Chapter Text
George Russell rocks up for dinner with the expression of a man going to the gallows. Darcy watches him and has no sympathy. This is a man who can and has commanded the world and has more money than God and here he is forcing his daughter to walk down the aisle to a Duke because his wife got a hold of his dick and squeezed hard.
Harsh perhaps but true.
He greets Monica with a sort of bone weary relief that someone else can deal with his wife. He shakes Darcy’s hand and then sits down for dinner and doesn’t so much as look at his wife. The daughter doesn’t come down either and the Duke’s sister makes capital of it. In truth even by Darcy’s estimation it’s a snub. A brilliant snub but a snub. Bertha Russell answers all of the questions that she is asked and it becomes clear that she has planned the wedding with no input from her daughter willing or otherwise. Darcy thinks the rock she must be on must be very lonely. He doesn’t ever want to be like this couple at the dinner table who can barely look at one another. Mrs R to her credit tries to drag her husband into the conversation but he doesn’t engage at all. Doesn’t look at her and therefore it’s Darcy who is left with him which is ridiculous because what can they talk about?
And it becomes clear he is going to have to sit through a conversation about railroads because the alternative is dealing with the Duke and his sister and he thinks he might want to ram a small fork into his eye if this carries on.
The Duke in theory is well mannered. He just doesn’t have a single working brain cell but that’s by the by, Darcy was born working class and is thoughally middle class now and he has a dim view of rich people and an even dimmer view on royalty or nobility or whatever the fuck this man is. He certainly doesn’t get the big deal of marrying him.
The sister is even worse. Christ if he thought it would make her pleasant he would offer to fuck her right here and now just to get that sour look off her face. She seems to have worked around him by assuming that he is not here which he finds dreadfully insulting even though his teeth are aching with how much he longs to throw at her. She seems to belittle everyone in the room and he doesn’t quite understand why because he was under the impression the only way this marriage was going ahead was a great deal of money was needed by these people to save their drafty castle because they pissed it all away on…well…whatever the British nobility tend to piss their money away on…what? Hats? Paintings? Hiding the fact their great, great granny was part of the Reformation?
And that is before you get to the rest of the dinner.
It’s eleven courses long…like seriously who has enough time for eleven courses of food?
Sarah prattles on about the state of the wedding dress and how she hasn’t even met her new sister in law and he can see the discomfort around the table. It’s clear that they can’t explain away the continued snub of Gladys’s refusal to co-operate with this wedding. Even Darcy has to conclude it feels more like Mrs R’s wedding than her daughters. He looks at her and thinks conversationally to himself that she must be a kind of vile that he’s not come across before. And funny…when your living with two woman who make no secret of their relationship he’s come across vile before.
Anyhow…
The Duke does engage with him which is almost funny but to be fair the man follows photography and the arts which Darcy can appreciate. They get about halfway through a conversation about photography as a journalistic medium which to be fair the Duke seems genuinely interested in when as Darcy is aching for a smoke, to get out of this penguin suit and the third desert wine of the night is served the sister interrupts him by stating that she doesn’t want any photography in the house whatsoever and she doesn’t see the point of it at all and Hector let’s move on.
He really can’t. Monica catches his eye and she sighs as if she knows that she can’t save this and—
“I was led to believe” Darcy says tracing one finger around the stem of his wine glass…that must have cost about a hundred bucks a glass if he’s being really critical. “That interrupting people was considered rather rude on both sides of the continent.”
Sarah Vere turns to look at him. Darcy raises one eyebrow and waits, he’s waited out his father more than once he can wait out this woman. The entire room seems to shift a little—
“I only meant to say that I don’t want it in my home”
“S’not your home”
That doesn’t land well at all.
“I beg your pardon?”
Darcy shrugs. He can’t be doing with this he really can’t.
“I mean…” he says and he knows he gives off the impression of just out of the fields to these people but he can speak properly and he can eat properly. “You’ll be outranked soon won’t you. I mean…I admit I don’t know much about your—set up” he says gesturing to her as if he finds the very point of her exsistance tiring—which make no mistake he does—a stain on humanity. Which might be going a bit too far but Darcy does work in the arts for a living so what can you do.
