“For the whole week,” Toby added mournfully.
Darcy suspected the punishment had not cured them nearly so thoroughly as Longbourn hoped.
The twins brightened again almost instantly.
“The Netherfield party comes to dine tomorrow.”
Darcy’s attention returned. “At Longbourn.”
“Yes.”
“We are not invited,” Thomas said tragically.
“Because we are confined.”
“But we shall still do what we can.”
Darcy narrowed his eyes further. “What precisely does that mean?”
The twins exchanged immediate looks.
Dangerous ones.
“What are you about?” Darcy asked sharply.
Toby straightened abruptly. “Did you know George Lucas fell in the pond yesterday?”
Darcy stared.
Thomas nodded with suspicious enthusiasm. “Quite covered in mud.”
“You are changing the subject.”
“Are we?” Toby asked innocently.
“Yes.”
The twins took one synchronized step backward.
“We must go.”
“Lessons.”
“Mama says tardiness builds bad character.”
Before Darcy could stop them, they turned and bolted across the field with astonishing speed.
“Toby!”
“Thomas!”
Neither slowed.
Darcy remained standing beside his horse watching the boys disappear over the rise, equal parts exasperated and entertained.
The twins were undoubtedly planning something.
The certainty fell heavily upon him, and whether Longbourn survived the experience intact remained very much open to question. Darcy mounted once more and turned back toward Netherfield at a slower pace than before. His thoughts remained thoroughly occupied during the ride home—not solely by the twins’ alarming schemes, but by the uncomfortable awareness that Mr. Alfred Barnett Wilson’s existence irritated him far more than reason justified.
