Master Under Good Regulation Read online

  Master Under Good Regulation

  By Kara Louise

  © 2003

  © 2006 by Kara Louise

  Cover design by Kara Louise

  Painting of “Reggie” by Larry Chandler, (1951-2007)

  used with permission

  www.larrychandlerart.com

  Published by Heartworks Publication

  Printed in the United States of America

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication my be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means -- for example, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording -- without the prior written permission of the publisher. An exception would be in brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Kara Louise

  Master Under Good Regulation

  Note from the author ~

  I hope you enjoy this story of Reggie

  and how great an influence he was in the story, Pride and Prejudice.

  While I had not intended for this story to go into such depth,

  it could not but happen.

  In writing Reggie’s narrative,

  I merely wished to tell a cute little tale and ended up examining every detail,

  every supposition, every possibility in the novel Miss Austen bestowed upon us ~

  and how Darcy’s faithful dog influenced or responded to those events.

  I wish to thank Roya and her excellent work initially helping me

  keep the tone Regency, keep me faithful to the book,

  and for suggesting wonderful additions to my words.

  Thanks also to Mary Ann, who gave this work

  one final superb and thorough look through.

  A special thanks to artist Larry Chandler and his wife, Donna,

  for giving me permission to use his wonderful painting

  of “Reggie” for both the book and on my website.

  I regret that just weeks before readying the book for publication,

  I learned of Larry Chandler’s recent death.

  Finally, and without question, I must thank Miss Austen

  for her great inspiration.

  Prologue

  I have always enjoyed my life as the number one pet of my master, Fitzwilliam Darcy. I am not only his favourite sporting dog, but a faithful companion and fearless protector to him as well. Not that I have had much opportunity to display the latter, but of the two former, I am quite proficient.

  This enviable position has allowed me to go places with him that others would only dream of going. Some of those places have not merely been geographical in nature. Some have been within the realms of his mind and heart. I am among the privileged few whom he has allowed into the deepest recesses of his thoughts and feelings.

  I remember with great fondness my first meeting with my master as a puppy when he was but a young man of fifteen. His good father brought him to the modest home at which I was one of several litters of English Springer Spaniels born. I remember him looking over each one of us, picking us up, checking our eyes, teeth, and our frame. He had a look of gentleness and wisdom that I found appealing. I comprehended that he would indeed make a good master. He would take prodigious care of me, but he would be one that I could readily train.

  The different litters of pups had been put into different pens when anyone came to see about selecting one. I soon discovered it was due to the difference in our breeding. I realized that somehow we were not of the finest breeding as the ones in the first pen, but were a little better than the ones in the third pen.

  This young man’s father, as well as the gentleman who had, up until now, been our prominent caregiver (excepting, of course, our faithful mother who gave us of her nourishment until we were whelped), apparently knew what to look for in selecting the very best dog of our breed.

  “All these puppies would make an excellent choice,” said the caregiver as he pointed to the puppies in the first pen. “Notice the markings, the sturdy build and well proportioned body, the alert expression in their eyes, the shininess of the coat, and the evenness of their gait.”

  “How do I know which one to choose, Father?”

  “Son, look for the one that you feel in your heart will make a good companion and an excellent sporting dog. Look for strength and energy, but one who will relax when you hold him. In addition to not wanting a lazy dog, you do not want a dog that has a continual excess of energy.”

  The young man did not seem satisfied with any of the dogs in the first pen and walked toward ours.

  “Now the dogs in that pen there do not have the breeding that these dogs here do,” offered the man.

  But the boy continued to walk toward us undeterred and I determined to put much effort into this time of scrutiny and to display only my best qualities. I was not sure how to accomplish it, but I found the wagging of my tail came most naturally. I looked up at him with my most beguiling expression in my eyes and was pleased when he kept returning his gaze to meet mine.

  I had earlier noticed that Ambrose, a dog from the first litter, had been quite prolific in his attentions to the young man with very sloppy licks and I quickly perceived that the young Darcy was not responding with as much positive attention to this. I was of the impression that the young man could see that Ambrose was only trying to flatter him. Consequently, I kept my licks to a minimum; just enough to assure him that I liked him, but not enough to lather (or flatter) him with my drool.

  “Son, narrow your selection down to a few dogs of the finest breeding and then choose the one that you feel in your heart,” and here, the young man’s father repeatedly tapped his finger against his son’s chest, “is the right one for you.”

  The young man took in a deep breath and blew it out through puffed cheeks, seeming to struggle with making a choice.

  His father laughed. “It is not as if you are choosing a wife, Fitzwilliam. Any of these dogs will suffice.”