“But I was under the impression Duchess outranked Duke’s sister. Or will you also be interrupting the Duchess as well as live in her home without her permission?”
It lands on her like a slap, Hector looks down at his plate the fucking coward. George Russell shoots him a look like he wants to say something but also doesn’t because Darcy might be saying the things that he wants to say himself but hasn’t got the nerve for. Larry Russell is openly beaming as if this is the funniest thing that he has seen in a long time, Monica looks vaguely amused. Bertha Russell has an expression on her face that says she looks very much like she wants nothing more to do than to set him on fire and sit and watch him burn.
“I mean” he says to the room at large. “I am just a man leaving for Africa in two days so what do I know and—”
“Africa?” Larry Russell asks leaning forwards. “Why?”
“I got a job taking wildlife photos up there, six months, figured I go and see what the big deal about lions are”
Larry Russell practically puts his elbow in his coffee.
“You need to tell me everything” he says seriously. “I hear they have little huts in the sea—”
“You thinking about creating one in Newport?”
Larry rolls his eyes at his father and—
“Shall we have coffee here or go through?”
Darcy needs a cigarette with everything that he has right now.
“Here” Mrs R bites out and Darcy discreetly catches Larry’s eye and lifts his case. Larry nods and Darcy could lean over and kiss the fucker he really could. He flips his case open and—
“You’re not going to do that here are you?”
“Would I prefer I do it near the curtains?” he snarks at Lady Sarah who scoffs and—
He is looking up fiddling with his lighter when he sees it. Mrs R twists and looks at her butler who is right behind Monica. She nods at him and he nods back as if there part of a conspiracy and then—
He drops coffee over her.
For a second Darcy is so stunned he cannot speak and then a sense of rage so potent and powerful hits him that he finds himself half on his feet a snarl on his face determined to claw that bitch’s face off with his bare hands and—
A hand shoots out and grabs him before he can sit up, it’s George Russell and for a second Darcy is very tempted to throw him off but the man yanks him back down into his seat with a look.
“She just—”
“I know”
“She just—”
“I know” George Russell hisses at him, “I know but not now, not here, I will handle it”
“Oh cause your handling it so well aren’t you” Darcy hisses under his breath. “I mean that’s why your youngest has locked herself in her room. Jesus fuc—”
“NOT HERE” George Russell hisses and Darcy yanks his hand away.
“If you don’t” he says quietly. “I will.”
For a moment the two men stare at each other and he can feel Larry Russell watching from the corner and then turns and lights a smoke and takes a great deal of delight in smashing it out over the white tablecloth. The butler can’t look at him but Darcy is prepared.
Thank God he doesn’t have to be here much longer.
Anna Bruce is not pleased. She really is not. Because she does not think throwing coffee over someone is a dignified move.
Mr Church looks at her flatly from where he is resting his hands on the back of his chair.
“I know” he says heavily. “I know but the mistress didn’t like the gown”
“I can understand that” she says because in truth she didn’t like the gown but that’s by the by. “I can understand that but I just feel…that was very cruel. It’s her sister for crying out loud”
“Please” Mr Church says in that tone that says he will not here criticism against the Mistress even though right now she more than likely has it coming. “Don’t. I…I wasn’t happy to do it—makes me look very unprofessional”
“Eh Mr Church” Timothy says slowly…the footmen are congregating by the end of the table as is Adelheid because with Miss Gladys not coming out of her room here is very little for Adelheid to do even though Anna could find her a lump of mending to do if she doesn’t get that pout off her face immediately.
“Timothy don’t interrupt. Look I know that it’s complicated—”
“You mean with Miss Gladys refusing to come out of her room”
“I don’t blame her” William muttered to Adelheid “I wouldn’t want to have her as a sister in law would you?”
“William”
“Am I wrong?”
“William” she says because no the boy isn’t wrong it’s just that he shouldn’t say it. Personally she finds Lady Sarah exceptionally rude but that’s just her. She’s been taking to taking care of her herself simply because she doesn’t want to put any of the other maids in a room alone with her.
When your husband is in an asylum you tend to develop a thick skin.
