I heard a familiar voice calling my name. I turned to see Darcy on his chestnut mount with his bassets running in front of him. They must have separated from the rest of the hounds while I was totally consumed with staying on Jack’s back and living to panic another day.
“What are you doing on Jack the Ripper? He’s not to be ridden.” Darcy said, frowning.
I was so relieved to see him with Derby and Squire, tears found their way into my eyes. My helmet dropped, I lifted it with a sigh.
Darcy kept his distance, clearly avoiding the cameras, which were still focused on me. Thank you very much, Caroline, you…
Speaking of Caroline, she appeared out of nowhere like a witch in a fairytale. She rode bolt upright. Her posture perfect. She seemed surprised to see me alive.
Derby and Squire took to howling at her, jumping up in a vain attempt to drive her off. I should have made my point perfectly clear with Darcy before he retained my services. It is impossible to make a dog like someone if their instincts tell them otherwise.
“Long story about Jack. We will chat about it later.” I said to Darcy.
Caroline blanched as she realized I might tell Darcy of her duplicity.
“Right! Come on then!” Darcy said.
“Keep the cameras on her!” Caroline pointed to me.
Since when had I become a celebrity? I must look a fright with my terrified eyes, flushed cheeks, and oversized helmet. I sat up, popping my fingers from the saddle and pulling a few mane hairs from my lips. I sensed some action over my shoulder and looked away from the cameras.
A Barkley employee I had seen at the stables appeared in the woods to my right. He carried a drawstring canvas bag and stealthily moved in the shadows of the trees. The cameras were focusing on me but I guessed they would inadvertently catch the action behind me.
Loosening the strings the man dumped a startled fox on the ground. The animal looked about the unfamiliar territory. The man uttered a call sounding to be “forrard!” He repeated it followed by “holloa!” He raised his arm and pointed in the direction of the fox.
Darcy put his finger to his lips. We watched the disoriented animal frantically search for places to hide.
“A bagged fox is highly illegal.” Darcy said. “I expected Barkley to stoop to this.” He trotted off, taking care to pass behind the cameras then head into the woods where the fox had been released.
The fox ran to the creek bordering the field and dashed through the water.
A series of staccato notes from the hunting horn sounded the alert and the hounds took his signal. Encouraged by the huntsmen with cries of hoick!, hoick! the dogs fought one another to get into the creek and onto the fox. They would find the animal and tear the poor creature to bits.
The pounding sounds of horses’ hooves and the baying of the dogs must have been terrifying to the fox. No creature should have to die that way. I prayed Derby and Squire stayed out of the riot.
Mayhem ensued. The hounds galumphed, splashed, and snarled. They had all been trained to crave fox blood, all except darling Derby and Squire. No wonder Darcy insisted they lag behind. But why take part in the hunt at all? Were they some sort of cover for my enigmatic client?
I waved at the BBC cameras and pointed to the fox now swimming upstream. The Huntmaster Barkley should have called off the dogs when a live fox was spotted. But obviously he had the fox planted there. Whipping his horse, he trotted into the creek.
Caroline’s crew worked their cameras in on all the illegal action. The color drained from her face as she realized what was happening. Once this documentary aired she would become persona non grata with the upper-crust. She might soon be seeking some middle-class friends. I could give her no good references.
Bingley and Jane stood in a clump of woods, barely visible except for their light-colored hair. Their horses were tethered to a tree. Bingley held a small black gadget, a video camera. Derby and Squire were at their feet. But where was Darcy?
Lord Barkley returned from the creek. Cursing the BBC cameras, he swung his riding crop, ordering the cameras turned off.
He bellowed at Caroline but the cameras kept rolling, catching the Lord breaking the laws he had petitioned to rescind as a gentleman’s agreement to protect the foxes should be sufficient.”
In a fit of pique, Lord Barkley barked at the BBC team, including Caroline in his tirade. “Get off my estate! Off my grounds and never dare show your faces here again!”
