Mister Darcy's Dogs Page 3

  “Do they always react that way toward her?” I asked Collins as we lugged the yipping dogs down a football field-sized corridor. The bassets quieted as we distanced them from Caroline.

  “Yes, miss. Always. Speaking out of turn, which as a former clergyman and protégé of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I have some latitude, I don’t know why that woman persists in visiting.”

  “Former clergyman? Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry. On my mind, on my lips.”

  “It’s no secret. I displeased Lady Catherine and she withdrew as my sponsor.” His rodent-like face registered a mix of hubris and humility.

  Collins pushed a button on the doorframe and a single oak door swung outward, revealing an indoor field the size of my grounds at Pansy Corners. A skylight beamed sunshine onto a park-like setting. The air conditioning thrummed softly, compensating for the heat shooting from the ceiling.

  Real grass grew in well-maintained patches dotted with a colorful array of half-eaten flowers. Two animatronic bunnies protected by plastic tunnels skated around on tiny railroad tracks. Virtual birds projected on the ceiling and real trees lined one side of the room. A bright yellow fire hydrant stood to the left of the entrance surrounded by a pee pad. Jane would never believe this.

  I dropped Squire gently on his chubby little belly, and Collins plopped Derby next to him. If those bassets could talk, they would have begged me not to leave them. Their red eyes puddled even as they piddled on a tree.

  “Excuse me,” a soft voice said from behind my shoulder. The source was a petite honey-blonde young woman with huge green eyes and a milk white complexion. She wore loose fitting trousers in a soft shade of blue and a pale blue baggy cotton sweater.

  With her slight frame and makeup-free features, she could have been anywhere from fourteen to twenty-four.

  She extended her doll-like hand. “I’m Georgiana Darcy.”

  Chapter 5

  Georgiana Darcy was every bit as sweet as her brother was not. I took an instant liking to her. We stood in the doorway and watched as Collins sank to his knees and crawled about playfully with the dogs. They nipped at his ears as he rolled over exposing his vested belly in an act of canine submission. I could understand Lady Catherine’s withdrawing her sponsorship. The man was off his onion.

  “When my brother told me you were coming, I was so excited. I saw your sister on the telecast. Has she recovered? I’d so like to meet her.”

  Georgiana prattled on. It was clear she was hungry for company. She touched my arm. I had the feeling she was confirming my reality.

  “We don’t get many visitors. Would you like to see our home? I can give you a short tour of the recreational wing while we get acquainted,” Georgiana said.

  I guesstimated the “flat” to be as large as a city block. My curiosity as to the layout ran rampant. “That would be lovely. So far all I’ve seen are the foyer and Caroline Bingley.”

  Georgiana wrinkled her nose and giggled. “Walk this way.” She looped her arm in mine, her touch as light as a butterfly’s eyelash.

  “Stay!” I said to Collins. He looked up at me adoringly. If he slurped my ankles, he was a dead man.

  We set off on an excursion that would change my opinion of the upper class for the worst. Georgiana led me down a marble hall carpeted with thick gray carpet shaded in a rainbow of muted colors reflected through the skylights. I thought of how I would describe this “flat” to Jane. I felt I had stumbled down the rabbit hole and into the love child of Blenheim Palace and a cruise ship as Georgina rattled off the list of rooms we might see if time allowed. “We have a media room, a squash court, and a bowling alley. Men’s stuff.”

  She reminded me of Lydia. I laughed.

  “This is the swimming pool.” Georgiana pressed a button and a huge oak door swung open. I gasped. She giggled. We stepped into the largest solarium I’d ever seen. Hand-painted Italian tile surrounded the Mediterranean blue water.

  “I’m not allowed near the pool unless I have someone with me. My brother is such a worrier. But he is correct in his concern. I’m not a good swimmer.”

  A waterfall spilled from the top of a stone grotto into the pool. The splashing water created a storm of negative ions. Those are the kind of ions that act like caffeine on my brain. Worries and wonders popped my synapses. Who or what was William Darcy? And why did he keep his sister locked away like Rapunzel?

