Chapter 6
Netherfield Hall
Two Days Later
It was a cold day outside, but the sky was clear, and the three elder Misses Bennet had started their morning calls at Netherfield Hall.
The Netherfield cook was very competent, as evidenced by the muffins steaming pleasantly on the silver platter on the coffee table.
The tea, too, was excellent, doing credit to the Bingleys’ taste.
Elizabeth sat with her sisters in a decorous row on a settee, their saucers balanced on their knees and their cups in their hands.
Lady Bingley had claimed the chair nearest the fire, her elder daughter in the second one.
Young Mrs. Bingley and Caroline Bingley sat closer to their guests on a sofa facing the settee.
Elizabeth was finding herself more and more pleased with their new neighbors.
Georgiana was a lovely young lady, kind and sweet despite her shyness, and Miss Bingley had proven herself to be a delightful conversationalist. Mrs. Hurst spoke but little and sat ensconced with a large shawl in the cushiest chair in front of the fire as she nursed a cup of tea.
She looked tired and unflatteringly pallid, had dark circles painted beneath her eyes, and hardly took part in the general conversation.
Elizabeth regarded the older woman with sympathy.
Carrying a child was very difficult for some women, she knew, and Mrs. Hurst was, to all appearances, one of those unfortunates.
Her nominal rudeness was, at least, more understandable than Lady Bingley’s.
The lady sat in silence opposite her daughter with a mouth like a persimmon and with contemptuous eyes, an expression she had worn ever since Mrs. Hurst had asked a question about the upcoming Boxing Day.
At first, Lady Bingley had protested the idea of a lady sullying her hands with gifts for mere tenants, but Jane’s kindly explanation of some of the traditional responsibilities of the mistress of the estate had silenced her.
Caroline, obviously less high in the instep than her mother, had asked eager questions since she first heard of the practice of providing gifts on Boxing Day to the tenantry.
Georgiana, despite her youth, was nonetheless already acquainted with the tradition, though she listened carefully to the more experienced Bennet sisters’ explanations.
Mary, noting this, had added that Mrs. Nicholls, the housekeeper, was undoubtedly a treasure trove of knowledge as to what the Netherfield tenants and servants most needed.
Mrs. Bingley had agreed softly that she would ask the housekeeper for recommendations, and the discussion had moved on.
“I presume you must have some Christmas traditions at your home estate of Pemberley?” Elizabeth asked, turning a kindly face on the young bride.
“Oh yes, of course,” Mrs. Bingley said, her face pink with shyness and her mouth curved up in a genuine smile.
“We hang evergreens on Christmas Eve and take them down on Twelfth Night. For Christmas Day itself, our cooks always make mince pies and the most wonderful plum pudding, along with a great many other dishes, but I confess that the desserts are my favorite part of the meal.”
“Do you light your pudding on fire?” Elizabeth asked eagerly.
“Oh, of course! I remember being enchanted by the fire when I was but a child. It seemed magical.”
“Our family always puts up a Christmas tree,” Miss Bingley remarked, and Elizabeth turned confused eyes on her.
“A Christmas tree?” she repeated. “What is that?”
“It is a fir tree, cut and brought into the house, and decorated with apples and wafers and sweets and tinsel and lit candles,” Miss Bingley explained.
“I have never heard of a Christmas tree,” Jane remarked, “but it sounds beautiful.”
“It is not common here in England,” Lady Bingley said in a superior tone, “but has been long practiced in Germany. My dear mother’s mother was from Germany, and she brought with her the tradition of bringing an evergreen tree into the house for the Christmas season.”
“I believe that Queen Charlotte has a Christmas tree,” Mary added.
“Well, it sounds absolutely delightful,” Elizabeth returned just as the door opened and the gentlemen of the house entered in a group. The men bowed to the ladies, and Caroline Bingley said, “Sit down, please, and enjoy some tea.”
The gentlemen obeyed, with the colonel hurrying over to sit next to Jane, while Mr. Bingley sat down beside his wife, and Mr. Darcy sat on a chair near Elizabeth.
“Charles,” Georgiana said, turning eagerly toward her husband, “the Bennet ladies and I have been speaking of the upcoming Christmas celebrations. We will be arranging for gifts for the tenants, and Mrs. Nicholls will probably be willing to make up lists of all of the families and servants. I was thinking perhaps we could journey to one of the larger towns in Hertfordshire to purchase items for the children from a toy store? I know there is a general store in Meryton, but it is rather small.”
