Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Bingley sighed. “This is all helpful for when I take an estate. There appears to be a great deal of organisation needed.”
“There was in India, too, Bingley, but you were rarely awake early enough to see it,” Darcy said dryly.
Bingley raised both hands as if in surrender, or innocence. It was hard to be sure which. “I am a downier one than that! Still, I undertake to rise at five, was it, so we may reach the farm before dawn.”
“It is a very early start,” Miss Bingley noted, and shuddered artistically at the notion. “Will you have time to break your fasts?”
“Mrs Crocombe would hang up her ladles in despair at the notion of sending the gentlemen out unfed,” Mrs Darcy put in. “My cook, Miss Bingley, has as sharp a sense of Pemberley’s honour as ever a Darcy could own!”
“Oh, your cook!” Mrs Standley smiled ingratiatingly. “She is the envy of Derbyshire!”
Miss Elizabeth sipped at her ratafia. “One of her under-cooks will be at the farm with enough supplies to feed twice as many men as we expect at the shoot, and I will drive up for the noon meal with all the hot dishes in hay boxes.”
Darcy nodded. “I am grateful for everyone’s hard work in preparation. I hope my first shoot as Pemberley’s master will leave a favourable impression.”
“I am certain we will have excellent sport.” Standley raised his glass to catch a waiter’s eye, signalling the man to bring fresh supplies for the table.
Elizabeth turned to the Bingley ladies. “Would you care to come up to the farm with me? Jane will ride up to lend her assistance, too, and you may enjoy the visit. Mrs Wilkinson is the kindest, most motherly character, and will delight in making you welcome. Their farm is on Pemberley’s highest lands, butting right up against the Peaks and moors.
We have not yet had much opportunity to show you all the fine scenery with which Pemberley is surrounded, although I hope we can take you to Dovedale later this week—perhaps we might manage it between our visit to Derby on Wednesday and the shoot.
You are very welcome to join us on Saturday, Miss Standley, although I daresay you are as familiar with the glory of the landscape as I am!
As long as we avoid the direction our intrepid huntsmen take, we might have a pleasant time walking and admiring the best of the Peaks’ scenery. ”
Miss Standley frowned, Mrs Hurst could not have looked more horrified if Miss Elizabeth had handed her a live scorpion to play with, and Miss Bingley was openly doubtful.
“Walk in a country lane? Might it not be dirty?”
“Indeed it might, yes.” Miss Elizabeth wore an unnaturally calm expression that almost certainly meant she was trying not to laugh out loud. “But what of it? A walk in the hills and fields is invigorating and healthful, and I do not take heed of a muddy hem or two.”
“Hmmph.” Miss Bingley let out a mild snort she doubtless considered to be a ladylike response to the horror of dresses bespattered with dirt and filth.
She looked Miss Elizabeth up and down, and smirked before saying in cloyingly sweet tone, “I suppose, since you usually wear simple country clothing, it matters not if your hems are six inches deep in mud.”
“Oh.” Miss Standley smirked as widely. “I do see your point, Miss Bingley. I have noted Miss Elizabeth’s penchant for simplicity.”
They both then turned the smirk onto Darcy, as though inviting him to share the joke.
He stared back, hoping his expression was impassive.
It would not do to castigate a guest for incivility, although if it continued, he would certainly take issue with Bingley over his sister’s behaviour.
He had no such connection to Standley, but he hoped his neighbour had better control of his daughter than he had shown thus far.
Miss Elizabeth was equal to the challenge. “It is an advantage of straitened means that, until now, had not occurred to me. You are quite right, ladies. I take no heed of such things, except insofar as I must make my excuses to the poor laundry maid.”
“Besides,” Darcy said, “I cannot think anyone seeing you this evening, Miss Elizabeth, could consider your dress to be anything other than magnificent.”
Elizabeth beamed at him, and the smile they shared was certainly, on his side at least, one of confederacy and comradeship. Both Miss Bingley and Miss Standley reddened. Mrs Hurst looked away, playing with the many bracelets encircling her thin wrists.
After a moment, Miss Bingley returned to the attack. “I do not think ladies should attend shoots. It seems distressingly unfeminine and improper to intrude on the gentlemen’s sphere in such a fashion.”
Miss Standley had appointed herself as Miss Bingley’s acolyte. “Oh, you are quite right, Miss Bingley.”
