Master Under Good Regulation

by Kara Louise

  She had a captive audience in him as she practiced on the pianoforte to his unending praise and her shyness melted in his ingratiating presence. He seemed eagerly inclined to read Miss Darcy a story from one of her books or tell her one of his own. Mr. Darcy seemed pleased that Georgiana was less and less reticent in Wickham’s presence.

  These events weighed heavily on me and I looked with great anticipation to every visit my master made home. When word would start spreading that he would soon be returning, I could barely calm myself. When the day of his return arrived, if the weather was mild and the windows of Pemberley were open, I picked up his scent long before his carriage pulled up to the front.

  I was in my usual place, lying on a carpet in the grand entryway, the first time it happened. I was resting after a particularly exhausting afternoon with Georgiana when suddenly my nose barely caught a whiff. Could it really be him? My tail wagged incessantly and I lifted up my head to get a better bearing on that scent. I sniffed around me, concentrating on that wafting aroma that I knew so well. He was returning!

  I could not control my excitement! I began barking and whining, somehow accomplishing both at the same time. One of the servants, either annoyed by my behaviour or enlightened as to its cause, opened the front door and out I ran. I did not see the carriage immediately, but I knew precisely from which direction it was coming.

  My legs could not take me to it any faster than what I was able to exert from them, and many an under gardener out on the grounds looked upon me in much amazement. Some thought I was about to run off for good and tried to corral me, but they were unsuccessful. I slipped through their grasping arms and ran around their blockades intent on one thing – meeting up with my master.

  When I caught up with the carriage, I barked incessantly until it stopped. My master opened the door for me and I bolted up into the carriage and greeted him with a good, unrestrained licking across his face. He gently scolded me for such impolite behaviour, and then gave my head a good rubbing. It was so good to have him home!

  When he and I pulled up in the carriage, all the staff marvelled how I had sensed his arrival. When it happened again the next time he returned, they realized it would be beneficial to pay attention, as they could have an early warning of his return.

  Each time he came home, I could not help but notice how he grew, not so much in stature but in wisdom and maturity. I was usually able to rush out to greet the carriage and he always obliged me by opening the door and letting me jump in. I always enjoyed those greetings, as he and I had a few minutes to ourselves.

  A few times, when he arrived at the door without my advance notice (whether it was due to inclement weather or because I had not detected his scent because of tightly closed windows), he always greeted me by allowing me to jump up with my front paws so he could give my head a good welcoming rub, something I was normally not allowed to do.

  Once he was home, even if it was only for a mere week or two, I was able to sleep more easily at night. There we were, the two of us, exactly as we had been before he left! Wickham stayed away whilst my master was in residence and therefore, I did not need to be concerned for Georgiana and her father.

  I marvelled at my master’s stature, wisdom, and demeanour. He was becoming a man!

  I was so relieved when that first year was finally over. I felt a complete failure in that I was not able to do anything to alert Mr. Darcy or little Georgiana about Wickham’s true ways. At least I had the assurance that when my master departed again, Wickham would be leaving as well.

  By the time Wickham did leave with my master for Cambridge, he had become a highly regarded and favoured companion of father and daughter. I was glad to see him go.

  My master continued his education for several more years. Georgiana continued to grow into a sweet young lady. Mr. Darcy appeared to be slowing down, having to take more and more breaks on our walks. I accommodated him as well as I could, not wishing for him to be overexerted. I could say that those years seemed to fly by, but whilst I was in the midst of them, the days without my master seemed to pass by at a snail’s pace.

  I looked forward to his visits home when he would tell me of his lessons, his professors, and some of the friends that he had made.

  He told me of the disgust he had in Wickham’s choice of friends and the way he idled his time away. Their paths rarely crossed, but when they did, Wickham was more often than not behaving in a most imprudent manner. It seemed as though Wickham would never change, but somehow he managed to get through his classes and keep Mr. Darcy from ever finding out how little he regarded his education. My master believed he would never become a clergyman, should never become a clergyman, and I did not doubt him. .

  Whilst my master vented his anger by telling me of Wickham’s reprehensible deeds, he took much delight in talking to me of the friends he had made as well. Of those friends my master talked about, one seemed to stand out from the others. His name was Charles Bingley. However, it was not until after he completed his years at Cambridge that I finally had the privilege of meeting him.

  Chapter 7

  I rejoiced greatly when my master returned home permanently after receiving his education. I am not quite sure what he learned at that esteemed place referred to as Cambridge, but comparing the young man who left four years earlier with the fully grown adult man I now saw before my eyes, he certainly had been transformed in many ways.

  I had designs upon his return to make up for all those years that were lost between us by claiming his precious free time. Sadly, he had but little. Almost immediately, my master and his father began working closely together in the management of Pemberley. My master had a vast deal to offer in terms of the decisions that had to be made and seemed to thrive on discovering more prudent and economical ways of doing things. His father and steward, the elder Mr. Wickham, seemed to greatly appreciate the profound wisdom and fresh ideas this young man brought to the table in their discussions.

