Scotch and Sirens

Chapter Five

 

The next morning, when Darcy emerged from his room to put in an appearance at breakfast, he was met by an infernal noise in the hall. As he turned around the corner he encountered the sight of Brougham standing in the middle of what looked like a crow’s nest built of golf clubs, tentatively swinging one of them back and forth.

“Ah, good morning Fitz! Had breakfast yet?”

“Good morning. I am going to have my breakfast just now, but I will take only fifteen minutes.”

“Look what Mr. McLaughlin found in the empty box in the stables! I just sent Riemann around to try to find the balls. Being as expensive as they are I am sure I must have put them somewhere safer. I hope you are not left-handed since these are all I have got.

“Do you think we should we make a day of it and try our luck at Leith, or should Mr. McLaughlin be prevailed upon to escort us to the other side of the fell? If we put in a few hours of work I dare say we could manage to assemble our own little course – if four or five holes would be enough for you?”

“Please, suggest any place you wish. I really do not know the area. And yes, I am right-handed, but are you sure the clubs will do? One might think they could have made a good supper for woodworms.”

Brougham glanced at the clubs strewn on the floor around him. He picked up a few of them and looked them over.

“Yes, it certainly is a while since these were dusted off properly. Tell you what; to avoid embarrassment it might be a good idea to test them on our home ground first. I say you have your breakfast in peace, I go in search of Mr. McLaughlin, and when Riemann has found those golf balls we shall chart out a new course over the fell. This should make for a most satisfactory endeavour! And then we can enjoy the fruits of our own labours with a good round all in peace!”

Darcy hastily ate his shortbread and sipped coffee. One glance through a window assured him that the day was indeed a promising one. The weather seemed fine. There were not heavy clouds but also there was not too much sun. A long walk, combined with some exercise spiced with a bit of competition, would raise his spirits.

The speed of his friend’s breakfast and the way he was still wiping the corners of his mouth when he joined him about a quarter of an hour later in the stable yard, told Brougham that Darcy was looking forward to the outing as much as he was himself. His own enthusiasm was a little easier to discern, for he wore a big smile and whistled snippets of tunes between exchanging words with Mr. McLaughlin.

Since the gentlemen were eager to be off there was no more chatter after Darcy had joined them, and they set out on foot to cross the fell. Chiefly their discussion was on the method and practice of the establishment of a make-do golf course, and they settled on modesty and five holes. After that decision was taken and the strategy worked out, very little was said until lunch, when the completed arena was celebrated by way of food and wine and Mr. McLaughlin was awarded with the guardianship of the hamper and tools and a well-earned nap, while the gentlemen set out on the inaugural round on the new Clyne links.

“So,” Brougham said, as he readied himself to send the first ball upon its merry way with his club, “this is all very exciting, and we are to be congratulated on a singular display of perseverance and design, but our little run would not live up to standards if we did not adhere to certain formality. I say we should add some glory to fame and issue a reward for the victor. What say you? How about who ever wins gets to pose any question and have it answered by the loser to the best of his ability? Judging from last night it could be a prize worth putting one’s shoulder to…”

Darcy chose a wood club and sized the distance.

“Well, Brougham, then let it be so. I shall start first if you do not mind.”

Seeing his friend did not mind, he took a deep spar and hit the ball. Whether it was Darcy’s skill, lack of it, or irritation that sent the ball directly to the green, it was difficult to say, however the ball was there and Darcy relaxed.

“Excellent shot! I think there must be more to your professed interest in golf than you let on!” Brougham grinned at his friend and stepped up to the tee. The sun was in his eyes so he could not rightly see how far Darcy had managed to hit his ball, but he did his best, and with a long, languid stroke sent his ball following after its predecessor.

"Ha! Well, that is a beginning at least! Shall we?” he said, gesturing in the direction their shots had landed. “So, to make some conversation: how are things with your family? How is that cousin of yours, the good Colonel, faring these days? Will he ever be shipped off, or will he somehow manage to stay out of the worst of Bonaparte's mess?"

“I would say Fitzwilliam has already had enough of adventures on the Continent. Now he is occupying himself in London. Though I would not say he seemed at leisure when we last encountered one another.”

"Oh, so you have seen him then? Marvellous fellow! I am really quite fond of him, you know. Quite clever too, which considering his pedigree must rather be a prerequisite than a pleasant surprise for his family. Second son and all. Cannot be that easy. So what is he up to then?"

“Frankly, I did not have enough time to enquire about his life. Rather I needed immediate assistance from him. I think I wrote to you about it.”

After having watched Darcy work himself to depositing the ball into the hole, Brougham was treading around his ball and getting ready to measure distances, wind and terrain.

