Chapter 14
Drawing Room
Netherfield Hall
Morning
Two Days Later
“Louisa, could you please check this list of dishes for supper at the ball?” Caroline asked, handing a piece of paper to her sister.
Louisa obediently took it and shifted position so that the light from the sun shone on the page.
“This is a lot,” she said a moment later. “Do you really think it necessary for a mere country ball?”
Caroline looked at the door, which was closed, and then back at her sister.
“I am not preparing such a lavish feast for our yokel neighbors,” she said softly. “I am doing it for our most distinguished guest.”
Louisa nodded and smiled approvingly. It had long been the wish of both sisters to rise high in society, and while Mr. Hurst was a gentleman, he was not impressive compared to Mr. Darcy.
To Louisa’s great credit, she did everything in her power to assist her sister in trying to win the wealthy and very eligible Mr. Darcy of Pemberley.
And Caroline was certain she would succeed in winning an offer from her brother’s friend, and soon. It was all coming together, and this ball would be the final proof that she, Caroline, would be the perfect Mrs. Darcy.
***
Netherfield Park
Bingley, over breakfast, had conceived the universally welcomed idea of pheasant hunting that morning.
Hurst, to whom strenuous exertion was generally anathema, had been roused to enthusiasm for the idea; he was very fond of pheasant and enjoyed the process of acquiring them for the dinner table.
Darcy was equally pleased by the idea, as fond of the sport as of the meal and glad for the exercise.
Several manservants were beating at the brush with long staves, while spaniels dived into the tall rustling brown grass or panted patiently at their keepers’ feet.
A gawky young stable boy stood some thirty feet away, holding the reins of the horses.
The hunters grazed contentedly, undisturbed by either the startled birds flushing into the air or the sudden sharp reports of the guns that felled them back to earth.
Darcy lowered his gun for a moment to stretch and glance up at the sky.
It was a clear day with only a few wispy clouds, but the sun was not particularly warm given the time of year.
Wool overcoats and wool gloves kept the hunters comfortable, however, and Darcy was enjoying himself thoroughly.
He liked nothing more than a pleasant tromp through the park in good company and with a respectable number of birds to his credit.
Bingley had warned as they had set out that they might find very few birds waiting for them.
No family had inhabited Netherfield for some several years, and there would be little to no deterrent for poachers struggling to feed hungry families.
Times must not have been unduly hard around Meryton, at least not enough for the local farmers to risk falling afoul of Sir William Lucas, for they had not had to travel far from where they found plenty of game.
“Maxwell?” Bingley suddenly called out. “Come back!”
Darcy looked over, and his eyebrows rose. The spaniel Maxwell had been brought along today for early training, and while the pup was still young, he had shown encouraging signs as to his proper instincts regarding pheasant shooting.
Now, however, he was running away from the men toward Longbourn land, barking with excitement.
Darcy looked at Bingley, who looked back at him, and said, “Erm…”
“I will go after him, sir,” one of the male servants volunteered.
“I think perhaps I had better do so,” Darcy said. “He is fast, and I doubt you will be able to catch up with him.”
“Are you certain?” Bingley asked. “I could ride…”
“No,” Darcy interrupted, lifting a hand. “I have already shot three braces of pheasants and would be glad to go after the beast.”
Bingley smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”
Darcy turned and hurried toward Phoenix, who was waiting. He had a soft spot in his heart for Maxwell, given that he had saved the animal from almost certain death in the creek some weeks earlier.
Moreover, Longbourn was a magnetic pull for the master of Pemberley. If he could not find the spaniel, he would definitely call at the house to ask for assistance, where, if he were fortunate, he might spy the tantalizing Elizabeth Bennet.
***
Longbourn
The air was crisp, sparkling like clear water and sweet as a good apple, and the sky a glorious blue. Drifts of brown fallen leaves crackled and crunched beneath Elizabeth’s boots, while birds sang in the trees and wind sighed through dry grasses.
It was a truly lovely day, and Elizabeth relished the break from endless discussion of wedding clothes, and a wedding dress, and worry about the weather on the wedding day.
Although Elizabeth understood her mother’s excitement and was glad for Mary’s happiness, from time to time she found herself needing to escape Longbourn’s oppressively matrimonial atmosphere.
Thus, when her assistance was not required by either mother or sister this morning, she had slipped away to walk.
She strode onward in the direction of Netherfield Hall, for no other reason than that the path was a wide and charming one.
Off in the distance, she could hear the pop of fowling pieces and the yipping of excited spaniels.
Pheasant hunting, she thought, and wondered if the hunters were having any luck.
Perhaps if Netherfield found itself short on game, the party could be invited to Longbourn to do some shooting there.
She knew that they were well-stocked, for she often saw the showy male pheasants while she was out on strolls and sometimes caught glimpses of the plainer hens on their nests in the brush.
They would not be hunted by anyone at Longbourn.
Mr. Bennet had always preferred scholarly pursuits to sportsmanship, even in his youth.
With his age beginning to creep up on him, he no longer took a gun out at all.
It was a pity for such fine birds to all go to waste, and once Mary was safely wed, Elizabeth might mention it to her mother.
Perhaps the gentlemen at Netherfield would be interested in shooting on Longbourn land and would be willing to share some of the bounty with the Bennets.
She was distracted from her thoughts by the sound of barking, which seemed to be coming from up ahead of her, where the path curved.
Elizabeth took a rapid few steps along it before pausing at the sight of something small and furry, vividly gold against the duller brown of the fallen leaves, streaking towards her and barking excitedly.