  A flock of parrots flew by, barely missing our heads. We shared a laugh as the birds settled in a willow tree. Georgiana was as companionable as my sister Jane. I thought I’d take a chance and be a nosey parker.

  “Georgina, I’m intensely curious. What does your brother do for a living?”

  She cut me the same startled look Will Darcy displayed earlier. “That’s a peculiar question. I don’t recall anyone in our family having to do something for a living.”

  “Please forget I asked. That was rude of me.”

  “But you must feel comfortable in my company or you wouldn’t have been rude. Correct?”

  I laughed. She was right.

  We ambled around the far side of the pool. A tent-like skylight lent the feeling of outdoors. We must be on the penthouse floor of One Snyde Park. What kind of person lives like this? I’ve always been slightly suspicious of the super-rich. I felt as if I’d been handed a detective novel and couldn’t put the book down until I solved the mystery.

  “Do you have a brother? Are they all so very protective?” she asked.

  “I wish I did have a brother. I have four sisters.”

  “I’d love to meet them. Please tell me about them. Do they go to parties and dances?”

  We wandered through the doors and back out into the corridor. “Jane is my eldest sister and the kindest person on earth. Mary is our middle sister and so serious, she can be scary. My two younger sisters are forever delighting in mischief, especially if there are men… boys about.”

  We passed family portraits mingled with religious triptychs, English landscapes, and a series of bronze and steel statues, some nearly reaching the ceiling.

  One figure was a twice normal-sized nude mythological man. Georgiana brushed her hand along the figure’s stone dangling bits as she spoke. “I was in love once. My brother was furious, as the man’s intentions were not honorable. But still, being in love is wonderful, isn’t it?”

  I gulped and, against all odds, sorted my thoughts before I opened my notoriously ungoverned mouth. “I’ve never been in love. A like or two but nothing I lost sleep over.” The thought of last night’s dream slipped into place. I booted it out.

  We arrived at a set of twenty-foot-tall mahogany doors.

  “This is Will’s favorite room besides the library. I always know I can find him in one place or the other.” She pushed a green button along the right side of huge double doors. They swung open, revealing half a mountain studded with metal rings.

  “A climbing room?” I’d never seen one before. This would account for Darcy’s outfit.

  Just as I was closing my gawking jaw, Will Darcy’s voice launched me three feet in the air. “There you are!”

  His sister slipped her arm around his brawny back and stood on tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheek. I wondered what his cheek felt like. Cheeky.

  “Georgiana, you shouldn’t be tiring yourself. Doctor Bennet and I shall walk you back to your room.” Over the top of her head, he gave me the strangest look of approving disapproval. But he had acknowledged my doctor-hood. One point for me.

  We walked in silence for what seemed like a solid ten minutes till we came to Georgiana’s suite. The room was shades of blue and gave off a tranquility I’d yet to experience in this cold marble tower.

  It was time to take control and do my job. I was the boss of the bassets and so, indirectly, the boss of Mister Pompous.

  “The sooner we begin, the sooner you will have your trained bassets.” I presented him with my agreement. Georgiana clasped her hands and grinned.

  Mister Darcy signed without rea
ding the contract and passed it back to me. “Leave your wiring instructions with Bingley… Charles Bingley. Your deposit money will be wired today. The dogs must be ready to compete in their first hunt in two days.”

  I smiled. “We shall take the dogs to my grounds in Maidenhead. You can come dressed as you are. The training sessions are casual. Georgiana, you are welcome to observe if you desire.”

  Once again, Will Darcy assumed the ‘naked in Trafalgar Square’ expression. He stammered hunting for an excuse.

  “I insist you participate in the training, sir.”

  Georgiana jumped up and down. “Will, pretty please, let me come along.” She held her delicate hands in a prayerful pose.

  He shook his head managing to slip me a chilling glare.

  “Oh, please, Will. I’ve not been out for ages. I promise to be good.”

  Darcy’s jaws tightened.

  Georgiana let go with one tear, and he melted.

  “Fine. But you must stay by my side at all times. Take a bonnet!” he said.

  Skipping lightly, Georgiana disappeared into her room.