"Ye-es, Newcastle was on your way, was it not? So, how are they faring? Did Mr. and Mrs. Wickham arrive safely? And are they in debt already? I hesitate to ask, but I would be interested in some reflections. Sad business that. Hope I am proven wrong in all I assume about their future."

Darcy put the flag back into the hole after Brougham had collected his ball.

“I did not wait for the Wickhams’ arrival. I did not deem it necessary to encounter them once again. I was more concerned about meeting Wickham’s new superior. General Wentworth and his wife seemed very reasonable people. I would say that if they cannot help the situation of our unlucky couple, there indeed will not be too much hope for their future.”

The two men made their way to the next hole, their spirits somewhat dampened by the inspired reflections. The thoughtful mood did seem to affect their performances, and a few earnest (if subdued) oaths were uttered.

"Oh dear", his Lordship sighed after trying to find his ball in a few bushes surrounding a tree quite some way off the course, "that was appalling. We need to do something about that slope for the next round, do you not think? Challenging terrain and romantic notions about nature aside, this is quite inappropriate."

His next shot only just saved his ill humour, and he ruefully shook his head at the result.

"Maybe a trip into town is in order before we dare venture beyond Clyne for more golf after all. Actually, I was planning on taking my guns to Mr. Garrison before the hunting season begins in earnest. We could easily buy some new clubs, because quite frankly there must be something wrong with these!"

Darcy aimed and struck his ball. The terrain was rough indeed, and though the hit was good, still the ball rolled down a bit.

“Actually it suits me very well. I need to buy some writing paper. By the way, Georgiana sends her regards.”

His Lordship was attempting a particularly tricky removal of his golf ball from a difficult patch, but unfortunately sent the ball gently rolling down within a few inches from the hole. He studied the golf ball in his hand, waited for Darcy to gather his, and then led the way to the next hole before answering.

"Thank you. I trust she is doing well? And perhaps that she has regained some of her lost humour at my dismal attempt of excusing myself and becoming one more of her circle who was going away. She was quite cross with me, you know. Gave me quite the Darcy frown."

“I would not say she was in a particularly ill humour when I was leaving. Maybe somewhat bored.”

Darcy lightly popped his ball, which finally landed in the green.

“But it may be helped, as we decided to officially open the London house for the remaining season.”

“Good, good! Excellent! Yes, it must be a good idea. Company and society must be very desirable. And she is very accomplished and certainly has the benefit both of a very good education, fine mind and an excellent companion in Mrs. Annesley. You cannot hide her away at Pemberley forever, regardless of how much she enjoys it there. She should be out in the world and gaining acquaintances. I think it a splendid idea and I suppose this means you really mean to have her out before the year’s end?”

“Certainly not. Next year perhaps, but nothing sooner. She is but sixteen, Brougham.”

"True, true. Very young, indeed. But not without sense, and by no means a child anymore. It does seem cruel to deprive her of... well, diverse society and the possibility of suitable acquaintances, do not you find? Indeed, I think she would be very happy in gaining a broader knowledge of the world. But it is, of course, a thing you must do as you see fit. It is not for me to meddle, and heaven knows I have no cause to think you are not an excellent guardian and have your sister's best interests at heart. I beg your pardon if I should have induced you to think I do."

Darcy stayed silent for some time wondering how to approach his next shot.

“Actually I think you are right there Brougham. I believe she should be out as soon as she is ready, though as I said before I think it is still too early now. Maybe the winter season… Anyhow, I hoped you would be of help to me in selecting the finest events in society. Do you think you could find time to give us your support?”

"Most certainly I will! That was settled long ago. It will be an honour for me, and I will gladly be of service to you both. Just say the word!"

Brougham took his time securing the tee, balancing the ball, and positioning himself for another shot. Finally he swung his club and shot the ball afield.

Darcy waved his club a couple of times before deciding on the best strategy to hit the ball. He sent it far and straight to the exact place he meant to. ‘Good,’ he thought to himself as he followed his friend down the course. ‘It is high time to gain a bigger advantage over Brougham in the game.’

As they moved to their next shot, Brougham expounded upon the subject of young ladies coming out and its social significance in society with so much energy that Darcy started wondering a bit about his friend’s state of mind regarding the topic, which finally prompted him to ask Brougham about his eventual plans in that quarter.

Brougham stopped right in the middle of his swing. He lowered his club and looked Darcy straight in the eye with a deep frown, and his blue eyes conveyed a mixture of deep anger and incredulity.