“There is a very fine store for toys in Hemel Hemstead,” Elizabeth volunteered.
“I will happily escort you to Hemel Hemstead, my dear wife,” Bingley replied with a generous smile. “I am certain the children would greatly appreciate it.”
“I see no reason to go to so much trouble for a group of peasants,” Lady Bingley sniffed.
“Do you know if there is a bookstore in Hemel Hemstead?” Darcy inquired hastily.
“There is,” Elizabeth said, “and it is much bigger than the one in Meryton. I know that we discussed Shakespearean plays on a previous visit, but what other kinds of books do you like? Do you prefer histories or novels?”
“I prefer histories and plays to most novels, though I am fond of Robinson Crusoe.”
“Oh, I am as well! Not that I wish to be trapped on a desert island, but to travel far and wide and to see oceans and jungles must be remarkable. Did you go on a Grand Tour?”
“I visited Rome along with my cousin Fitzwilliam when I was nineteen years old,” the gentleman said. “Much of Europe was not safe at the time, of course, due to the wars with the Corsican tyrant.”
“Did you happen to tour the Sistine Chapel?” Elizabeth asked, and the colonel broke off his conversation with Jane to say, “Oh, pray do not mention that, Miss Elizabeth. Darcy insisted on spending three full days!”
“It was fascinating,” Darcy said rather defensively, and Elizabeth grinned and said, “My father has a book on Michelangelo, and it includes some of his painting in the Chapel. I can well understand spending multiple days there!”
He grinned back at her, which lightened his expression considerably, and said, “It was definitely incredible. It is not just the artistic talent, but the story of God’s work in the world…”
“Perhaps you and Caroline will be able to visit Rome someday,” Lady Bingley said, rather too loudly, and Elizabeth turned toward Miss Bingley with alarm. Was she being too friendly with Mr. Darcy, who was betrothed to another?
To her relief, Caroline smiled reassuringly and said, “It is certainly possible that we can, though first we must defeat Napoleon, which has proven most difficult.”
“He will fall eventually,” Colonel Fitzwilliam declared. “He is too aggressive in his desire to bring all of Europe under the control of France, and his insistence on placing his brothers on the thrones of European nations is destined for disaster. None of them has his intelligence or ability.”
“I hope so,” Mr. Darcy said gravely, and Elizabeth shivered slightly at the thought of how many brave English soldiers had been lost to the bloodthirsty ambition of the Little Corporal.
The clock struck at this moment, and Jane rose, followed an instant later by Elizabeth and Mary.
They had been there for half an hour and would not overstay their welcome, but she found herself rather disappointed that they needed to leave.
She truly liked the party at Netherfield, except for Lady Bingley, anyway, and she could ignore the pompous woman with relative ease.
***
En Route to Lucas Lodge
Evening
Thursday, 21st November, 1811
Dusk had fallen over track and trail, bringing with it a chill evening wind that put a bite into the air.
The deep maroon velvet curtains of Darcy’s carriage were drawn against the encroaching evening, sealing the heat and light and cheer of a hanging lantern and warm bricks inside the box.
The carriage was cozy, or would be, were it not for the company.
Not that Darcy had any fault to find with his cousin Richard Fitzwilliam, who was a man of pleasant temperament and easy address, nor with Caroline Bingley, who was sensible and kindly.
No, it was Lady Bingley who provided all the discord.
Better at least, Darcy reflected, that Lady Bingley ride with thick-skinned individuals who would not be upset at her nitpicking and fault-finding.
Georgiana, safely ensconced with her husband and the Hursts in the Bingley carriage, would have entirely gone off her appetite if she had been forced to endure Lady Bingley’s baseless criticisms for the entire ride to their neighbors’ house.
His little sister was a sweet girl, and sensitive, and tended to get anxious when Lady Bingley became irascible and prone to complaints.
“I truly do not understand why we must attend this dinner tonight,” Lady Bingley said irascibly. “It is not as if the Lucases are particularly intelligent, nor are they genteel. I would far prefer to stay at Netherfield and enjoy our cozy little party.”
To Darcy’s relief, Caroline, sitting across from him, said in a soothing tone, “Mamma, it is important that Charles learn all that he can about administering an estate during the time of his lease, and one of his responsibilities as a landowner is to be on good terms with his neighbors. Is that not right, Fitzwilliam?”