordshire.

  *****

  Lady Catherine’s greeting had been all Theo expected. The look of distaste she threw him as he entered the drawing room was sufficient to have him greet her as briefly as politeness allowed and throw himself into an armchair near the fireplace. As always, Darcy was her only object, and once she had learned of the call to duty preventing Colonel Fitzwilliam from making his annual visit, she seemed oblivious to anyone else’s presence.

  The heat in the room was oppressive, with a roaring fire blazing at both ends and the lamps burning even though it was still several hours until dusk. As his aunt and brother talked, Theo slumped down in his seat. What with his late night, the long days in the carriage, the heat from the fire and the droning of his aunt’s voice, he knew he was set for oblivion before long.

  Lady Catherine’s next words, however, quickened his interest. “I am led to believe you were in company with my parson last autumn, Darcy, when he visited Hertfordshire. Is it true, or did he take a liberty in implying it?”

  Theo threw a quick glance at Darcy, quickly noting his drawn countenance. What was it with Hertfordshire? How frustrating he forgot to mention his curiosity to his sister in his recent letter to her; after all, she was the one who had first drawn his attention to something affecting their brother’s spirits since his return.

  Conscious Darcy had thrown him a wary glance, Theo pretended a yawn and stretched out his booted feet, placing his arms behind his head as he wriggled down in his seat. He would feign interest in the fire but continue to listen.

  “I am not certain I would say we were ‘in company’ precisely, though the man did have the gall to come and introduce himself.”

  Lady Catherine narrowed her gaze. “Under what pretext?”

  “He wished to assure me of your and my cousin’s good health when last he had seen you.”

  With a nod, Lady Catherine sat back in her seat. “It was a little forward of him, I will grant you, but you cannot fault his purpose, Darcy. The Reverend Collins is a good man.”

  Darcy inclined his head, and Theo shifted his position so that he had a better view of his brother’s countenance.

  “Mr. Collins found himself a wife in Hertfordshire.”

  “Er—indeed?” Darcy cleared his throat and tugged at his neck cloth as though its restriction caused him some discomfort, and Theo was torn between amusement at this and an avid curiosity over what caused such a reaction in his normally inscrutable brother.

  In the meantime, his aunt seemed to have noticed Theo.<
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  “I will thank you, Theophilus, for not lounging in such an ungainly fashion!” She turned back to Darcy and fixed him with a beady eye. “Yes—I expressly told him to. ‘Find a wife, Mr. Collins,’ says I before he departed for Hertfordshire ‘and a gentlewoman at that’. And of course he could not return until he did, though I understand it was not difficult. The neighborhood seemed to contain all too many single young women.”

  Lady Catherine got to her feet. “It is a good match for her. Her father has visited of late, though he is now returned to Hertfordshire. Mrs. Collins seemed most attached to him.”

  Darcy sank lower into his seat, his skin paling. “And he brought one of her sisters with him—a very sweet girl—along with a close friend of Mrs. Collins. They remain at the parsonage yet; you may meet with them at some point. I have condescended to have them dine here before now, and I may do so again.” She walked over to pick up her closed fan from a side table and turned about. “I was most put out to learn from Mrs. Collins she has also already made your acquaintance, Darcy. Is this true?”

  Theo had lost interest by this point, but he looked up again as a small sound escaped his brother. Darcy seemed lost for words, but before he could conjecture any further, Theo let out an “Ouch” as his aunt rapped him hard on the shin with her fan.

  “Sit up, Boy! You do your spine and the upholstery an equal disservice!”

  She turned away and resumed her seat, and Theo rubbed his shin, his gaze still upon Darcy. If his brother’s skin paled any further, he would have to call for the apothecary. Before he could consider the matter further, however, a loud knock came upon the door and a servant entered.

  “Excuse me, Ma’am,” he said, fetching up before Lady Catherine. “Your steward is here on urgent business that cannot be delayed.”

  Lady Catherine rose majestically to her feet. “Send him in.” She turned to Darcy. “His timing is opportune; you can assist me with whatever it is.”

  Robert Farrell entered the room, greeting Darcy as he did so, and came straight to the point.

  “We have a dispute in the village, Ma’am, and it looks set to get out of hand. The notices over the enclosure of the south and west pastures were posted in the church porch but two days ago, and already Clayton is objecting. He is unlikely to muster sufficient support, but he is causing unrest. I fear there will be retribution.”

  Darcy frowned. “What paperwork has he?”

  “Nothing in writing, sir; it was a gentleman’s agreement.”

  His interest caught by the name, Theo got to his feet, walking over to join them. “I heard something of this at the inn; I may be able to assist.” He had spoken to the very tenant they referred to as he aired his grievances loudly to all who were prepared to listen.

  Lady Catherine glared at him. “Of course you cannot assist! What do you know of Estate matters?”

  Theo turned to Darcy. “This predicament was spoken of and why this Clayton felt obligated to obstruct. I think—”

  Darcy threw him an exasperated look. “Idle gossip is not going to solve this matter. You would make better use of your time in perusing a book.” He turned away from him dismissively. “Come, Farrell, let us repair to the estate office to consider our options.”

  Lady Catherine swept after them, and Theo glared at the door as it closed. He was genial by nature, but nothing could push him further than his brother treating him like he was of no value to the world. He would be damned if he would wait for them with nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs and kick his heels like a schoolboy.

  He sprang to his feet and went over to the window. Clouds had gathered to blot out the weak Spring sunshine, and a squall of a shower was now sending water to stream down the glass. Even the weather, it seemed, was against him. There was no chance of going out.