“Well,” said Miss Elizabeth, and the slight quiver in her voice was patent amusement, as the entire table must discern.
“I was not suggesting either of you borrow one of Mr Darcy’s guns.
Jane and I shall attend the noon meal to ensure our guests are properly welcomed and Pemberley’s hospitality remains unsullied.
A walk in the lanes is merely a reward for our efforts. ”
“I see no necessity for walking in lanes, when Pemberley”—and here Miss Bingley turned to Darcy with another of those ingratiating smiles she likely hoped was alluring—“has such fine and extensive gardens. That is, I think, as far as a lady should go when taking exercise, and ensure our milieu remains civilised and refined.”
Mrs Hurst nodded vigorous agreement. Indeed, that was as animated as Darcy had ever seen her. It was obvious the Bingley ladies were committed to town life and the demands of society, and he could not envisage them living happily on any estate Bingley leased.
Or any other estate, if it came to it.
“And yet I will persist in walking in the country,” Miss Elizabeth observed, mildly enough. “Crossing field after field at a brisk pace makes one feel so alive, jumping over stiles and springing over puddles… It has a great deal of charm, to my mind.”
“Oh, I cannot think it at all the thing, Miss Eliza, to be scampering about the countryside.” Miss Bingley tittered.
Miss Standley echoed the irritating sound. “It shows an indifference to decorum, does it not?”
Miss Bingley nodded, grave and censorious. “I do agree, Miss Standley. It must arise, I think, from Miss Eliza not having had the advantages of an education at a seminary such as the one my sister and I attended.”
“Enough, Caroline,” Bingley cut in at that point, for which Darcy was grateful, as his patience was waning and he was close to issuing a sharp reprimand.
“I am sure all the gentlemen will be glad of your efforts, Miss Elizabeth, and none will cavil at your taking a walk as reward.” Darcy gave the twin harpies a cool glance. “We will come in from the shoot quite ravenous.”
“I shall attempt to remain ladylike while ensuring the meal meets your expectations, Mr Darcy.” Miss Elizabeth’s smiles were never ingratiating, but Darcy considered the one he received then to be sufficient payment for supporting her.
Caroline Bingley was all for a lady’s education, apparently, if her barbed comment were any guide. She and her new friend should study Miss Elizabeth, particularly when it came to the matter of making a smile alluring. They both might learn something.
Standley gave his girl a look, shook his head at her, and turned the conversation. Darcy was surprised the man had grace enough to do it. “Mr Bingley, did I hear aright? You are looking for an estate?”
“I am indeed, sir. Darcy had Mr Wickham make enquiries, and, as I was just explaining to Miss Bennet, we are staying a few extra days to allow us to view Riverlethe Hall at Hallows, near Sheffield. It seems a good prospect, and we shall visit it the week after next, after the shoot.”
“A two-year lease with an option to purchase,” Darcy put in. “It is no great distance from Pemberley. Twenty miles or so, though over some rough ground across the moors.”
Bingley turned to Miss Bennet with a peculiarly sweet smile. “That is a distance I find very agreeable. Easy riding for visiting.”
Visiting Pemberley or Frith House? In something less than two weeks, Darcy had seen Bingley’s partiality for Miss Bennet was beyond anything he had witnessed in him previously—and Bingley had fallen in and out of love easily enough with every Company man’s daughter in Bengal—but had his friend formed a serious attachment on so short an acquaintance?
Darcy noted the glowing look that Bingley received in return. Interesting.
“The Yorkshire side of the Peaks?” Standley rubbed a hand over his chin. “I don’t go that way often, not when a good Derbyshire man can find all he wants in Derby or Buxton.”
“My family’s roots are in Yorkshire. If Riverlethe suits, we will be returning home, so to speak. I am anticipating our visit very much. I should prefer to be within an easy distance of my friends.” Another sweet smile for Jane Bennet. Another glowing look in answer.
“Blows the wind in that direction, then?” Standley said, almost too quietly to be overheard. He cast another glance at his daughter, who was deep in conversation with her new bosom friend, then turned back to Darcy with a slight, huffed-out snort. “So, sir, how many do you expect next Saturday?”
One of the worst penalties for being both a gentleman and the host, was showing courtesy to all those in his party, even those who inveigled their way in uninvited.
Despite his resolve to dance no more until he could lead out Miss Elizabeth for the last set, he was forced to take out Miss Standley—Hester?
Hortensia?—immediately following supper.