Chapter 1 Netherfield Park is Let at Last
Netherfield Park is Let at Last
Breakfast at Longbourn was unusually lively the Thursday following their return. The December sunshine filtered through the parlour windows, glinting on Mrs Bennet’s silver teapot and the cheerful bustle of plates and chatter.
Mrs Bennet was in high spirits. “Only think, Captain Bennet! Netherfield Park is let at last. I have it from Mrs Long herself, this very morning.”
Captain Bennet looked up from his newspaper. “Indeed? And to whom do we owe this momentous event?”
“To a single gentleman of large fortune, recently returned from London,” said Mrs Bennet, her eyes sparkling. “Mrs Long’s coachman heard it at the posting inn. He is said to have four or five thousand a year, and to be of very genteel appearance.”
“Four or five thousand,” mused the Captain. “Then Hertfordshire will be quite beside itself before luncheon.”
Jane smiled, and Elizabeth bit back her amusement.
Mrs Bennet continued eagerly, “Mrs Long also heard that his friends may join him. A Colonel and a Major, no less. And it is said they were at Carlton House when the Prince Regent himself gave thanks for the peace.”
Elizabeth looked up sharply. “A Colonel?”
Mrs Bennet nodded with great significance. “A Colonel Darcy! It was in all the papers, the mysterious Miss E. B. and the gallant Colonel D.! Mrs Long said it was a love match concealed by rank. How romantic!”
Captain Bennet lowered his teacup. “How convenient that the newspapers should know my daughter’s heart better than she does.”
Mrs Bennet ignored him entirely. “I declare, Lizzy, if he is the same man, it is providence. Netherfield Park let at last, and to a gentleman already half in love with you. You must let me send word to Mrs Long at once.”
Elizabeth managed a steady voice. “You must not, Mama. Colonel Darcy is a friend.”
Captain Bennet gave her a quiet, knowing glance. “A very proper distinction.”
Mrs Bennet fluttered a hand. “You may call it what you please, but the world already knows better.”
Captain Bennet refolded his paper and gave a dry smile. “Indeed? The same world that recently had you engaged to three foreign princes and a viscount’s brother? I should have sent for the banns.”
Jane gave a stifled laugh, and even Mary looked up in startled amusement.
Mrs Bennet sniffed. “That was different. Newspapers will always exaggerate.”
“Of course,” said Captain Bennet mildly. “Except when they speak of Colonel Darcy.”
Elizabeth’s lips curved despite herself.
Mrs Bennet clapped her hands. “You see, Captain! It was fate that brought them here. We must call at once and renew the acquaintance.”
Captain Bennet set down his cup with unhurried precision. “We, my dear? Surely you do not expect me to lead the charge.”
“Indeed, I do,” she said with feeling. “It is quite the proper thing. You must go and call on him at once. It would never do for Lady Lucas to boast of being first.”
He regarded her with mild amusement. “And what should I say to this fortunate newcomer? That my wife believes him destined for one of my daughters, and that I come to secure the match?”
“Do not be ridiculous, Captain Bennet. Only a few polite enquiries about his household, his cook, or his horses. Such topics always please men of fortune.”
Elizabeth hid her smile behind her napkin, while Jane coloured faintly and Mary murmured something about decorum.
Captain Bennet folded his paper and stood. “Very well, my dear. I shall call upon him this morning, and you may triumph over Lady Lucas to your heart’s content.”
Mrs Bennet clasped her hands, delighted. “Oh, Captain Bennet, you are the best of men.”
He smiled faintly. “That remains to be seen, my love. I shall report back once the deed is done.”
Elizabeth rose and moved toward the window, her gaze turning to the fields beyond. “Then Netherfield Park is let at last,” she said softly. “And Hertfordshire will never be quite the same again.”
There was a thoughtful pause before Kitty spoke, frowning slightly. “But what does it mean for Lizzy to be at Windsor? Is she to live with the King?”
Mary sighed. “Do try to listen, Kitty. She is not to live with him. She has been appointed to serve in the royal household.”
Kitty looked doubtful. “So she must fetch his tea?”
Elizabeth laughed. “Nothing so humble, I hope. It is more a mark of favour than of employment. I may be called upon to attend certain events, or to assist the Princess with her charities.”
Jane smiled warmly. “It is a great honour, Kitty. Only those who have earned the highest respect are invited.”
“Oh,” Kitty said, her eyes widening. “So you are almost like a lady-in-waiting.”
Mrs Bennet clasped her hands in delight.
“Exactly so! Our Lizzy at Windsor! Think of it, Captain Bennet, a daughter of ours among the royal household. And only imagine the company she will keep, the lords, the ladies, the ministers! Lizzy, you will be quite surrounded by people of consequence. Why, this Colonel of yours may not be nearly good enough for you after all!”
