Page 22

Lady Catherine halted.

“If those animals have overturned a servant, Fitzwilliam, I shall expect the servant to be dismissed.”

“The servant is unlikely to be at fault, Aunt. I will go up.”

“You will not go up alone. Anne’s nerves—”

“My nerves are excellent, Mother, and I wish to know what Diana is saying.” Miss de Bourgh gathered her shawl. “Mrs Gardiner, Miss Elizabeth, Georgiana—if you are not afraid of a little noise, I believe we are wanted.”

“I am never afraid of noise.” Aunt Madeline glanced at the stair. “I have borne twin boys.”

“I shall remain downstairs. Someone must preserve the appearance of a proper household. Fitzwilliam, if it is that footman, you will remember what I told you at dinner.”

“I remember everything you tell me, Aunt.”

Mr Darcy began climbing the stairs. Elizabeth followed, her aunt, Miss Darcy, Miss de Bourgh, and Martin trailing behind them.

Apollo and Diana sat shoulder to shoulder before a narrow door, tails beating the carpet, ears forward. From within the wood came a thin, tragic recital.

“I am done for. Tell my mother the Lower Farm should go to my brother Herbert, the spotted pig to Josiah, not Michael, because he will trade it for a hat. Thomas may have my Sunday coat. Michael may have the whistle. The whistle is cracked. I am sorry about the whistle.”

Miss Darcy pressed a fist to her mouth. Miss de Bourgh made a sound that was not yet a laugh, but not far from one.

Mr Darcy tried the handle. The door opened an inch and stopped, blocked by what Elizabeth understood to be a tray, a hip, and despair.

“Bates.”

“Mr Darcy, sir! Do not open it further, sir, they will come in, and I have made my peace, but I would rather make it without teeth involved. I was removing the tray from Miss Darcy’s rooms and I stumbled, sir. The carpet rose up. A scrap of ham fell from beneath the folded napkin. They smelled it. I sought refuge in here and I cannot go out because they will eat me. It is as dark as a pocket in here.”

“You may get out now, Bates.” Mr Darcy kept his tone level, which was a mercy to the man inside. “I shall not let them eat you. Bring the tray with you.”

“I shall die on the tray, sir. It is a very decent tray. Martin may have it, if it survives me. I leave him my good opinion, which is all I have left that is not promised to my brothers.”

Diana whined and scratched once at the panel. Apollo licked his own nose and resumed his vigil.

“Bates,” Elizabeth called, because somebody had to interrupt the testament before the whistle was bequeathed a second time, “you are not dying. You are surrounded by people who have just had breakfast and are in no humour to lose a footman before nuncheon.”

“Miss Elizabeth? Are the hounds with you?”

“They are with all of us.”

“I knew it would end in a cupboard.” The reply came muffled and increasingly noble. “Tell Mrs Reynolds the silver was not my fault yesterday, and the day before, and this morning if anything has happened to the silver this morning. I was only returning Miss Darcy’s dish. There was ham. There is no longer ham. The ham has entered history.”

Miss Darcy stepped forward, scandalised and delighted.

“Bates, that was for Apollo, and you were to bring the dish to the scullery, not offer yourself as the second course.”

“I did not offer, miss. The carpet offered me. I moved in the only direction that did not have jaws.”

Aunt Madeline had gone down on her heels beside Diana and was addressing the hound in the tone she used on Harold when he had decided to become a highwayman.

“You have had your triumph. A lady does not sit in a doorway when she has already won. Come along. There will be nothing more in that closet worth the waiting.”

Diana considered her. Apollo considered the door. Neither moved, except that Apollo’s tail increased its tempo, as if applause might produce more ham.

Mr Darcy crouched and spoke to the pair.

“Off. Both of you. The ham is gone. The man is not ham. This is a distinction I have explained before.”