Page 4 of Colour My World
His parents exchanged a glance; concern etched in both their expressions.
“The scullery?” his father asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Which candidate was that?”
“Mr Mallus.”
His father prodded at his temple with a forefinger. “Pray, continue.”
“Mr Grey referred to me in the third person.”
His mother chuckled. “I had expected as much.”
His father gestured for him to continue.
“Mr Bartholomew was the only one who spoke to me properly.”
“Flatterers often do.”
“He asked what I hoped for and listened without making light of it.”
His mother’s smile deepened. “You thought the young man respectful?”
“I did.”
“Is that all?”
Darcy bit his bottom lip. “He made me laugh.”
Her brows lifted. “Truly?”
He looked up. “He said a valet must guard his master’s dignity and instil some swiftly if none is present.”
Lady Anne chuckled. “Mr Bartholomew has wit.”
A voice from the doorway. “Barty, ma’am.”
Lady Anne’s eyes widened.
George Darcy’s brows drew down. “Is he lingering in the antechamber?”
“I asked him to wait nearby should you wish to question him yourselves.”
George Darcy raised his voice, firm and clipped. “Then let him present himself.”
Barty stepped into view, older than Darcy but not yet a man. His coat lay flat, well-brushed, the seams neat. His boots shone. He still clutched his cap.
He bowed to each parent in turn, then to Darcy, a touch deeper. He looked like someone prepared to be examined.
Darcy thought he looked clever, like a cat that watched everything and never blinked.
“Barty, sir,” he said with a nod. “The name’s long, and the days too short. Barty serves just as well.”
George Darcy glanced towards the young man. “You speak unbidden.”
“Aye. And I shall take my licks for it, sir.” Barty held his place. “Better to steer a noble tongue gently than let it wander too far off course.”