  In time, he narrowed his selection down to two of us -- myself and Archimedes. Now Archimedes was larger and was quite strong and energetic. He was also from the first pen. I knew that if the very finest breeding was what the master was intent upon, I would quickly be out of contention. He had the two of us brought out and I could immediately discern that Archimedes was determined to exhibit his power and aggressiveness. I decided I would show a more loyal nature and stayed by the young man’s side, content to display my faithfulness and dependability, which I believed were my inherent strengths.

  The caregiver then gave some advice. “Archimedes is of the very finest breeding; both his mother and father are top of the line, and that goes back several generations. You cannot go wrong with him. Reginald, now, is a fine dog; however his parentage is not quite as prestigious.”

  The young man scrutinized the two of us carefully. He looked to his father. “Is the breeding that important, Father?”

  “Fitzwilliam, just as in life, breeding is of utmost importance. As a Darcy, you must always keep that in mind.”

  I could see the young man was torn.

  “Well, son, have you made up your mind yet?”

  The young man finally answered, “Yes, Father. If it is acceptable to you, I have chosen this one.”

  His father seemed surprised. As was I. He pointed to me.

  “Are you certain, Fitzwilliam?”

  “I believe I am, Sir.”

  “And exactly what did you find in this dog that was superior to the other?”

  The young man gave his father a most contemplative look. “I prefer his black colouring over the brown. He seems lively and playful, but not overly aggressive. He may not be of the most prominent breeding, Father, but I believe h
e will be most perfectly suited for me.”

  “And are you quite certain, son, that he is the one you want?”

  “Yes,” he answered and then added, “His eyes, Father… look at his eyes. I can see he is most intelligent. They are quite fine. Do you not agree?”

  The elder Mr. Darcy nodded. “Yes, son, they are.” He looked up at the caregiver and gave a slight shrug, “I believe we shall take Reginald.”

  I know not whether it was either of those singular qualities that I made an effort to display earlier or something else, but for whatever reason, he singled me out. I could not restrain my joy and may have been overly excessive in my response when he selected me. My tail went quite out of control and I could not help but give him a few good licks, which he promptly wiped away. I rationalized that I was still just a puppy and could afford to display more of an exuberant disposition when the occasion warranted it. In my opinion, his choosing me was definitely one of those occasions.

  I often wondered whether his father was disappointed that he had not chosen Archimedes, but he accepted me into his home as much as I believe his disposition allowed. I did not allow myself to dwell too much on whether the elder Darcy would have preferred the other more well-bred dog. But I would be assured, before the man’s death, that he held me in high regard.

  As we approached the carriage, the elder Darcy put his hand upon the shoulder of my new master. “I want you to know, Fitzwilliam, that a man and his dog can grow quite close. A bond can grow so strong between you and that dog will grow to love you as much as you love him. Be kind, yet firm to him; you will find that this can be a most rewarding relationship”

  “Yes, Father. I will.”

  On the way to my new home, my new master held me in his lap whilst his father set down the conditions for owning his own pet.

  “Fitzwilliam, it will be your sole responsibility to take care of this dog, train him, and feed him.” He paused, “Oh yes, and give him a good amount of exercise.”

  “I shall, Father.” My new master readily agreed, as he squeezed me tighter and looked down at me, pleasure written across his face.

  I was exceedingly grateful his father had bestowed my responsibility to his son and not to the servants, as I concluded I would be in much better care. I could tell that he had a strong regard for me already.

  When the carriage stopped and he brought me out, I got my first glance at Pemberley, my new home. I could scarcely believe the grounds that stretched out before me. I squirmed to escape from his arms, wishing to begin my explorations immediately, but his grip on me held firm. I admit I was exceedingly anxious to at least put my mark on some bush, letting the world know I was here and this was where I belonged!

  His father came up to us and slipped something around my neck. I was not sure what it was then, but I quickly learned that with it on, I did not have free reign as I would have preferred. It was a slightly painful learning experience when I tried to step out further than the parameters of the length that this thing, called a leash, allowed me.

  My first night at Pemberley, I must confess, I was quite lonely and frightened. I was put in a crate that was kept off the kitchen. My master spoke to me as he put me in my new quarters. “Now, Sir Reginald Ascott Hamilton Darcy, I must put you here for the night. It is only until you are well trained and prove yourself to be obedient.” He put both hands around my face and stared intently into my eyes. “If you learn quickly, Reggie, soon you shall be able to sleep with me in my room.” He patted my head and closed the door.

  Reggie, I thought to myself. I liked that name. And because the young master called me that himself, I liked it that much more. Yes, it was settled in my mind. I think I will be quite content here.

  Needless to say, I whined for most of that first night because I was left alone, unaccustomed as I was to the solitude. But each night became a little easier and I soon accepted it; waking early each morning and looking forward to my master coming to see me as soon as he awoke. We soon became quite inseparable and I learned quite early on that he would allow me to become the one thing that he found difficult allowing any other person to become -- his close companion and confidant. And I came to learn what made this young man who he was and what those forces were that shaped him.

