Master Under Good Regulation

by Kara Louise

  Gradually, after several days of gathering and mourning, family members began to depart. As they took their leave of Pemberley, the house grew more and more quiet. When finally the last of the guests had departed, I hoped a sense of normalcy would return. But the emptiness and quiet almost made the grief in my master and his sister more pronounced.

  My master, Georgiana, Fitzwilliam, and I stood together silently, watching the carriage conveying the last of the guests take leave. Georgiana let out a pent up sigh, Fitzwilliam remained still and silent, but I watched in compassion as the deportment of my master seemed to collapse slightly, no doubt propelled from a sense of overwhelming despair as well as all-consuming exhaustion.

  In that moment I came to understand his character a little better as I comprehended that he had steadfastly pushed down his grief to the deepest recesses within him as he executed his newly assumed duties as Master of Pemberley in the midst of family and friends. He would not allow himself to grieve until everyone had departed.

  The four of us turned back toward the house and walked in. My master affectionately and securely wrapped his arm around Georgiana’s, anticipating that she might need his support as they walked. He was correct, as she soon slowed her steps, turned into him, and then collapsed against his solid chest. His arms instantly went around her as she let the tears and sobs, that had been somewhat held in check, come forth.

  He looked at his cousin with a countenance of concern and questioning. I sensed that he was not only wondering what he could do to ease Georgiana’s pain at this moment, but he was also likely looking ahead to the future and wondering how he would manage being the father figure to her.

  Fitzwilliam walked around to the other side of her as she pulled away. “Georgiana, it is understandable to let your tears fall. It has been a difficult few weeks. Your father would be proud of how admirably you bore it.”

  He gave her a smile and she made a vain attempt to return one. He took her other arm and three walked in.

  “If you will excuse me,” Georgiana began with a trembling voice. “I should like to be alone in my chambers.”

  “Georgiana, are you quite certain you do not want to be in our company?” Fitzwilliam asked her.

  “Quite certain. Thank you.”

  “Until supper time, Georgiana. If you need anything, Richard and I shall be in the library.”

  She turned and walked away and the two men watched the young girl slowly take the stairs to her room.

  “I wonder, Richard. What is to be done about her? Do we even know how to begin to raise her?”

  Fitzwilliam firmly grasped my master’s arm. “We will love her and do our best. That is all we can do.” He turned and pulled his cousin along. “Come, let us go to the library and we can discuss it there.”

  I followed behind as the two men entered the library and Darcy poured both something to drink. Richard seated himself in the chair in front of the large desk situated to the side of the room. My master eschewed the leather chair behind the desk and instead chose to seat himself in the chair adjacent to his cousin’s.

  “It is yours, now, Cousin,” Fitzwilliam said, indicating the leather chair. “You are allowed to sit in it.”

  My master sighed. “Not just yet. I still see my father sitting there.”

  Fitzwilliam simply nodded his head.

  The two men spoke of Pemberley, the elder Mr. Darcy, but mostly of Georgiana. They decided that Georgiana most likely would benefit from attending a school where she could meet other girls her age and hopefully it would allow her to move past her shyness. Like her brother, Georgiana had been tutored at home. Both men felt a school would give her more opportunities to grow as a young woman; however they both felt very emphatically that they would not make these changes for a while. She had just lost her father and they did not want to send her away just yet. They were both of the estimation that she would need one or the other to help her overcome her grief.

  Fitzwilliam remained for several more days. I believed he wanted to ensure both cousins were in reasonable spirits before he took leave. Whereas my master tried to appear strong in his cousin’s presence, I believe Fitzwilliam could see through his stoic veneer.

  Sadly, unlike her brother’s forbearance, there were times when Georgiana appeared to be completely inconsolable. Whilst she had clearly been grieving when all the family had been at Pemberley, it was now even worse. Unable to rein in her tears, she often isolated herself in her chambers, unwilling to see anyone other than her governess, brother, and occasionally her cousin. Even then, it would only be after persistent coaxing and for short amounts of time.

  My master emotionally braced himself each time he would go to see his sister. He made concerted efforts during the day to seek her out and encourage her with comforting words and hugs whilst mastering his own emotions. He seemed to make it through the day on forced determination alone. Although his cousin’s presence seemed to bolster his spirits tremendously, I knew he would not always be there.

  For my part, I felt the loss of the elder Mr. Darcy as well. During those years when my master was away at university, I believe we came to a comfortable and secure understanding with one another. I wanted to give comfort to my master in the midst of my own portion of grief, but I was often at a loss to know what to do. In the past, I would engage my master in a diversity of ways, ranging from a tussle on the floor in the sitting room to a grand scheme of tug-o-war outside. But somehow I felt that any attempt at something of that nature was now not at all appropriate. All I could do was faithfully remain by his side and hope to be a comfort in that way.

  In surprising short order, my master began pouring himself into the running of Pemberley. I could not believe the manner in which he suddenly changed. Heartened that perhaps his cousin had recovered from his grief, Fitzwilliam bade his cousins farewell. I believe it is fair to say we all felt a small tug at our hearts as we watched him leave. He had been the one who had given each of us encouragement when we felt down. Both my master and Georgiana felt his loss greatly.

