Chapter Five
Elizabeth
“Cousins! You must behave with proper decorum!” Mr Collins’s voice carried across the grounds with the pompous authority he seemed to believe his position afforded him. “Such unseemly romping is hardly befitting young ladies of your elevated station!”
Elizabeth quickened her pace along the garden path, hoping to escape both the sight and sound of their tedious houseguest. Behind her, Lydia and Kitty continued their game of chase around the fountain, their laughter a pleasant counterpoint to Collins’s continued protestations about appropriate behaviour for earl’s daughters.
The orchard offered blessed refuge from the domestic chaos.
Here, amongst the apple trees heavy with autumn fruit, she might find the peace that had eluded her since Collins’s arrival the previous day.
His presence had transformed their usually harmonious household into a stage for his endless sermons on duty, propriety, and the proper gratitude owed to his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
Elizabeth paused beneath a particularly laden tree, stretching upward towards a cluster of rosy apples just beyond her reach. Her fingertips barely grazed the nearest fruit, and she rose on her toes, extending her arm as far as possible.
“Allow me.”
She startled at the familiar voice, turning to see Mr Darcy approaching through the trees. Without ceremony, he reached above her head and plucked the apple she had been striving for, placing it gently in her outstretched palm.
“Thank you,” she murmured, suddenly conscious of their proximity. He stood close enough that she caught the scent of soap and leather that seemed to cling to him, and she noticed how his dark hair caught the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves.
They remained thus for a moment, neither moving nor speaking, before Darcy stepped back and cleared his throat.
“Lady Elizabeth,” he began. “I must beg your pardon for our previous encounter. I had not realised… that is, I failed to recognise your true station and spoke most inappropriately.”
Elizabeth turned the apple in her hands, considering her response. “As I said at the assembly, it appears my skirts might have invited such assumption. Though I confess, you were still rather rude.”
A flush crept across his cheekbones. “Indeed, I was. I fear I was overeager to establish my authority in this new position. This is my first independent posting, and I was perhaps too zealous in my attempts to make a favourable impression.”
“Well, since we are begging pardon, I ought to add my own. I took advantage of your discomfort at the assembly. I did not mean to mortify you in such a way to make you leave.”
He nodded. “I appreciate it.”
Silence settled between them and then, he turned as if to leave and Elizabeth’s mouth took on a life of its own.
“Where were you before this?” she asked, her curiosity overcoming her lingering pique.
“Lord Matlock’s estate, near Sheffield, working under his steward, Mr Jones. A good man who taught me a great deal about managing large properties and diverse investments. Before that, I was at another estate. Pemberley. Derbyshire”
“Pemberley? I have heard of it. I believe Mr Bingley mentioned it in passing.”
Darcy nodded. “He is from Sheffield, not far from Pemberley. He mentioned he was familiar with the estate.”
Indeed, he had spent some time talking with the young man after the assembly and again this very morning, when he had come upon him while out for a walk.
The two were becoming fast friends, something Darcy had not thought possible so quickly.
He was not usually the sort of man to make friends with ease.
“Your parents were employed there?” she asked, rubbing the apple against her skirt before taking a bite.
“My father was steward there. He died when I was thirteen.”
“Goodness, how awful for you and your mother.”
He grimaced.
“She preceded him in death. It is just myself and my sister now.”
Heavy silence hung in the air for a few moments, and then she cleared her throat.
“How dreadful for you both,” Elizabeth said. “To lose one’s parents so young must have been devastating. I cannot imagine. Pray, how did you come to be in Lord Matlock’s employ?”
“Lady Anne, the mistress of Pemberley, is Lord Matlock’s sister.
She ensured Georgiana and I received proper education and training.
Their steward, Mr Wickham, became like a second father to me.
He taught me everything I know about estate management, even before I came to work under Mr Jones.
When Lady Anne and Mr Havisham passed away and Pemberley was sold, Lord Matlock brought my sister, myself, and Mr Wickham to Matlock. Lady Anne’s wish.”
Elizabeth felt her earlier irritation dissolving entirely.
