Page 11

The footmen entered in a synchronised line, bearing domed platters.

As Martin lifted the primary domes, an overwhelming aroma wafted. It was not the delicate scent of roasted herbs or fine wine; it was the heavy odour of melted fat.

Darcy stared at the platter placed before him. A large joint of beef swam in a veritable lake of thick, yellow butter; the roasted potatoes were submerged in cream, and the seasonal vegetables were coated in a glistening layer of grease.

He glanced at the footmen, bewildered. Their cook was renowned for her delicate French sauces and light, elegant fare.

“I issued specific instructions to the kitchens this morning,” Lady Catherine announced, gesturing proudly to the greasy dishes. “I inspected the menus and found them lacking in substance. Anne requires rich, sustaining nourishment to maintain her constitution. The girl needs strength!”

Anne stared down at her plate, her complexion turning a shade paler than usual. She leaned slightly to her left.

“I only need dinner,” Anne murmured to Mr Gardiner, her words barely audible. “I am not preparing to plough a field at dawn.”

Mr Gardiner coughed into his napkin, his shoulders shaking. Miss Elizabeth found the stem of her wine glass very fascinating. Georgiana’s eyes rounded like saucers.

“I heard that, Anne!” Lady Catherine snapped. “I know what is best for your health. You will consume a large portion of that beef, and you will eat the buttered chicken when it arrives!”

As if summoned by the command, Bates entered the dining room, carrying a platter bearing a whole roasted chicken, glazed in a thick, shimmering layer of animal fat. He moved as though walking a tightrope in a high wind.

Bates aimed for Lady Catherine’s end of the table, approaching her chair with caution. Lady Catherine pushed her chair back and turned towards him to inspect the dish. He lifted the platter, preparing to offer it for her ladyship’s inspection, but his shoe caught the raised edge of the rug. He pitched forward, his arms flailing in an attempt to maintain his balance. The platter tipped at a steep angle, the butter-soaked chicken sliding off, the entire bird landing squarely in Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s lap.

The empty platter clattered onto the rug, and Bates fell flat beside it.

A collective gasp echoed around the dining table. Time seemed to stop. The chicken rested on the rich fabric, leaving an expanding stain of grease.

Before Lady Catherine could even draw the necessary air to scream, a growl erupted from the floor.

Apollo and Diana did not hesitate. Two furry blurs of motion launched, lunging at Lady Catherine’s chair.

“Good heavens!” Mr Gardiner shouted, shoving his own chair backward.

Lady Catherine shrieked in terror, as though the giant beasts intended to eat her along with the poultry. She threw her arms into the air, pressing her back firmly into the upholstery.

Diana’s jaws snapped shut around the left wing of the chicken. Apollo clamped his teeth around the right leg. They tugged simultaneously, lifting the bird off her evening gown.

Darcy sprang from his seat and ran the length of the table with a speed he did not know he had, reaching the scene of the crime a fraction of a second after Mr Gardiner.

He grabbed Diana’s collar while Mr Gardiner seized Apollo’s.

Together, the two men hauled the snarling hounds backwards, dragging them away from the shrieking matriarch. The dogs refused to release their prize. The chicken tore in half with a sickening crunch of bone, and the hounds chewed their respective portions, wagging their tails in satisfaction.

Stunned silence descended on the dining room.

Bates lay on his stomach on the rug, his hands covering his ears. Georgiana sat frozen in her chair. Anne held her napkin over her mouth, her shoulders shaking violently.

Lady Catherine stared down at the stain covering the front of her gown. She trembled with such a fury it rendered her speechless for ten full seconds.

Finally, she raised her head. When Darcy and Mr Gardiner had passed the dogs to the footmen to remove them, she fixed her nephew with a glare of molten rage.

“You will dismiss that clumsy fool immediately!” She pointed a trembling finger at the quivering footman on the floor. “You will send him away without a character reference! He is a menace! He is an assassin!”

Darcy straightened his coat.

“I will do no such thing, Aunt Catherine,” he stated, his tone firm. “Bates is a loyal servant and still under training. It was an accident, exacerbated by the excessive grease on the dish. I shall certainly take precautions regarding his future duties in the dining room, but I will not turn him out.”

Lady Catherine gasped, her chest heaving. “You defend this outrage? You defend these wild beasts?”

“I defend my servants,” Darcy corrected. “I suggest you retire to your chambers and allow your maid to assist you into a new gown.”