  Darcy turned on me. “You have just forced me to break one of my rules. In the future, speak to me before making any enticing offers in front of Georgiana. There are a few things that must remain private regarding my sister, but do know this, she is only eighteen and has a weak heart. No excitement, no exertion.”

  “I have two sisters at my cottage who are almost her age. I’m sure they would enjoy her company. Pansy Corners is very low on the excitement meter.”

  Georgiana returned with a large brimmed sunhat. She linked her arms between her brother and me. We were off to see the Wicked Witch of the BBC who remained in the foyer with her brother.

  Caroline Bingley turned Harrods green when she heard our plans. “I’m not dressed for the country!” she snapped.

  I could see the irritation bubbling in Mister Darcy’s eyes. “It isn’t necessary that you take part in the training exercises. Your film is about the actual fox hunt, not the dog training.”

  The society reporter looked like a petulant tot. “But I want to watch.” She snuck a hateful look at me from under her eyes.

  “It’s going to be a very long day,” I said. “I’m sure you won’t enjoy it.”

  Caroline took a step back, seeming to respond to a challenge I’d not intended. My remark brought out her suspicious nature. “I’m coming with you. I will be fine even in these heels.”

  I looked down at her stilettos and knew just how to train Caroline Bingley. Going forward, I would suggest the exact opposite of what I wanted from her.

  Darcy held Squire’s leash. I had a firm grip on Derby’s. Georgiana leaned on Bingley, and we were off to the elevator and down to the parking deck. The dogs whisper-growled at their unwanted traveling companion.

  We swooshed to the basement parking garage in three snarls and one bark.

  The uniformed chauffeur anticipating our arrival lowered a set of folding stairs and the bassets made their stubby way into the Maybach. Georgiana and I entered and settled into the deep leather seats. Caroline followed only to be charged by the howling hounds. They would have none of her.

  She jumped out, barely escaping Squire’s snapping jaws.

  I could not possibly survive the hour’s drive to Maidenhead mired in the fumes of Caroline’s perfume.

  I waggled my finger at Darcy. He leaned in to hear my sotto voce. “Her perfume may be what is bothering the dogs. Perhaps you might suggest she sit in front with the chauffeur? With the dividing window up, we may all survive the trip, assuming the driver can stay conscious.”

  Darcy smirked.

  With a bit of negotiation, two storm-offs, and a look-to-kill, Caroline accepted the seat in front, clearly insulted but clueless as to how to fight back. Bingley and Darcy joined us in the backseat. Derby took to my lap, effectively cutting off the circulation in my thighs. Squire settled his rump onto Darcy’s lap and pressed his slobbering mouth against the window.

  The chauffeur eased the Maybach out on Knightsbridge. Georgiana’s glee radiated throughout the car. The poor bird was escaping her golden cage. She looked at me and mouthed the words, thank you.

  I had the strangest feeling we were being followed. I craned my head to look out the heavily tinted rear window. Sunlight struck the windscreen of the car behind us, illuminating the driver’s face. I’d seen that handsome gent before.

  It wasn’t until we pulled onto the M4 that I remembered his name. We’d unofficially met at the Churchill Hounds Best of Show.

  George Wickham.

  Chapter 6

  We were ten-minutes into our drive when the foggy image of Caroline tapped on the divider window. The chauffeur came over the intercom. “Miss Bingley would like the screen lowered.” Poor dear was feeling left out of the conversation.

  Darcy cut me an impish look as he spoke to the chauffeur. “The dogs have just settled. Keep the screen up. Thank You.” He flipped off the intercom, adjusted Squire in his lap, and looked out the window.

  Caroline’s shadowy hand knocked on the window, again, but without being able to see us she couldn’t tell if we heard her. I swallowed a chuckle. As my sister Mary would say, You reap what you sow.

  Bingley and Georgiana were involved in quiet conversation. He treated her like a tolerant uncle, patting her hand and listening attentively to her soft chatter. The girl did need some female friends if only to share a giggle. I doubted Bingley was a big giggler.

  All young girls need girlfriends to share their romantic dreams and plan silly capers. Georgiana was about to meet Lydia and Kitty. I could only hope my sisters were not a bad influence on the only sister of my most important client.

