Chapter 7 #3
“But you were instructed from your earliest youth, and it has made you dull, my dear Darcy. Thank goodness you have friends like Bingley and me to draw you out.”
“And what a shame it is that my influence has done nothing to improve you. What can I say or do to convince you to spend more of your time in Scotland and less of your time parading in town?”
Balfour waved him off. “I shall worry about it when I eventually become a country gentleman.”
The conversation ended, and smaller groups began to talk whilst others read their letters or the newspaper.
Darcy noticed that Utterson spoke with Elizabeth.
It was not the first time he had noticed a short tête-à-tête between them.
Last evening, Utterson had apologised for some complaint he had said out of turn and had asked her to reserve a dance.
Seeing them talk together made him feel as though Utterson was a rival, even though Elizabeth was not his lover.
I cannot criticise him for talking to a woman I admire. I am not a jealous friend.
He had no right to be jealous, after all.
His suit was rejected, rightfully rejected.
But the hope of strengthening Elizabeth’s affection towards him, the hope of her growing in love with him, would not allow him to look kindly on any man who pursued her.
Was Utterson merely enjoying her conversation, or did he have greater expectations?
“What is the matter?” Bingley asked. “You worry for your tenants amidst all this rain?”
It was better to be thought a conscientious landlord than in love with Bingley’s sister-in-law.
“I do. You cannot sow in heavier, wet soil, then the cold spring and summer and lack of sunshine means harvests are also delayed, with poor yields.” Darcy looked up and noticed the butler entered and had a quiet word with Balfour.
“You will almost certainly have a low yield?” Bingley asked.
“Every crop: wheat, drilled beans, turnips. And everything growing in grassland, mown land, and pasture. What shall my tenants’ sheep and cows eat this winter if this weather continues? What shall that mean for livestock and planting next season?”
“I suppose it means they won’t be able to pay their rent.”
“As though Darcy need worry about his income,” Balfour interrupted as the butler left. “I will cheer all of you: my new carriage has arrived.” He stood from the table. “You must come see it,” he said with a grin. “The weather will be averse to outdoor exercise before long.”
His enthusiasm was infectious, at least to the men. They strode into the hall and outside to the stable yard to see it; the ladies followed more slowly, as though indulging a child. The wind was strengthening, but it had not yet begun to rain, and they all gathered around Balfour’s new equipage.
“It is a travelling chariot!” he said, admiring it and encouraging his sister to look at the upholstery. “You and I can sit just there when we go to Scarborough. Utterson, three shall fit across.”
“And I thought you might have me sit with your man on the rumble seat,” Utterson muttered, walking round the carriage.
“Why did you not order a chaise if you wanted your own carriage rather than travel post?” Mrs Lanyon softly asked. “It might be more useful to have a carriage that could seat four.”
“I wanted something more substantial than a chaise. And to this I can add a box for a coachman whilst in town and remove the rumble seat so a footman can stand on the sideboard for making calls.”
Balfour was pointing to this and that whilst Hurst and Bingley looked on with interest. The equipage had looked impressive to Darcy from a distance, but, as he came nearer, he looked at the panels with some concern.
“They did not use seasoned wood, Balfour. You could not have ordered this,” Darcy said as he ran his hand across the door.
“Indeed, it is exactly as I asked for. Well worth the price for a man to have something new!”
Bingley bent low and peered at the undercarriage. “I think Darcy could be right,” he said.
“If you did not order wood like this, then the carriagemaker cheated you,” Darcy said quietly.
Balfour’s bright expression darkened, and he looked to be gathering patience. However, he laughed and said, “Aye, you are only jealous that I have something new, my dear Darcy.” He turned to the ladies and said, “’Tis a shame he has such a jealous, resentful nature. Must be why he is still single.”
Now suspecting that Balfour knew exactly what he paid for, Darcy stayed silent.
He who would not ask for seasoned wood was throwing money away to order a carriage from such materials.
It was made from wood so green that the panels would slip from their mouldings within three months.
Balfour always thinks he needs what is new, rather than what is lasting.
He would rather have a lower-quality travelling chariot now rather than save to have a more lasting coach in the future.
“Why would Mr Darcy be jealous of your carriage?” Miss Bingley asked. The ladies had admired it politely, and he noticed they all had their arms around themselves to brace against the wind.
