Page 55 of The Briar Bargain
"You speak rather harshly of your own wife," Darcy said.
"I speakhonestlyof my wife," Hurst corrected. "I am not blind to her faults, and she is not blind to mine. But I draw the line at allowing her to participate in schemes against innocent young ladies. This one was stupid, but left to it, Caroline will only learn how to improve her performance next time."
Darcy stood, brushing a speck of lint from his sleeve more out of habit than necessity. There would be consequences to Miss Bingley's removal. Repercussions in society, perhaps, and certainly within the family. But at last, the air felt clearer, the direction firmer. Bingley was accepting his role, and Hurst, for all his idleness, had proven unexpectedly sensible.
"I confess," Darcy said, "Miss Bingley's campaign to diminish Miss Elizabeth has been remarkably effective, though not in the manner sheintended. Indeed, I have never been more thoroughly convinced of a lady's superiority."
“Only a friend, eh?” Bingley teased. “You need say no more. Hurst and I are entirely convinced.”
“Shut it, Bingley,” Darcy told him lightly, and exited the room.
An hour later, there was a soft knock at Darcy’s chamber door. "Enter," he called.
Harrison entered, wearing an expression that suggested he had something particular on his mind. “Forgive me, sir, I came to tidy up.”
“You have done so already.”
Harrison looked about him. “So I have.”
Darcy studied his valet's carefully neutral expression. Harrison had served with distinction, and military life had given him a directness that sometimes bordered on the inappropriate for a gentleman's servant. It was a quality Darcy had come to value, even when it occasionally discomfited him.
"If I may speak freely, sir?"
"I have yet to succeed in curing you of the habit."
Harrison's lips twitched. "It is hard to shake the notion that an officer benefits from honest counsel, even when he does not particularly wish to hear it."
"And what honest counsel do you offer now?"
"The servants do talk, sir.”
Darcy had never known a home where they did not, not even Pemberley. “And what are they saying?”
“That Miss Bingley's behaviour today was beneath contempt, sir. To attempt such a scheme against a lady of Miss Elizabeth's character, however poorly executed . . ." Harrison shook his head. "Well, it speaks poorly of her upbringing, if you will pardon my saying so."
Had Harrison expected him to ignore Miss Bingley’s poor behaviour? "I am in complete agreement with your observations."
"Good," Harrison said with satisfaction. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he added, "I hope you will forgive my speaking so boldly, sir. Colonel Fitzwilliam always said I had too many opinions for my own good. If you would prefer someone more conventional, I could seek another position."
The suggestion caught Darcy off guard. "Whatever gave you such a notion?"
"Well, sir, I know my manner is not quite what is expected from a gentleman's servant. Most valets would not dare dream of commenting on their employer's personal affairs or offering unsolicited opinions about their friends."
Darcy considered this for a moment. Harrison had not offered to change his behaviour, only his employment. He shook his head. "Harrison, I need a man I can trust more than I need someone who is au courant with every London fashion. Your honesty and reliability are worth far more to me than your fashion sense."
Harrison's face lit with a grin that transformed his usually serious expression. "Well then, sir, perhaps I should mention that I can do both. Trust and honesty do not preclude keeping you properly turned out.” He lifted his brows. “In fact, I have been meaning to implement some of the latest developments in gentlemen's fashion."
"Have you indeed?" Darcy's wary tone seemed to make Harrison's smile widen.
"Indeed, sir. I hear the new coats are cut so high and tight, one cannot breathe. Naturally, I thought of you."
Darcy frowned. "I suppose strangulation is now considered fashionable."
"Of course not, sir. But you are a gentleman of consequence who should present himself to best advantage. I have been creating a knot I call the Beau Brummel . . ."
“Absolutely not.”
“Three folds, sir. Only three. Any more and you would be mistaken for a Frenchman.”
