responded in kind and turned to leave, but she stopped short at the door and faced him once again. “Pardon me, Mr. Darcy.”
“Yes, Mrs. Annesley?”
“Did you wish Master Trafalgar to have the freedom of the house now that you are returned?”
“That is my habit, Mrs. Annesley; although he usually stays by me.” Darcy looked around the study, but the hound was nowhere to be seen. “Did you open the door just now?”
“No, Mr. Darcy, it was open already. I think Master Trafalgar became impatient with us.”
A high-pitched wail echoed beyond the door, followed by the drumming sound of paws hitting the wooden floor of the stairs and then pounding down the hall.
“Step back, Mrs. Annesley!” Darcy warned just as Trafalgar rounded the corner and shot through the doorway. At the sight of his master, the hound checked gracefully and approached him at a slow trot, skirting round him and coming to heel just behind his boots. “What have you done now, Monster?” He sighed. Trafalgar delicately licked his chops as Darcy’s cook came to a breathless halt at his study door.
All thought of putting Mrs. Annesley’s advice to the test was laid aside as the remainder of Darcy’s first week home was filled with the necessity of attending to estate business. Having been absent during this year’s harvest, Darcy had much to do to acquaint himself with the conditions of Pemberley’s numerous farms and concerns. His steward was most anxious for his attention to be lavished upon the quarterly books, as well as for the opportunity to make his report on the success of that season’s venture in the application of Mr. Young’s
New Agriculture
. Darcy had never been one of that company of landowners satisfied with mere bookkeeping; thus, more than one afternoon was spent on arduous tours of inspection and discussion with workers and tenants alike on the results of their season’s labors. Then, of course, there was Mrs. Reynolds to consult concerning the Pemberley household, Reynolds with whom to discuss the servants and the expenses of the hall, and a myriad of staff to interview on the preparations for a return to the traditional celebration of Christmas at Pemberley and arrangements for the visit of his Uncle and Aunt Fitzwilliam.
By Saturday night, Darcy was exhausted and his mind be-numbed with facts, figures, and the innumerable details requisite to making those decisions that would lead Pemberley and its people to a prosperous future. After his last appointment with his stable manager, Fletcher had anticipated him and, considerately, provided a relaxing bath, followed by correct but comfortable dress for his dinner with his sister. They had dined quietly, but the assurance and modest grace with which Georgiana conducted their meal generated more questions in his breast, questions that clamored against all the others residing there for resolution. His sister could not have missed his distraction, so great was it that he contributed little more than a few syllables to their conversation. Georgiana, a loving smile gracing her face, had assumed that responsibility and entertained him with accounts of events at Pemberley during his absence until, noting his fatigue, she had sweetly offered to play for him when their meal was through.
Sitting back now on the divan in the music room with his eyes closed, Darcy briefly considered his sister’s easy confidence at table and her womanly solicitude for his comfort. Her attention to his mood and need for diversion seemed further evidence of the efficacy of that agency about which Mrs. Annesley had made only inscrutable hints. He made a fleeting attempt to reason it through before he surrendered to the music, allowing it to spread its soothing balm over his weariness. It was not long before he knew himself to be drifting into that seductive otherworld that calls to the unwary caught between wakefulness and sleep. As he listened, too tired to pull back from its borders, the music
“Yes, Mrs. Annesley?”
“Did you wish Master Trafalgar to have the freedom of the house now that you are returned?”
“That is my habit, Mrs. Annesley; although he usually stays by me.” Darcy looked around the study, but the hound was nowhere to be seen. “Did you open the door just now?”
“No, Mr. Darcy, it was open already. I think Master Trafalgar became impatient with us.”
A high-pitched wail echoed beyond the door, followed by the drumming sound of paws hitting the wooden floor of the stairs and then pounding down the hall.
“Step back, Mrs. Annesley!” Darcy warned just as Trafalgar rounded the corner and shot through the doorway. At the sight of his master, the hound checked gracefully and approached him at a slow trot, skirting round him and coming to heel just behind his boots. “What have you done now, Monster?” He sighed. Trafalgar delicately licked his chops as Darcy’s cook came to a breathless halt at his study door.
All thought of putting Mrs. Annesley’s advice to the test was laid aside as the remainder of Darcy’s first week home was filled with the necessity of attending to estate business. Having been absent during this year’s harvest, Darcy had much to do to acquaint himself with the conditions of Pemberley’s numerous farms and concerns. His steward was most anxious for his attention to be lavished upon the quarterly books, as well as for the opportunity to make his report on the success of that season’s venture in the application of Mr. Young’s
New Agriculture
. Darcy had never been one of that company of landowners satisfied with mere bookkeeping; thus, more than one afternoon was spent on arduous tours of inspection and discussion with workers and tenants alike on the results of their season’s labors. Then, of course, there was Mrs. Reynolds to consult concerning the Pemberley household, Reynolds with whom to discuss the servants and the expenses of the hall, and a myriad of staff to interview on the preparations for a return to the traditional celebration of Christmas at Pemberley and arrangements for the visit of his Uncle and Aunt Fitzwilliam.
By Saturday night, Darcy was exhausted and his mind be-numbed with facts, figures, and the innumerable details requisite to making those decisions that would lead Pemberley and its people to a prosperous future. After his last appointment with his stable manager, Fletcher had anticipated him and, considerately, provided a relaxing bath, followed by correct but comfortable dress for his dinner with his sister. They had dined quietly, but the assurance and modest grace with which Georgiana conducted their meal generated more questions in his breast, questions that clamored against all the others residing there for resolution. His sister could not have missed his distraction, so great was it that he contributed little more than a few syllables to their conversation. Georgiana, a loving smile gracing her face, had assumed that responsibility and entertained him with accounts of events at Pemberley during his absence until, noting his fatigue, she had sweetly offered to play for him when their meal was through.
Sitting back now on the divan in the music room with his eyes closed, Darcy briefly considered his sister’s easy confidence at table and her womanly solicitude for his comfort. Her attention to his mood and need for diversion seemed further evidence of the efficacy of that agency about which Mrs. Annesley had made only inscrutable hints. He made a fleeting attempt to reason it through before he surrendered to the music, allowing it to spread its soothing balm over his weariness. It was not long before he knew himself to be drifting into that seductive otherworld that calls to the unwary caught between wakefulness and sleep. As he listened, too tired to pull back from its borders, the music
Similar Books