Here was a man who had lost everything as a child yet had managed to build a respectable life through the kindness of others and his own determination.
She set down her basket and touched his arm briefly.
“You have been fortunate in your guardians.”
“More than I can ever repay,” he agreed. “Which is why I am perhaps overly conscious of maintaining proper standards. I owe it to their memory to succeed in this position.”
“I understand. I cannot imagine what my life would have been like if I had lost my parents so young. Quite different, I imagine. You have done well for yourself. And you sister?”
“Still at Matlock. She will be a lady’s maid one day. Lady Matlock has extended her every kindness,” he said.
“You must miss her.”
He smiled, looking out over the orchard.
“More than I thought possible.” He licked his lips, then met her eyes.
“Should I escort you back to the house?” he asked. “These grounds are rather extensive for a lady to walk alone.”
“I often walk these parts unaccompanied,” Elizabeth replied. “Have done so since childhood.”
“But is that quite safe? You never know what manner of person might be wandering about.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at his protective tone. “I am uncertain what sort of people you encountered at Matlock but I assure you, the inhabitants of Meryton are entirely respectable.
“Forgive me,” Darcy interrupted. “I suppose I am rather protective of young ladies, having grown up responsible for my sister’s welfare. It becomes habit.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I assure you these grounds are perfectly safe. I know every path, every tree, every hiding place from my childhood adventures.” She smiled slightly.
“Besides, I am trying to escape our houseguest, Mr Collins. The fresh air provides necessary respite from his… extensive observations on proper conduct.”
Darcy’s brow furrowed with concern. “A houseguest? I was not made aware of additional household requirements. Should I speak with Mrs Jenkins about provisions, additional staff—”
“Oh, no need for alarm,” Elizabeth assured him quickly. “It is only Mr Collins, my father’s heir to the title and the original Longbourn house. He has come to ingratiate himself with the family and has set his cap at whichever sister might accept his suit.”
“Ah. And I take it none of you are particularly enthusiastic about this prospect?”
“He is both arrogant and remarkably foolish—a rather unfortunate combination. He speaks constantly of his patroness and seems to believe inherited consequence grants him superior wisdom on all subjects.”
“His patroness?”
“Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park. He is rector at Hunsford.” Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Perhaps you know of her? I believe she is some relation of Lord Matlock’s.”
“His other sister. Lady Anne and Lady Catherine were Lord Matlock’s younger sisters. I have met her on several occasions,” he said and she smiled at the dread in his voice.
“How extraordinary! Then you must have heard all manner of tales about our formidable Lady Catherine.”
“A few,” Darcy admitted, his mouth twitching with suppressed amusement. “Your Mr Collins’s version may differ somewhat from reality.”
Elizabeth laughed outright. “Oh, you must tell me! Collins speaks of her as if she were some sort of benevolent deity, dispensing wisdom and largesse to her grateful subjects.”
“Well,” Darcy said, “she certainly has opinions on a great many subjects. And she is not… hesitant to share them.”
“Is it true she redesigned the village school according to her own specifications?”
“Complete with new desks arranged precisely to her measurements, yes. Facing towards Rosings, to inspire, if I remember correctly.”
“And that she personally interviews every housemaid in her employ to ensure proper standards? I hear she even makes the menus, nothing escapes her eye, according to Mr Collins.” She grinned as she recalled the man’s enthusiastic descriptions.
“That may be a slight exaggeration,” Darcy replied diplomatically, though his eyes danced with amusement.
“Though she does take a keen interest in domestic arrangements. I recall upon my first visit I was subjected to an interview lasting an hour, as she wished to ensure I did not harbour plans to ingrain myself into her sister’s good graces and somehow carve out an inheritance for myself. ”
“How terrible,” she said, shaking her head.
“She is a cautious woman. One would be led to believe she was some close relation to the Prince Regent, given the way she carries herself.”
“Rather high in the instep, I dare say,” she said.
“I cannot agree nor disagree, it would not be proper,” he said but his smile told her he felt the same way she did.
“Of course not. And we have established how important property is to you, have we not?” she said, but kept her tone light.
