Page 25 of Master of Himself

“Of course, and we wouldn’t have it any other way,” Hurst said, raising his glass once again.

Unfortunately, Darcy’s ability to win Elizabeth’s favour was quite impossible under the present circumstances. Nor could he even attempt pursuing her in his present form.

He waited until Hurst had retired for the night to suggest a walk out of doors. “Perhaps tonight we’ll find the answer that has eluded us.”

He called for their coats and hats, and they boldly ventured forth into the cold, moonless night. It quickly became apparent, that without the aid of torches or lanterns, this was a fruitless enterprise. “Perhaps we ought to have planned—oof.”

Charles hurtled into him, setting him off his feet, and he crashed to the ground with a jarring jolt. Groaning, he sat up and rubbed his aching shoulder. “You might have warned me.”

“Sorry, old man, but I had to try it,” Charles said, then hauled him to his feet.

“I don’t blame you, but I’ve lost your hat again.”

Charles grabbed Darcy’s arm and led him back to the house. “Never mind, I’m too foxed to search for it now. One of the lads will fetch it. Let’s discuss our next plan tomorrow when we’re in better form.”

Ah yes, the plan. That evasive solution to the chaos that was now Darcy’s life. Guided by the light in the windows, they stumbled back to the house, and his thoughts turned to a lady inside. “Did she truly forgive me?”

“I think so, but who really knows? She’s unfailingly polite but may still be wary of you. You must not give her further cause to mistrust you.”

“I’ll rely on you, then, to ease her mind.”

“And you shall do the same with Miss Bennet when she finally regains her health.”

The front door opened before they reached the house. “Ah, Phillip, just the man I need,” Darcy said. “I’ve lost my hat out there somewhere. May I trouble you to retrieve it for me and bring it to Mr Henderson?”

“Certainly, Mr Bingley,” the footman said. “Give me your coats, and I’ll see to it immediately.”

“You’re an excellent fellow.” At least that was one problem easily solved. Unfortunately, the solution to his other dilemmas remained well beyond his reach.

Chapter 11

Friday 15 November

Wearing Darcy’s tweed hunting jacket and toting his fowling-piece, Charles silently led his friend and brother-in-law down the narrow path. No one spoke until they were well away from the house.

“Dashed early,” Henry groused.

“You needn’t have come along. Darcy and I are well able to bag enough birds to restock the larder.”

“No, I enjoy shooting, just not the ungodly hour. Same with fishing.”

Charles wasn’t surprised by Henry’s complaint; he had always been a lazy fellow. “You may console yourself with a nap after breakfast.”

“How’s the sick lady?”

“According to Henderson, Miss Bennet didn’t ring the bell even once last night,” Darcy said in a hushed voice.

Charles took this as a good sign. “I hope that means she slept well.”

The trio settled themselves down in the thicket with a full view of the field. Charles handed off the gun to Darcy and received his own familiar fowling-piece in return. Within minutes, a pheasant took flight, and Charles aimed and fired.

“Nice shot, Charles,” Henry said as Charles reloaded. Several minutes passed in silence. “We’d have better luck with a dog.”

“An astute observation, no doubt,” Darcy said in a dry tone.

And particularly unhelpful, Charles thought. Yes, he fully admitted that most country gentleman kept hunting dogs, but when planning this retreat to Netherfield, he hadn’t thought to acquire one. He had plunged headlong into this adventure relying solely on Caroline to manage everything. Since she had no knowledge of gentlemanly pursuits, he should have seen to that detail himself. Obviously, he still had much to learn about being the master of an estate, and he hoped he hadn’t neglected anything else of importance.

“Confound these dratted birds,” Henry said, then threw a handful of pebbles into the brambles. When two birds flew out, Charles and Darcy promptly dispatched them.