  He wandered over to his aunt’s escritoire. It was painted in the Oriental fashion, with Chinese dragons, intended, no doubt, to intimidate those sufficiently foolhardy to approach. Theo opened the desk and sat down, opening each of the small drawers and peeping into the corners. Perhaps he would unearth some terrible secret of his aunt’s. He found nothing of the least interest, however, beyond a few walnuts that could not be cracked.

  Presently, he took out a sheet of paper. It gave off an unpleasant scent—a blend of dusty lavender and rotten oranges—perfume to his aunt, no doubt. Dipping a quill in ink, he began a sketch of his aunt with fangs and bat wings, then neatly labeled it ‘The Old Bat’. The sound of a movement outside the door led him to scrunch it up into a ball and throw it into the wastebasket.

  Then, he recalled he owed his great friend, Montgomery Preston, a letter. Monty had just succeeded to his title, and Theo knew he was overdue in acknowledging it.

  Dear Sir Montgomery,

  No, no, that will never do. I am sorry, my friend, Baronet or no, I cannot call you anything but Monty.

  My deepest condolences on the loss of your father. Though I know you have expected the unhappy event for quite some time, I know it is difficult to step into his place nonetheless. I watched my brother endure that transition and uniquely understand the weights you must feel right now.

  In your last letter, you asked me to recommend a new solicitor in London since Lyman’s untimely demise. I have several men whom you might consider to take his place. I will introduce you when next I am in Town. Sadly, I cannot say precisely when that will be, as I have been condemned to visit my aunt at Rosings by Prince William himself.

  Yes, I can hear you scolding me now for calling him that. But truly, when he slips into his haughty, overbearing Master-of-all-he-surveys manner, there is simply no other way to refer to him. He still refuses to leave Georgiana in my care. I cannot begin to tell you how that infuriates me. But you well know it, so I shall not waffle on about it.

  Theo dipped his pen in the ink again and reflected on his brother’s brooding silence in the carriage. A great deal of it was, naturally, Prince William playing the older disapproving brother, but not all.

  Something more than his usual irritation with me is troubling my brother, though, and I mean to get to the truth of it. To be entirely frank. I am worried about him. He has not been himself since his trip with Bingley, and I cannot make out why. Something happened in Hertfordshire, but what?

  He does not gamble on anything—cards, horses or sport of any kind. He hardly drinks and would never meddle with anyone’s daughters. I can only imagine some business dealing went sour. If that is the case though, why the secrecy? If you hear anything in Town, you will let me know of course.

  Theo paused and glanced over towards the window. The patter of rain against glass had ceased, and a patch of pale blue sky had reappeared, flanked by angry grey clouds. Could he risk going out? He longed more than anything to saddle Theseus and ride with the wind, but the horse had already trudged through some appalling muddy roads and deserved a rest. With a sigh, he returned his attention to his letter.

  I have not forgotten about your dream of a matched team for your four-in-hand. I continue to look for such beasts as I am dragged through the countryside by His Highness. Are you really certain you wish to proceed? I know horses are your single indulgence, but still, you may wish to review your situation again before taking on such an expense.

  Yours,

  T.D.

  He sealed the letter and strode over to fling open the window. The musty air of the room was making him irritable, he was quite certain. After days of being cooped up in a carriage with his brother, he was in desperate need of distraction. What use was the country if one did not have a chance to breathe the fresh air?

  His mind made up, Theo went in search of the sour-faced butler.

  “See that this letter is sent, will you?” he said as he handed it over, and, grabbing his hat and walking stick, he set out for a walk.

  CHAPTER 2

  The cool air did little to soothe Theo’s frustration at first, for Darcy’s dismissal had cut him more than he cared to acknowledge. Out of temper, he
strode down a well-worn, familiar path cutting across the park, intent upon the grove where he had spent many a happy hour as a boy. A strong wind continued to blow, and he lowered his head, holding his hat in place as he walked, his other hand swiping his cane against the long grasses bordering the graveled path through the trees. A stream bordered it on one side, normally barely a mere trickle, but now it remained swollen to twice its usual width, and he contemplated stopping to throw some stones into its depths, keen to shed the aggression that lingered yet.

  He had gone but a few paces further, however, when the sound of a voice caught his ear, drifting towards him on the breeze, and a flash of color ahead soon led him to the owner of the voice, a young lady. Halting his pace, thoroughly diverted, he stepped behind a nearby trunk to watch her, for she made a delightful picture, her skirts buffeted by the wind, her chestnut curls, unadorned by any hat, bouncing around her glowing cheeks as she turned this way and that, seeking something on the ground.

  “Aha!” she finally exclaimed, and stepping towards the tree behind which he stood, grasped a fallen branch.

  Feeling the inappropriateness of his seclusion, and thus his spying upon her, Theo made sure to step noisily forward, his boots crunching on the gravel path, and she looked up instantly with a gasp.

  “Forgive me; I did not mean to startle you.”

  With a quick smile, she shook her head. “Pay me no mind, sir. I was too fixed upon my purpose to pay heed to my surroundings.”

  He indicated the aforementioned find. “Were you intent upon playing beater? I fear the shoot is under-manned if a lady is required for such actions!”

  She shook her head, her curls bouncing against her cheeks. “Indeed not! My quarry is out of my reach, and this,” she waved the branch, “shall hopefully be sufficient aid.”

  “It is a singular weapon, Madam. I am not certain it will suit.”

  “I do not seek game, sir, though it is a prize nonetheless; yet it is at present caught in a snare.” She pointed across the stream, and a wide grin overspread Theo’s countenance as he caught sight of a bonnet fixed in the lower branches of a tree.

 

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