Master Under Good Regulation

by Kara Louise

  I heard the ladies begin to disparage the Bennets’ connections. Bingley made an attempt to dismiss them, but then I heard my master’s response.

  “But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world,” he replied.

  I turned and regarded my master in complete puzzlement. His words were blunt and harsh. I wondered why his praise and admiration for Miss Elizabeth had so suddenly and unexpectedly ceased.

  I watched him as he stood up and walked over to the sideboard to refill his coffee cup. His steps were brisk; his demeanour resolute. In that moment I comprehended that he was making a greater effort to convince himself that she was completely unsuitable, as he was not merely a man of any consideration, but of great consideration.

  To my master’s declaration, Bingley made no answer, much to my disappointment; but his sisters gave their hearty assent, and indulged their mirth for some time at the expense of Miss Elizabeth’s vulgar relations. I dropped my head upon my paws in anguish, realizing that the great chasm that separated dogs and people was so vast, I may never fully understand them. And in the present circumstances, I found my master the most perplexing of them all.

  *~*~*

  It was some time before Bingley’s sisters left to grace Miss Bennet and her sister with their indifferent presence. The satisfaction that had permeated their features during their abuse of her was opportunely masked by calculated expressions of care and concern. They remained with her until summoned for coffee. Miss Elizabeth stayed behind with her sister, unwilling to quit her at all, until later in the evening, when her ailing sister fell asleep.

  I was seated at my master’s feet waiting expectantly for Miss Elizabeth to join us. My master had been persuaded, much against his inclination, to join the others at the loo table, so he was seated with them. I listened as the five engaged themselves in this peculiar diversion. It was interesting to take note that this was the only time I had witnessed such animation in Mr. Hurst, other than when out hunting. He seemed to take delight in bidding high and crushing everyone’s enjoyment and success in the game.

  Bingley invited Miss Elizabeth to join them in the game when she entered, but she politely declined, and making her sister the excuse, said she would amuse herself for the short time she could stay below, with a book.

  “Do you prefer reading to cards?” Mr. Hurst looked at her with astonishment. “That is rather singular.”

  “Miss Eliza Bennet,” said Miss Bingley, “despises cards. She is a great reader, and has no pleasure in anything else.”

  A slight growl escaped as I contemplated the ankles of Miss Bingley, which were within an easy reach. I was quite tempted to throw away years of discipline and give one a slight nip!

  “I deserve neither such praise nor such censure,” cried Miss Elizabeth; “I am not a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things.”

  Mr. Bingley came to her defence, reminding everyone that she obviously took pleasure in nursing her sister. To my chagrin, my master remained silent. With growing agitation towards him, I arose and walked over to Miss Elizabeth, sitting down aside her to demonstrate my approbation.

  Evidently hoping to distract everyone’s attention from Miss Elizabeth, Miss Bingley proceeded to flatter my master as she compared her brother’s simple library to my master’s grand one. I know my master must have thought this quite amusing -- I certainly did -- as we both observed that whilst she quite frequently had a book in her possession, her eyes rarely perused it. And even though she requested from my master a recommendation for good reading, she rarely took the trouble to actually read what he had suggested.

  I looked up at Miss Elizabeth, who reached down and gently stroked my head, a smile touching her lips. I believe she was quite amused by Miss Bingley’s concerted effort to speak highly about anything and everything that pertained to my master. Her attention appeared to be riveted to the conversation ensuing at the table whilst I could comprehend my master’s attention was riveted to her. I cannot be sure that she was aware of being the object of his regard, but at length, she set her book aside, discontinued her attentions to me, and walked over to the group.

  In addition to Miss Bingley’s praise for the library at Pemberley, she also had endless words of praise for Georgiana. Whilst I could not disagree with her estimation of my favourite young lady, I did not believe it to have come from her heart.

  From there, the conversation digressed to what constituted an accomplished woman. Whilst I doubt very much Miss Bingley would consider Miss Elizabeth even minutely accomplished, my master, who had taken notice of the extent to which Miss Elizabeth read, subtly included this quality in his measurement of accomplished women. My heart soared at this display, clearly designed not to draw Miss Bingley’s ire, but still convey his admiration. To my disappointment, however, Miss Elizabeth did not comprehend any such estimation on his part and left the room, apparently feeling quite set down by the party.

  After another callous remark by Miss Bingley about Miss Elizabeth, the remainder of the evening was spent in relative silence. My master was not inclined to join in any conversation, which dampened any eagerness Miss Bingley had to engage him. Elizabeth returned later in the evening only to say that her sister was worse, and that she could not leave her.

  It was quite apparent that Bingley was concerned for his ailing guest; his sisters declared that they were miserable. I imagine that had more to do with boredom than anything else. They solaced their wretchedness, however, by duets after supper, which only added to my misery.

  My master and I endured the duets silently. I was grateful when he expressed a wish to retire and excused himself. Obediently following him upstairs to his room, we passed Miss Bennet’s room as we normally did. This time my master walked briskly past. However, I paused ever so slightly, cognizant of Miss Elizabeth’s pleasant scent emanating from within.

