The Trouble of a Curricle (and the gentlemen who drive them)

Morburre, CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

If you’ve read Waking to Mr. Darcy, then you know that at the end of that book we discover Mary Bennet has as secret crush. Nicholas Hammond is that crush. He’s also the Bennet’s neighbour, the eldest son of a spendthrift of a father, the older brother to a rather reckless brother, quite practical (perhaps to a fault?), and not uninterested in Mary.

Below is when we first get to meet Nicholas’s brother, Fred, and his friend, Whit. This excerpt tells of just one incident where the two of them cause trouble with a curricle and the first of four times they cause issues through racing.

Despite all that, they are two of my favourite troublemakers. 😉

Nicholas Hammond groaned and rose from his chair. “Why are you here?”

“Good day to you, too, brother.”  Alfred Hammond flopped into a chair. “You remember Whit?”

“Mr. Whittemore.” Nicholas greeted the young man, who had accompanied Fred into the study. At least Ethan Whittemore had the good sense to look uneasy. Nicholas came around his desk and propped himself on the edge of it, intentionally kicking his brother’s foot while crossing his ankles. “I might ask the same of you, Whittemore. Are you not both supposed to be in school for at least another week?”

“Old man Frohock cannot abide a bit of fun,” said Fred, “and wishes not to see me again until after the New Year.”

Nicholas motioned for Whit to take a seat. “I assume you were part of this fun?”

“I was, sir.”

If Nicholas did not know the sort of young man Whit was, such a concise answer given in such a humble tone might have convinced him that Whit was an innocent caught up in a scheme not of his doing. But, Nicholas knew Whit. Whit was the brains of the pair seated before Nicholas’ desk. The idea for a scheme might originate with Fred, but the planning and execution lay firmly at Whit’s feet. Nicholas stared first at Whit and then his brother. He would not ask what the trouble had been. He would allow them to volunteer the rope with which to hang them. They would — or Fred would. He affixed his glare on his brother.

The clock ticked, counting out the time as the room sat silent. Finally, Fred looked away from his brother. “It was just a bit of fun. I thought my curricle would be faster than Allston’s.” He smiled widely. “And it was.”

Nicholas nodded but remained silent, his eyes still boring into his brother.

“Allston might have scared a young lad and upset a pail of milk.” Fred shrugged.

“Milk destined, no doubt, for Mr. Frohock’s kitchen?” asked Nicholas.

Fred nodded.

“And you were told to rusticate in the country until the new year because of Allston?” Nicholas’ brows rose in disbelief. Mr. Frohock did not take kindly to tomfoolery, but he also did not punish without cause.

Fred shrugged again and found a thread on his coat sleeve to be of particular interest as he continued. “Allston may have swerved because a curricle came too close to his.”

“A curricle? How many curricles were involved in this bit of fun?”

“Two,” said Whit. “Just two, sir.”

Nicholas nodded. “Did your curricle hit his?” Fred never told the full extent of his involvement. It was always underplayed.

“A slight tap,” Fred admitted. “It will be repaired before I return to school, and Whit has been kind enough to offer his assistance and his vehicle until it is.” He pulled a folded paper from his pocket and, reaching past his brother’s legs, placed it on the desk. “I will need that covered before it is released.”

Nicholas drew a steadying breath. “And from where do you expect that money to appear?”

Fred shrugged and waved at the books on the desk. “One of those, I suppose.”

“They are stretched to the breaking point between you and father. I cannot make money for foolish expenses just appear.”

“I can if you give me some blunt,” Fred replied with a smile.

“No.” Nicholas wished to snatch Fred out of his seat and give him a good shake. “If you want to waste your allowance on gambling, that is your choice, but I will not be giving you a farthing more until next month. Is that understood?” He looked first at his brother and then skewered Whit with a look just to make sure both knew his displeasure. “And why are you at Rosemoore instead of at your father’s estate?”

“He prefers the land to the sea,” offered Fred with a smirk at his friend.

So, now that Fred felt scolded and unhappy, it was time to offer up his friend. Nicholas wondered how his brother kept any friends.

“My father has threatened to see me join the Navy if I got into another scrape.”

Nicholas tipped his head to the side and raised a brow. “Then I suggest you begin practising your sea shanties.”

“Hammond,” Fred snapped.

Nicholas smiled. Apparently, he had finally made the youngster angry. Fred only called him Hammond when greatly put out. “Actions have consequences.” He picked up the bill for the curricle on his desk. “You may decide if you wish me to pay this and claim your curricle as my own, or if you would rather find a way to pay it yourself.” He opened the paper. “A little tap? How much damage did you do?” He shook his head. “No, do not tell me, just get out of my study and see yourselves to a room.”

The two young gentlemen hurried toward the door.

“Wait,” Nicholas called. “How long will you be here?”

“Father expects me in Bath two days before Christmas.”

Nicholas waved him away. Less than three weeks. Perhaps, he could tolerate his brother for that long a period of time, although he doubted it. If his brother could just rusticate quietly as a proper gentleman did — a bit of hunting, a bit of riding, some reading, and perhaps an evening around a card table — but to Fred such activities were dull. Fred liked to spend nearly the entirety of his existence carousing. Nicholas dropped his head into his hands. How was he going to tolerate nearly three weeks of his brother? How many of his neighbours would be coming after Christmas to collect on some debt? Three weeks — perhaps he could survive it. He groaned. No, he was certain he could not.



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Leenie Brown

Leenie Brown fell in love with Jane Austen's works when she first read Sense and Sensibility followed immediately by Pride and Prejudice in her early teens. As the second of five daughters and an avid reader, she has always loved to see where her imagination takes her and to play with and write about the characters she meets along the way. In 2013, these two loves collided when she stumbled upon the world of Jane Austen Fan Fiction. A year later, in 2014, she began writing her own Austen-inspired stories and began publishing them in 2015. Leenie lives in Nova Scotia, Canada with her two teenage boys and her very own Mr. Brown (a wonderful mix of all the best of Darcy, Bingley and Edmund with healthy dose of the teasing Mr. Tillney and just a dash of the scolding Mr. Knightley).

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