Chapter 10
Having risen early, Elizabeth was sitting by the window in her bedchamber, absently working in her sketchbook.
She had developed the habit of scribbling when anxious but today it hardly helped her.
She would turn the page back, every few minutes, to the scribbled ‘E his proposal had only happened a couple of days ago, and she had at that time been contemplating the compliment he had paid her with his preference.
Today, again, she was engrossed in thoughts of the same man.
His action of engaging Margaret had surprised her; the way he seemed to light up while playing with the child had been unexpected.
Then those crookedly carved soldiers had been a delight.
The man was an enigma, and she was daily amazed as more of his character came to light.
She did not regret her refusal, for there was no other way to respond to his insulting proposal but maybe she could better understand him now than she had ever done.
He spoke as he found, not having the talent to form pretty words.
Just because he did not have the easy manner of his cousin or Bingley did not make him a bad man, she thought charitably.
She was more than grateful for the fact that he was unfailingly polite to her after her rudeness at Hunsford.
A lesser man would have held it against her and, by extension, her aunt.
As Elizabeth sat deeply engrossed in her thoughts, the subject of her musing was pacing restlessly in his study at the dower house.
Darcy had the map of the estate spread out to study the possibility of a proper drainage to handle the eastern swamp.
He feared that though the people on the estate were aware of the problem and stayed away, an errant animal or a child could easily fall into it.
The estate was on the whole well-managed with the cottages and farmland in good repair; hence he was surprised that his cousin had not dealt with this problem.
By all accounts, Hardwicke was a sensible landlord and Darcy worried that he might be missing some vital information.
He tried to concentrate on the estate layout, but his mind strayed to the dark-eyed beauty at the manor house.
Elizabeth had been cordial with him yesterday; he could not remember any point in the whole of their acquaintance where she had not challenged him.
It was what had attracted him to her in the beginning before he had realised the extent of her antagonism.
The contrast in her behaviour yesterday had been apparent.
She had still been the witty and intelligent Elizabeth Bennet he so admired, without openly contradicting him.
Well, he thought, she was a reasonable creature, and with all the information now available to her she must have reconsidered her judgement of his character.
It should not concern him what she thought after the way she had refused him in Hunsford, but he knew it did matter; it mattered enough for him to have written that letter about Georgiana’s escapade.
God help him, but he still cared what Elizabeth Bennet thought of him.
Finally, resolving to concentrate on the matter at hand, he walked back to his desk and went through the whole map once more.
He studied the lay of the land where the swamp had formed and followed the whole area with intense focus, then suddenly he jerked upright.
He rang for a servant and immediately asked to summon Mr. Grant, then rushed upstairs to change into his riding clothes.
He was at the swamp within an hour, inspecting the land as Mr. Grant followed him with a weary expression upon his face.
“Sir, I assure you there is nothing more to see here,” he said, trying to dissuade the gentleman from his current obsession.
Darcy did not respond, but turned around and rode ahead for nearly a mile or so; an exhausted Mr. Grant followed in his wake.
“Ah, there it is. I was sure I had seen it yesterday.” Darcy muttered to himself, then turned towards the steward and spoke, “The well there, it is dry, right?”
“The well? Yes—yes, it has been dry for a long time,” answered the flustered steward.
“Good, we need labourers to inspect what reinforcement is needed, but I think it will do. We can convert it to a pond. Mr. Grant, I want you to hire labourers locally to dig a proper drain to stop the swamp. The water can be easily diverted to flow into the pond. We do not need any support from Lord Greystone as of now. The work will be limited to our land. Then we can see in a year if anything more is required.”
“I will see what I can do, sir. But I implore you to think again; this path is unused, and money would be wasted in the whole endeavour.”
“I am decided, Mr. Grant. Now let us go and talk to the tenants closest to this area. I would like to hear what they have to say.”
Dawson was the first tenant that Darcy met. The man was busy with his pigs and was quite flustered when Darcy and Grant arrived.
“Dawson, I am thinking of building drainage to take care of the swamp at the eastern end. I would like to understand your thoughts,” Darcy said, after he had been introduced.
“That would be a blessing indeed, sir, for we always fear for our cattle. While the area is not in use, the animals do sometimes run astray.”
“Did you never speak about this to Mr. Hardwicke?” Darcy questioned, trying to understand the situation.
“There was little profit in the expense, sir, and it was only me and the Turners who ever had a problem. Mr. Hardwicke was a generous man, but with the estate entailed, was sceptical about putting money into something which did not have much benefit,” Dawson explained.
“I think I will also speak to Turner to understand the full scope of the problem,” Darcy replied as he rubbed his forehead.
“Let me send my son to fetch Turner. He would be in the field now,” Dawson answered, then called his son and sent him on the errand.
“Sir, pardon my impertinence, but we were all a bit worried about any changes that you may be planning for Willowmere. We understand that you have a bigger estate in the north, and would definitely not be here much of the time,” Dawson asked as they waited for Turner to arrive.
“Dawson, I assure you that I will make sure the people here are taken care of. I may not reside on the estate, but that will not be a reason for me to ignore it,” Darcy answered to the relief of the tenant.
Turner arrived shortly and was equally flustered to meet this new landlord who was by all accounts a gentleman of some importance in town.
“Sir, it is an honour. How may I be of service?” he stammered as soon as he was introduced.
“Turner, I understand that you have also had some difficulty with the swamp?” Darcy asked.
“Well, yes, sir. Sometimes the cattle do get stuck and once my youngest did not listen and fell; though the ditch was shallow then and he was not hurt.”
“I am thinking of building drainage and trying to understand the scope of the problem,” Darcy elaborated.
“That is it, sir. It does not much affect the others whose farms are further away. Mr. Hardwicke had spoken to Mr. Harrison, the steward at Briarwood, but nothing happened after that.”
“Thank you, Turner. I will think about this a bit more, but I do mean to sort this problem out before I leave.”
Darcy then took his leave of the tenants and rode back to the dower house.
As he dismounted, he instructed the steward to prepare a plan for the drainage and check on the labourers.
He walked inside with a new purpose; this was land and drainage and tenants, and he knew how to handle them, not impertinent misses with their comely eyes and disarming wit.