Chapter 4. A Call on the New Master of Netherfield
When two days had passed, Mr Bennet rode from Longbourn to Netherfield in the afternoon to introduce himself to the new owner, and to invite the man to supper.
Even though the knocker was off the door, Mr Bennet banged on the heavy wooden door and was pleased when Mrs Hobbes, the housekeeper opened the door and invited him inside.
He knew few members of the local gentry had a butler or footmen to open the door when visitors called.
“Mr Bennet! Welcome!” Mrs Hobbes greeted the familiar face.
“Good afternoon, Mrs Hobbes, I hope everything is well here at Netherfield.”
“We are all busy sir with the new master come to take charge.”
“Excellent! I should like to meet the man,” Mr Bennet said as he walked into the foyer.
“He is just come back from riding to some of the farms and meeting more of the tenants,” the housekeeper explained. “If you would wait in the parlour, I shall…”
At just that moment, a tall, young man walked into the foyer with several papers in his hands. “Mrs Hobbes, can you tell me where I might find the steward this afternoon?”
Looking up, the young man saw the expectant face of a gentleman in early middle-age observing his every move; he frowned and sighed at finding a local gentleman in the foyer. The knocker was off the door and William had hoped to avoid introductions to the locals for several more days.
“We do not hold much with door knockers in the country,” the visitor explained as he stepped forward.
“There are too many times when the demands of the crops or livestock do not allow our neighbours to hide in their fine rooms. A sounder of hogs loose in the fields must be dealt with immediately. I have found that it is difficult for ladies of fashion to chase pigs from among the rows of potatoes.”
William’s face relaxed at his visitor’s description of ladies of the ton in their finery pursuing pigs and he answered in kind, “Ah sir, you forget that the ladies are armed with parasols, and they can drive the pigs from the field easily by flashing and twirling the instruments among the invaders for it is well know that pigs fear parasols.”
His face broken by a large grin, the visitor extended his hand and introduced himself, “I am your nearest neighbour, Thomas Bennet of Longbourn.”
“Yes, my steward has named the next estate as yours,” the young man said, taking the visitor’s hand.
“And your name sir?” Bennet asked.
The young man blinked in surprise–everyone knew who he was and his family’s position but remembering the newness of Hertfordshire, he bowed and said, “Forgive me, Mr Bennet. I am unused to not being known. I am Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire and now of Netherfield in Hertfordshire. Welcome to my home.”
“Thank you, Mr Darcy, I am certain that your cook, Mr Nicholls, is pleased to have you in residence. His roasts and cakes are legendary in Meryton among all of the local families, and Mrs Hobbes is renowned for her exquisite preparations for all entertainments and fox hunt luncheons.”
Mrs Hobbes beamed as the gentleman complimented the table she had set for previous leaseholders.
“And Mr Bennet is known for his wit and easy temper, Mr Darcy,” the housekeeper assured her employer. “The steward is in the library sir where I have stocked your port for visitors.”
“Thank you, Mrs Hobbes,” William said as he gestured for Mr Bennet to walk with him to the library.
“The house is sound,” Mr Bennet told the new owner. “I know nothing of the décor or furnishings. If you have questions that Mrs Hobbes cannot answer, I am certain that my wife can tell you the providence of the furnishings and the merchants in London who supplied the draperies.”
“Mrs Bennet has an eye for décor?” asked William hopefully. “I find it a great muddle to consider colours and fabrics. But I do not wish any of my aunts to attend me.”
“I would caution against asking my wife for her advice before a cold winter’s day sir unless you have no desire to be outside that day. She will keep your attention to colours, fabrics, chairs, windows and plate for many hours.”
William nodded and asked, “What occupies you, Mr Bennet?”
“I fill my days with good books, my daughters and my wife, followed by my port and working with my tenants.”
They came to the library and Mr Bennet was pleased to see the young man willing to open the doorways himself and not expect a footman to follow him around the house.
Inside he found the Netherfield steward, Mr Howard, working with quills and ink but the man rose when William and his guest stepped into the room.
“Mr Bennet! How good to see you!” the steward said in greeting as he bowed. “Mr Darcy, you will find Mr Bennet to be a knowledgeable neighbour in all matters agricultural, historical and political.”
“Howard do not build me up so high. It will make my fall harder.” Mr Bennet turned to his host and said, “I have great respect for your steward, Mr Darcy. He convinced me to increase the acreage in German turnips to use as cattle feed in the winter and to plant this new potato from Ireland. It has a much firmer flesh, and we were pleased at how well it held over the winter. All the tenants on both estates are planting them in their gardens this year to provide extra food for their families this winter.”
“Does it take time from their labours to have gardens at each tenant farm?”
The two gentlemen settled into a lengthy discussion of local farming practices and the differences in the growing season between Hertfordshire and Derbyshire with the steward providing comments when appropriate.
When the time for the call to end approached, they continued without regard for another half hour.
“And what kind of landlord will you be once you have set Netherfield to rights, Mr Darcy?” asked Mr Bennet. “Will you be here and take an interest in your tenants and their crops, or will you be absent and allow your steward to collect the quarter rents?”
His face frozen with such a question, William was unsure how to answer before he noticed that his steward was listening for the answer as closely as his neighbour.
“I intend to be here at Netherfield for most of the year sir. Town holds little interest for me–I have just graduated from university and wish to establish myself. This is the first estate I shall manage on my own.”
Bennet seemed to consider his next question carefully, “Have you spent your inheritance then? Netherfield is a good investment, but I hope you are not cash poor now. You have to pay for labourers in the field to help the tenants with the harvest in a few weeks.”
“I am flush sir,” William explained. “My father is well, and he purchased Netherfield for me as a present for my graduation. Our family estate is in Derbyshire–it is named Pemberley, the largest land holding in the county–surrounding the villages of Lambton and Kympton.”
“I have never been to Derbyshire, sir.”
“It is lovely land sir,” William explained. “My family has held the lands there for almost two hundred years.”
“Ah, mere newcomers Mr Darcy,” Bennet replied. “My family has been at Longbourn for over three hundred years. Unfortunately, I shall be the last ‘Bennet’. I have no sons, and a very distant cousin will inherit–my great-grandfather entailed the estate for some unknown reason.”
With the time to leave long passed, Mr Bennet rose and expressed his appreciation for the young man’s time.
“Darcy, I am glad to have met you; it is good to have a steady hand at Netherfield. We shall have to hunt birds in my fields and chase fox in your woods this fall. Would you be free for supper tomorrow? I know my wife would be pleased to meet you.”
“I... I would be pleased, Bennet.”
“Good, we shall expect you at seven–we dine early in the wilds of Hertfordshire.”
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Once he returned to his home and greeted his daughters, Thomas shared his news of the new neighbour with his wife.
After Mrs Bennet saw to her children, she set to work with Mrs Hill to prepare the dining room for supper.
Mr Bennet ventured into his library and drew out paper, ink and quills to write a full page to his brother-in-law in town that he would send by express the following morning.
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Edward, I need your assistance–or rather your wife’s knowledge.
We have a new neighbour here in Hertfordshire named Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy–a young man just graduated from university–and his father has purchased the young man a gift–the neighbouring estate of Netherfield.
Yes, the wealth that has come to the environs of Meryton is remarkable.
I envision carriages of young women travelling out from town every weekend in attempts to capture the hand of this young man.
He appears to be knowledgeable in estate management, but I would appreciate any information Madeline could share concerning the family.
I want to know if our young Mr Darcy is suitable company for our families.
If she does not have particular knowledge, perhaps she could write to inquire among her acquaintances and relatives in Derbyshire for pertinent information. Sincerely, Thomas
**++**