Page 152 of Near Pemberley

“Let me have a look at you. You will come inside immediately.”

“I was already intending to.” Darcy rolled his eyes, but only as Mrs. Barnes turned to lead him.

“Sit down, sir.”

“I had hoped first to change my coat.”

Darcy looked at her for a long moment. For reasons he could never afterwards explain, facing Mrs. Barnes in that moment appeared almost more difficult than facing Wickham had been.

Very quietly, he surrendered. “As you wish.”

She ushered him into the morning room before any servant in the hall had sufficient opportunity to stare openly.

Only once he had lowered himself into a chair did she speak again.

“Who is responsible?”

Darcy hesitated.

“Wickham.”

Mrs. Barnes closed her eyes briefly.

“I certainly hope you won.”

Darcy grinned, or he tried until it became a grimace.

She rang the bell with remarkable firmness.

The footman appeared.

“Send immediately for Mr. Hargreaves.”

Darcy sighed. “Mrs. Barnes…”

“Master Fitzwilliam.” She had not called him that since he became the master. Somehow, that was more effective than any argument she might have made.

The footman disappeared again.

“Do I need to inform Miss Darcy?”

“That will not be necessary.” He said with resignation.

Before Darcy could construct another objection, hurried footsteps sounded in the passage. Then Georgiana’s voice. “Mrs. Barnes? Has my brother returned?”

She appeared in the doorway. She smiled with relief.

Then she saw him, and the colour left her face. “William…” She crossed the room almost at a run and stopped before him, frightened to touch him. “What has happened?”

Darcy managed what he hoped resembled reassurance. “I have merely had a disagreement.”

Her eyes widened. “A disagreement?”

“An energetic one.” He shrugged. “I am afraid we will have to postpone our trip to the musicale.”

She looked from the bruised cheek to the swollen hand. “I do not believe disagreements usually end like this.”

“No,” he admitted. “This one was unusually determined.”