  It was not long after that I realized my master had indeed come through his grief. We entered the library just a few days later and he eyed the chair and desk. Slowly walking over to it, he very determinedly sat in the chair. From that moment on, he was totally focused on being the Master of Pemberley and was committed to nothing short of excellence.

  Within a short time after his father’s death, my master’s responsibilities as Master of Pemberley soon took another adverse direction. The elder Mr. Wickham died suddenly. That left him without a steward and the necessity of hiring and training another. Unfortunately, with his own father’s death, George Wickham returned from Cambridge.

  The funeral for the senior Mr. Wickham was the first time the two men were in each other’s presence since my master’s days at Cambridge. Although he had heard that Wickham had returned from Cambridge briefly for Mr. Darcy’s funeral, my master had fortunately not had any contact with him.

  With the return of Wickham, my master finally spoke of what he witnessed when they were together at Cambridge. He relayed to me how Wickham’s study habits were contemptuous and that he was often heard mocking those who took seriously their learning. He associated with those who were either of like mind as he or with those whom he could easily charm. It was usually through the latter that he was able to submit a paper that was due or somehow secure the answers to his exams.

  My master was never able to verify it, but he suspected that it was only through Wickham’s deceptive charm that he was able to remain at Cambridge. But he did know for a fact that he lived his life full of vicious propensity and want of principle. He regretted the fact that his former friend was not worthy of the honour and esteem his father had for him, let alone deserve the living that was promised, but there was naught he could do about that now.

  Wickham departed Derbyshire without ever acknowledging my master, for which my master was grateful, and Wickham supposedly returned to Cambridge. We heard la
ter, however, that rumour had it he never returned to finish out the year.

  Nothing was heard from him for quite some time and I believed my master dreaded the day he would have to honour his father’s wishes. One afternoon, just a few months after Mr. Wickham’s death, we were sitting in the study and my master was going over some details of the management of Pemberley with his new steward. The post was brought in and in it was a letter from George Wickham.

  My master had said nothing, but over the years I had come to recognize a certain look that crossed his face when something happened in regards to that man. I also had picked up a trace of his dastardly scent as the letter was brought in.

  “Traynor, will you excuse me?”

  His steward looked up. “Certainly, Mr. Darcy. I shall just look over these papers.”

  My master briskly removed himself from the room, taking the letter to the library. I knew that if I followed, there was a good chance that he would convey to me the contents of the missive.

  He walked into the library and turned to shut the door behind him, but in seeing me, allowed me entrance. He walked over to a chair and sat down, ripping open the letter with little regard to the state it would be in from the force he used.

  I watched his eyes scan the letter quickly. It must have been fairly brief, as he shortly dropped his hands to his side and let out a frustrated sigh. I tentatively reached my paw up and rested it on his leg. He looked down at me and I could see the all too familiar set jaw and pulsing temple that was normally brought about by a sense of irritation.

  “George Wickham! He has the audacity to tell me he has no intention of taking the living my father provided and hopes I do not find it unreasonable that he expects some sort of immediate pecuniary compensation! He shook his head and pounded a tightened fist upon his desk. “Not that I ever believed he should wear a clergyman’s robe, but now he states that he wishes to study the law and that the interest from the one thousand pounds that was left to him in my father’s will would not be sufficient enough to live on.”

  Darcy closed his eyes and his head went back. “What say you, Reggie? Do you think he really intends to study law? Should I hold on to any hope that he has changed?”

  I let out a soft whine.

  “Me neither, Reggie. Me neither. I have a difficult time believing he will use any money I give him in a prudent way. But if it absolves me of my father’s dying request and proves to be the last that I ever have to deal with him, I will do it. I am not inclined to bestow it with any sense of favour or pleasure, but I will do it.”

  My master sent off a cheque to the address Wickham had enclosed and hoped that would be the last contact he would ever have with him.

  *~*~*

  Once my master was assured that his new steward had a fairly comprehensive grasp of the workings of Pemberley and the manner in which he wished it to be run, the demands on his time were eased a little. I knew, however, that our times together would never be as carefree as they had been those first few years. He had more responsibility; both at Pemberley and in the raising of his sister.

  He was most concerned for her education. She was still being privately tutored at home and whilst he considered her governess to be excellent, he felt strongly that she should be enrolled in a school.

  It was a little over a year after their father’s death, when Georgiana finally seemed to be in tolerable spirits again, and my master broached the subject with her to put her in one of the finer schools for young ladies in London. Though she was reluctant to accede at first, he emphasized that it would help her overcome her shyness and that she might find great pleasure in the society of other young ladies her age. As much as he reassured her that he did not wish her to be apart from him, privately he knew he had become too much like his own father. Whereas he had fulfilled the office of caring for her and protecting her admirably, he feared he was instilling in her the same coolness and reserve with which he struggled. He had talked with his cousin and they both concurred there was no better time to do this than now.

