Page 26 of The Winter of Our Discontent
“I should be glad to do so,” he said, his keen grey eyes alight and his bow as effortless as any prince at court.
Richard met me later in the evening in my study—my last refuge from Mrs Darcy’s lavender scent, her books strewn here and there, and her crow eyes always pecking at me. Yardley had conscripted Georgiana to the ranks of his worshippers by offering Mrs Annesley a packet of what looked like catnip to concoct as a tea. Then he had said he was used to rising with the sun and begged to be excused. I supposed he and Mrs Darcy could both fly their brooms through the canopy of trees at dawn, casting spells, and turning the milk cows to statues of salt.
“Lord, Darcy. I have never seen you look so foul tempered,” Richard said as he shut the door behind him.
“I begin to hate my life,” I growled from where I lay sprawled out in my chair with my legs thrown carelessly on my desk.
Richard walked to the window, framed by folds of brocade. He swept the drapery aside and peered out into the cold November night. The garden and lake beyond were faintly lit by a gibbous moon just emerging from a thin veil of cloud.
“Ah yes. I can certainly see how miserable things must be for you,” he said, his attention returning to the room and pointedly taking in its warmth and opulence.
“Shove off. You know nothing about my life.”
“Very well. I leave in the morning.”
“Where to?”
“Belgium.”
I snorted. “Hard duty, Cousin.”
Richard’s jaunty air hardened. “Aye, an orgy of pleasure. We are trying to form a coalition. I would as soon try nailing pudding to a tree or train ducks to parade.”
“Do you come for Christmas?”
“I dearly hope so. Porge wants me.”
“I cannot imagine why.”
“I am the only one of her guardians who smiles. But enough fighting for now. You really should not have married the woman if you were not going to try to make something of it. Honour be damned.”
“What evil streak makes you so keen to counsel me?”
“You are so ripe for provoking I find you irresistible in this mood. But you will have to wallow in your misery here in this backwater hovel with your baseborn wife. I am away to the continent to eat blintzes and dance the Austrian waltz.”
“I wish you safe travels.”
“You know I wish you well, Darcy. Come Christmas, I shall do better by you and make you smile.”
“Come Christmas, you had better be right side up with me, or I shall have you pitched out of the kitchen door with the table scraps,” I said irritably, but I will own, my cousin had somehow made me feel slightly less miserable.
24
ELIZABETH DARCY
Since consulting Yardley for her feet and approving of him almost reverentially, Mrs Reynolds took an eager interest in his settlement in the cottage near Lambton. Having explained to her the arrangement for our doctor’s lodging, Pemberley’s housekeeper exclaimed and clucked her tongue.
“I should send at least half a dozen people over to clean and make the place up for him, ma’am.”
“Yes, of course, Mrs Reynolds. Are these cottages furnished?”
“Indeed, but with what would be better used as firewood.”
Mrs Reynolds looked downcast at this admission, and so I said, “What of Pemberley’s attics? Do we have anything to the purpose? I am sure our linen closets are overfull of things that are not quite worn enough to make rags but seldom used for good company.”
“Might we furnish it, ma’am? I wonder if the master would allow it.”
“He has told me to do as I see fit so long as we do not goover our monthly allotment. Besides, when Mr Yardley is called back to sea, all that is borrowed will be returned to the house and put back where it belongs. Do we have a good mattress we could donate to the cause?”