  My master turned and uttered a stern, “Come, Reggie! I will tolerate none of that now!”

  We entered into his chambers and he dismissed his man, declaring a wish for some time alone before preparing for bed. He seated himself askance upon a chair, facing me instead of the desk at which it was situated. He planted one elbow upon the desk and rested his jaw upon his hand, looking down at me pointedly.

  “During the meal tonight, Reggie, you allowed a somewhat peculiar sound to escape. Precisely what transpired that prompted you to moan so impudently?”

  His eyes narrowed into mine with such accusation that I lowered my head onto my paws, averting my own.

  “I might harbour a suspicion that Mr. Hurst was inadvertently dropping you morsels of his dinner.”

  I peered up at him, knowing he was not finished.

  “However, I know you too well to believe that to be the cause. You tend to snatch food very quietly.” He paused and stood up, walking over to the window. Folding his arms across his chest, he turned slowly to face me.

  “That only leaves the possibility that Miss Bennet had something to do with it. Was she, perhaps…” He paused as if struggling for the correct words. “Was she, through some peculiar manoeuvrings, the instigator of your moan?”

  I let out an affirming whimper.

  “As I thought.” He unfolded his arms and braced his hands against his hips. “And very clearly I recollect both of her hands were upon the table. As such, I must conclude that one or both of her feet to be the culprit. Might I be correct?”

  My tail wagged in eager concurrence, hoping to enlighten him as to my partiality towards her.

  A partial bemused smile began to form but was quickly replaced with a frown. He turned and began untying his cravat as he paced about the room, fighting for some sort of control that appeared to elude him. Finally, after several moments, he pulled sharply on his neckcloth and threw it disgustedly on the floor. “This is ludicrous! How is it that I am envious of my own dog?”

  He walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. I jumped up and sat down beside him. His hand
gently stroked my head and trailed down my back.

  “Tell me, Reggie, what is your secret? To what do you owe this ability to garner Miss Elizabeth’s favour?”

  I placed a paw upon his lap, but he stood up abruptly, causing it to crash back down to the bed.

  “It is just as well. Miss Bingley is correct. Her relations are completely unsuitable.” He looked down at me with a grave look in his eyes. “It is not that simple. I cannot allow…” His demeanour became more rigid and his breathing deepened. “I cannot allow these feelings… which have intruded upon me with no provocation or invitation… to take hold.”

  He began nodding his head slowly. “She shall be gone soon and with her, this unreasonable allure that has me in its grip.”

  I lay my head down, wishing for some way to influence my master’s wavering opinion in her behalf. He had remarked to me that it was not that simple, but I knew not why. Having spent thirteen years with my master I was well acquainted with him and somehow, stirring from the depths of me, I believed the two of them to be entirely suited for each other.

  I knew that my only opportunity to do something lay whilst she remained at Netherfield. I hoped that she would remain long enough for me to exert some influence over my master’s unreasonable conviction.

  My master paced quite a long time before finally retiring to bed, and then once in, tossed and turned until the wee hours of the morning. At length, I recognized the familiar deep breathing that indicated sleep had finally overtaken him. But I lay awake a short time longer, formulating a plan that would facilitate him seeing Miss Elizabeth as he ought, and not give in to what he perceived as others’ expectations or pressure. After giving it much thought, I realized that somehow I must arrange it so that my master and Miss Elizabeth would find themselves together on the one diversion they both took great delight in -- a walk!

  *~*~*

  The next morning Elizabeth sent word that her sister had improved and requested a note be sent to Longbourn asking for her mother to come. The note was dispatched and forthwith, Mrs. Bennet and her two youngest daughters arrived at Netherfield, soon after the family breakfast.

  After Mrs. Bennet’s visit with her ailing daughter, she came into the breakfast parlour, where we were all awaiting her. Whilst she expressed pleasure with the care her daughter was receiving, she was insistent that it would not be prudent to move her yet, prompting a look of displeasure to pass between Bingley’s sisters. A feeling of gratefulness, however, spurred my tail to wag excitedly, as I knew this meant Miss Elizabeth would remain at Netherfield and my plan could continue unabated.

  As I watched the exchange that went on that morning in the breakfast parlour, I must admit I was quite concerned about Mrs. Bennet’s indignant consideration of my master. It was quite apparent to me that she also held a strong dislike for him, seeking every opportunity to covertly rebuke him in the sharpest of tones. To my knowledge, my master was not particularly accustomed to being subjected to such brazen disapprobation, and I fear that the shock of it caused him to be less than politic in his conversation. Therefore, I was somewhat gratified that Miss Elizabeth did attempt to rectify a misunderstanding between them, putting the best possible light on his clumsy mutterings. The fact that he entrenched himself behind a wall of reserve as he turned away from the party to gaze out a window -- no doubt lest he offend again -- did nothing to raise their esteem of him.

  It was with great relief that the three Bennet ladies finally took their leave, but not before the youngest daughter secured a promise from Bingley to host a ball. Even Miss Elizabeth seemed most gratified when they finally departed; she appeared as stricken as my master at her mother’s rude and outspoken manners.

