Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Although it had rained all night, the morning was favourable since the clouds were dispersing and the sun frequently appeared.
Darcy sat at the breakfast table with Georgiana, Mrs Annesley, Balfour, and Mrs Lanyon, and was alternating his gaze between his coffee and the door.
The Bingley party and Utterson had not yet made their way down.
“Are you hoping to catch the first glimpse of Mrs Bingley?” Balfour asked quietly as he added more food to his plate.
Darcy narrowed his eyes in confusion. “You keep watching the door. She is a handsome woman. I dinna think Bingley would mind an admiring glance, so long as your admiration was limited to that.”
Balfour could be intolerably rude in his teasing. “Mrs Bingley is handsome, but I was only wondering what could have made them so late.” Balfour returned to his breakfast, and Darcy stopped looking for Elizabeth.
He had only spoken a few words with her last evening.
After an admiring comment about Derbyshire that gratified him more than it ought, Elizabeth had thanked him after he spoke with Mrs Bingley.
Did she think he still opposed the match, even when it could not be undone, even when he had all but placed Bingley in a carriage back to her?
Perhaps it was gratitude for arranging for Georgiana’s maid to look after Elizabeth when Reynolds told him that she did not have her own.
Last night, they were all in high spirits and good humour, eager to be happy.
If Elizabeth had not often been silent, he would have deemed the evening a successful one.
Was this how he would feel for the next two weeks, always wondering what Elizabeth thought of him?
He must do what he could to temper that feeling, and still show her every courtesy that she deserved.
Every courtesy I previously neglected to show her.
“If this open weather holds,” said Mrs Lanyon, “I hope to ride today, Miss Darcy, if you would like to join me?”
Darcy looked from the door in time to see Georgiana give an eager smile. He knew she disliked being in a large party, and Mrs Lanyon’s quiet manner would suit his sister’s shy temperament.
“Might your brother like to ride as well?” Mrs Lanyon asked Georgiana.
“Good morning,” Mrs Annesley said, and Darcy looked up to see Bingley and his wife enter, followed quickly by his sisters and Hurst, and then Elizabeth and Utterson.
She was smiling at him and had said something just outside the door to make the stern Utterson laugh.
Whilst greetings were exchanged, Darcy did his best to quell the inexplicable sinking feeling in his stomach to be civil to everyone.
After Darcy was assured that his guests had slept well and found everything in their rooms to their liking, Utterson said, “Miss Bennet and I accidentally overheard you an hour ago, talking with your steward as we admired the paintings in the gallery. You must have met him in the lobby below us.”
Darcy nodded, remembering. “Did I say anything worth noting?”
“You sounded resolved that an account of the stock—actually, every occurrence that happens in the course of the week be detailed to you on Saturday. Is this your usual practice?”
He nodded again, noting how Elizabeth was paying attention. “It is.”
“Then we heard correctly and I was right about Darcy, Miss Bennet. Not a cow calves nor ewe drops her lamb but is registered, and Darcy knows of it by the week’s end.”
“He is a controlling man,” Balfour said, laughing.
“I did not say that,” Utterson cried in his usual impatient manner. Darcy doubted Utterson would have called him controlling, but he hoped that Elizabeth did not believe him to be so.
“Aye, but does Miss Bennet think it, given what she now knows of how her host oversees the Pemberley estates?” Balfour asked.
The lady in question looked at him, her cheeks pink.
Darcy held her gaze, uncertain of what she might say.
She then smiled at him and said, whilst addressing Balfour, “I think he delegates well and that he cares deeply about Pemberley. Mr Darcy is a capable landlord.” Elizabeth’s eyes met his, briefly, before looking back at Utterson.
“He is perhaps fastidious, as you said earlier, but certainly not controlling,” she added firmly, giving Balfour half a smile.
Whilst Darcy’s heart beat faster, Bingley said, “Think of how much paper will be saved now that you are home and need not write twice weekly to your steward.”
“Twice weekly?” called Balfour from the other end of the table. “More like daily. Waste of time, paper, and ink, I say.”
“You will not say so when Hyde House is your responsibility,” Darcy said drily.
“That will not be for some time. My father is hale and hearty. If all of those years in India did nothing to weaken him, spending the twilight of his years in Scotland certainly will not.” He popped his last bite of food into his mouth.