Elizabeth relaxed into a chuckle as the dog slowed and frisked around her feet, wiggling and leaping and still uttering sharp, high yips of greeting.
“Maxwell!” she exclaimed, smiling down at the dog. “What are you doing here, boy? Did you run away from your master?”
The puppy turned back toward the direction he had come from, and Elizabeth laughed at what seemed comical confusion on the beast’s face.
“You did run away!” Elizabeth said. “At least you did not leap into a stream this time. Now, can I trust you to walk beside me, or should I use my scarf again as a leash?”
Maxwell darted a few feet from her, then jumped up and down three times in rapid succession before scurrying forward to paw at her boots.
“A scarf it is, my boy,” she said. She quickly removed her scarf, fit one end through the spaniel’s collar, tied it, and began walking again. Maxwell came along cheerfully enough, though he now had his nose down as if in hope of sniffing something particularly interesting.
Five minutes later, the sound of a horse’s hoofbeats signaled someone’s arrival, and a minute later, the great black horse, Phoenix, trotted up to her with Mr. Darcy on its back.
Elizabeth found herself drawing in an admiring breath at the sight of Mr. Darcy on the impressive stallion. She was not anxious about many things, but horses unnerved her more than a trifle, and it was magnificent watching the master of Pemberley manage his mount with such skill.
When horse and rider had gotten twenty feet from her and Maxwell, a smiling Mr. Darcy pulled his steed to a halt, and then swung down onto the ground.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, holding his horse’s reins in one strong hand and walking toward her with a broad smile on his face, “I see you have found our canine fugitive!”
She laughed and said, “Indeed I have. I have scolded him already for you, Mr. Darcy, but he does not seem particularly impressed by my words.”
Darcy looked down at the spaniel. “No, he does not appear impressed in the least. I can take him back if you like. Or, if you prefer, we can walk to the stile which leads to the Netherfield estate?”
“I would like that,” she said and then turned a doubtful look on Phoenix, who was waiting patiently for his master.
“Will your horse be content with a dawdling walk?”
“He will not mind, but if I know you, Miss Bennet, the walk is likely to be brisk as opposed to dawdling.”
Elizabeth felt a strange flush of warmth in her chest and said, “I do prefer marching rather than meandering.”
He laughed and said, “I do as well. Shall we?”
He held out his available arm, and Elizabeth took it, and the pair began walking toward Netherfield land arm in arm, with Phoenix trailing them on Darcy’s side, and Maxwell sniffing to and fro on Elizabeth’s side, though he continued to be restrained by the shawl serving as a leash.
“It is a good day for hunting,” Elizabeth remarked after a minute’s silence.
“It is,” Darcy agreed. “We are all pleased at the number of pheasants on Netherfield land.”
“The owner of Netherfield is a hunting enthusiast,” she said, “or perhaps I should say, he was. I have not seen him in a very long time.”
“Do you know where Mr. Pritzker and his family have settled?” he asked.
“In Bath,” Elizabeth said. “Mrs. Pritzker’s health was poor for many years, and finally her husband decided to move permanently to Bath in the hopes that the air and waters would help.”
He turned an interested look on her. “And do you know if it did?”
Elizabeth nodded. “I believe so. Our friend Lady Lucas corresponds with Mrs. Pritzker, and I understand that her health has improved since their move.”
“I am glad for her sake,” her companion said. “I have wondered sometimes whether my mother would have benefited from spending time at the seaside or in Bath, but she was devoted to Pemberley and never wished to leave its halls.”
She turned a sympathetic look on Mr. Darcy. “I believe you lost your mother years ago?”
“Yes, some twelve years now, when my sister was only four years old.”
“I am sorry.”
Darcy sighed deeply and said, “Thank you. I miss her, but I feel worse for Georgiana. She has few memories of her mother, especially since Lady Anne’s health was poor after Georgiana’s birth.”
“Your sister is sixteen, then?”
“Yes.”
“What is she like?”
Darcy smiled and said, “She is tall for her age, and blonde and blue-eyed like our mother. She is a gentle and shy lady, with a remarkable ability on the pianoforte. She is like our mother in that sense; Lady Anne was a marvelous musician.”
Elizabeth considered Mr. Darcy with interested admiration. There was no doubt of the affection in that deep voice, and she wondered, wistfully, what it would be like to have a kindly but strong willed older brother.
“Miss Darcy sounds delightful,” she said aloud.
“She is,” Darcy agreed, and now his tone was a trifle melancholy. “I wish that she had a sister or female cousin who could provide guidance to her as she grows to adulthood. We are rather a small family with a dearth of ladies in our generation.”
“I understand that Lady Catherine de Bourgh is your aunt and has a daughter?” Elizabeth said.
“Yes, my cousin Anne,” Darcy replied. A shadow crossed his face, and then he continued, “She is five and twenty and sickly. She rarely leaves Rosings in Kent, and thus Georgiana does not know her well at all.”
“I see,” Elizabeth said.
They had, by now, come to the closed gate which led to the Netherfield estate. Elizabeth was conscious of a feeling of disappointment at the end of their tête-à-tête, but she merely said, “I suggest that you use my scarf until Maxwell is safely back in his kennel. I can retrieve it later.”
Darcy took the scarf with one hand and said, “Thank you, Miss Bennet. I daresay he will be a good hunting dog eventually, but for now he is rather overly exuberant.”
She laughed, opened the gate, pushed it wide, and watched as the gentleman walked through with his horse following him and Maxwell bouncing beside him.
“Until we see one another again, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Until then, Mr. Darcy.”