A few of the farthest guests for the ball arrived the day before the grand festivity. With Mrs. Darcy, her mother, and their two younger sisters visiting tenant families, Mr. Darcy took a sliver of available time to address a matter he had long neglected: his uncle, Alistair.

No sooner had he sent a footman to summon his uncle than Mrs. Reynolds knocked on his door. Assuming it to be a matter to do with the ball, and his wife gone, Mr. Darcy bade her enter and hoped the issue did not involve a question of decor.

“Pardon me, sir, but I’m afraid my conscience has bid to me to once again bring the spring hiring fair to your attention,” Mrs. Reynolds said boldly as she glanced at the door to the master’s study. Mr. Darcy followed her gaze, noticing she had left the door open. Standing uncomfortably just outside the door jamb, Mr. Cowles, the butler, attempted to hide from view. “Well, come in, Cowles. Mr. Darcy must hear from us both!”

Exasperated, Mr. Darcy closed his eyes and beckoned the new servant into his study. The man who came highly recommended by Mr. Holmes at Matlock scurried in to stand next to, but slightly behind, Mrs. Reynolds.

“Are the staff not abiding by your commands, Mr. Cowles?” Mr. Darcy asked a worry he had held with hiring from outside of the ranks. But they had lost two of their most senior footmen the previous year, one to illness and the other to a move to London, that neither he nor Mrs. Darcy had felt comfortable raising someone’s star from within.

“No, sir. I mean to say, yes, sir. You have a most obedient and capable staff here at Pemberley.” The butler offered until Mrs. Reynolds made an audible sigh. “We just do not have enough of them, I’m afraid.”

Mrs. Reynolds smiled, but Mr. Darcy frowned, looking out the window.

“I do wonder that the two of you chose to wait until Mrs. Darcy was gone from the home to bring this issue to me. Have you spoken to your Mistress?”

Mrs. Reynolds took a step forward and nodded. “Aye, sir, and she told me there was no room in the ledger for new hires. But we’ve lost two scullery maids, three footmen, an undergardener, and five housemaids. I’ve managed to keep two footmen and three of the housemaids until after the ball. But after Easter, I’m afraid they will have served out their notice.”

Mr. Darcy wiped his face with the palm of his hand in a grim expression. Many thoughts competed at once in his mind, but he would not show an ounce of disloyalty to his wife in front of the staff. Still, her reasoning baffled him.

“That is a very high turnover, is there a problem with the leadership below stairs?” Mr. Darcy wished to know the root problem before he brought the matter to his wife.

Swiftly, Mr. Cowles shook his head while Mrs. Reynolds remained still.

“Mrs. Reynolds?” Mr. Darcy asked, granting the most senior household staff member a freedom to speak.

“I suspect it’s the classes. Mrs. Darcy began the program of teaching the staff to read and write, and I’m afraid they soon realized they can earn a much better wage in Town. They ask for their reference, serve their notice, and take the first wagon to London or to the factories.”

“I see.” Mr. Darcy dipped his quill into a bottle of ink and began scratching words on a new piece of parchment.

For a time, the butler and housekeeper waited. Minutes passed, and finally, they were interrupted by Alistair Darcy.

“Oh, I see that you are occupied, I shall return later,” the sly member of the Darcy family attempted to shirk his meeting, but Mr. Darcy objected.

“We have just finished. Please, come in and help yourself to refreshment,” Fitzwilliam Darcy motioned to the cart in the back of his study as he stood with the parchment in his hands. He addressed Mrs. Reynolds, in a minor slight to Mr. Cowles, but the man had not yet proven himself to the master as leader of the household. He might hold the senior title, but it was unlikely anyone would unseat Mrs. Reynolds as the actual head of the staff.

Mr. Darcy handed the note to Mrs. Reynolds. “Put a notice in the paper, make sure we are offering a good wage and send me a list of anyone here longer than one year that we might increase to match our new offer.”

“And the classes, sir? Should we stop them?” Mr. Cowles asked.

“No. Mrs. Darcy and I are agreed in that quarter. The lessons will continue, and the entire house will benefit from it. I will apprise Mrs. Darcy of the new budgets for the household.” Mr. Darcy rubbed the back of his neck as the housekeeper and butler thanked him and returned to their duties.

Once they were alone, Mr. Darcy asked his uncle to pour him a drink as well. The corner of the elder Darcy’s mouth twitched at the impertinent request but complied. Fitzwilliam wrote a quick note to himself about the interview with Mr. Cowles and Mrs. Reynolds, before he left his desk and joined his uncle in the seating by the fireplace.

