Chapter 13
Altered Designs
Before the company dispersed from the luncheon table, an incident occurred which surprised several members of the family more than the subject of Mr. Darcy had done.
Mr. Collins, who had until that moment applied himself very steadily to his plate, now set down his knife and fork with an air of solemn resolution.
He cleared his throat. The sound was slight, yet it had already become sufficiently familiar in the Bennet household to command attention.
“My dear Miss Mary Bennet,” said he, turning toward her with marked formality, “might I request the honour of a short walk in the garden after we have concluded our meal?”
Mary looked up in evident surprise. “A walk, sir?”
“If it should be agreeable to you,” Mr. Collins continued, bowing with great gravity, “I have long found that rational conversation conducted amidst the beauties of nature possesses an improvement which cannot always be obtained indoors.”
Mrs. Bennet stared at him in visible confusion. “Mary?” she said at last. “Mr. Collins, I believe you must mean Lizzy.”
Elizabeth nearly choked on her wine. “But Mama!” she exclaimed.
Mr. Collins, however, remained perfectly composed. “I thank you for the suggestion, madam,” said he with stately politeness, “but my request was very intentionally addressed to Miss Mary.”
Mary, who had coloured deeply, cast down her eyes and attempted to arrange her napkin with great composure.
Mrs. Bennet blinked twice in evident astonishment. “Well! I am sure I do not know what there is in a walk that requires so much particularity.”
Mr. Bennet, who had watched the exchange with increasing amusement, leaned back in his chair. “My dear,” said he mildly, “Mr. Collins appears perfectly capable of choosing his own walking companion.”
Elizabeth bit her lip to prevent a smile, while Lydia and Kitty exchanged looks of undisguised curiosity.
Mr. Collins rose with great dignity. “Miss Mary, whenever you are ready.”
Mary stood, still somewhat flushed but evidently pleased, and accepted the invitation.
Elizabeth watched them depart toward the garden with a mixture of relief and astonishment.
“Poor Mary,” Lydia whispered.
Elizabeth shook her head softly. “On the contrary,” she murmured, “I believe Mary may be the most satisfied person in the room.”
***
The morning following Mr. Bingley’s departure for London began with an air of unusual stillness at Netherfield.
Miss Bingley descended to breakfast with a mixture of impatience and determination.
The previous day had proved most unsatisfactory.
Mr. Darcy had scarcely been seen at all.
He had spent the greater part of the day in his room, had declined every invitation to walk or dine with the family, and had even requested that his dinner be sent upstairs – a proceeding so unlike his usual habits that Caroline had found it both puzzling and provoking.
She had therefore resolved that this morning the matter must be settled.
Mr. Darcy could not avoid the breakfast table forever.
Yet when she entered the room, she found the table entirely deserted.
The tea was prepared, the dishes arranged, the fire bright, but no one was present.
Caroline stood still for a moment, her expression tightening slightly. She rang the bell.
A footman appeared almost immediately.
“Has Mr. Darcy not yet come down?”
“He has already breakfasted, miss.”
Caroline stared at him. “At what hour?”
“Shortly after seven.”
“And where is he now?”
“He went out with Mr. Harding, miss. They are walking the grounds.”
“With the estate manager?” she repeated sharply.
“Yes, miss.”
Caroline sat down slowly.
The notion of Mr. Darcy occupying himself with hedges, tenants, and drainage before the household was even assembled struck her as quite extraordinary. Although she had to admit that Mr. Darcy was always attentive to estate matters.
She poured tea with careful deliberation, though she scarcely tasted it. The house, she reflected, had grown intolerably quiet since Charles’ departure. Without him, the place seemed less a lively country residence than an inconvenient delay between London and proper society.
She set down her cup. “Send Mrs. Nichols to me.”
Caroline had just finished her tea when Mrs. Nichols was shown into the breakfast room.
The housekeeper’s manner was composed and attentive, but not servile. She had served Netherfield through more than one tenant and understood the management of the house as thoroughly as any steward might.
“Mrs. Nichols,” said Caroline, “I have sent for you because a change of plans has become necessary. My brother has already gone to London, and we shall follow him shortly. The house must therefore be prepared to close.”
Mrs. Nichols inclined her head politely. “Indeed, miss?”
“Yes. I wish the packing to begin today, and everything to be made ready for our departure tomorrow. A cart should be employed for all the packages. We will use the estate’s carriage to go to London.”
