Chapter 5
Bingley Carriage
Half an Hour Later
Caroline adjusted her skirts as she settled into her place in the carriage, with Colonel Fitzwilliam courteously holding up the rug for her and draping it over her lap as she sat down.
Across from them, Georgiana sat flanked by husband and brother, both men wearing a quite unconscious air of protection that plainly conveyed their care for the fragile young woman between them.
The footman, seeing that the gentry were all comfortably seated, carefully closed the door. A moment later, the occupants of the carriage all rocked slightly as the man jumped up behind, and then with another sharp sway, they were off.
Caroline turned to look out the window and watched the ivy-covered brick house of Longbourn fall away behind them.
It was a welcoming sort of place, with cheerful red brick and lacy curtains at the windows, and it reflected its inhabitants well.
The Bennet ladies were kind, and though Mrs. Bennet could not by any stretch be called refined, her heart was most definitely in the right place.
Caroline had enjoyed the visit very much, occasionally vulgar conversation notwithstanding.
“Miss Mary is a truly excellent musician,” Georgiana remarked as the carriage turned onto the road that went through Meryton and would take them to the long lane that led to Netherfield. “It is not merely that she is skilled; she genuinely loves and feels the music.”
“That is delightful,” Caroline said, turning her attention on her brother’s young bride. “Perhaps once the pianoforte has been tuned at Netherfield, she would be interested in coming and playing with us some day.”
“I am certain she would,” Georgiana replied happily.
“She told me that her sister Elizabeth plays, though she does not practice as much as Mary, and none of the other ladies of the house do. She likes to play duets and said it would be great fun to practice together. Miss Mary also said that there is a new music master in Meryton, the son of the parson, Mr. Allen, and that she has started working with him of late.”
“Did her old music master retire or move away?” Darcy asked curiously.
Georgiana shook her head. “There is an older man who teaches the ladies of the area, but Miss Mary is far too advanced for him. She lived in London for many years with her aunt and uncle, and she was taught there.”
Caroline tilted her head. “Miss Mary lived in London?”
“Well, in Cheapside, yes. Mrs. Bennet was unwell for many years, and her brother and sister-in-law cared for the three younger daughters during that time.”
“I see,” Caroline mused. She had already noticed that all five of the Bennet daughters were less vulgar than their mother. Not that she despised Mrs. Bennet, but it seemed likely that the uncle and aunt had provided substantial guidance to the Bennet ladies.
“What of the library, Darcy?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked lazily. “Was it of interest?”
“Very much so,” Darcy said promptly. “Mr. Bennet is obviously a learned man, and his library is remarkable given the size of his estate. Indeed, I am confident that a great deal of Longbourn’s wealth has been poured into the library.”
“Well, I have every intention of visiting Longbourn often,” Richard said cheerfully, “and you are certainly welcome to join me in the hopes of being permitted to glory in your neighbor’s library.”
Darcy lifted an eyebrow and bent an intense look on his cousin. “Are you pursuing Miss Bennet, Richard?”
“Perhaps,” the colonel replied. “She is quite the most handsome woman I have ever met, and yet she does not put on airs, not in the least. She is very sweet and kind and humble. I can think of a worse choice for a bride.”
“If money is a concern,” Bingley said diffidently, “I must inform you that according to Mrs. Nicholls, the ladies have essentially no dowry at all, and Longbourn is entailed away from the female line to a distant cousin.”
Caroline turned her head in time to see the colonel’s expression fall, and then he shrugged and said, “That is rather disappointing. I suppose that I might be able to support a poor wife if I were willing to be frugal with my allowance from my father.”
Darcy huffed and said, “Richard, you have every right to marry whom you wish to, but as the second son of an earl, you can reach high in society for a bride. I beg you not to fall in love with a mere pretty face.”
“And I beg you not to concern yourself with my romantic affairs,” Richard retorted, though his expression was firm rather than angry. “I will have you know that I am two years older than you and entirely capable of finding a wife by myself.”
“Very well, oh greybeard,” Darcy said with a chuckle, and the rest of the ride was carried out in companionable silence.
