Page 7 of Master of Himself

Shaking off the pain now stinging his hand, Darcy resumed his pacing. “I suspect that even if I beat you to a pulp, you would still be Darcy, and I would still be Bingley.”

“Perhaps it’s just a dream,” Charles said, rubbing his jaw. “It’s entirely likely that we’ll wake up in the morning and be back to normal.”

While Darcy appreciated this fantastical notion, he doubted their problem could be resolved so easily. This was no dream, but rather his worst nightmare.

Chapter 4

Wednesday 13 November

The morning brought no relief. Darcy’s ring was still firmly planted on Charles’s hand.

Now what? he thought, rising from his bed. Pulling the window drapes aside, he scowled at the sun peeking between grey clouds, as though mocking him. Had the weather gods played a trick on him, sending torrential rain one day and fleeting sunshine the next? Had they caused him to transform into Darcy?

The door creaked open, and his twin entered, wearing his blue banyan. “I’m glad you’re awake. What’s our plan?” Darcy inquired.

“I wish I knew. Perhaps we should go back to the same spot where my chaise got stuck,” Charles said, to which Darcy nodded.

“It’s worth a try, especially since I have no better suggestion. I’d rather not encounter your sisters in this state.”

“Lord, no.” Charles dearly loved Louisa and Caroline, but they could try any sane man’s patience. “I’ll meet you out at the stables in thirty minutes,” he said, checking the watch on the nightstand.

“Charles, please have a care with my grandfather’s watch. I’ve never been without it since my father gave it to me.”

Examining the finely etched cover, Charles knew the timepiece was an heirloom, just like his own. “You have my father’s watch.”

With a grim nod, Darcy left him alone.

Hoping to dress quickly, Charles rang for the valet. Mr Hobbs arrived, as cheerless as he had been the night before, with the shaving water and a cup of black coffee.

Good Lord. How can Darcy abide the stuff on an empty stomach?

“Will the green riding coat and buckskins suffice, sir?” Hobbs asked as he filled the basin.

Charles agreed but then hesitated, wondering if Darcy shaved himself or if the valet shaved him. He hadn’t thought to ask. Would he give himself away if he altered Darcy’s morning routine? Must he now take up drinking coffee during his morning ablutions?

While Charles washed his face, Hobbs arranged the supplies on the shaving stand and, thankfully, went off to the dressing room. Charles lathered his face and made quick work of the razor, as usual. Hobbs returned with the riding attire and silently helped him to dress, so unlike Henderson who usually offered amusing quips or news from the kitchen. Since he’d made no remark about the shaving stand, Charles assumed he had guessed right on the matter.

When Hobbs handed him the cravat, he knew a moment’s panic. He was all thumbs when it came to tying knots and relied entirely on Henderson’s creative flair, especially with the waterfall and mail coach designs he preferred. Apparently, Darcy tied his own cravat.

“May I trouble you to tie it for me, Mr Hobbs? I fear I’m a trifle out of sorts today.”

“Perfectly understandable, sir,” Hobbs said without hesitation. He quickly wrapped the cravat around Charles’s neck and formed a simple knot that Darcy favoured. While it wasn’t Charles’s preference, he acknowledged that he must not draw attention to himself by altering Darcy’s usual appearance.

Once Charles was dressed, with Darcy’s watch safely bestowed in his pocket, Hobbs collected his night clothes. “Shall I call for your horse?” he inquired, almost as though he knew what Charles was thinking.

He didn’t, did he?

Already on edge, he hurried down the stairs, slipped out through the side door, and walked around to the back of the house. Thankfully, his sisters never ventured downstairs at this hour of the morning. He wasn’t prepared to deal with them in his altered state.

He waved to his stable master, old Anderson.

“We’ll have Bart ready in a trice, Mr Darcy.”

Dear Lord. He had forgotten that Darcy rode a huge black stallion. Would Bart accept him or would he perceive him as a stranger and throw him off?

When Darcy joined him on the driveway wearing his grey riding coat, Charles also recognised one of his old hats. “I forgot that I lost my good hat to the wind last night.”

Darcy tipped the hat. “Henderson noticed it was missing and dragged out this forsaken thing,” he said with a smirk, then glanced at Charles’s attire. “I see Hobbs has restored my boots. Yours are also in good form, but I suppose hats and boots are the least of our problems.”