There was a pause. Mrs. Nichols did not immediately reply.
“Is there some difficulty?”
The housekeeper chose her words carefully. “Only that Mr. Bingley has not mentioned such an intention to me, miss.”
“He had no reason to trouble you with it personally,” Caroline replied, her tone cooling. “I am informing you now.”
“Yes, miss. Certainly.”
Another pause followed – longer this time.
“The matter is only this,” Mrs. Nichols continued, with careful respect. “The servants here were engaged for the year when Mr. Bingley took the lease. Should the house close before that time, arrangements for their wages would naturally be required.”
Caroline blinked. “I do not see why we should pay for months we would not be here.”
“That is the nature of contracts, miss,” Mrs. Nichols said quietly. “Many of the staff left other positions to come here. If the house were to close suddenly, they would require notice or compensation. Several have nowhere to go. They were promised accommodation, food, and wages.”
Caroline’s fingers tightened slightly on the table.
“Surely it cannot be supposed that my brother would neglect such considerations.”
“I would not presume it, miss,” Mrs. Nichols replied evenly. “Which is why I thought it best to ask whether Mr. Bingley has given instructions.”
“He has already returned to London.”
“Yes, miss. I was aware of that.”
Caroline’s patience began to thin. “The decision is perfectly understood within the family. You may proceed with the preparations.”
Mrs. Nichols remained calm.
“If you wish, miss, I can certainly begin, though we will hardly be finished by tomorrow. However, I believe it would be prudent to have the matter confirmed by Mr. Bingley.”
Caroline’s brows lifted.
“Confirmed?”
“Yes, miss. A short note to London would settle the arrangements very quickly. If Mr. Bingley approves the house closing, he may also advise how he wishes the servants’ contracts to be handled.”
The implication was unmistakable.
Caroline sat very still.
Mrs. Nichols continued with mild composure.
“I would be happy to send the household requirements to Mr. Bingley by post this morning.”
For a moment, Caroline said nothing. At last she replied, with a thin smile, “That will not be necessary. You may write it, and I will take it with me tomorrow.”
“As you wish, miss.”
Mrs. Nichols curtsied and withdrew, already resolved that a note must be sent to Mr. Bingley directly.
Caroline remained at the table, her expression considerably less composed than before. The household, it seemed, had suddenly become very inconveniently attentive.
Mr. Darcy did not return. The clock advanced steadily toward eleven.
Caroline’s patience, which had been strained since the ball, began to give way entirely. She had intended to speak with him directly – to remind him of the advantages of returning to town, of Georgiana Darcy’s expected arrival, and of the superior society that awaited them there.
Instead, he appeared determined to bury himself among tenants and hedgerows.
Very well.
If Mr. Darcy chose to delay the conversation, she would not allow the day to be wasted.
She went to the parlour, sat at the writing desk, and unfolded a sheet of paper.
Miss Bennet must be informed.
The letter required little invention. Its substance had already been formed in Caroline’s mind since the evening of the ball.
London would, of course, be mentioned immediately; the superior attractions of the capital could hardly be overstated.
Georgiana Darcy’s arrival must also be introduced – a circumstance which made the journey not merely convenient but necessary.
Miss Bennet might feel some disappointment, certainly. Caroline was not entirely without compassion. But such country attachments, when removed from daily encouragement, seldom endured.
And Mr. Darcy – she was perfectly certain – would see the wisdom of the arrangement once it was presented to him properly. He had never shown any serious inclination toward the Bennet family beyond common civility.
Her pen moved swiftly across the page.
When the letter was finished, she sanded it with satisfaction and folded it neatly.
By the time Mr. Darcy returned from his excursion, everything would already be settled.
***
The house had grown unusually busy for so early an hour.
Darcy had only just returned from his walk with Mr. Harding, the estate manager, when he entered the side passage and heard voices near the servants’ staircase. One of them he recognised at once as his valet’s.
“…which is precisely what I cannot determine,” Fletcher was saying with quiet perplexity. “Mr. Darcy has given no instruction of the sort.”
Mrs. Nichols answered in her steady tone. “Nor has Mr. Bingley, which is the difficulty.”
Darcy paused. Packing? He stepped forward. “Mrs. Nichols? Fletcher?”
Both turned at once. Fletcher straightened immediately. “Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy looked from one to the other. “I thought I heard something about packing.”