  Chapter 1

  My life as the preferred companion and sporting dog to young Master Darcy was unequalled. I shared my residence between two places; Pemberley, which was the grand estate out in the country, and a home in the city of London. I had nary a complaint about either, but my preference lay with Pemberley; its fresh air, its open and expansive grounds, and its endless supply of shrubs and trees.

  But oblige me as I take you back with me to that first night at Pemberley. Sleeping alone off the kitchen was difficult. When my master left me, I suddenly felt quite fearful and abandoned, and I admit I did my share of whimpering occasionally throughout the night. His coming down several times in the darkness and quiet of the night did much to reassure me, but as soon as he left, all those feelings would return. I was most relieved when he appeared that next morning. I most enthusiastically greeted him when he carefully opened the pen and reached in for me. I could not resist giving him a fervent lick across his face, prompting him to attempt to scold me in his most authoritative voice and quickly wiping his face with the back of his hand.

  “Come, Reggie. It is likely you need to go outside.”

  He slipped the leash over my head and set me down on the ground. When he opened the door, I was most anxious to get outside and tried to make a direct line to one of those fine shrubs, but the leash held me back.

  “Mind yourself, boy,” he said. “You will get there soon enough.”

  After we made a few stops at some strategically placed shrubs and trees, we began our leisurely stroll. I enjoyed sniffing out everything along the path, attempting to leave my mark whenever possible. Everything was new and I wished to explore it all!

  We spent a good amount of time outdoors that morning and I was happy to discover that my master enjoyed walking. Now, I must confess that I would have preferred to walk without the restraint of the leash. How I wished to leap into a bush -- looking for some little creature to hunt down! How I wanted to run up ahead to determine what was there! When I heard the snap of a twig, I yearned to rush over and discover if there was some prey on whom I could pounce. But I could not do it with this leash that was attached to his hand and my neck.

  As we walked along, I became fascinated with my young master’s feet. They seemed unusually large for his frame. I have since come to comprehend that it is said that a puppy must grow into his paws; you may fairly accurately gauge what will be the adult size of the dog by the size of his paws as a puppy. I would garner that the same is most likely true for people. I deemed that my master, although reasonably tall (he was just about the height of his father when I first came to Pemberley), was likely to grow considerably more because of the size of his feet. I also ascertained that he would fill out quite nicely. Presently he was somewhat lanky and appeared to be adjusting to his tall and ever growing stature. His hands, however, were nicely proportioned and I thought them the perfect size, especially for easily picking me up.

  But as we walked that morning, I sensed that he seemed to be heavily weighted down by something. I was not quite sure what it was. Although we walked as two companions, he seemed many miles away. I had noticed that when he had been in the presence of his father the previous night, his melancholy was even more pronounced. Although his demeanour was very polite, his manners were very reserved and formal, his posture rigid. On our walk, I was determined to display a more lively demeanour in the hopes that, at least on our walk, he might be cheered.

  I ran circles about his feet, causing him to trip and prompting him on more than one occasion to have to disentangle himself from the leash, all the while making a futile attempt to keep his posture and deportment. As I had an abundance of liveliness and energy, being the puppy that I was, it was not difficult for me to
give him a little bit of what I believed him to need.

  I noticed him look back towards the house several times and as soon as it could no longer be seen, he looked at me and smiled, breaking out into a run and letting out an unrestrained, “Come on, Reggie! I will race you down this path!”

  We ran down one path and then another, and even through some heavy woods. I made a mental note that I should be eager to return at a later time, as I would greatly enjoy exploring the vast array of flora and fauna through which we were presently running. My master soon slowed down and we stopped by a small lake. The water glistened, beckoning me to come and take a drink. Being a pup and having to work twice as hard to keep up with the long legs of my master (although I am quite convinced he did not run as fast as his legs would allow), I was more than pleased to see this enticing body of water before me, as I was quite thirsty. He walked me over to the lake and I eagerly stepped up to the edge, planting my front two paws in the water. I vigorously lapped up a considerable amount of water.

  When I had satisfied my thirst, we walked over to the stump of a tree and he sat down. I sat down next to him, worn out and grateful for the respite. As I licked my front paws to rid them of the dirt that had been picked up in them, we had our first real conversation.

  “I enjoyed that, Reggie.” He took in a few deep breaths. “Do you think you will like it here?” He paused and then asked, “Do you think you will like me?”

  I looked at him and sensed he wanted my approval. I cocked my head, looked at him with most accepting eyes, and wagged my tail in earnest. That was all he needed as an affectionate response from me.

  He reached down and patted my head. “I believe you and I will become fast friends, Reggie.”

  He then slid down off the stump so that he was now sitting aside me on the ground. He brought up his long legs and reached over with his arms and picked me up, bringing me onto his lap.