Caroline broke into tears. She flicked her riding crop and her horse took off at a fast trot back to the paddock.
Slipping behind the red-faced Barkley, two of the cameramen approached me as I sat on Jack. Every bone in my bum ached, and it was a long drop to the ground.
“You have great dark eyes. They photograph so beautifully!” the first newsy said by way of buttering me up. They were after the real story behind the Barkley fox-in-a-bag.
“Are you a regular huntsman on the Barkley estate? Can you tell us if you’ve seen foxes bagged here before?” his partner asked.
It was my time to shine. I swallowed to clear the dust from my throat. “I am Doctor Elizabeth Bennet of Maidenhead. I am a brilliant, very important dog psychologist here to observe the treatment of the hunting hounds.”
“I’m from Hound and Horse,” stated a tawny headed young gent who stuck a microphone in my face. “How’s about a brief interview, luv?”
This would be lovely publicity for my practice but not now. I gave the gent my contact information and begged off due to extreme exhaustion. Accepting their thanks I watched them head through the field in the general direction of the stables. It appeared the hunt was officially over. A weak toot from the horn confirmed my wish. We were finished with what was probably the shortest foxhunt in history.
“Cheers!” I said, patting Jack’s neck. I nudged him, and he sauntered along, following the creek until it ended in a small lake. Where were Derby and Squire? For that matter, where had Mister Darcy disappeared?
I craned my neck to see if there was any blood in the water. Had the hounds reached the fox before they were called off? I understood Jack’s horse-sense reluctance to be a part of this. It held no appeal, not if humans broke the rules of sportsmanship.
The clouds cleared and the lake shown in the sunlight. Blinking to clear my eyes, I wondered if I were seeing a hallucination. Something cut the dark water. A hound? A fox?
Mister Darcy arose from the lake jacketless, in his white shirt, riding pants, and boots. He was dripping wet. Smiling he opened his shirt revealing red chest hairs, which clashed with his dark brown head of hair. Puzzling.
An instant later I was relieved to see he held a comatose fox within his soggy shirt.
I dropped from Jack, sliding to the ground while dragging my palms along his sides to slow my fall. My extra-long sleeves protected my hands.
Dashing to the edge of the water, I waited for Darcy to make landfall.
“Is he hurt?” I asked as Darcy laid the animal on the ground.
I examined the exhausted fox. It wasn’t breathing. I pushed gently on its chest, guessing at the proper rhythm for a fox. “One, two, push. One, two, push.” I heard Jack cha-cha-ing behind me.
On my fifth push the fox spit up some water. I backed away. He slowly pulled himself to his feet and coughed a little more water. He turned and edged toward me, making a hostile growling sound.
Jack stepped in front of me and, with his foreleg, launched the little ingrate into the air. The fox landed about twenty meters away, yipped, and ran toward the woods, never looking back.
Darcy placed a wet hand on my forearm. “For a dog psychologist, I find you quite intriguing.”
Before he could say more, Jane and Bingley rushed to us. She enfolded me in her arms. “Are you okay? You were amazing!”
Bingley had his camera in one hand and with the other, held my riding crop, which I had dropped in my haste to tend to the fox.
I smiled, accepted the whip, and cautioned, “Watch
the back of the horse. He was a loaner from Caroline.” For emphasis and in true horsewoman’s style, I whipped the side of my boot with the riding crop. Unfortunately, I missed my boot but not my knee. With great self-control I refrained from uttering a very unladylike epithet.
Bingley waved his camera in the air. “We have it all right here.”
Darcy raised his arms in a hallelujah gesture. “Wonderful. If the BBC suppresses their story because of outside pressure—”
“It won’t matter,” Bingley said. “Our tape will already be on the Internet, excluding of course, the mysterious Mister Darcy.”
The mysterious Mister Darcy?
Chapter 22
Despite being evicted from the estate, Caroline’s camera crew, sans Caroline, lingered in the paddock hours later, interviewing huntsmen who universally claimed to have no knowledge of the bagging of foxes.
