Page 38 of The Scarred Duchess
Matlock
The next day, Mrs Bennet went to the stable with a treat.
“Bill, come have some cake,” she called. After all that had been said and done, she found herself fond of their ward. She took an involuntary step back when a scarred mountain emerged from the shadows of the farm horse’s stall.
“Oh my, you startled me.”
“Pardon, mistress.”
“I came to thank you for watching over Jane. You have done well.”
“I owe her my life,” Bill rasped.
Mrs Bennet did not disagree. “Mr Bennet has a connexion in town that would benefit from your skill with the horses, I understand.”
“The master said Mr Legget shall watch over the Miss Bennets.”
“Yes, he will.” Mrs Bennet measured him with her eyes—boots to head and back down. She shook her head in disbelief. “Bill, let us measure you. You have grown immensely these past years.”
Bill stood a ladder up and holding it in place with onehand, placed his back against the gate frame. Mrs Bennet took three upward steps and marked the gate frame with chalk.
“There now. We shall have Mr Bennet determine what we have accomplished. Enjoy your cake.”
Walking away from the stable, Mrs Bennet mused over the change in the boy who had come to them.Why, he has become the largest man I have ever seen!
The Bennet carriage stopped at the rear of the grandest home in Mayfair. Bennet marked his page and closed his book; he had selfishly spent the past hours catching up on his reading as Bill was the perfect travelling companion—silent and compliant. He felt guilty, noting that his ward had failed to find a truly comfortable position throughout the five-hour journey—his long legs simply could not contort to the carriage dimensions. He had thought his wife had played a prank when she showed him the chalk mark on the stable doorframe. She had not.
Bennet exited the carriage and walked to the opposite side to see the under-butler, who greeted and informed him Lord and Lady Matlock awaited him in the small parlour.
“Thank you. I have brought your new master of the mews.”
“Excellent, sir. His lordship will be pleased.”
Footmen and stable hands crowded about him while they waited for their new colleague to exit the carriage. Bennet knew Bill had placed one boot on the ground because the carriage lifted several inches on one side.
“Hey, now!” shouted a nearby coachman.
The carriage then righted several inches higher; two largeboots were visible through the drop stairs. As Bill moved cautiously around the back of the carriage, Bennet heard amazed utterances about the boy’s size.
The under-butler surprised Bennet. He walked up to Bill and welcomed him. “Horsley, fetch his things and set them in the...?” He looked to Bennet.
“Mews. Bill is most comfortable amongst the horses.”
“Excellent, sir.” He looked at the befuddled gathering. “Step to it, lads. Matlock hands do not dally, do they?”
“No, sir,” chorused the gathering cheerfully and got about their business. Bennet nodded at Bill, who smiled shyly, before he followed the Matlock House butler to his rooms.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Bennet, dressed for dinner, sipped from his glass. He was the first in the drawing room; the earl and countess, he was sure, would join him soon to welcome their guests.
“Mr George Darcy,” announced Clarke as the gentleman entered the drawing room and came to meet him. The gentlemen exchanged bows.
“How good it is to see you again,” Darcy said with a smile. “How fares our friend at Netherfield Park?”
“He added a fencing salon,” Bennet said with a smirk, “to his detriment.”
Darcy laughed. “I daresay it is.”