“I suspect it is because Darcy’s carriage is five years old if it is a day,” Utterson murmured, still walking about the new chariot.
“I thought your brother’s coach seemed new,” Mrs Annesley said to Georgiana.
She seemed to wish to encourage her charge to share an opinion, but when it was clear that his sister was unable or unwilling, Darcy answered. “It was refurbished this spring. Newly varnished, the brass plates replaced, and the cushions newly stuffed, and new carpet, too.”
“I thought you had said something or other last year about not bothering, and you would just wait until you married to buy a new one?” Bingley asked.
Darcy kept his attention firmly on Bingley and did not look to the woman who he had hoped would be the one to select that new carriage. “That was unlikely to happen any time soon, and mine needed new carpets and varnish. Nothing else was wrong with it.”
“You must wish for a new carriage like mine. I shall let you ride in it,” said Balfour, winking at him. Darcy rolled his eyes, and Balfour looked chagrined before he then called Georgiana and Mrs Annesley to sit in it and say what they thought of it.
Darcy noticed the ladies shift their feet, glance at one another, and then collectively come to some decision.
A few nodded, and then they all complimented Balfour on his purchase and begged leave to return to the warmth of the house.
They left, and when Darcy came to the other side of the chariot, he saw Elizabeth had turned to look over her shoulder.
She watched him for a long moment before walking slowly towards the house.
The men continued to admire it, and Darcy stood with them out of politeness rather than interest. He hardly wanted to laud the foolish purchase, and certainly not after Balfour had claimed his warranted concern was rooted in jealousy.
Let us hope that baseless claim does not give Elizabeth a reason to lose her good opinion of me.
That would be a blow after the progress he felt he had made since the well dressing.
Bingley eventually claimed an errand, but Darcy suspected he preferred the private company of his wife. As Bingley hurried towards the hall door, rain drops began falling, but it was not enough to deter Hurst and Utterson from making more remarks about the chariot.
There was a rumble of thunder in the distance, and then the rain fell; finally, they all ran to the entrance nearest the stable yard.
As they shook the rain from their hair and coats, when Darcy strode past Balfour, he gestured for Darcy to wait.
The others continued into the house, whilst Darcy followed Balfour into the gunroom.
Balfour idly looked round at the rifles and pistol cases before he said, “I hope to go shooting after the twelfth.”
Darcy only stared.
“This weather! One needs to be web-footed like a drake to get anywhere.”
“Did you call me here for a purpose?”
Balfour sighed at his abrupt reply. “I do hate being on this side of your unyielding temper.”
For all his earnestness in conversation, Balfour could say flippant, disrespectful things. His cheerfulness made him a valued friend, but Darcy was hurt by his thoughtless ridicule, and in front of mixed company, no less. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest as Balfour paced.
“How long have we known each other?” Balfour asked.
“Near six years, I would say, not long before my father died.”
“I am grateful for whatever lucky circumstance that led to our fathers’ meeting.
Did you know, after my father met you, he said to me, ‘There is a fine, straight young fellow. He shall be a good influence on you, Lewis, if you shall let him.’ It is no fault of yours that my sprightly nature and being a spirited speaker gets me into trouble. ”
“You are beyond all hope,” Darcy said, unable to help a small smile.
“Aye, we know that, but no father wants to believe his wayward son won’t ever settle down.
I hope you know me enough to know when I am sorry.
” Balfour held out his hand. “I always know when I have done wrong, and as soon as I called you jealous, I knew it was a damned stupid thing to say, and in front of your sister, too.”
Darcy immediately took Balfour’s hand. Since Hunsford, he was resolved to be less resentful. “A shame, then, that you never know it before the words leave your mouth.”
Balfour gave a relieved laugh, and clasped Darcy’s hand with his other in a warm grip before letting go.
“Oh, aye, but you typically like how much I talk. It often saves you the trouble.” He added quietly, “I know you do not have a jealous bone in your body. You were generous to allow me to make sport of you before the others, and I am sorry I did it.”
“All is forgiven. I was only worried that you had misspent your money, or had been taken advantage of.”
Balfour shook his head, laughed, and clapped a hand on his shoulder.
“My dear Darcy, you are a good friend to worry for me.” They walked through the door, and had moved to go their separate ways when Balfour called his name.
“All these years of friendship, and I know which one of us is the better for it.”