Mansfield, Darcy’s beautiful chestnut mount, had been trailered in a state-of-the-art but discrete horsebox and taken to Darcy’s private stables. I was still in a quandary as to the real Mister Darcy.
Jane and Bingley had taken Derby and Squire back to One Synde Park. Jane was concerned for Lydia and Kitty. I was more concerned for the paragon of manners, Darcy’s Aunt Catherine. Had she survived Lydia? A bulldog versus a trio of frisky spaniels.
Darcy passed his iPhone to me. “Have a look,” he said as we headed to the stables.
I would have clapped if I hadn’t been holding Jack the Ripper’s reins as the horse followed demurely behind me.
The headlines on Darcy’s phone read Are the Rich Above the Law? Pictures of the fox being dumped from the bag and Barkley’s stunned face posted side-by-side.
Darcy smiled at me. Even better than these pictures, the video of Lord Barkley and his bagged fox has already gone viral.”
As he continued, his eyes spoke more than I wanted to hear. “You were marvelous, today. It could not have turned out better if I had planned it. Derby and Squire were brilliantly slow and suffered no damage.”
Jack playfully knocked my helmet forward. It drooped over my eyes providing Darcy with an excuse to touch me. He pushed my hat back into place. Were these two stallions working together? I couldn’t control the grin that found its way to my lips.
“You can’t tell me you did not plan this, Mister Darcy.” I touched my fingers in a counting motion as I listed the peculiar occurrences of the day. Caroline and her cameras. The bassets bringing up the rear. Barkley’s bagged fox. The rescue of the poor drowning animal.”
I nodded. “Are you going to tell me what this was all about? Or keep me up night after night…?” Oh dear, that came out a bit much. “I mean… I will…”
“I know exactly what you mean, Doctor Bennet.”
I turned away hoping he didn’t see me blush.
When I was sufficiently under control I looked back at Darcy. Head held high, he strode along in a rather appealing swagger. We were almost at the stables.
Darcy stopped at the stable door. “A word with you, Doctor Bennet.”
Here it comes. I failed to train the dogs to accept Caroline. But there had been no time, and it was an impossible task. I readied to take my medicine.
“Over the past few days I have come to know the real Lizzie Bennet, the one behind the professional but endearingly clumsy façade,” Darcy said.
This was going in an expected direction. I parried. “You, sir are dodging my question. What happened back there?” I motioned with my head toward the fields.
“Can I trust you?” he said.
“Of course not. I shall run immediately with what you tell me and share it with Caroline Bingley, unless of course, she already knows.”
He snorted. “Barkley has a thing for Caroline. That’s how she was able to get his permission to cover the hunt for her documentary on fox hunting. He rarely allows guests at these exclusive events. I needed to be sure we had camera coverage as I expected him to skirt the law.”
“You wanted the cameras…?”
“Caroline did not know my motive. With the video, steps can be taken to bring charges against the hunt before the Masters of Foxhounds Association,” Darcy said. “There have been over two-hundred convictions under the Act. But there are still those who think themselves above the law. The only way to bring down these scofflaws is to out them in public. What better way than to catch them red fox handed?”
“So you planned to make an example of Lord Barkley?”
He nodded, casting that enigmatic smile of his.
I was silent as we unsaddled Jack and called a stable boy to cool him down. Jack, not Darcy. We closed the stall door.
“I admire your passion on behalf of the fox but you remain a mystery to me,” I said.
“Have you heard of the League Against Cruel Sports?”
“It’s an animal welfare group.”
“We have been able to stir the local police into action by embarrassing them with video. I prefer my identity not be known or shown for Georgiana’s sake. I find I can accomplish more if I operate with discretion and do not have to fear for her safety.”
Blocking my path, he placed his hands on my shoulders. His face grew soft and those incredibly delicious chocolate-colored eyes gazed into mine.