Elizabeth coloured slightly. “He is not my Colonel, Mama.”
Captain Bennet looked over the rim of his paper. “A pity, my dear. I was rather hoping he might be persuaded.”
Jane hid her smile, while Kitty’s laughter escaped in a small gasp.
But Mrs Bennet had already moved on. “Oh, we must go into Meryton at once. You have nothing fit to wear before royalty, Lizzy. That blue muslin will never do, the lace is far too plain, and your bonnet! I shall write to my sister Gardiner this very morning. She will know where to find something suitable in town—perhaps a silk, or even satin, if we can manage it.”
“Indeed, Mama,” Elizabeth said gently, “there is no need for such haste.”
“No need!” Mrs Bennet exclaimed. “Heavens, child, you will be at Windsor! We cannot have you look like a farmer’s daughter. Oh, Captain Bennet, you must send to London directly. There will be fittings to arrange, and perhaps a new pelisse, one trimmed with fur.”
Captain Bennet folded his paper with deliberate calm. “I see our peace is at an end once more.”
Jane smiled fondly. “At least it is a joyful kind of noise, Papa.”
He inclined his head toward Elizabeth. “So it is, my dear. Though I suspect it will cost me dearer than the last war.”
Elizabeth laughed outright, her eyes bright. “Then we must call it a victory for Mama.”
Mrs Bennet was not listening. She had caught sight of a folded letter near her husband’s elbow. “And what is this, Captain Bennet? Another parcel from London?”
He passed it to her carelessly. “A remittance, my love. Some official award from the War Office. It seems the government has chosen to honour the late Lieutenant Bennet.”
“Lieutenant Bennet?” Mrs Bennet’s eyes grew wide. “You cannot mean our cousin Thomas? Oh, I always said he was a fine young man. How very fitting that his service should bring distinction to the family at last.”
Captain Bennet’s mouth curved slightly. “A distant relation, my dear. Very distant.”
“Even so,” she said, pressing the paper to her chest. “It is strange that another young man we have never heard of, yet are somehow related to, should have served in the very same camp where Jane and Lizzy were. What a small world it is!”
Elizabeth turned quickly toward the window, hiding her smile as the Captain’s quiet chuckle followed.
The next morning was cold and still, the fields silvered with frost. A pale sun hovered low above the hedgerows, turning the bare branches to glass. Elizabeth drew her cloak closer and stepped carefully along the lane that wound beyond the orchard. Each breath rose in a faint cloud before her.
It was the same road she had taken months before, when everything was uncertain and the world seemed made of smoke and noise. Now there was only quiet, the muffled rustle of sparrows in the hedges, and the crunch of frozen earth beneath her boots.
She had not meant to walk far. Habit and thought had carried her beyond the gate, as if her feet remembered better than her mind how often she had found comfort in solitude. There was peace now, a fragile kind that settled slowly after too much turmoil.
Her life no longer felt divided between what she had been and what she had pretended to be.
The disguises, the campfires, the noise of the guns, all belonged to another life.
Yet in the silence she could still hear the echo of boots striking frozen ground, or the low murmur of a voice that had steadied her through fear.
She smiled faintly, half at herself. Peace had come at last, and yet her heart was not altogether quiet.
The sound of hooves reached her through the stillness, steady and unhurried.
She turned, expecting a neighbour’s groom or a farmer bound for Meryton.
A great black stallion appeared at the turn of the lane, his coat shining like wet ink in the pale morning light, his eyes bright with intelligence and something near mischief.
The rider reined him in with an easy hand, and for a moment horse and master were one, power held in perfect control.
Her breath caught.
Sir Fitzwilliam Darcy dismounted and came forward, his gloved hand resting lightly on the bridle.
“Lady Elizabeth,” he said quietly.
She found her voice at last. “Sir Fitzwilliam. You are far from Netherfield.”
“Not so far as I hoped,” he said.
Her pulse quickened, warmth rising against the cold air. “You came to call?”
“To see how you fared,” he answered simply. “And perhaps, to say what ought to have been said long ago.”
She smiled. “Wicked remembers me, then.”
“He would not be easily persuaded to forget,” Sir Fitzwilliam said.
Her eyes met his. “Nor, I think, his master.”
“Nor his master,” he agreed, a faint smile touching his lips.
She glanced toward the distant road. “You have found Netherfield to your liking, then—or rather, Major Bingley has?”
His expression softened. “We have. The house is well situated, the grounds excellent, and the neighbourhood… promising.”
“Promising?” she repeated, her tone light.