  Darcy stroked Squire, running his fingers over the dog’s head and down behind his ears. “Doctor Bennet, you do know that the hunting of foxes and other mammals is illegal in the United Kingdom? Decreed by the Hunting Act of 2004.”

  “Of course, I do.” Not.

  “The dogs will be competing in a series of trail hunts purely for fun. We drag the scent of fox, hare, or rabbit to provide them with a path to follow. The trail will be laid to simulate the path that would be taken by a fox or hare to evade the hounds. It’s jolly good fun and no foxes are hurt.”

  I acted as if I knew about the Hunting Act, but in the past I had trained belligerent bichons and pampered poodles. This would be my first hunting class. “I’m fresh out of fox scent and seriously depleted of hare smells,” I said.

  “Well, we must lay a scented path that will shift and double-back on itself unpredictably, pass over obstacles and cross a variety of terrain. Perhaps a local farmer might have a rabbit pelt.”

  “I hate to think so. Poor rabbit.” I wiped Derby’s drool from my palm. “I believe in serendipity. We’ll find something with less personality to drag through the fields.”

  I heard a quiet wicked laugh. It came from deep within me. I had a brilliant idea.

  A frown lowered over Mister Darcy’s brow like a knight’s visor. Had he heard my snicker?

  I diverted him with a question that had been bothering me. “You do realize bassets, particularly show bassets, might be at a disadvantage in a hunt as their legs are so short their privates often scrape the ground,” I said.

  “My boys are thoroughbreds. They will acquit themselves and their privates quite well. This is, after all, a trail hunt and not a live fox. My ego can tolerate bringing up the rear.”

  From what I had seen of Mister Darcy’s ego, coming in last place was not acceptable. Something smelled fishy not foxy.

  Pansy Corners appeared as we rounded the last bend in the twisty country road. I was proud of my sweet little cottage and wondered if I could hold my temper against any upper-crust insults to my home.

  The Maybach slid to a halt midway on the crushed stone drive. The chauffeur stepped briskly from the car, gasping. He dashed around to the passenger door and opened it. Even seated in the car, I could smell his odor, transferred by
osmosis from Caroline. He reeked like a funeral parlor overloaded with lavish arrangements for the deceased, fortunate not to be able to smell them.

  Charles Bingley jumped from the car with an effervescence rarely matched in a flute of champagne. Derby and Squire tumbled out of the Maybach before the chauffeur could lower the dog steps. They raced to the fenced runs where my foundling greyhounds greeted them with barks and howls.

  I decided to let them enjoy their hound happiness while I introduced my sisters to our guests, that is, if Lydia and Kitty had not run off with one or more of the RAF reserves bivouacked fewer than two miles from Pansy Corners. I’d been gone for almost five hours, enough time for them to take the shine off the Bennet family reputation unless Jane had kept them in shackles.

  Lydia and Kitty dashed out the door each carrying a romance novel and fluffing her hair. I could see the interest in their eyes as they dwelled on Mister Darcy and Charles Bingley. Lydia made a point of lingering on the chauffeur’s uniform. The girl was in need of some serious schooling in identifying uniforms before she ran off with a theater usher or a toll-taker.

  Jane stepped onto the tiny porch and then daintily took to the stairs. She looked tired. The loss of her employment contract and the horrendous news coverage had taken their toll. Jane saw only the good in others and would surely take the entire blame for the ruckus at the Royal Albert.

  Charles Bingley was at my side. “Please introduce me to your sister.”

  Together we approached Jane. Her long blonde hair dangled down in soft ringlets, the sunlight adding a glow to her natural highlights. Her eyes, the same bright blue as Bingley’s, locked on his face. She reddened. They would make pretty babies. I mentally smacked myself. They’d only just met and Bingley is from money. The Bennet sisters are from hunger.

  My mind went all wonky romantic for a moment. I bit the inside of my lip to snap out of my fairy tale fantasies. Focus, Lizzie. I was going to need assistance if I were to accomplish the training. The thought of using Bingley’s interest in Jane to bluff my way through this first schooling slipped into my mind and lodged. Perfect. I would secretly enlist Bingley’s advice on hunting, or not hunting, per the new law.