“Short in the ear, sir. Not empty—but lighter than we’d wish. Mr Granger says we must not count on the winter as kindly as the last.”
A wind moved low across the yard, lifting the dust along the path. Darcy glanced toward the hedgerow beyond the cottage. The leaves had turned early at their edges, a faint rusting where there ought still to be strength.
“Has the miller remarked upon it?” he asked.
“He has, sir. Grain’s coming in thinner. He says he’s had to set the stones closer to make good flour of it.”
Darcy inclined his head once. “Then we will not wait upon Providence alone. I shall see what may be purchased before prices rise further. Keep careful account of what remains in your cellar. If your stores run low, you will inform Pemberley at once.”
Telford swallowed. “Aye, sir.”
Darcy gave a final look toward the low, earthen door set into the bank. Sound construction. Proper drainage. But construction would not conjure abundance where the fields had withheld it. He tipped his head in brief farewell to the tenant and turned down the slope. A moment later, Richard’s boots caught up beside his, the rhythm of his stride quickening to match.
“You know,” he said, brushing his glove against a low-hanging branch, “you are wasted on London society. Striding about dispensing medical care and cellar stores and justice, too, no doubt—one might mistake you for a minor deity.”
Darcy brushed a fleck of mud from his cuff. “It is mere responsibility.”
“Call it what you like. That man will speak of you in the village with the reverence of a saint.”
“I prefer to be spoken of not at all.”
“Modest as ever. Meanwhile, my men in the regiment would have given a year’s wages for half your management skills. You would have had supplies landed at Cadiz and rations distributed before breakfast.”
“Perhaps. But I doubt I would have been as popular with your officers.”
Richard gave a bark of laughter. “True enough. I won them over with my magnanimous smile and my willingness to lose at cards.” He slowed his pace. “It was all a sham, you know. There were days I thought we would never see England again.”
Darcy glanced toward him, but his expression did not shift. One hand closed loosely around his walking stick, the knuckles whitening just slightly.
Richard looked away. He kicked a stone from the path, watched it tumble into the brush. “Still. One survives. One finds amusement where one can.” He cleared his throat and nudged Darcy with his elbow. “Speaking of amusement—have you endured Aunt Catherine lately?”
“I have not,” Darcy said. “I take it I should be grateful.”
“That depends on your tolerance for repetition. But I passed through Kent after we came ashore at Dover, thought I would call on our dear aunt. A handsome bed and full table, only a handful of miles from port? I daresay not one in a hundred lads had such a proud welcome back to England. But it did not come free of cost, I am sorry to say.”
“Let me guess. She enlisted you to work upon me for some scheme that involves marriage and duty and family dignity. Did I get it all?”
Richard laughed. “She has not altered her opinion in the slightest. Only her volume.”
“How original.”
“She spoke of duty, naturally. Of legacy. Of matters long deferred and now—apparently—pressing.” He shook his head. “It was the same old argument, only delivered as though time itself had grown impatient.”
Darcy’s mouth curved. “I suppose it did not occur to her to consult the intended.”
Richard shrugged. “She prefers proclamations to conversations. Easier to win those.”
They walked on. A pheasant rustled in the underbrush but did not take flight.
“Still,” Richard went on, as though idly turning over the matter, “you cannot fault her consistency. She has believed you and Anne inevitable since we were all in shortcoats. Do you recall the old justification? Something about bloodlines aligning at last.”
Darcy made a dismissive sound. “I recall being bored.”
Richard laughed. “Ah. Then you will be pleased to know she has not confined herself to memory. She has been rummaging. Asked after the Harrowe folio, of all things. I told her you still had it.”
Darcy stopped short.
The pause was brief—no more than the time it took him to adjust his grip on the gun—but it was enough.
