Page 32 of The Scarred Duchess
“The duchess is his best friend,” she whispered.
“The duchess?”
Elizabeth crooked a finger. Bennet leant in close. “Jane is the duchess,” she whispered.
“Let us keep that a secret between us, shall we?” he whispered back. Elizabeth kissed his cheek and ran off.
By choice, Bill remained in the stable. One day, when asked, he whispered to Elizabeth that the horses spoke to him. She looked at him in awe and told her father what Bill had admitted. Intrigued, Bennet thanked his precocious girl. He knew how to act.
It took two days to fit the stable loft into an acceptable living space. The Hills moved Bill from the servants’ quarters, and Bennet tasked him with keeping the structure in top form. A week later, Bennet announced that his stables and horses for the home farm had never been better readied and named Bill as Longbourn’s new—if very young—stable master.
Bennet and Reeves sat upon their unmoving mounts as they gazed silently over the rolling fields of the estates of the neighbourhood. A fence line was the single inconsistency in a canvas of whites, beiges, and yellows, with random dots of green strewn throughout.
At length, Bennet turned his gaze to his companion. Reeves, acknowledging his commander’s consequence, looked away to the horizon. “Something on your mind, Colonel?”
Bennet remained silent while reaching into his riding jacket. He removed a letter, and handed it to Reeves. Reeves quickly devoured the three paragraphs and handed it back. “I’ll be on my way within a se’nnight.”
“A fortnight. No need to make haste.”
“I would not want my doings to taint the Miss Bennets.”
“No, you would not.”
They stayed in silence for a few moments. “Who takes me post?”
“Care to name your replacement?”
“Legget.”
“I understood him to have mustered out.”
“He did. He ain’t of our group no more.” Reeves tapped his nose. “He’d do fine for the Miss Bennets. He never liked town, even if he grew up a grease-boy.”
“Legget?” Bennet repeated, amazed. “How soon could he arrive?”
“Leave that to me. Have I ever disappointed?”
Bennet realised his regard had clouded his judgment regarding the deadliest man he had ever known. He did not regret it. “No, you have not.”
The northern counties were superior to Hertfordshire in size and topography and would allow more flexibility for those with his unique abilities, he advised Reeves before adding gently, “Be sure to fare-thee-well the Misses Bennet. They shall miss your protective shadow.”
Reeves, with a nod, tightened his reins and turned his horse.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
George Darcy cleared his throat; Mr Wickham, his steward, kept his gaze steady on his employer.
“I know this cannot go unanswered, sir. I shall deal with him.”
“Those were your words to me the first time. As well as the second.”
“I was too lenient. I see now he requires physical punishment. I shall...” Wickham stopped speaking at the shaking of his employer’s head.
“Your relation is in the magistrate’s cage.”
“What? How?”
“Upon receiving a report of his cousin’s beating, my nephew Richard Fitzwilliam rode into Lambton. It seems your nephew and his gang of ruffians importuned a local girl, in addition to their many other offences.”