“Are we drinking to tomorrow’s success?” Uncle Darcy offered.

Mr. Darcy waited for his uncle to begin a sip and then he spoke. “I called you here to remove your welcome.”

Uncle Darcy choked on his drink, but Mr. Darcy looked on with no sympathy.

“You cannot be serious. Fanny mentioned I should expect your dismissal, but surely you will not dismiss your own flesh and blood to the cruel world. Your father would never . . .”

“My father would have called the constable,” Mr. Darcy said. Finally, he took a drink, gulping down more than his fair share. Then he took a deep breath. “You were sloppy, Uncle. The reports from India are arson, and your name is listed as a person of question. The fires spread to our neighboring fields and the damages were extensive.”

“So I do not go back to India! I have no intentions of leaving my homeland again!” Uncle Darcy did not deny the allegations out of hand, and his nephew raised his eyebrow.

“So you do not deny your involvement.”

“No, I do not recognize a threat of parchment from halfway around the world of fabricated events,” Uncle Darcy scoffed.

Mr. Darcy laughed. He paused to look at his uncle who sat with an expression that reminded him so much of the late George Wickham when his schemes did not go to plan. And then his laughter resumed even louder.

“You mock me.”

“No, you mock yourself. Chasing penniless widows, burning an entire fortune for your own selfish wants.” With the last phrase, Mr. Darcy spoke with a solemn tone.

Uncle Darcy finished his drink. “And what if I do not wish to leave? This is my childhood home.”

“That is why I do not summon the footmen to throw you out. This conversation is the last consideration Pemberley will give its wayward son. Tell me where you wish to go, and I shall send you there, but never again darken my door for another farthing.”

Uncle Darcy licked his lips. “What kind of settlement are we talking about? I couldn’t possibly accept less than” he paused, acting as though he were actually considering a pay-off, “say £20,000.”

“But you shall. Much less. Or instead of a destination of your choosing, it will be back to India and their authority you will go.”

“I will never board the ship.”

Mr. Darcy smiled and held his glass up and considered the amber liquid left in the bottom third. “You never learned who owns the fields next to our holdings, did you?”

Uncle Darcy snorted and adjusted his weight in the leather chair to look away. “I lived there you impertinent welp. The Amyand family is the reason the D’Arcy family bought a holding generations ago.”

“Amyand is now Cornewall and included the family’s India holdings in his sister’s dowry to focus on his other properties. You burned Earl Minto’s lands.” Mr. Darcy finished his drink and stood as his uncle’s face drained of all color.

Silence descended in Mr. Darcy’s study as the younger man again looked out the window, cheered to see the progress of a wagon and phaeton on the horizon. His wife would be home within the hour, and he suddenly felt an urge to go to the stables to have his horse saddled that he might meet them.

“Will you turn me over to the Company?” Alistair Darcy asked quietly.

The Darcy family had been careful to always remain on the right side of the East India Company, and in exchange, had prospered in India where other families that did not pay tribute found the lack of protection overran their lands to ruin. The whispers of the lengths to which the Company would go to recover losses hinged on the treachery of the individual governors. Earl Minto was now the Governor General of India and even Alistair Darcy could calculate the man might seek justice for his own lands as a point of policy.

“I’ve not yet decided what I shall do. In the meantime, think about my offer, and you shall be leaving with the Matlocks and de Bourghs when they go to London. Your destination after that is up to you.”

Uncle Darcy stood, his lips pursed in annoyance. Before he could leave, Mr. Darcy issued one more edict.

“And while you are in my household, you will refrain from sleeping anywhere but your own bedchamber. Let Mother Bennet down gently, do not insult Mrs. Darcy’s mother. But your imposition on her good favor ends.”

“As I last heard you say, Nephew, our world is changing. I must leave my old ways behind or be forgotten.”

Alistair left the study without more than a nod to his nephew, and Mr. Darcy was unsure where he stood with the man. He would have to talk to his other uncle about additional solutions to the problem of Uncle Darcy. Restitution had already been paid to East India Company, and if Alistair learned that, there would be no check on his behavior. Yet, in his heart, Darcy did not feel his uncle truly feared. Like his departed son, Alistair Darcy was a master of manipulating authorities over him and slipping right through the chains.

Angered and frustrated, Mr. Darcy abandoned the other items he wished to complete and made his way to the stables. A ride in the fresh air and seeing his wife would provide much-needed relief for the trials of society ahead of him.