Chapter 15 #3
“Mother does seem to deem herself a sort of Eurystheus, setting out her labours for you each year. I know she does it to prove to you—and to herself—that your attendance here is necessary.”
Richard nodded. This he had long felt, but the familial obligation he had towards his aunt superseded his desire to deny her once and for all.
“The accounts are in good order.” Anne stared over the woods and fields that formed the backdrop to their protected spot on the terrace. “I have no expertise in the area, but I have asked Lighton,” she referred to Rosings’ steward, “to explain them to me and they seem reliable.”
She paused for a moment and added, “I have asked him to teach me something of estate management. At some time, I must take control of Rosings from Mama, and I should like to know what it is I possess. Lighton has agreed to teach me what I need to know. Rosings will not deteriorate into the ground whilst I am its mistress. I trust him. He has been with us for a long time and knows that his success depends on the estate’s success.
He will not make a mistake or mislead us. ”
Richard took another puff of his cigar. “So it is every year.”
He waited. This conversation was not why Anne had joined him outside.
She was, perhaps, not as frail as her mother believed, but she was still of delicate health and would not venture out into the cool air of early spring merely for a meaningless chat about matters inconsequential. Eventually she came to her point.
“Are you well, Richard?”
He turned to her, eyes wide with surprise.
“Me? Of course I am well. I am always well.”
“Your new commission is not overly taxing?”
“No, of course not! It does occupy a great deal of my time, of course, for I am the commanding officer of a large group of men. But there is nothing in my duties that challenges me beyond my capabilities. Indeed, I welcome the occupation. It keeps me busy and lets me feel useful. And I have longed to feel useful since first I put on my uniform.”
“Then what is bothering you?”
“Anne, you are mistaken.” He took another puff of his cigar. It was a foul habit, for the tobacco reeked, but it was something to keep his hands busy. “‘Tis not I who is bothered by something, but our cousin Will. He is the one who is out of sorts.”
“Hmm...” Her reply was noncommittal.
“You have not made a single bad joke all the time you have been here. I quite rely upon your bad jokes to break the tedium of Mrs Jenkins’ company. You act as if you have lost your best friend.”
Richard tore his gaze from the fields to his cousin. Anne was more perceptive than he had ever thought. Was his mouth agape? He snapped his teeth together with an audible click.
“Is this somebody you knew in Bermuda? You did not write a great deal about your company there, but I imagine you must have made some close friendships amongst the men.”
He fell back into his cold chair. Perhaps his heart would grow lighter if he spoke of his disappointment.
“No, there you have it wrong, Cousin Anne. It was not one of the men with whom I made such a connexion. Rather, it was with the daughter of the colonel at the fort. And before you alight upon some strange suppositions, she is only a friend.”
Why did he feel the need to insist upon this so often? Anne was hardly one to press him towards matrimony, being happily single herself.
Instead, she simply said, “Tell me about her.” She sat back in the narrow chair and pulled her shawls about her. She was ready for a long sit and a tale, and Richard could not stop himself from engaging in a lingering reminiscence of his friendship with Miss Emily Barrow.
They spoke until the tea bell sounded. Mrs Jenkins came bustling out of the house in search of her charge.
“Miss de Bourgh! There you are. Your mother has been quite beside herself wondering what had become of you. You must come inside; what would happen if you took a chill and developed a cold. You know your lungs are weak and cannot take the chilly air. I must insist.” The companion stood at the open doors to the terrace, very much like a martinet.
There, with these few words, went Richard’s one compassionate confidante.
“We shall speak more later, Richard. Now I must revert from being an adult woman learning to manage my own estate to being a child once more, coddled and manipulated by my elders. Coming, Mrs Jenkins. I shall be inside right away.” She rose, adjusted her scarfs once more, and disappeared after her companion into the cloying heat of the house.
The following day proceeded much as Richard had expected.
He and Darcy met with the steward, who led them through the accounts of the past year.
He was a competent and mild man of middle years with a great deal of patience and the occasional suggestion of a great wit hidden beneath a bland exterior.
He lived in a cottage in the village of Hunsford, just past the park, with his wife and family and seemed quite content with his lot.
“Yes, yes,” he confirmed Richard’s question.
“I have been tutoring Miss de Bourgh on how to manage the books and set out plans for the estate. She is an intelligent lady and should manage it quite well. Not so well, I hope, that she finds cause to dispense of my services, but more than adequately. I must be sure to withhold some vital information, to protect my own tenure here. Now, shall we turn to the planting schedule and the rents?”
There followed a long and detailed account of the financial affairs of Rosings that took up the entire morning and continued after a midday nuncheon.
The matter was not Richard’s passion, but it was interesting enough that he did not resent the time spent, and he quite enjoyed sitting back with a tankard of ale at the Hunsford pub with Darcy and Lighton after the session had concluded.
“Our aunt informs me there will be company at tea tomorrow,” Darcy mentioned between sips. “The parson’s wife has family visiting, and a friend as well, so I am led to believe.”
“That bodes well for an entertaining time.” Lighton grabbed a piece of cheese from the plate before them all and put it on a piece of bread.
“I had the pleasure of meeting this company. Father, sister, and a friend. Father recently departed back for his home. The friend and sister have stayed for a longer visit, and the friend is charming. I do say that the conversation between her and Lady Catherine will be diverting!”
“A respectable sort of woman, then? If our aunt chooses to invite her for tea, she must have some claim to elegance.”
“Pretty and witty and rather outspoken at times.” Lighton raised his brows for a moment in appreciation. “A different sort than Mrs Collins, to be sure.”
Mrs Collins must be the parson’s wife.
“Collins! Oh no!” Darcy groaned.
“You know the man?” This was a surprise. How had Darcy met his aunt’s new parson? They would hardly move in the same circles. And by his cousin’s sour expression, the meeting had not been to his liking.
“He was in Hertfordshire. Some sort of relation to one of the families I had the misfortune of associating with. He was… not to my taste.”
“What is he like?” Richard asked Lighton. If he was to take tea with strangers, he would like some prior knowledge of them. He would get a more accurate impression from the steward than from his cousin.
Lighton took another piece of cheese and rocked back on his wooden chair.
“He is somewhat new to the neighbourhood, having been here only since last summer. Rather young for such a position, and he is… he is not a very sensible man, I fear. I am glad that Rosings’ management is not left in his hands. ”
“From my short encounters with the man, he was not pleasant company.” Darcy wrinkled his nose as if smelling something foul. Richard nearly snorted his ale. In Darcy’s opinion, very few new acquaintances were pleasant company. He struggled to hold his tongue.
Lighton sipped at his ale to ponder his next words. “He is a favourite with Lady Catherine.” At Richard’s raised eyebrows he added, “She is very fond of offering advice, and he is pleased to accept it. He is a bit of a social climber, and relies greatly on your aunt’s coat tails, so to speak.”
“And his wife? She is likewise a pandering mushroom?”
Lighton’s expression cleared up. “No, not at all. She is quite a sensible woman. I cannot imagine why she married him. Her conversation atones for her husband’s. If you can arrange to find a seat by Mrs Collins instead of the rector, tea will not be a hardship.”