Page 36 of The Scarred Duchess
“He did.” Reeves looked hard at Darcy. The lad had taken everything the armourer had dealt him and complained not once. He was intelligent, tough, and competent, and he had honour. He would be a good man. A compassionate man. He would not be a whipping post for anyone. He would protect his young sister from the ugly society she would eventually enter.
“That was astonishing,” said Mr Darcy.
Reeves turned to see the admiration on the man’s face. “Prime that were.”
In a private room at Boodle’s, the earl leant back in his chair, crossed his legs, and savoured his libation.
“This is very fine, Gardiner.” Lord Matlock assessed his young friend. “What assistance do you require from me?”
Gardiner chuckled. “Am I so mercenary, my lord?”
The earl set his drink down as he laughed. “Share your burden, young man. I see it written across your face.”
He accepted a set of papers from Gardiner, who sipped his drink while the earl read through them. The cover page indicated the legal property of the town’s most prestigious law firm.
“The boy may not still live.”
“My sister needs no unwarranted burdens. My brother is a fine man but may not comprehend the anguish a revelation like this may incur,” admitted Gardiner.
“I owe my life to Bennet.”
“I am aware of that, my lord.” Gardiner said.
Lord Matlock pursed his lips. “I believe an objective third party would well serve us to investigate these matters. Should they bear fruit, we can reassess your stance. Will that satisfy you?”
“It was I that requested your counsel, my lord.”
“That you did, young man.”
“A man of your circle may generate more questions than answers.”
“I am not thinking of a man,” replied Lord Matlock with a smile.
Gardiner understood at once. “Your sister does revel in being of use.”
Lord Matlock chuckled. “That she does, my friend. That she does.”
Lady Catherine accepted Timmons’s assistance out of the carriage in front of the Marylebone Workhouse in Watford. She was one more step closer to completing her brother’s task. That he had asked her to visit a workhouse spoke to the importance of his request. That he had done so in August—she wrinkled her nose at the stench of the city streets—well, she was certain he would not have timed it thus if he could have avoided it.
A soberly dressed man awaited her in the courtyard. “I am Mr Brisbane, Lady Catherine. I am in charge of this house. I understand you to be here at the Earl of Matlock’s request?”
“An acquaintance has brought to the earl’s attention that the young cousin of a close connexion is under your care.”
“Madam?” Mr Brisbane asked uncertainly.
“Yes, as I just said, a cousin of an intimate connexion.” Lady Catherine said. “I should appreciate that we do not merely stand here. Our family’s charity recipient is extended upon Mr William Collins.”
Mr Brisbane disappeared into Marylebone House. Lady Catherine waited in front of her carriage. The weather was clement and the ride, although not arduous, had been ofseveral hours in duration. She brushed at her skirt; scuffling footsteps caught her attention.
A thin boy meekly followed Mr Brisbane towards her. His dark hair needed tending; his clothes were ill-fitting. At least he had shoes. Mr Brisbane urged him forwards. The young man seemed reluctant to approach her.
“Timmons,” said Lady Catherine to her attending footman, “the countess’s letter, if you please.” She stared at the unkempt boy. “What is your name?”
He looked at his feet and mumbled. She said, firmly, “What was that?”
“William Collins, ma’am.”
Lady Catherine nodded. She enquired about the boy’s things, and moments later, her footman received the young man’s Sunday-best attire.
