His life was not here.
His duty was in Derbyshire.
“How did you fare during the flooding?” he asked, turning the conversation before Lady Matlock could insist upon another egg. “The roads suggest London has been attempting to become Venice.”
“Venice would at least have the advantage of intending it,” Milton said.
Lord Matlock folded his newspaper and set it beside his plate. “We were inconvenienced rather than endangered, thank God, though half the city seems to have suffered in some form. Warehouses, cellars, low streets—anything near the river was struck dreadfully. Bath has had its own troubles as well, from the reports. It was not a London calamity only.”
“I understand there was damage to Vauxhall? And to Windsor as well?”
The earl’s mouth twitched. “Ah, yes. His Majesty was quite unable to remove from Windsor, which created no small degree of alarm amongst those who make it their business to be alarmed. The Prince, of course, treated the matter with his usual mixture of concern and levity. I shall leave you to determine which quality predominated.”
Lady Matlock gave her husband a warning look. “Henry.”
“What? I have said nothing treasonous. The Prince knows perfectly well I think him ridiculous upon Tuesdays, Thursdays, and most Sundays.”
“You are acquainted enough with him to be more cautious.”
“I am acquainted enough with him to know caution rarely improves his opinion of anyone.” Lord Matlock’s expression sobered. “Still, the damage is serious. There will be families ruined by it. Merchants especially. Goods stored near the river, warehouses flooded, transport stopped, insurance contested—London shall be untangling the effects for months.”
Darcy thought at once of Edward Gardiner. It had been nearly three years since the tradesman had quietly allowed him time on his debt. He had settled the account as soon as he could, but not in person, and though Gardiner had insisted by letter that there was no debt between them, Darcy had never forgotten the kindness. If the flooding had reached the warehouses near the river, as Lord Matlock suggested, Gardiner’s business might well have suffered.
“I had intended to call upon a merchant in Gracechurch Street while I am here,” Darcy said. “It seems I had better not delay.”
“Gracechurch Street?” Milton asked with the mild curiosity of a man who did not object to trade so long as it did not require him to do any arithmetic. “That is unfashionably useful of you.”
Darcy ignored him, which only made Milton smile.
“Have you heard from Richard?” Darcy asked after a moment. “I had hoped there might be a letter waiting here.”
The mood around the table shifted at once. Lady Matlock’s hand stilled upon the teapot, and even Milton’s levity faded.
“Not since Lisbon,” Lord Matlock said quietly. “He wrote before the regiment moved again. He is under Wellesley now.”
Darcy nodded. Everyone in military circles knew enough to respect the name, though respect did little to quiet concern. “Word in Derbyshire is that matters are proving more difficult than Parliament hoped.”
“Matters are always more difficult than Parliament hopes,” the earl replied. “French forces do not vanish merely because English gentlemen declare them inconvenient.”
Lady Matlock lowered her eyes. “Richard sounded cheerful in his letter.”
“Richard would sound cheerful at his own funeral if he thought it would ease your mind,” Milton said, though his voice had softened.
No one answered immediately. The silence that followed was not dramatic, but it was heavy. Darcy knew something of military life, but militia service in Derbyshire was a pale shadow beside campaigning on the Continent. Richard had wanted active service for years; now that he had it, his family could only wait for letters and pretend cheerful reports were sufficient protection.
At length Lord Matlock turned toward Darcy with the air of a man deliberately setting anxiety aside because nothing usefulcould be done with it. “And Pemberley? How do matters stand there?”
Darcy accepted the change with gratitude. “Improving. Slowly, but truly. Nearly half the tenant farms are leased again, and the farms that remain empty are at least being kept from total neglect. We have begun repairs upon the north service wing, which was worse than I knew. The roof there had been patched so many times that the patches had become more numerous than the sound tiles.”
Lady Matlock’s face softened. “And you are not attempting to repair all of it yourself, I trust.”
“No, Aunt. I allow other men to climb ladders.”
“Very wise,” Milton said. “A colonel falling through his own roof would create a most untidy scandal.”
Georgiana, who had been listening with careful attention, leaned forward. “And how long may you stay?”
Darcy looked at her, wishing at once that the answer were different. “A week.”
