A Loyal Companion (16 page)

T
hat's it? I win the day for them, save the children, sound the alarm, track the coach, subdue the villain. And "Good dog, Fitz" is my reward?

I suppose it's always been this way. Romulus did not name the city Lupa, though he and his twin Remus would be carrion without us. People are born under the sign of the ram, the bull, the crab, even the scorpion. No one is born under the sign of the spaniel, in the house of the harrier, on the cusp of the collie.

It's not just dogs, either, although of all the species, we give man the most love and loyalty. Does anyone remember the name of even one of Hannibal's elephants? Daniel gets all the credit for pulling the thorn out of the lion's paw. For barking out loud, Daniel was going to get eaten! No one congratulates the lion for his forbearance and sense of fair play. I could go on, but whining never brought dinner hour any closer.

And a pat on the head is enough, I suppose, since I know my job was well done. So they won't name a star after me. I was very, very good. Thanks to me, we now have a house of our own, with tenants to help, villagers to visit, farmers to advise. We have laughter all the time: little-girl giggles and deep-throated rumbles and, yes, even the first gummy, droolly grins of Master Miles Cecil Randolph Conover, Baronet Ware.

Now I have more time to go visit the setter bitch at the game warden's cottage that I met a few months ago. There's one puppy in her new litter that I like to think resembles me. He's black, with my gold eyebrows, and his tail is cocked at just the right angle for a dog, jaunty yet dignified. There's something more about him. You'd recognize the right pup instantly. He's the one who won't stay in the whelping box, no matter that he falls on his nose climbing over the sides. He's the one who has to taste the straw and the grass and the morning dew. He chases sunbeams and growls at shadows. That's the one.

"Darling—"

"My love—" Darius laughed and tucked Sonia's hand back onto his arm. They continued walking on a slow tour of the nearby grounds, admiring the summer flowers. "You go first," he said.

Sonia listened to a bird calling in the woods. "I just wanted to discuss an idea I had about a school in the village, but it can wait. What did you wish to say?"

Darius groaned. "Only that you have to stop employing every waif and wanderer who passes by. The maids are already tripping over each other, and the horses won't have any hair left from all the currying they are getting from the excess of grooms we seem to employ."

"You cannot complain about the stables, my lord, for you hired Brown yourself, and that half regiment he said needed positions. And you did agree that Polly was wasted at the tavern, especially since Maisie and Robb will be setting up their own household. And that poor girl whose family all died in the last influenza outbreak—"

Darius held up a hand in surrender. "But the others, Sunny. And the ones the vicar will mention to you tomorrow. I finally got Lady Atterbury to forgive me for marrying you out of hand. You know she said she'd have my liver and lights if we sent her any more untrained servants with sad stories."

"Oh pooh, that's just Grandmama. She was delighted with Portia Foggarty. Grandmama really did need a companion, and Portia's husband left her in dun territory when he went off to fight in Spain."

"Yes, but—"

Sonia patted his arm. "I know, darling. That's why I think we need a new school."

"We already have a school, Sunny. With two teachers, a maid, and a man-of-all-work. You are going to bankrupt even the Warebourne treasury, my pet."

"Fustian. We are increasing the holdings magnificently, and your investments are profitable beyond even your expectations. Remember, we went over all the accounts together just last week, so don't give me any Banbury tale of impending poverty."

He grinned and kissed her on the nose, where a sprinkle of freckles was starting to make a summer appearance. "You may hire as many unskilled workers as you wish, then, wife." He began to trail kisses down her neck.

Sonia was not to be diverted. "That's the point of the new school, Darius. The one we have is for children, to teach them their letters and such. I want another place where those adults in need can learn a skill. Weaving or fancy needlework, perhaps, or learning to keep accounts. Even cooking and the ways of polishing a gentleman's boots. Anything that might secure someone a position. Then they can earn their own way and need not depend on the parish rolls."

"Clever wife, saving me money in the long run. Have I told you lately that I love you?"

"Not since breakfast," she answered with dimples showing.

"Oh, much too long ago." He proceeded to show her in convincing fashion.

"And have I told you recently how happy you make me?" she asked.

"Never often enough. Come, let's go back to the house while the children are—What's that hen-witted dog done now?"

"Fitz," Sonia ordered. "Put that puppy down! You know it's too young. I told you yesterday and the day before, too. I cannot imagine how the mother permits you to keep scooping it up and taking it away."

Darius knelt. Fitz gently placed the pup in his cupped hands.

"I don't know why Fitz persists in bringing us this same little fellow," Sonia said, stroking the shiny black fur while the puppy wrestled with his lordship's glove.

Darius grinned. "Don't you, my love?"

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not ready to chase my last cat, but, after all, every dog must have his day.

 
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