Chapter 18 #3
Naturally, Darcy opposed this idea, as did Charles. It was one thing to involve Lockhart in the scheme, but to bring out the hired horses on such a tumultuous night must not be considered. He wouldn’t do so with his own horses, and certainly not with another man’s property.
But with Hurst’s persistence, Charles finally relented. “We must attempt every possible solution. It’s the only option we haven’t attempted yet and might very well be our last resort,” Charles said with a heightened sense of urgency.
Despite his misgivings, Darcy called for the chaise.
“Are you certain about this, sir? It’s a devilish night,” Lockhart said, shouting above the deafening storm.
“True, but we’ve been confined to the house for days and need a bit of a break,” Darcy replied. “Please drive us to the Meryton Inn.” They had agreed to visit the inn for a quick drink, then stop in the lane to perform their well-rehearsed moves.
They set off down the driveway, but the moment they left the pavement and turned into the lane, the chaise came to an abrupt halt.
“Now we’re in the basket,” Henry said.
“I’ll see what has to be done,” Charles said, then alighted.
Leaving his hat behind, Darcy quickly followed, sinking to his ankles in the mud. With rain pelting his face, he observed the frantic horses plunging wildly with all four carriage wheels hopelessly entrenched.
As the tempest continued to rage, he and Charles slogged to the horses’ heads and took hold of the leaders’ halters. Obviously, their plan hadn’t been as well thought out as they had supposed. Four days of rain had made the lane impassable.
Lockhart climbed down from his perch to lend his assistance. “The horses can go no further in this mud, Mr Bingley. We must release them from their traces and return them to the stable,” he said, shouting above the din.
Since this was the only sensible option available to them, Darcy regretted that their plan to reverse that fateful night had to be abandoned.
The four men led the four horses through the driving rain to the stable. After entrusting the horses’ care to the stablemaster, they recruited a groom to assist with retrieving the carriage. Drenched to the skin, they headed back into the storm.
This folly is well deserved, Darcy thought as they traversed the driveway. Had they really believed that their nonsensical plan would succeed?
Upon reaching the chaise, the four men positioned themselves at the wheels, with the groom at the front shaft.
As the storm raged overhead, the men lifted and pushed, moving the carriage only a few inches.
With no small effort, they persevered and managed to get the two rear wheels onto the driveway.
With all five men lifting and pushing, the front wheels easily gained firm ground.
Although exhausted, they rolled the chaise up the driveway. By the time they reached the yard, the worst of the storm had passed, leaving only a light rain. Old Anderson ran out to lend his assistance.
Once the carriage was safely bestowed, Charles and Henry headed for the house while Darcy remained behind. “Mr Lockhart, I humbly apologise for pressing you into service on such a night,” he said, placing two crowns into his hand. “I assure you I shall not repeat the error.”
“Well, Mr Bingley, I reckon every young fellow needs at least one madcap adventure in his career,” he said with a hearty laugh.
“You are far too generous and should be taking me to task for endangering the hired horses.”
“Oh no, sir,” Lockhart said in a conciliating tone. “I would never presume to advise you, and we came about safely, so you need not tease yourself about it.”
“Sleep well, my good man. I won’t need you in the morning.”
After locating the young groom, he offered his thanks and a coin for his efforts.
Upon entering the mudroom, dripping wet and leaving muddy footprints on the floor, he found Henderson awaiting him. “Mr Darcy and Mr Hurst have retired to their chambers,” he said, with an uncommon gravity.
“Well, Mr Henderson, I’ll make no excuses. I have been foolish beyond permission,” he said, knowing this night’s folly would cause the valet additional work.
“I would never scruple to say so, nor will I disagree,” Henderson said, handing Darcy a towel. “Have you lost your hat again?”
“No, it’s in the chaise,” he said, drying his face and hair.
Henderson released a sigh of relief. “I’ll retrieve it in the morning. Let me take your coat and boots, and you will presently be more comfortable.”
Darcy unbuttoned the greatcoat, then sat on the bench to relinquish his muddy boots. “What would your mama say if you had done this, Henderson? Would she scold?” he inquired, hoping to lighten the mood.
“You may be certain she would, sir, and never let me forget what a caper-witted fool I was, as I’m sure your own mama would do.”
He nodded, fondly recalling Lady Anne’s severe rebuke when he and Richard had tracked horse manure into the breakfast parlour.
In Veritate Victoria. Generations of Fitzwilliams had endured every controversy, risen above every hardship, and answered every challenge. Fitzwilliam Darcy, however, had neither truth nor victory. Now living a lie, he had failed all his forebearers.