“Now what the devil is this all about?! I thought we were engaged in a game of golf not some girlish parlour game! Is a man truly not allowed his golf in peace? Are there no rules of sportsmanship left? Truly, you drive me to absolute distraction quite effectively although most underhandedly, you infernal rouge!”

Still muttering, he turned back to his game and carefully measured the space between ball and club and the distance before him.

“A family, indeed! Keep that up and you will very readily find out what I think about featherbrained female chattering like this and why no woman could ever be prevailed upon to support being married to me!”

He struck the ball, and it flew in a perfect curve all the way down the green and landed within two inches of the hole. If Darcy could see his countenance as he turned to leave the tee he would have seen that his Lordship was wearing an impish grin, and his blue eyes were glittering with mirth. As he glanced behind him towards Darcy he managed to frown – if not very convincingly – once again.

“Well, now I certainly know why you never managed the feat either. Cannot stop chattering nonsense during delicate situations, can you?”

Darcy smirked and turned to his friend with sincere amusement on his face.

“Actually, what would you expect me to do, being placed in the sole company of one who never answers any questions? There is little difference in the subject we pick, as your answers always provide the same amount of information. What else have you told me today aside from voicing your need of having guns repaired and new clubs procured?”

With those words he lightly hit his ball with a putter and calmly watched as it rolled into the hole.

"Never underestimate the importance of clean guns or new clubs, my friend! If nothing else this game and country should have taught us that.

“But as for the rest, I should say we are a perfect match! Why else would we be playing this silly game? Anyway, I think you would not have half as much patience with me as you do if I did not keep you on your toes and led you in a right silly dance. And you know nothing is as exciting to me as finding out whether I will ever be able to coax more than five-word sentences out of you on any given topic.

“Now, shall we proceed to the final test and see who will be the one forced to forego his verbal habits?"

Darcy, not amused with his friend’s attitude on the quality of his speech, decided not to utter a word at all. He took his ball and hastily went in the direction of the last hole.

Brougham watched in silence as Darcy made another impressive result and then got down to the task of trying to match him. His first hit at the ball was inspiring, and the two gentlemen moved down the link to finish their game. Darcy managed a clean one under par, and as he collected his ball Brougham wrinkled his brow.

“So this is where we find the difference between us and Mr. Gallagher with his splendid papers before the Royal Society. Now here is my conclusion. According to the adding I have been able to uphold in between your impossible chatter, I make out that I need one under par to beat you fair and square. I trust you agree? Now then, keep your fingers crossed, but do it in silence, please…”

“Are you serious?! Brougham, I am now happy that the victory went to Mr. Gallagher, because you, my friend, certainly cannot even count up to ten. Actually, with my excellent last stroke I already won the game.”

Darcy looked at his friend’s vanishing smile.

“You know what, Brougham? It appears that my golfing talents are much better than yours. Thus I am confident I can easily win once again. If you do not believe that I have already won, we can just repeat the last hole. Whoever wins the round wins the game.”

“Talent is not the word I would use to describe your performance, Darcy. As to your possible victory, it would be appropriate to present a little more proof of the fact than any estimate of my mathematic skills. Very well, we will do this round once more. And take care, your talent might not survive a second try.”

To their great surprise, the heavens seemed to pass sentence on their behaviour in a most appropriate fashion, and the two gentlemen had to flee from a menacing thunderstorm gathering over the fell and their rivalry in a hotchpotch manner.

They had just reached the door and were greeted by Mr McLaughlin holding it open for them at the kitchen entrance, grinning broadly when the first raindrops drummed on the roof and windows.

“Enooch sport then, MiLaird? Mr. Darcy? Did ye enjye yer roond?”

His Lordship sheepishly glanced at his friend, and Mr. Darcy returned the gaze with a grimace. To their great relief, and Mr. McLaughlin’s surprise, the two gentlemen burst out in ringing laughter as they entered the house.

“Yes thank you, Mr. McLaughlin, it was a most agreeable…game, I must say,” Brougham managed. “Exhausting and eventful but nonetheless most agreeable. Now, will you be so good as to put some more wood in the fire in the library, and ask Mrs. McLaughlin for some supper to be brought? And a nice steady brandy as soon as possible to help us dry off, eh Darcy?”

Later that night both gentlemen argued in an easy manner about who was the winner of the game, or who it might have been if not for the sudden downpour. Eventually, however, they both agreed that their friendship had already survived greater storms in the past.

When Darcy retired he reflected on the passing day with satisfaction, and congratulated himself on his design to seek Brougham’s refuge as his own. He was certain now that maintaining this course would soon prove successful in bringing his own life back to order.

 

 

 

This story is written by Laura and Sylwia, and they own full © copyrights to it.

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