Chapter Six #2
“I am afraid they will be in Meryton within the next quarter-hour,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head.
“After your father told them not to go?”
“I love my father, Mr. Darcy, but unless he is willing to enforce his edicts, there is little point in issuing them.”
“Will they speak about Bingley?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “They are unlikely to go so far. It is the officers they wish to see.”
“What of Wickham?”
“He was in London last I heard,” she told him.
Mr. Darcy frowned, and for once, Elizabeth found herself in agreement with him.
“I should like to check on Bingley before our walk,” he said politely, gesturing to the stairway.
Elizabeth nodded, and Mr. Darcy took the stairs two at a time. Soon he returned, and Mr. Hill helped him don his outerwear. In the summers, Elizabeth did not envy men their clothing, for muslin was much cooler than wool. In the winter, however, she longed for a greatcoat.
“How do you find Mr. Bingley?” she asked.
“Still sleeping,” Mr. Darcy replied. He shrugged a bit. “I have not been of much assistance to him, but I suspect he will be awake when we return.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Shall we go, then?”
He motioned for her to walk out first, and she did. The air was not precisely warm today, but it was a good deal warmer than it had been the day before.
“It is difficult to tell what sort of season we shall have this year,” Mr. Darcy said. He contemplated the sky. “I do not like inconsistent weather.
She laughed a little. “I do not think even you can command the skies, Mr. Darcy.”
He laughed in response. “It is every farmer’s dream, Miss Elizabeth.”
“You consider yourself a farmer, Mr. Darcy?” This surprised her.
“Of course. On a rather large scale, but my income certainly derives from the land.”
“My uncle says that many estates fail because they depend solely upon the land.”
Mr. Darcy nodded. “Your uncle is correct, which is why Pemberley does not rely upon one type of income. Our crops are largely barley and grain, but we also raise livestock and have investments in a variety of other endeavours.”
Elizabeth was very interested in this. Papa rarely spoke of estate matters despite her insistence that knowing how one’s income was generated was an important part of a good education. “What other sorts of investments, Mr. Darcy?”
He lifted his shoulders. “Whatever I believe will add another source of income and help protect the estate. We have a mine on the property, for one.”
“I understand that mines are very profitable.”
He frowned. “There is profit, of course, but in my case, it is more a defraying of the estate’s expenses.
I never have to pay for wood or coal as both are in good supply, and as the house is rather large, it offers a significant savings.
” He fiddled with his hat before setting it more firmly on his head.
“I am not willing to sacrifice safety for coin, and thus I am not made rich by it.”
This was something she had heard of, for her father always allowed her to read the papers when he was done with them. Still, she wished to hear more from the man himself. “What sort of safety do you mean, Mr. Darcy?”
“I will not allow children to work in the mine, which has made some of the positions difficult to fill, and I will not allow men to work all hours until they are so weary that they make a fatal error in judgement.” He sighed.
“Mines are dangerous, Miss Elizabeth, and they must be operated with great care.”
Elizabeth gazed off into the garden. “And what else do you do with all your money, Mr. Darcy?”
He chuckled. “We are partners in the mill that produces cloth from our wool. We have coppice woods where we grow and harvest lumber . . .”
“Ah, but that is still dependent upon the weather.”
He nodded. “You are correct. Farther afield, we have invested in horse breeding, a factory that will eventually be able to can food for the military to carry on campaign, Count Von Rumford’s chimney designs, and several shipping concerns.”
“Count Von Rumford? Is he not an American?”
“Good ideas are not limited to England, Miss Elizabeth.”
She shook her head and squelched a smile. “I am well aware of that.”
“We do have a few charitable concerns as well, including a school for boys and another for girls in the Kympton parish. That is an investment of another sort, but I expect that it shall produce its own rewards.”
If only he had been so forthright earlier in their acquaintance! “You are a very busy man, Mr. Darcy.”
He nodded. “Hiring good men to assist me is essential to the sort of business I conduct. No one can be an expert in every field, though many have tried.”
“It is expensive to hire so many workers,” she replied.
“It is often more expensive not to,” Mr. Darcy answered.
Elizabeth thought to test him once more. “My uncle is of the same mind, Mr. Darcy.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes, he has a keen mind for business. Mr. Gardiner is my mother’s brother and the owner of several warehouses in London.”
This did trip Mr. Darcy up a bit, but to his credit he recovered quickly. “I see. Might I have heard of them?”
“I doubt it sir, unless you shop near Cheapside.”
“No,” he said, almost regretful, but not quite. “I cannot say that I do.”
“He has done very well for himself. His income outstrips that of my own father, though as he lives in London, his expenses are higher.” They walked for a few minutes without speaking while she thought about the Gardiners.
“My uncle and aunt are sensible and well educated, Mr. Darcy, and fashionable as well. Though they run in very different circles to yours, I believe you would like them.”
