Page 2 of Kate Darcy is Digging up Trouble

"Miss Catherine Darcy."

"Ahhh, more technical precision. Miss Catherine Darcy," he repeated, as though testing the name on his lips. "How do you do?"

"Very well, thank you." Kate tucked her book against her chest. A shield against this unsettling conversation. "And I do not mean to be rude, Mr Briar, but it was my intention to read in peace."

"Mr Lyell's Principles of Geology," he read, his head cocking to one side to make out the script. He raised one perfectly groomed brow. "Not one of those frightfully torrid novels young ladies are supposed to favour, then? Or perhaps you are hiding a salacious tome beneath its vast covers?"

Kate looked from his embroidered waistcoat to the fashionable curls over his forehead with what she hoped was a disapproving glare. "I suspect those may be more to your taste than mine, Mr Briar."

He laughed then, a booming sound which made Kate take an unconscious step back. It was not the polite sort of laugh she was accustomed to hearing in drawing rooms, but a loud, unfettered release that felt out of place in the quiet library. She felt her face grow warm under his amused countenance and wished very much that he would go away, preferably very far away.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Darcy," he said, not looking the least bit sorry. "What does Mr Lyell have to say about rocks that is so much more diverting than being outside on a glorious summer day?" He thumped his cane on the rug in emphasis.

"Geology is rather more than rocks."

"Quite right, Miss Catherine. Quite right. I am being appallingly reductive." His smile widened. "You would probably disapprove of what I do to them."

Kate frowned and asked, despite herself, "What do you do to them?"

"Mostly break them apart to see what treasures may be hiding beneath."

She stared at him, nonplussed. "That is a curious occupation, sir."

"You do not know the half of it." He laughed again and reached for his hat. "I shall leave you to Mr Lyell, the lovely and precise Miss Darcy. I think I had better see what chicanery the cricketers are now employing."

With another bow, he sauntered from the library, his ridiculous amber-topped walking stick swinging lightly at his side.

Kate watched the door close behind him and picked up her book. She hoped very much that he would keep to the cricket field for the remainder of his stay.

The End

Chapter Two

Darcy pushed open the door to his library with some difficulty. His favourite spaniel, Pegasus, was wrapping himself around his legs like an affectionate cat. The dog was as silly as a brush, and had been named by his youngest daughter, Mina, during a spate of obsession with Greek myths, despite Darcy's protestations that Pegasus was a terrible name for a dog. Beyond the ridiculous equine name and his absolutely appalling performance as a hunting companion, Darcy loved the furry menace. At Pemberley, Pegasus was his shadow, following him from room to room and gazing up at him with such complete adoration that it was impossible not to love the silly creature back.

The door would not have presented such a problem if it were only the copper-coloured spaniel causing him difficulty, but in his arms Darcy also held what he believed must be the wriggliest toddler in all Christendom: his grandson and namesake, William. William was currently engaged in a game of his own invention, which seemed mainly to involve tweaking Darcy's ears and nose and laughing gaily whenever he succeeded.

As a younger man, Darcy had often wondered what sort of father he would be. He had hoped he might be loving but firm, fair without being indulgent, and in most respects, he thought he had acquitted himself reasonably well. He was enormously proud of the women his three daughters had grown to be. Each was kind and intelligent and a reflection of the love he shared with his darling Elizabeth. He had never once considered what sort of grandfather he might become.

Then he had held little William in his arms shortly after his birth and fallen hopelessly and irrevocably in love. William was now often his companion as Darcy went about his daily business, and Darcy chatted to the little boy as they went despite the fact that he could say only four words. Darcy had a strong suspicion he understood considerably more. That one of those four words was a garbled approximation of "Grandpapa" was a source of enormous pride to Fitzwilliam Darcy, although he tried his best not to show it.

His eldest daughter frequently scolded him for abducting the child from the nursery whenever her back was turned. Darcy maintained that one could hardly call it abduction when William came to him so willingly, usually throwing up both arms the moment his grandpapa appeared. Secretly, he suspected both Bella and her husband, George, enjoyed seeing how thoroughly he doted upon their little boy. Harwood certainly seemed pleased whenever Darcy appeared at an estate meeting with William tucked under one arm. Bella's reproaches, meanwhile, were usually accompanied by a smile. Although she would likely be less than pleased that Darcy had already taken her son for several gentle trots around the paddock, seated safely before him on Hector. Darcy saw no particular reason to enlighten her.

Kate was curled in the chair she often occupied beside the window, a large, old-fashioned thing with well-worn cushions that had been there since long before Darcy himself was a child. She looked tiny tucked into its generous depths, her stockinged feet beneath her and a substantial tome open across her lap. Her dark hair, touched with auburn, had begun to escape its pins around her face, and the afternoon light warmed her skin. She had Darcy's solemn brown eyes and long lashes, and when she was absorbed in something, as she was now, her whole expression settled into a look of deep concentration that he recognised as his own.

Darcy could make a very good guess that it was a treatise on geology, biology or one of the other sciences that occupied so much of her attention. He succeeded in untangling William's hands from his person. "There you are, my dear. I was wondering where exactly you were hiding."

Kate started and looked up, clearly having been so lost in her book that she had not noticed his entrance. "Hello, Papa. Hello, little William. Hello, Pegasus."

At the sound of his name, Pegasus immediately abandoned Darcy and leapt into Kate's lap, covering her face with enthusiastic kisses.

"You are not meant to be on the furniture, you silly dog," Darcy said half-heartedly.

Kate laughed. "Oh Papa, you know Pegasus is far too adorable to follow the rules of polite society."

Indeed, he knew there was very little chance the dog would listen to him. Pegasus was now seven years old and firmly set in his ways, apparently convinced that the usual rules of propriety did not apply to him. Unfortunately, his ability to make every human being in the house fall helplessly in love with him had so far proved him correct.

"You are such a good dog," Kate said, burying her face in the spaniel's silky ears.