Page 8 of Master of Himself

Charles agreed as old Anderson and a groom emerged from the stable, leading their horses. Bart pranced and kicked as though ready to bolt.

Darcy must have sensed his apprehension. “Don’t worry about Bart. He may be large and powerful, but he is obedient. Just keep a firm hand on the reins.”

A minute later, Charles was seated on the beast, with Darcy on Shadow, Charles’s black gelding. They trotted down the driveway and through the gates. As Darcy had warned, Bart was eager to run, but responded well to his signals.

Although the lane was still mired in mud, the carriage tracks and footprints had long since been erased by the rain. “Where did we get stuck? I don’t see any evidence of it,” Charles said.

“Must we identify the exact location?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea.” The matter seemed hopeless to Charles. “What now, Darcy?”

Darcy recoiled. “Good God! Don’t call me Darcy. Everyone will think you’re mad—or rather, that I’m mad.”

“Right,” Charles said, acknowledging his disastrous slip. “But what if I am? What if I’ve gone stark raving mad?”

Darcy sadly shook his head. “We both have, my friend, but don’t worry. We’ll figure this out.”

Charles had come to rely on Darcy’s expert advice this past twelvemonth, but today he suspected his friend had no more notion of how to solve this riddle than he did.

***

After an exhaustive but unsuccessful search for the location of last night’s debacle, Darcy rode back to the house with his doppelganger, the gloom of defeat hovering over his head.

“There’s nothing for it, my friend. Until we determine how to resolve this fiasco, we must assume each other’s identities,” Charles said with an air of resignation.

This shocking suggestion seemed unfathomable to Darcy. Disguise of every sort was his abhorrence. Should he be expected to conceal his existence, deny his father’s name, and submit to the degradation of being a tradesman’s son? Every voice of reason had to oppose such a ruse. His honour as a gentleman demanded no less.

Yet, what else could be done? He looked and sounded like Charles Bingley. To the rest of the world, he was Charles Bingley.

“We must find a solution—quickly,” Darcy said. “The alternative is insupportable.”

His twin nodded glumly. “Agreed.”

Since Charles likely had no more idea of what to do than he, they rode in silence to the stables and surrendered their mounts to a groom.

“Are you ready for this, my friend? You are now the master of Netherfield, and I am your guest,” Charles said as they approached the house.

Darcy wasn’t in the least ready. “I suppose we have no other choice,” he said, dreading the prospect nearly as much as entering an assembly hall filled with marriageable ladies and their ambitious mothers. At least there, he was still Darcy.

Once indoors, he inhaled a fortifying breath. He would need all his wits about him to deal with Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst.

“There you are, Charles,” Miss Bingley said as he and Charles entered the breakfast parlour. “Did you enjoy your ride?”

Darcy cast a warning glance at Henry Hurst, who grinned like a half-wit. “Not much,” he said as he selected his breakfast from the sideboard.

“Even if I had brought Pearl, I daresay I wouldn’t have ridden out today,” Miss Bingley said with a dismissive sniff.

Although irritated by her condescending tone, Darcy made no reply. Now considered the master of the house, he sat at the head of the table. Charles offered a quick nod to signal his approval, then sat in the only chair remaining beside Caroline.

If one advantage had come from this unfortunate turn of events, it would be his sudden freedom from Miss Bingley’s relentless attentions. As mistress of the house, she had seated him beside her at every meal and peppered him with questions for the entire hour. Perhaps now, Charles would acknowledge his failure to correct his sister’s forward behaviour.

“Did you hear that Jane Bennet is here?” Caroline inquired.

“Jane?” Charles said, his voice rising in curiosity.

Darcy had learned of the lady’s presence last night from Henderson, but Charles appeared shocked to learn that his latest flirt was in residence.

“Louisa and I invited her to dine with us, and she arrived on horseback, of all things,” she said, wrinkling her nose in disdain. “Can you imagine?”