Page 43 of Master of Himself

“Will the grey suffice today, sir?”

“Yes, thank you,” he said, thinking the grey would do just as well as any other disappointing colour in Darcy’s wardrobe. Unfortunately, Charles had become far too accustomed to disappointment this past sennight.

As he tended to his morning shave, he wondered how much longer he would see another man’s reflection in the looking glass.

“That’s quite a bruise, sir. Did you meet with an accident?” Hobbs inquired.

The blue blotch on his shoulder was nothing compared to his aching arms and back. Still, he shrugged it off. “No, it was just some light sparring with Bingley and Hurst. I’m a bit out of practice.” This, of course, was an understatement; Charles had never boxed in his life, nor had he performed well during his first attempt.

Hobbs merely nodded and continued his duties with his usual cheerless efficiency.

In the past sennight, Charles had established a regular routine with Mr Hobbs. Coffee first, followed by his shave, then the drab attire and uninspired cravat.

After dismissing Hobbs, Charles met Darcy in the hall.

“I was just coming to check on you,” Darcy said.

“I’m sorry I begged off earlier, but I could barely move. We can shoot tomorrow.”

“Don’t give it another thought,” Darcy said as they descended the stairs. “Hurst and I each bagged three braces of birds.”

Heat rose to Charles’s face. He now realised that by sleeping in, he had left the task of restocking his larder to his guests. “I didn’t mean to abandon you—”

Darcy waved that concern aside. “We put you through your paces last night, so it’s no wonder you were done up.”

“Still, I’ll make it up to you.”

“You have nothing whatsoever to make up. As you know, I’m an early riser and cannot be idle,” Darcy said. “What are your plans for the day? I’m completely at your disposal.”

Jane Bennet’s sweet countenance sprang to Charles’s mind. He longed to see her, especially since their conversation had been cut short after Sunday services. “Perhaps we can call on Longbourn.”

“An excellent notion.”

Judging from Darcy’s ready consent, Charles suspected he wanted to see Miss Elizabeth.

When they entered the breakfast parlour, they found his sisters and brother-in-law already seated. “Still among the living, Darcy?” Henry said, grinning broadly.

“Just barely.” Charles helped himself to the offerings on the sideboard, then took his place at the only available chair at the table, next to Caroline as usual.

“The weather looks promising again today, Mr Darcy. How shall we amuse ourselves?” Caroline asked with an expectant smile.

“I plan to take a nap,” Henry said.

“Charles and I plan to call on Longbourn to inquire after Miss Bennet’s health,” he said, glancing over at Darcy, who added his agreement.

“You and Louisa are welcome to join us,” Darcy said.

Unable to disguise his amusement at Caroline’s chagrin, Charles dabbed his mouth with his serviette. He doubted there was anywhere in the kingdom his sisters wished less to visit than Longbourn.

Caroline assumed an indulgent smile. “I wish I could, Charles, but I simply don’t have the time. I am dreadfully behind on my correspondence, and shall be in disgrace with my friends if I don’t see to it immediately,” she said, glancing at Louisa who nodded in earnest. “But please convey our warmest regards to Miss Bennet.”

Since this arrangement was precisely what Charles preferred, he turned his sole attention to his breakfast. Nothing would spoil his visit with Miss Bennet.

When the time came, Darcy called for their horses. While donning his hat and gloves, Charles despaired at his reflection in the looking glass; he wore only dark hues with no adornments, not even a cravat pin. Despite wanting nothing more than to see Miss Bennet again, this was certainly not the manner in which he would choose to present himself to a beautiful woman.

Perhaps it was just as well. Under his present circumstances, he would be unable to pay her the attention she deserved. At this point, he never wished for rain more in his life.

Despite his apprehension, he mounted Bart and set off. Glad to be free of the constraints of the house, he let the stallion run down the driveway and into the lane. After a brief jaunt, they reached Meryton Road and cantered through the village.