Page 55 of Compromise & Consequence
“You have?”
“Aye, I met with Bingley.”
“Now we definitely need to talk. I will wait for you at the door.”
“Yes, sir.” Darcy mock saluted him.
“You would have made a good soldier, Darcy. Too bad you are tied to that pile of rocks in Derbyshire.”
“That pile of rocks, in one form or another, has been in the family since the eleventh century. The eldest son has always been anchored to it. But that’s nowt to do wi’ whot yo’ axt me,” he said, slipping into the soft northern cant of Derbyshire.
“I do not believe I asked, I believe I ordered you to come with me to White’s for a drink.” Richard grabbed a linen handkerchief from one of the small stacks scattered about the room and wiped the sweat from around his neck.
“Aw’ve drunk mony a quart there, but nowt today.”
“It is almost like your stable master is standing before me,” Richard chuckled.
“I spent much time in Mr. McAllister’s company during my formative years.”
“Good man, McAllister. Now, let us be off.”
“Richard, I truly do not want to go to White’s twice in one day.”
“We shall go to Matlock House and delve into the pater’s illicit horde of French brandy and then you will tell me what you and Bing-a-bong talked about.”
“I wish you would not call him by that horrid name.”
Richard stopped walking and Darcy nearly plowed into his back.
“Bingley” – Richard stressed the name – “bounces about like a puppy, always searching for a new distraction. Bing-a-bong is an apt description.”
“He is attempting to change.”
“Humph…” was all Richard said and stayed silent until they were in the carriage on their way to his family’s townhouse. It was not until they were safely ensconced in his father’s library, with a full glass of brandy in his hand that he broke his silence. “Why are you avoiding your house?”
Darcy choked on his drink.
“Why do you say that?”
“Fine, have it your way. What did your cook serve for dinnerlast night?”
“Fish.”
“Which you did not finish. And the night before?”
“It has slipped my memory.”
“For a man who can recall, with startling clarity, every line of poetry or verse from obscure books dating back to the fourteenth century, if not further, I find it hard to believe you cannot recollect what you ate the night before last. Especially as the hostess was Mrs. Bennet, known for setting a good table, and I am certain if pressed, you cannot tell me what was served at your house the past three nights before you went to Hertfordshire.”
“What do you want from me, Richard?”
“Word has filtered out you have married and people are beginning to talk. The vultures wonder why a newly married man avoids his wife. Before you know it, they will whisper you have started re-visiting that little house you bought near Drury Lane.”
“It has lain empty since last summer.” Darcy studied the flames which danced in the fireplace. “How do you know these things?”
“You forget what I do for a living. I stay alive by being aware of what is happening around me.”
“Aye, you do have a sixth sense in that regard. Too bad you were on the Continent when Wickham was sniffing around my sister’s skirts.”
