Chapter Seventeen
W hen Mr. Darcy’s carriage pulled up in front of Netherfield, he stepped out and paused to ran a practiced eye over the house’s exterior face. It looked sturdy enough, built of red brick, with arches over the front door and windows. The front gardens were well-tended and welcoming.
Evidently his carriage had been watched for, as Bingley himself was now coming out to meet him.
“Darcy! Here you are at last!”
The two men pounded each other on the back, expressing their happiness at seeing one another in the way of good friends. “Bingley! It is good to see you.”
“Come meet my wife,” Bingley said, joy radiating from his countenance.
Mr. Darcy was led into a drawing room, where a truly beautiful young lady stood to greet him, smiling softly.
“My dear, this is Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, of whom you have doubtless already grown weary of hearing! Darcy, this is Mrs. Bingley.”
The lady curtsied gracefully as he bowed to her. Bingley had certainly not exaggerated the lady’s beauty in his letter, as she would have turned heads in any ballroom in London. But with her blond curls and blue eyes, she looked nothing whatever like Miss Bennet; perhaps they had different mothers?
He was offered tea and sandwiches, which he gratefully accepted.
“Your valet has already unpacked your trunks, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bingley assured him.
“And a room is available for him?” Evans had been with him a long time; he wanted to be certain he was comfortable.
“Of course. Your man has a room to himself; there is a fireplace in the room should he need it, though the weather has been fine.”
“I thank you, Mrs. Bingley. Not everyone considers the comfort of servants.”
“My sisters and I have been raised to consider the comfort of everyone,” she returned.
“I believe you are aware that I have met one of your sisters,” he said.
“Yes, indeed, my younger sister, Elizabeth. She has spoken of meeting you.”
“Favorably, I hope?” He could not resist asking the question.
She looked at him, levelly. “Yes, Mr. Darcy; favorably. Though she is still upset about the events that led to her being asked to cut her visit short.”
Mr. Darcy dropped his eyes. “I cannot apologise enough for my aunt’s bad manners.”
“We all have relatives who embarrass us, Mr. Darcy. I very much hope you will remember that when you are introduced to certain members of my own family.”
Mr. Bingley now intervened. “Darcy, you will have plenty of time to meet everyone. But I very much want to discuss Netherfield! I signed a six-month lease and it will expire next month. Should I renew it? Should I offer to purchase it? I desperately need your advice.”
Right; Mr. Darcy would have to remember that his own goals and that of his host were not the same.
Mrs. Bingley said, in her serene voice, “My dear, allow poor Mr. Darcy to get settled in before he is peppered with questions.”
Again, it was hard to believe the two ladies were sisters! He had never heard Miss Bennet speak in such calm, measured tones. She was so vivacious, so animated! But he must remember that he had not known either lady long.
Meanwhile, he should attend to his host. “Charles, it is still early in the day. Let me wash up a bit and then I will join you in an inspection of the house. That will allow me to at least get a feel for Netherfield.”
“Excellent! I will await you here.” Bingley’s face was wreathed in smiles.
Mrs. Bingley led Mr. Darcy up the stairs and to his room. He glanced about him as he walked; the window sashes were tight, and there was no evidence of damp. “Mrs. Bingley, in order to give you and your husband a full assessment of the property, I will need to look into all the rooms, including the attics.”
“I understand completely; my father told me to expect that request.”
“I hope I will have the opportunity to meet your father, Mrs. Bingley. Miss Bennet has told me of the game they play and I have looked forward to testing my skills against him.”
“Oh, the First Line game! Yes, they enjoy it immensely. My sister is a great reader in any case, but her memory has become prodigious now that she also memorizes the first line of every poem and book she can lay her hands on, hoping to stump our father.”
“I enjoyed playing the game with her in Kent,” Mr. Darcy said.
“Yes, she mentioned that you and your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, were worthy opponents.”
He stopped walking and turned to her. “Please believe me, Mrs. Bingley, when I say that I was horrified at what transpired in Kent; I hope with all my heart that your sister does not blame me for it.”
“She does not, no. But you will be able to reassure yourself on that score, as I have invited my entire family for dinner tonight. You will soon understand why I said that we all have relatives for whom we must blush.” With that, she walked on and opened a door. “Here is your room, Mr. Darcy. I hope you will find it comfortable. If there is anything at all that you require, you have but to pull the bell cord and you will be attended to immediately.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bingley. Oh – are your husband’s sisters in residence?”
“Mrs. Hurst is here with her husband, though they are in Meryton shopping just now.”
“And Miss Bingley?”
Mrs. Bingley hesitated. “I suppose I should just speak frankly. It is easier for me if she does not live with us, so she is at Bingley House in London. She has not been told of your visit here, as she would then insist on joining the party. I am given to understand that you do not welcome her attentions, and we had no wish to make you uncomfortable.”
Mr. Darcy was relieved; he would not have to fend off Bingley’s rapacious younger sister. “Thank you again, Mrs. Bingley. You are very gracious.”