  Unfortunately for me, he began travelling more frequently; however, he would on occasion allow me to accompany him. I noticed that in his dealings with people, whether in business or in a social context, he never spoke without first taking the time to thoroughly think through everything he was about to say and was able to articulate precisely that which he wished to convey. He was always very polite and accommodating, yet he tenaciously remained distant from most people he encountered; not allowing them to get to know the man inside.

  I noticed this particularly if he perceived that somehow they were not his equal. Thinking back to that first day he selected me over the other dog of more superior breeding, I remembered my first impression of him that he cared little for breeding. But now I perceived something else that looked very much to me as though it had become more and more important.

  Perhaps it was what he learned at Cambridge or was something his parents had taught him from an early age. Whilst I had not particularly noticed it before, it was greatly evident to me now.

  It was in my master’s twenty-second year that we journeyed to Town for the winter season; the first since finishing his education. I wondered what changes there might be in our stay this time around.

  I deliberated on whether he would graciously enter society with all the confidence that was due his lineage or whether he would persist in feeling unsettled and disquieted. Would he eagerly seize every opportunity to place himself with others of striking advantage or would he look upon these affairs and those attending them with perfect indifference? Would he finally allow himself to be known to others apart from that small circle of acquaintances or would he continue to master his emotions and remain firmly entrenched behind that wall he so long ago built around him? I knew not the answers.

  After being in Town several weeks, my master informed his father that his good friend from Cambridge, Charles Bingley, was in town and asked if it would be acceptable if he invited him and his family to visit. His father willingly agreed and a visit was fixed for the following Saturday.
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br />   I had been sitting downstairs the day of their impending visit, eagerly and somewhat anxiously waiting for the arrival of these new guests. The kitchen help was busy preparing something that smelled heavenly and my master was making some last minute preparations for the visit. I was curious as to what his friend would be like. Would he be as reserved as my master or would he be lively and gregarious? Would he have an agreeable sense of humour or would he be dull and witless? I was anxious to find out.

  When the doorbell rang, I eagerly ran to espy them, tail wagging and eyes firmly planted on the door just as it was opened.

  Two gentlemen and two ladies were invited in. As I watched them enter, I restrained from making my presence known until I could observe them first. I noticed that one of the gentlemen had a beaming smile gracing his face and he cheerfully greeted Mrs. Linden, the housekeeper, announcing they were the Bingley party here to see Mr. Darcy. He had the stature of a grown man but was somewhat boy-like in his features with an innocence and artlessness that I found refreshing. I perceived him to be a little younger than my master. The other gentleman seemed somewhat bored, tired almost, as if he had been ruthlessly awakened from a nap and forced to come along on this visit. He said nothing, but in giving the entryway a thorough perusal, he suddenly seemed quite taken by his surroundings and I watched as he offered a slight nod of approval. I hoped that the former gentleman was Bingley and not the latter.

  There were also the two ladies. One, the taller one, immediately made me think of Lady Cat because she was adorned with feathers. She was dressed rather fashionably and walked determinedly into the house with a noticeable sigh of admiration and a rather triumphant smile flashing across her face as if she had just realized something for the first time. She was the first to speak to the others when Mrs. Linden left to announce them to my master.

  “Oh, Charles! You did not tell me your friend had such an elegant, exquisite home!”

  “How was I to know, Caroline? I have never been here before!”

  Well, at least now I knew which one was Bingley. Thank goodness it was the friendly looking one. When Mrs. Linden called for my master, I thought it would be a good time to extend my welcome to the party. I came toward them; restraining my excitement as I had been taught over the years, but I must confess my tail did wag quite fiercely and uncontrollably. Caroline, the one whom I considered to have a rather suspicious smile, was the first one to notice me.

  “Oh, heavens! What is a mongrel doing in this house? Keep him away from me, Charles! You know how I loathe those creatures!” Her hands frantically waved in my direction, shooing me away. Her eyes flashed fiery darts at me and she hastened back a few steps.

  “I am sure he will not harm you, Caroline.” Bingley bent down and reached out his hand towards me. “Come here, old boy. You are a friendly one. Do you have a name?”

  “Oh, please, Charles. It is a dog! And why anyone would have such a horrid creature in a house as elegant as this is beyond me! What kind of man is your friend, anyway? This is too much to bear!”

  I knew immediately I would not like this lady. I did not care who she was.

  I heard my master’s footsteps coming down the stairs. Bingley looked up and Caroline, who continued to belabour my presence with an inexhaustible diatribe of protests, suddenly stopped in mid sentence and gasped.

  “Bingley, I am glad you are come.”

  “Hello, Darcy. It is good to see you. What a fine home you have here.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Darcy, may I introduce my sister, Miss Caroline Bingley, and my sister and her husband, Louisa and Geoffrey Hurst.”

  “A pleasure.”

  Caroline was apparently rendered speechless by the sight of my master, for which I was quite grateful. But her silence did not last long enough to suit me, as she immediately began to heap praises on him of the home, his friendship to her brother, and quite unexpectedly, of me.

