Page 3 of Her Brother's Keeper
Almost at the same instant, he saw the child reach for her face, clawing. The girl could not seem to hang onto him and protect herself. “Devil take it!” He hurried to her side, seizing the child, pulling him away. Still the child fought, blindly now, screaming, grabbing at the skin of his arms through Darcy’s coat. Had the fabric been less substantial, it might have hurt. His shrieks were louder now.
Or was that the woman’s screams?
Not knowing what else to do, he wrapped his arms tightly about him. Immediately, Edward began beating his head against his Darcy’s chest, but Darcy quickly thwarted him by restraining him so that he could not move at all. The lad was a strong one; he was remarkably difficult to contain.
“Let him go!” the woman cried, and began tugging at his sleeve with a surprisingly strong grip.
“I am not hurting him,” he said. “Edward.” Darcy spoke his name in the same tone that once worked on Georgiana when in one of her tantrums from long ago—calmly, sternly.
“’Orse!” the boy shrieked.
“You are scaring the horse. Edward is too noisy. Too noisy for the horse. Scaring the horse.” He kept the tenor of his voice an even tone, firm but not angry, louder than Edward’s childish cries, but not shouting, repeating the same words continually until at last he was certain he had caught the child’s attention. The woman’s too—she had ceased her cries and was listening rather than fighting him. At the same time, he strode farther away from the animal.
“’Orse,” the boy repeated, but in a much more usual tone.
“The horse is not calm. You hurt your mama. I cannot allow wild, noisy boys near the horse. Hurting mama is bad. Scaring the horse is bad.” The boy did not reply, looking at him with his impossibly big, blue eyes.
“I am not his mother. I am his sister.” The woman’s voice was even now as well.
His heart lifted at this information, although he shoved the unlooked-for feelings aside quickly. “I beg your pardon.”
She must live nearby, judging from the length of time it had taken her to retrieve the remedy for his horse. “I will carry him to your home.”
“It is unnecessary. He is settled now, and your horse is restless and in pain. I will take him.” She held out her arms and he saw the beginnings of a welt swelling upon the skin of her neck from the boy’s wild tantrum. Darcy was loath to let him go.
What he wanted to do was insist upon bringing him home, and see for himself the conditions in which she and her brother lived. Once there, he wanted to scold their parents for failing in his discipline, for letting the boy grow feral and uncontrollable. It was probably a stupid notion, and even ungentlemanly—she wanted to take the child and leave, as was her right.Certainly it was none of his business. But was it better to allow a young lady to suffer?
“How old is he?” he asked, instead of handing him over.
“He is three years,” she said.
Younger than I thought. Much younger.“A sturdy lad, indeed. Your home is this way?” He began walking in the direction that he had seen her disappear earlier.
She started after him, protesting, “Sir, I will take my brother. He is accustomed to our daily walk.”
He glanced her way. “I assure you, miss, you have nothing to fear from me.”Unlike this little hellion.
Her reply was quick and certain. “I never thought otherwise. It is simply unnecessary for you to go to the trouble.”
Probably she believed him to be Bingley. The hellion, now that they were out of sight of the horse, seemed to forget about his passion for it. “Dig-a-dig-a-dig-a-dig-a!” he chattered with animated, if incomprehensible, expression, looking at Darcy with deep interest. “Doku! Doku-ah do-o-o.”
Three
RIGHT OF FIRST REFUSAL
“Is that so?” he replied to the enthusiastic child. “Can you translate?” he asked the woman.
She seemed to hesitate. “Not really,” she said at last. “Proper speech does not come easily to Neddy. But he is learning—he loves animals of every kind, and has learnt the names of many of them.”
“I apologise that you do not know mine, and that a proper introduction was not possible. I am Fitzwilliam Darcy, a guest at Netherfield.”
“Ah,” she said, after a pause. “I had supposed you to be Mr Bingley, to whom my—and Edward’s—sister has been introduced.”
“Your sister?” he asked casually, trying to recall other dark-haired, dark-eyed young ladies of equivalent beauty, and failing.
“Miss Jane Bennet, of Longbourn,” she said, eyeing him as if to judge his response.
It was all he could do not to give her one. Jane Bennet,Bingley’s current infatuation! But they were at least a mile from Longbourn, and heading farther away from it with every step! He had met Miss Bennet’s mother, as well as the mother’s brother and sister. While Miss Bennet comported herself admirably, her family was less well-behaved. “I have been introduced to your sister. I now see Edward’s resemblance to her,” he managed.