  With the departure of her family, Miss Elizabeth excused herself to return to her sister. At once, Bingley’s sisters took advantage to scorn the Bennets and all their relations and cuttingly reminded my master of his fondness for fine eyes. Whilst happily he was not inclined to join them in their censure of Miss Elizabeth, neither did he choose to defend her nor declare his admiration for her.

  I knew something had to be done directly!

  *~*~*

  That evening I was hopeful for another opportunity to staunchly display my approval for Miss Elizabeth by faithfully remaining by her side. She finally entered the drawing room with some needlework in hand. My master was writing a letter to his sister, though I suspect its progress was somewhat impeded by Miss Bingley annoying him with repeated attempts to praise his style or request that he include her words of praise to Georgiana in his missive.

  Again Miss Elizabeth appeared quite amused by Miss Bingley’s relentless commendations to my master, either of his sister or of his writing and on the evenness of his lines. And again, as last night Miss Elizabeth set her employment down to fix her attention on the diverting conversation.

  But rather than moving closer to the party, this time she remained seated, and I took advantage of that by nuzzling up to her. May I be so bold as to say that my charm worked its magic, and she soon began scratching my head as she listened to the conversation.

  When at length my master finally attended to my whereabouts, he froze as his eyes travelled down her arm to where her hand was running through the fur on my head, taking up the curls gently around her fingers. I looked up at Miss Elizabeth with admiration in my eyes, only to see contempt in hers as she beheld my master’s stern gaze. She let out a quiet huff and I noticed that my master seemed no longer able to attend to his letter.

  When Miss Bingley asked another inane question, my master’s answer was fraught with tension, but that did not deter her from continuing. The conversation turned from praise for my master to a discussion of Bingley’s shortcomings and I watched in dismay as my master and Miss Elizabeth began a lively disagreement at Bingley’s expense. Or perhaps it was at my master’s expense, as again, it did nothing to elevate him in Miss Elizabeth’s regard. Still, I do not believe that I was the only one to see the spark of genuine pleasure on my master’s face at their banter.

  Bingley ended the tête-à-tête with, “By all means, let us hear all the particulars, not forgetting their comparative height and size; for that will have more weight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you may be aware of. I assure you that, if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison with myself, I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare I do not know a more awful object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and in particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening, when he has nothing to do.”

  My master smiled tightly and I am quite certain he felt somewhat offended. I thought I could depend upon Bingley to portray my master in a good light, but this time, even though it may have been in jest, both of us felt the damage of his words. I settled down at Miss Elizabeth’s feet, confident that although my master was still stinging from his friend’s words, he had thoroughly enjoyed his repartee with Miss Elizabeth.

  Whilst two of my favourite people spent a good portion of this evening in sparring dialogue, I curiously observed Miss Bingley during it all. She seemed perplexed, even somewhat jealous, that Miss Elizabeth had so engaged my master in a conversation, albeit an argumentative one, when he rarely answered her in more than one or two words.

  Music was soon requested and whereas Miss Bingley politely suggested that Elizabeth play first, she did not appear overtly dismayed that her offer was turned down. Unfortunately, that meant we were subjected to Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley playing and singing. Just like the previous evening, there was little for me to enjoy in their performance. What I did enjoy, however, was watching my master.

  Miss Elizabeth again turned her attentions back to the top of my head and stroked down my neck and back as she listened to the sisters. I enjoyed Miss Elizabeth’s ministrations to my head almost as much as I enjoyed watching the comportment of my master. That he was greatly suffering whilst watching me receive such pleasuring attentions was most apparent, at least to me.

  I believed th
e evening to be another exercise of futility as there appeared to be very little improvement in her regard and very little expression of his. When Miss Elizabeth glanced at him and discovered him staring, she pursed her lips tightly and let out that little breath of air that I unfortunately took to mean she was quite displeased.

  How I wished my master would allow all his feelings of regard to be expressed upon his face! Instead, he bore a rather severe demeanour as he struggled to maintain his control when it came to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. My master was, at the moment, not under good regulation, something I knew to be an uncharacteristic prospect.

  It was with great surprise, then, when my master suddenly blurted out, “Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?”

  Dancing! I thought. How I would love to see the two of them dance! My master never dances with ladies whom he does not esteem. Surely Miss Elizabeth will not mistake his regard now. I did not even consider that I had never beheld dancing in a drawing room, save for Georgiana and myself when she took me as a partner to learn.

  Miss Elizabeth apparently did not hear him or perhaps she believed his request to be insincere, for she did not answer him at once; however, a slight smile touched her lips. I watched as confusion filtered across my master’s features, but smoothing his countenance, he asked again.

  “Oh! I heard you before,” she answered, “but I could not immediately determine what to say in reply.” She said this with a challenging sparkle in her eyes, but as she continued, my master’s confidence appeared to wane. “You wanted me, I know, to say ‘Yes,’ that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but I always delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person of their premeditated contempt. I have, therefore, made up my mind to tell you, that I do not want to dance a reel at all -- and now despise me if you dare.”