***
Drawing Room
Longbourn
“Oh, my dear Jane, I knew you could not be so beautiful for nothing!” Mrs. Bennet crowed. “It is obvious that Colonel Fitzwilliam is already half in love with you! Oh, if I could see you married to the son of an earl, and all my other girls married well, I would have nothing left to wish for!”
***
Netherfield Land
The Next Morning
Saturday, 16th November, 1811
The air was filled with the soft clop clop of three horses’ hooves on loose-packed dirt.
A crisp breeze tugged at the ends of woolen scarves and wisps of hair escaping from beneath hats and horse manes and tails of black and gray.
It was, in Darcy’s opinion, nearly a perfect day.
There was little he enjoyed more than a pleasant ride with good company, and Bingley and Fitzwilliam were among the best. The weather was conducive to a brisk morning ride along the easternmost bound of the property, with cloudless skies and early sunshine that bade fair to strengthen to a warmth that would be welcome on a cool autumnal day.
The three gentlemen had turned their horses back towards the distant house, the roof just visible over the tops of the trees and hedges between them.
Discussion now centered around all that they had seen on their ride; solid stone walls, sturdy fences and loose ones, fields both dry and soggy, and two of the tenant cottages.
Darcy had been pleased that both cottages were in reasonably good repair.
He had not been optimistic, for tenants often suffered under absentee landlords no matter how well-intentioned they might be.
The Netherfield steward was a conscientious man and had worked hard in spite of being employed by a man who lived many miles away and never visited the estate.
One of the thatched roofs would benefit from replacement within the next year or so, but the issue was not immediately urgent.
Even now, Bingley was expounding earnestly on his intention to have the roof replaced as soon as possible, and Darcy watched his younger friend with affection and pride.
Despite only taking a yearlong lease, Bingley was taking his responsibilities very seriously indeed, eager to improve the lives of the tenants and the well-being of the land they tilled.
Marriage had been good for him. Bingley had always been kind, but he had not been entirely steady as a youth, preferring convivial time with friends to focusing on any sort of work.
Now, with a young wife to care for and support, he had gained a sobriety of mind that did him credit.
Darcy would be happy to help him that afternoon with making the necessary arrangements for either a thatched or shingled roof.
For now, fingers and noses were turning numb, and the fireplaces of Netherfield would be busy warming the rooms, with a hot repast ready and waiting for the riders.
Darcy looked forward to a comfortable few hours in one of the cushy chairs drawn up beside a fire, perhaps with a book in hand.
The horses were equally eager to return to their warm stables and some mash, and they picked up their pace, ears pricking, as the hedges to either side of the path fell back and gave way to the broad gravel drive that led up to the house.
“Is that…?” Richard said suddenly, rising up on his stirrups and staring toward the mansion.
Darcy turned his head in the same direction and also stood up in his stirrups and narrowed his eyes. A carriage was standing in front of Netherfield, and it took him a moment to spy the crest on the door panels.
“That is the Matlock crest!” he exclaimed. “Whatever is your father doing here?”
“I do not know, but we had best find out,” Richard returned, spurring his gelding into a gallop. Darcy touched Phoenix gently, and the stallion happily chased Richard’s horse, while Bingley, who was riding a mare, followed along behind the pair at a more reserved speed.
Darcy could not suppress a feeling of unease. It was most unlike his uncle, the Earl of Matlock, to go anywhere on short notice, and for him to arrive without so much as a message in advance was alarming.
***
Drawing Room
Netherfield Hall
A Few Minutes Later
Richard Fitzwilliam hurried through the door of the drawing room with Darcy at his heels, and then both gentlemen stopped in surprise.
Three women were seated by the fire, all of them familiar, but it was the third woman who drew both their gazes.
The Countess of Matlock was closing in on sixty years of age, but her undeniable beauty had not been quenched by age.
She was dressed in practical traveling attire, and she rose to her feet at the sight of her son and nephew.
“Mother!” Richard exclaimed, hurrying forward. “It is wonderful to see you, but what are you doing here? Is Father here?”
“It is wonderful to see you as well, my son, and no, he is not,” Lady Matlock replied, bestowing a kiss on Richard’s tan cheeks. “As for why I am here, well, there is some urgent family business to discuss. Perhaps you and Darcy and I could find a private place to talk?”