Page 137 of Colour My World
Bennet studied him with mild curiosity. “You carry yourself less like a valet and more like a man who manages empires.”
“I serve with a quiet conscience; the end crowns all.”
“Shakespeare?”
“Henry VI.”
Bennet paused. “Act V.”
“Scene Two, sir.”
Bennet smiled with teeth. “Well done. How long have you served Mr Darcy, if I might ask?”
“I was assessed by Lady Anne herself—though I suspect she chose me for my brevity, not my name.”
“I imagine not. And has Mr Darcy spoken all four syllables of your name each time you were needed during those two decades?”
A flicker of amusement touched the valet’s mouth. “No, sir. I answer to Barty.”
“Quite right. It would be cruel to expect economy from a man raised at Eton.”
Barty gave no reply beyond the quiet lift of an eyebrow and extended a small, leather-bound parcel.
“It is a personal volume. Mr Darcy asked that it come to you directly.”
Bennet accepted it and turned it over slowly. “Is it meant to enlighten or unsettle?”
“I daresay it may do both.”
“A rare ambition, that.”
“Desperate times,” Barty replied.
Bennet turned the parcel again. “I must confess, I amsurprised. Mr Darcy seems rather too…rigid a creature to keep a man like you.”
Barty inclined his head, then gestured lightly to the journal. “Let us not judge by the cover we see.”
Bennet allowed the corner of his mouth to lift. “Indeed.”
He glanced at the book. “Shall I expect him next, or are you also empowered to discuss marriage articles in his stead?”
Barty nodded. “Not at this time, sir.”
“Pity.”
Hill, who had remained impassive at the door, gave the faintest cough.
“Thank you,” Bennet said, stepping back. “You may tell your master his book is received and guarded.”
Barty bowed again, and Hill escorted him out.
Bennet stood alone, the parcel in hand, its weight a question.
He set aside his book and unwrapped the parcel. A folded note rested atop a leather-bound book volume:
Mr Bennet, with your permission, this is a loan to your library. I know Miss Elizabeth is fond of reading. It is my hope she will discover some truths that have eluded us both. I only ask that you protect the journal, which is a precious heirloom. Once you have satisfied your curiosity, I would be grateful if you allowed her to hold it for a se’nnight.
—Darcy