A shiver ran through me.
“As I tried to say earlier, over the past few days I have come to know the real Lizzie Bennet, the one behind the professional although endearingly clumsy façade. I would very much like to get to know you better.”
I considered running away but Jane’s boots were bothersome and…
“My emotions are patent and genuine,” he said. “If I am happy or content I show it. If I am sad or exasperated or hurt I show it. If I am kicked in the teeth, I hurt and show it. If I am in a state of extreme like, I show it.”
Gazing up into his dark brown eyes, I wondered how we had come so far in such a short time. I was not ready for a romance. Not even with the mysterious, very wealthy, hunky Mister Darcy. I pulled from his arms.
He took my hand in his. “I do not pretend to know where this is going. All I know is that we are two people with two minds, two hearts, and two strong personalities but perhaps that is enough to build upon.”
“I have plans, and they don’t include a romantic liaison.” No matter how puppy dog his eyes are.
“That’s a wise decision,” he said.
I hoped he would argue a bit more. Shrugging I turned to go.
Darcy fell into step beside me. His next words were a challenge to me.
“Do you think yourself incapable of love? Or just currently unavailable?”
The words were out of my mouth before I had time to think. “Love is an illusion for silly young girls reading romance novels.”
He took my hand again. “Lizzie, what ever am I to do with you?”
I made no response as I had no idea what he was about. I knew so little about the man except that he looked yummy in a wet shirt. And he possessed nice bassets.
“Would you be so kind as to accompany me to dinner? There is a lovely inn near here. I mean… not an inn in the inn sense.” He blushed. “But the restaurant is quaint and five star.”
“But what of Lydia and Kitty?” I said.
“A few more hours with Aunt Catherine will be good for them. Not so much for my aunt, but good for the girls. The inn has a pear tartlet to die for,” he said.
I stomped ahead frustrated by my longings and blocked by my logic. Surely this was not the time to dally with a wealthy client, albeit a desirable client in more ways than one.
Hands on my hips I returned to his side.
“Tell me more about that pear tartlet.”
The end or perhaps the beginning…
More books by Barbara Silkstone
Mister Darcy series cozy mysteries by Barbara Silkstone
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen is one of the most popular novels in English literature. Austen’s stories were fundamentally comic but also delivered a thump on the he
ad to the traditions that forced 18th century women to depend on marriage as the only road to survival. The Mister Darcy contemporary series stays true to the original characters while bringing them into modern day England.
All but one of the books are available in ebook, paperback, and audio on Audible.com
Barbara Silkstone’s Amazon Author’s page
http://www.amazon.com/Barbara-Silkstone/e/B0047L8A8W
Mister Darcy’s Dogs
Book 1 in the Mister Darcy series
http://amzn.to/1DO7yYq
The mysterious Mister Darcy retains the services of dog psychologist Lizzie Bennet to train his basset puppies for an important foxhunt. Despite knowing nothing about fox hunting, Doctor Lizzie takes on the challenge. Assigned to cover the hunt for the BBC is Society Reporter Caroline Bingley, the would-be paramour of Mister Darcy.
And why is George Wickham lurking in the shrubberies?
Available in eBook, paperback, and audio
Mister Darcy’s Christmas
Book 2 in the Mister Darcy series
http://amzn.to/1LQlwzu
Christmas just became a lot more complicated for dog psychologist Lizzie Bennet and her sisters. While shopping in London they find little urchin Annie and her dog Sammy. As a fierce snowstorm takes over the city, the aloof but alluring Mister Darcy invites the girls, including Annie and Sammy, to spend the night at his penthouse. With the best of intentions Darcy asks Annie and her seven siblings to join the Bennet sisters for a quiet Christmas Eve celebration in his London fortress. The skullduggery begins when Caroline Bingley – the villainess Austen fans love to boo – shows up acting the part of the Grinch and Scrooge combined.
Mister Darcy's Dogs Page 10