“I am sure I would, Miss Elizabeth.” He was quiet for a longer period before he picked up their conversation on a separate subject. “I must beg your forgiveness once more, but I could not help notice that something is amiss between you and your mother.”
She groaned. “That would not require any great observational skill, Mr. Darcy. Indeed, there is.”
“I ask only because . . . May I be of assistance in any way?”
“Not at all.”
His brows pinched together.
“Oh, well,” she said resigned. “You did tell me of your private dealings with Mr. Wickham. I must ask that you not inform anyone else, though I suppose it matters little as Lydia cannot be counted upon to be discreet.”
He nodded solemnly.
“Mr. Collins made me an offer yesterday morning. Three offers, in fact.”
Several lines appeared on his forehead. “I do not understand.”
“He asked. I refused. He then assured me that I would accept in time. I refused. He was delighted that I was so coy. I refused a third time and left the room so as not to be subjected to a fourth attempt.”
Mr. Darcy paled and stopped dead in his tracks. She looked up at him with what she hoped was an adequate expression of unconcern. He began to ask one thing, but hesitated and asked something else.
“Do you mean to tell me that he was refused and immediately asked again?”
“Well,” she said, thinking it over, “he did not believe me.”
Mr. Darcy made a choking sound. It was rather alarming, but he soon recovered. “I am having a difficult time picturing it.”
“Imagine how much more difficult it was to experience it, Mr. Darcy,” she said dryly.
“And this is why your mother is upset with you?” he asked. Elizabeth was gratified by the incredulous tone of his question.
She nodded. “Mr. Collins is the heir to Longbourn, you see.”
Understanding dawned upon his face. He was so open now, so simple to read. She wondered what had changed. He had been staring at her in disapprobation since their unfortunate meeting at the assembly, of that she was certain. However, he was not doing so now.
He spoke cautiously. “No matter the pecuniary benefits of the match, I cannot see you being happy with such a man.”
“I did speak of expecting respect for and from my eventual partner in life,” Elizabeth reminded him. “While my cousin is possessed of a good living and excellent prospects, he has certain personal qualities that would make marrying him a trial.”
He really was laughing at her now, for the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “That is . . . tactful,” Mr. Darcy replied.
“What I wish to say would not be kind, Mr. Darcy. May we leave it at that?”
“Of course.” He hesitated. “I must ask why you are so circumspect about your cousin when you have always been rather straightforward with me?”
Was Mr. Darcy fishing for a compliment? Very well, she had one to offer. “That is because, Mr. Darcy, you at least understand when you have vexed me. I have answered you more than once with impertinence, you must admit, and very little else.”
“I find your impertinence rather intelligent and engaging, Miss Elizabeth.”
This was more than enough. “I must ask you to stop, Mr. Darcy. It is beyond belief, coming from you—this is too much flattery to be real.”
Mr. Darcy’s forehead creased. “I do not flatter,” was his reply. “There is no point in it.”
Jane joined them then, and they made for the wilderness on the south side of the property to collect pine boughs and holly.
The decorations would be dry and brown long before Christmas, but Elizabeth supposed it did not matter.
Jane would use them to cheer Mr. Bingley, and they could do it all again in a few weeks for the rest of the house.
“Lizzy!” Lydia cried from some distance away. She and Kitty hurried over to them, their arms full of branches with white berries. “We found mistletoe!”
Elizabeth was taken aback at the sheer size of Lydia’s burden. “Have you left any for the rest of Hertfordshire?”
Mr. Darcy coughed.
“Lydia gave some to Mr. Wickham and hoped that he would kiss her, but he did not!” Kitty announced gleefully.
“He would have if that Penelope Stout had not appeared,” Lydia said waspishly. “He was bending down when she called out his name.”
“His Christian name.” Kitty giggled.
“Girls, you were not to go to town,” Jane reminded them.
Kitty gazed at her feet, but Lydia was undaunted. “And so we did not. We met them before we could reach Meryton.”
Elizabeth ignored the blatant flouting of her father’s instructions, for it would do no good to scold.
It was better to flatter than to direct.
“It seems you have had a fortunate escape with Mr. Wickham, Lydia. Anyone who would prefer Penelope Stout to you is not worth your attentions.” She glanced quickly at Mr. Darcy. His expression was as stoic as ever.
“Yes, for the other officers are not nearly as old,” her youngest sister said with some satisfaction. “Carter is younger and higher-ranking!”
“But not as handsome,” Kitty teased as she ran off, Lydia in pursuit.
“Maria Lucas told me something you do not know!” she cried. “I shall keep it a secret!”
“Kitty, Lydia, do not run!” Jane called. She glanced over her shoulder as she followed her younger sisters. “Mr. Darcy, would you be so kind as to escort Elizabeth back to the house?”
Mr. Darcy inclined his head in a sort of abbreviated bow. “It would be my pleasure, Miss Bennet.” He took the branches Elizabeth had gathered and tucked them under one arm before offering her the other. “Shall we?”