“What was Mr Larry thinking inviting her anyway?” Mr Church asks the room at large and now Oliver’s gaze is following Timothy’s and both boys look rather nervous. Lincoln is getting to his feet as well and—
“I mean she doesn’t…no wonder the mistress is nervous, and him, he’s…what is he anyway?”
“Eh boss?!”
“Boys not now! I mean can someone point out to me what the point of this...Darcy person is?”
“Well” comes a horrible drawl from the back of the kitchen “I would guess that he’s here to do this—”
Anna has barely a moment to turn around before Church goes flying. He is literally dragged forwards into the table head first and his hand is wrapped around his back pinning him down. She scrambles back in surprise as Darcy Hawke pins back Church’s arm with one hand and a fabulous display of body strength and she trips over her skirts. She falls back against a warm chest and she knows it’s Mr Bordan and she pushes back even though she really wants to lean into his warm embrace. His hands remain on her elbows and she soaks up the warmth as Church makes a rather high pitched and very undignified yelp that sounds like a high pitched terroir.
“What” Darcy Hawke says to the room at large. “Did I say, about treating Miss O’Brien right?”
He looks up and Timothy winces.
“Did you think that was funny” blue eyes flicker back to Mr Church. “Did you think that, that made you more of a man, throwing coffee on a woman because another woman told you too. Does being Bertha Russell’s little bitch amuse you Mr Church?”
The footmen are congregated in a huddle by the door looking animated. Church gives another yelp.
“Can’t serve your ‘mistress’ with a broken arm can you?” Darcy says softly and—
“Enough” she says and blue eyes flicker to her. “Enough Mr Hawke, please it was…he doesn’t have a choice and you’re a smart enough man to understand that, if Mrs Russell wants hot arsenic sprinkled over her sister we don’t really have a choice”
She’s very tired. And she thinks she understands this young man more than she wants too.
Darcy bares his teeth in what she thinks is supposed to be frightening but compared to Edgar and his tempers he’s as tame as a kitten. She raises her eyebrows unimpressed and crosses her arms and with an eye roll that reminds her just how young this hot headed young man really is he lets go of Church who collapses into the chair utterly humiliated clutching his arm and looking rather worse for wear.
“I don’t like what happened tonight” he says to her as if he has apparently decided Church is not worth her time.
“And you could have told us that calmly.” She replies. She gets an easy shrug. God the arrogance of the average twenty five year old she thinks at the delicate age of thirty two.
“I think sometimes actions speak louder than words.”
“Spoken like a man” she says before she can stop himself and he’s fumbling with his lighter and looks at her with wry amusement and she thinks that in his own way he is rather an attractive fellow.
And then she thinks thank God he won’t be in the vicinity of the vapid society ladies.
And then oddly she feels a sense of shame because she actually would quite like to see that.
“He tries that shit again and I will put him through the wall”
“Language” she says softly. “I have young maids here”
He raises an eyebrow at her but then.
“Fine…but just so were clear…”
“You will put him through a wall yes we get it”
He eyes her up and down and then—
“Fine, I need…anyone got a tinderbox mine has packed up?”
Four footmen trip over themselves to get him one. God she hopes he has hasn’t begun a cult.
He lights his smoke and—
“I’ll be outside”
“I see”
“Well I assumed you didn’t want it near the curtains.”
“No” she says and she steps aside smartly and—
“Oh Miss Gladys!”
Miss Gladys seen for the first time in six days is standing by the door. She’s looking at Darcy Hawke with an amazed expression. She’s in her dressing gown and her hair is in it’s nighttime plat. If she was ringing the bell Anna didn’t hear her but then again…
Darcy Hawke turns and stares cigarette half hanging from his mouth.
“Ah the ghost bride” he says nodding. “Your mother’s fucking vile by the way” he then jerks his head at her and then leaves the room out the servants entrance banging it shut with a slam.
“What was that?” Miss Gladys asks. “Who was that?”
“Wow” Adelheid breathes out looking after Darcy Hawke.
“Well said” William mutters.
Anna closes her eyes and then opens them again.
It’s going to be a long, long night.