Free Not Quite Darcy by Terri Meeker

serious, which was why social situations generally terrified him. Looking at Perry’s friendly expression, he decided the offer was a genuine one.
    â€œWhere are you going?” William asked.
    â€œTo the Amateur Athletic Club,” Cavendish said, as he shrugged into his coat. “Ever been?”
    â€œNo,” William said. He’d heard of the place, but never entered the establishment. William’s place was amongst books and he knew it.
    â€œYou should come with us.” Perry walked to William’s side and clasped an arm about his shoulder. “It might do more to sate your restlessness than a cuppa would.”
    William reached a nervous hand up to tug on his hair. They couldn’t be serious. “I’m afraid I’m ill-suited for such a venture. I don’t have the appropriate clothing, you see.”
    â€œBosh,” Perry said, shaking his head. “We could lend you something.”
    Cavendish waggled his eyebrows at William. “Something new, something different might be just the thing.”
    â€œYou should come with us, old boy,” Perry said. “You can’t live inside that library forever.”
    â€œWell, I suppose I could come along.” William forced a smile on his lips. “Why not?”
    â€œWhy not indeed.” Cavendish grinned widely and held his hands up in a boxer’s stance. “The same old cuppa tea can grow stale.”
    â€œCome along then, Brown,” Perry said.
    By the time William left the train, the comfortable drizzle had turned into a proper storm. He turned his umbrella against the wind and leaned into it as he walked down Archimedes Road toward home. The rain plastered his trousers to his legs, which were aching due to his exertions at the Athletic Club that afternoon. The burning sensation of sore muscles was unusual, but appealing in a strange sort of way.
    He lifted the latch of his front door and entered, with no small assistance from the wind at his back.
    Mrs. McLaughlin waited for him in the entrance hall, an expression of extreme annoyance writ large across her face. He hadn’t even put his umbrella in the stand before she struck. Though she was a capable housekeeper, she had the subtlety of an elephant.
    â€œWelcome home, Mr. Brown, sir. I really must insist upon a word with you.”
    Oh, that it would only be one word and not the three or four dozen that she looked primed to deliver. “Certainly, Mrs. McLaughlin. Shall we step into the study?”
    She bobbed her head in acquiescence and followed him into the austere room off the entrance hall. With dark oak paneling and forest-green drapes, it was the most somber room in the house. A fire currently blazed in the grate dispelling a layer of gloom. Mrs. McLaughlin must have ordered it lit in anticipation of the word she was so primed to deliver.
    â€œWhat seems to be the trouble?” William leaned against the corner desk. Perhaps if he didn’t get too comfortable, their conversation could be a brief one. He had a strong suspicion this yet unnamed trouble rhymed with “messy,” which he admitted would be entirely deserved.
    â€œIt’s the new girl, Bessie.” Mrs. McLaughlin’s hands tangled in the front of her apron.
    â€œHas she done something wrong? Is Mother—”
    â€œOh, no, sir,” Mrs. McLaughlin interjected. “Your mother is quite fine. As far as Bessie’s nursing duties go, I see nothing amiss. Not yet, anyway.” She gave her apron a vicious twist. “It’s her maid duties, sir. The lass doesn’t know a thing about the running of the house. I swear that Davy himself knows more about kitchen duties than that…American!”
    William bit back a grin, remembering their interaction in the library.
    â€œThere is a matter of a small fire she started her first morning here,” Mrs. McLaughlin said. “And her complete lack of ability in the kitchen. And her