“In the meanwhile, I cannot afford a quire of paper and ink to write daily letters about sheep or tenants or rents.”
“Do you spend so freely that you cannot afford a few shillings’ worth of paper?” Elizabeth asked in disbelief.
“Indeed, I cannot,” Balfour said with mock seriousness. “You would think that with all the wealth he remitted from India to Scotland, my father might give me more of an allowance, but I am scarcely better off than Utterson here.”
Utterson was at that moment reading his letters.
“Oh yes,” he said in a sullen drawl, “your life is as spare as mine. You shall inherit an estate, whereas I have an older brother.” He turned towards Bingley’s wife and added, by way of explanation, “My father pays my fees and expenses to enter the law, but has recently decided to reduce my spending allowance. He fears that London life will ruin me.” Utterson turned back to Balfour. “And you are not in such dire straits.”
“My father holds the ends of the purse strings, too, but I shall not argue with you at breakfast. Especially since I have ordered a new carriage and it ought to arrive any day.”
This was met by exclamations of surprise from everyone, with questions as to who made it and what did it look like, along with a subtle shake of the head from Mrs Lanyon.
“What is it, Hester?” Balfour asked when the others had finished. “You look as though you do not approve.”
“You bought a high-flyer phaeton last season—”
“This is a travelling chariot. I am weary of hiring a post-chaise. Do not dare to say that you would happily pay for it. No man wants to hear that from his sister. Why do you frown? Now we shall all be comfortable when we go on to Scarborough!”
“Yes, Mrs Lanyon, why scold your brother?” asked Miss Bingley. “I do not know what is proper where you are from, but I would never dream of sharing an opinion on my brother’s choices. A gentleman may do as he pleases.”
Darcy threw her a look that she pretended to not comprehend. He had been complicit in helping Miss Bingley share such an opinion that Bingley gave up Jane Bennet entirely. Shame made him pour more coffee into his cup to avoid looking at Elizabeth or Mrs Bingley.
Mrs Lanyon was silent a long moment. “Lewis may do as he pleases, of course. I shall be satisfied that whatever he decides may be judged decent and proper.”
With this, the table’s attention fell from Balfour, and talk amongst small groups recommenced.
Darcy noticed Elizabeth watching Mrs Bingley and Mrs Hurst’s conversation without joining it.
Miss Bingley talked with Georgiana and Mrs Annesley, and Mrs Lanyon was again as silent as she typically was.
Is Elizabeth left out only by the arrangement of the table, or was she being slighted?
“Darcy? I said, Darcy, what think you of Balfour’s purchase?” Bingley asked him in a low voice, leaning across the table towards him.
He shrugged. “I shall have to see it, I suppose, although in general I think a coach like that a needless expense for a single man.”
“No, I mean, ought I to have bought one for Jane? My chaise was new last autumn, and I hate to be wasteful. She said she did not need or want a new carriage, but—”
“You ought to trust your own judgment,” he said quietly, “and not compare yourself to your friends.” Darcy then laughed. “If you cannot do that, at the least trust your wife’s judgment.”
“Are you talking of me, Bingley?” Balfour called down the table. “You do not approve of how I spend my money?”
“You may do as you please,” Bingley answered good-naturedly. “No matter how you complain, you seem to have the means, and you do travel amongst your numerous friends a great deal.”
“He travels a great deal, but then he accomplishes so very little,” Utterson added drily.
Balfour pretended to be affronted. “That is no striking resemblance to my character, I am sure! Mrs Bingley, Miss Bennet, do not believe a word they say about me. I am as determined as Utterson and as industrious as Darcy. I am a talented man, all ambition.”
“All ambition?” Darcy had to interject. “You have no ambition. Your talents are unequal to great exertions.”
“Yes!” agreed Bingley. “You have means, but what do you do with your time and talents?”
Balfour did not so much as blush when he said, “Like any young heir come a little prematurely into an inheritance from his mother’s side, I run wanton and run riot until I bring my reputation to the brink of ruin.”
The ladies blushed, laughed, and looked away at this matter-of-fact statement.
Utterson lifted his eyes and shook his head.
They did not know Balfour as well as Darcy did.
He was a dependable friend, and an invaluable one in the days after Darcy’s father had died.
Balfour could act like a superficial, self-conceited coxcomb, but he was generous and loyal.
He teased a great deal, but he mocked himself more than anyone else.