  They assured Georgiana that it would be excellent for her and that they would see each other as often as possible. Consequently, she entered school, my master tended his duties, and I was left alone to entertain myself quite frequently as the demands of Pemberley intruded on most of his time.

  *~*~*

  Things remained as such for a good amount of time. Georgiana excelled in school, although my master and I were of like mind that she was not particularly happy there. As much as my master struggled with that decision he made to put her into a formal school, he had the greatest hope that it would benefit her in providing her with an excellent education and easing her shyness.

  As for our walks, when we did have occasion to take one, I believe my master used them as his outlet for thinking through particulars of which he was dealing with the estate or decisions about Georgiana. Whilst we still enjoyed these shared excursions, they were fewer and farther between. Every chance I had, I attempted to bring liveliness back into our times together, but more often than not it seemed a futile effort. Though I knew my master cared deeply for me, I was dismayed that his responsibilities left little room for any enjoyment.

  Georgiana seemed to fare no better than her brother. Being the sweet, compliant young lady she was by nature, she obligingly did her best and was well regarded. In desiring to please her brother, she made every attempt to break out from behind that wall of shyness, and whilst she did meet several young ladies of whom she was quite fond, it was clear to him from her letters and visits that she was unhappy. She had been twelve when she began and suddenly she was almost fifteen.

  Seeing her discontentment, and believing the school had done all it could, my master again conferred with his cousin and they decided to have a more personal sort of schooling for her, so an establishment was formed for her in London. She would stay at the townhome and only the finest tutors and masters would be brought in to continue her studies. All that was needed was the right gentlewoman to preside over it.

  My master knew that finding the right lady would take much time and effort on his part. He would interview each applicant and look through every recommendation and reference. But most of all, he knew he would need to find a woman with just the right personality whom Georgiana could trust and in whom she could confide.

  It proved to be a rather daunting task for my master. Whilst there were many applicants, there were just as many reasons why he found them unsuitable. If I thought my master was impeccable in his responsibility as Master of Pemberley, it was nothing compared to the care he exercised in filling this position.

  He always concluded each interview by taking the opportunity to introduce Georgiana to the potential candidate. He observed each of them vigilantly as they interacted together. I came to quickly gauge for myself whether a woman was too imposing and reinforced Georgiana’s shyness, too strict and frightened her, or too lenient and did not challenge her.

  Time and time again, when the interview was completed, my master would simply say, “Thank you for your time.” He never gave them any encouragement or hope when there was none. But I could see he was getting quite desperate; knowing that it was crucial to find someone in whom he could entrust to oversee Georgiana’s education.

  Needing a respite from the arduous task of interviewing in London, we all returned to Pemberley. One fine afternoon, my master was called out to an emergency in regards to one of his tenants. He left in a hurry and I did not have the opportunity to join him. It was an early summer day and I was feeling all the ill effects of not having had a walk in quite a while. I believed there could not be a finer day for a romp, so I scampered up to Georgiana’s room, eagerly wagging my tail and letting out an insistent bark until she acquiesced and agreed to accompany me outside.

  It was a little breezy, which necessitated Georgiana having to hold onto her bonnet so it would not be carried away, even though it was securely tied under her chin. The ties trailed behind her, waving in the wind as sh
e carried herself along. I found a stick, possibly one that had been a toy on some other walk, and eagerly brought it to her. She took it from me and gave a laugh as she gently threw it ahead of us. I retrieved it and returned it to her. I was grateful that even though she had become a lovely lady in appearance and form, she did not think it beneath her to cater to my whims to play. We continued in this way until we reached the path just above the lake. I took a little detour away from Georgiana to take a drink. As I was lapping up the water, I caught an alarming scent and then heard a voice.

  “Good day, Georgiana.”

  “Oh, hello, Mr. Wickham.”

  I turned suddenly, chiding myself for not having caught the scent sooner. A surge of trepidation coursed through me as I rushed to place myself between the two, growling and baring my fangs at him. I was willing to risk life and limb to protect her from this scoundrel. What did I get in return for my act of sacrifice and protection?

  “Now, Reggie, you be a good boy! You know better than that!” Georgiana gave me the sternest look and shook her finger at me. “It is only Mr. Wickham.”

  “Pray, dear Georgiana, call me George.” I did not care for his voice, which was far too smooth and alluring. “After all, your good father was my godfather. I am almost a brother to you. “

  Georgiana looked down, slightly embarrassed. She kept her eyes on her feet, which seemed inclined to push the dirt around.

  “It has been too long,” he continued. “Look at you; you have become a young woman! Beautiful, at that! I hope you are well. I know how hard it must have been for you when your good father passed away.”

  She looked up slowly, sadness filling her eyes. “It was. I appreciate your concern. But the years have eased the pain.”

  I watched him warily as he did not seem inclined to leave and eyed her with a far too familiar look. “I have heard it said that you are looking for someone to preside over an establishment your brother has formed for your education. Have you had the good fortune to find one?”