It took a bit of time to gather their outerwear, and to ring for Young Tom (who maintained that name despite being nearly thirty, and no longer being the newest Tom on the estate, having been succeeded in that honor by Wee Tom and Ginger Tom) to bring the dogs round for some exercise. Young Tom had begun as an assistant kennelmaster, but had cross-trained as a footman in order to take charge of whatever dogs the family wished to keep in the house rather than in the kennels; Pemberley was known for its hunting and herding dogs, but it had always seemed to happen that a few favorites ended up more pet than worker.
Young Tom made his appearance with Antony and Cleopatra, a pair of elderly greyhounds who had produced many fine litters for the Pemberley kennels before their retirement, strolling politely to heel on their leads.
“Morning, Tom,” Darcy said, accepting the leads and bending to stroke the hounds’ silky ears. “Where’s the young troublemaker?”
Young Tom sighed. “Mr. Bailey brought him down to the scullery just after seven,” he said. “He was making a nuisance of himself, so we set him out to the kennel run for a bit.”
Upon reflection, Darcy thought he distantly remembered hearing some scratching and whining upon the door between his bedchamber and his dressing room that morning, though he had been far too agreeably occupied at the time to pay it much heed. His valet had dealt with the situation admirably, as he dealt with all situations. Darcy made a mental note to put a bit extra in his Christmas box that year.
“Ah,” he said. “We’ll pick him up from there and pay him some attention, then.”
Young Tom nodded with the air of a man who was very definitely not reminding his master that he had warned him that allowing his very large and very attached dog to sleep in his chamber might have unpleasant repercussions in future.
Such as when said master married and wished for a decidedly more appealing—and fragrant—bedfellow.
Darcy still felt a little guilty over it. The dog was very attached to him, and moreover adored Elizabeth nearly as much as Darcy did himself; he would like nothing more than to join them at night, but there were certain times in a man’s life when a massive boarhound, however sweet-tempered, was just not welcome.
theartofmadeline
vaporwave
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