Elizabeth reassessed her initial impression of their new steward entirely as they walked. His protective concern for his sister, his loyalty to those who had helped him, his quiet sense of humour—all painted a picture quite different from the officious man who had lectured her about muddy hems.
As they approached the original Longbourn house, now occupied by the Bingleys, Elizabeth gestured towards it. “My father was born in that house, you know. His family had owned the Longbourn estate for generations, though they were merely gentlemen of modest means.”
“Your father told me Mr Bingley seeks to purchase it. I am to meet with him to discuss the matter soon. Pray, how did your father come to purchase Netherfield? I hear some heroics in the war?”
“He fought in the Peninsula War and saved his commanding officer—a cousin of the king. His Majesty was pleased to grant him an earldom, and Papa used the financial reward to purchase Netherfield and unite it with the Longbourn lands he already possessed.”
“A remarkable rise in fortune.”
“Indeed. Though Mama sometimes frets that our elevation is too recent to command proper respect from established families.”
“Ah. I have heard there can be some judgement based on the length one has held the title. Lady Catherine is always rather proud of how long her family has held the title Earl of Matlock.” He lowered his voice, a sparkle in his eyes.
“But do not mention her husband’s knighthood, she is not quite as eager to talk about how briefly he held it before he passed away. ”
“How long?” she asked, eager for more gossip.
“She would like you to believe he was knight most of his life, but it was really only a year and a quarter,” he told her.
“No!” she said.
“Indeed,” he replied. “And having met Sir Lewis myself, I will tell you he cared little for the title. Far less than his wife, that is certain.”
“The same can be said for my father and mother.”
A rustle nearby interrupted their conversation and Mr Bingley appeared in the garden. He waved at them, a bright smile on his lips. Elizabeth wished Jane were here to see him.
Darcy returned the wave. “Mr Bingley has been most pleasant company since his arrival. We have struck up quite a friendship, actually.”
“Oh? You have become acquainted already?”
“After I had occasion to flee the assembly, he followed me to see if I was afflicted with illness. I assured him it was merely my ego that was bruised.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes, not sure how to react.
She wanted to chuckle at the way he described events, as though she were not the cause for the aforementioned mortification, but she restrained herself.
Mr Darcy was a difficult man to know. Humorous and full of wit one moment, prim and proper the next. “He is fond of your sister.”
This time, she beamed at his words. “Jane is everything good and gentle. Any man would be fortunate to earn her regard.”
“Even a man whose fortune comes from trade rather than inheritance?”
The question hung between them, weighted with implications about class, propriety, and the rigid social expectations that governed their world.
“I believe,” Elizabeth said, “that genuine goodness of character matters more than the source of one’s income. Though I confess that view is not universally shared in our household.”
“Given your earlier comment I assume it is Lady Hartford who is opposed?”
He was perceptive, that she could not deny.
“Mama believes we should aim higher, given Papa’s new title. She fears any association with people of lesser birth might diminish our standing.”
“And what do you believe?”
Elizabeth met his gaze directly. “I believe love is too precious to be sacrificed on the altar of social convenience.”
“That is a remarkably progressive view for a lady of your station.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps it is simply silly.”
They had reached the point where the path divided—one branch leading back to Netherfield’s main house, the other towards the steward’s cottage. The afternoon light was beginning to fade.
“I should return,” Elizabeth said, though she found herself oddly reluctant to end their conversation. “Mama will worry if I am absent much longer, and my poor sisters may need rescuing from Collins’s dissertations on proper feminine accomplishments.”
“Of course.” Darcy hesitated, as if he too was reluctant to part. “Lady Elizabeth… I hope we might speak again soon. I should very much like to hear more of your thoughts on… various subjects.”
“I should like that as well, Mr Darcy.”
As Elizabeth walked back towards the house, she reflected on how completely her opinion of their new steward had altered. The man she had initially dismissed as presumptuous and rude had revealed himself to be thoughtful, protective, and possessed of both intelligence and principle.
Perhaps first impressions were not always to be trusted after all.