  “You have a beautiful home here, Mr. Darcy. We have heard so much about you! Our brother speaks so highly of you! And what a charming dog. Does he have a name?”

  “Yes, this is Reggie.” He leaned down to ruffle the fur on my head and I reached it up to him.

  She turned to me, clasping her hands together. “Reggie! What a sweet name.”

  I nudged my master and looked up at him, wishing somehow to convey to him not to believe a word she said. If only you knew her true feelings about me, Master! Now it is not normally in my manner to doggedly discompose anyone, but with her deceitful and insolent manners, I just felt as though Caroline Bingley needed a little extra attention.

  Seeing that my master was pleased with her words of praise for me, I walked right up to her and looked up. Lowering her eyes without lowering her head, she glared down at me. Whilst I could most readily read the warning in her eyes, I proceeded with my plan.

  Before my master could say or do anything, my tail began wagging with all the enthusiasm I could muster. I came up on my back paws and rested, very momentarily, my paws upon her gown and whilst her arms were gesticulating wildly, I gave her a good licking with my tongue over her gloved hand as it swept toward me. I had to admit it would have been much more effective if her hand had been gloveless, but it did the trick.

  A shrill came from her that could have been used as an effective duck call out on a hunting excursion. A pained expression overspread her features and she shook her hand violently, as if expecting something to fall off from it. Her other hand repeatedly brushed the area of her dress where my paws had lit as though I might have left behind a trace of dirt. Being the prodigiously clean dog that I was, I doubted there was even the slightest blemish.

  “Reggie, no! Down boy!” my master scolded. He turned to Miss Bingley. “My profound apologies. He does not usually behave in such an ill mannered way.”

  Looking back at me, he gave me the sternest look and said, “If you misbehave again, out you will go!”

  “Oh,” Miss Bingley swiftly gathered her composure, “It is nothing. There is no harm done.” She looked down at me with a disputable smile upon her face. “He is a very sweet dog.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her and wondered why she would say such a thing when she obviously did not believe it.

  Turning back to Darcy and quickly forgetting me, she exclaimed, “I have been so looking forward to meet you! Charles often wrote about you and how indebted he was to you for your friendship at Cambridge and how you helped him out in so many ways!”

  “Uh, that is very kind of you.” I could see my master draw away somewhat from her as she drew closer. Good for him! In this case, I was fervently happy he did not respond favourably to her excessive praise. However, it was also apparent that Miss Bingley did not notice his discomfort as a smile remained somewhat permanently emblazoned upon her face.

  “Will we make your father’s acquaintance, Darcy?” Bingley asked.

  “I regret that my father is not here to make your acquaintance. He had some unexpected business arise and asked me to give you his regards. He had been looking forward to doing so himself. Perhaps you will have the opportunity some other time.”

  “Oh, I should like that very much!” Caroline drew her hands together and tilted her head somewhat coquettishly.

  Look out, Master! I thought. She has plans for you!

  We walked into the drawing room and everyone settled themselves into chairs and easy conversation.

  Of the four guests, Miss Bingley seemed particularly impressed by the home but even more so by the man. By the way she began mentioning names of her acquaintances who were, according to her, well established in society, the esteemed places she frequents, and casually mentioned some of her accomplishments, I was firmly of the opinion that she was trying to elevate herself in his good opinion.

  Mr. Hurst took very little part in any conversation. I almost believed him to be somewhat displeased that they had to pay this visit. His languid demeanour hinted at this being an interruption of a well-established naptime. I noticed
him begin to nod off several times, only to be nudged discreetly by his wife.

  His wife, Mrs. Hurst, not quite as fashionable or outspoken as Miss Bingley, sat quietly by her husband’s side, only venturing a comment when it was to agree with something her sister said.

  Bingley was the odd man in the party, at least compared to the rest of his family. He was expressive and cheerful and completely unperturbed by anything anyone did. However, I took it as a sign of his good sense that he seemed to have a tremendous yearning to seek my master’s guidance and approval.

  He inquired of my master about where he ought to look for a townhouse to purchase in London and asked him if he knew of any that would be suitable.

  “Perhaps you ought to let a place before you buy, Bingley. If your inclination for liking a house is at all similar to your fondness for young ladies, you will be tired of it in no time! Inevitably you will find that by the time you move in, you will be most unhappy with it and will be ready to move on! I wonder that you will find it difficult to find lasting contentment in any!”

  “Hah! If you were in a position to have to look for a house, Darcy, you would never find one that meets your impeccable standards! It is a good thing you already have a home in town and in the country, for I dare say if not, you would be roaming the streets of London now a homeless man!”

  “Oh, brother, do not say such things. How cruel you can be sometimes!” Caroline winced as her brother spoke in such a manner about his friend.

  “But, oh so true!” he laughed. “Darcy is a rare breed, I must say. He has women constantly throwing themselves at his feet and he finds it all completely tiresome!”

  A fleeting smile appeared and disappeared from my master’s face. “Unlike you, Bingley, I want someone who is more than just a pretty face. She must have substantial depth and spirit, qualities I find lacking in most of the women of my acquaintance.”