Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Minutes later, they stopped in front of the steward’s tiny office. Mr Philips knocked on the office door. There was no answer. He tried again, and they waited in silence. Finally, he tried the door handle. It was locked.
Elizabeth expressed her surprise. “Mr Hargrove does not seem like a man who forgets appointments. I hope he has not been taken ill.”
“He ain’t sick,” said a voice behind them, and they turned towards it. Elizabeth did not know the man, but her uncle did.
“Mr Pearson.” Mr Philips turned to Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet, this is Mr Pearson. He manages the home farm for Haye-Park. Mr Pearson, this is Miss Bennet.”
She curtseyed.
Pearson tugged at his forelock and repeated, “Mr Hargrove ain’t sick. He left.”
Elizabeth stared at him in confusion. “He left? He left Haye-Park?”
“Aye, miss. He quit.”
“He quit?” Elizabeth and Mr Philips exclaimed in unison.
“Aye, he did. Mrs Neeson will have a key for the office if you want to see inside.”
“I shall fetch Mrs Neeson,” said Elizabeth, and hurried to the housekeeper’s office.
The older woman walked back with her to the steward’s office. “I am sorry, I cannot say I understand what might have happened to Mr Hargrove. It might have had something to do with Mrs Hargrove.”
Mrs Hargrove? Elizabeth had only met the woman once and had got the distinct impression that the lady had not liked her.
Mrs Neeson opened the door. The office was clean and organised, everything in its place. The desk was clear and uncluttered, only a folded sheet of paper in the centre.
Uncle and niece exchanged a glance. Mr Philips picked up the letter and read it aloud.
Miss Bennet and Mr Philips,
I very much regret that unforeseen circumstances force me to resign my position as steward of Haye-Park. Obligations to my family must take precedence.
All estate logbooks, ledgers, calendars, and other records are on the shelves before you, and all are dated and labelled.
If you have further questions, you may write to me.
Your servant,
Wesley Hargrove
Mr Philips looked up from the letter. “It is an address in Hampshire.”
“Why did he not speak with either one of us, or send a message? He seemed so pleased to be part of the charitable work,” Elizabeth wondered. “I was under the impression that he greatly anticipated carrying out this work in Mr Goulding’s memory.”
Mr Pearson spoke up. “He did, miss. He didn’t want to leave.”
“Then why…” began Mr Philips.
“My missus knows their kitchen maid. She says as his wife made him quit. Said he had to pick between her or his job. You see, sorry miss, the women hereabouts say his wife believed that hogwash about you and old Goulding. She thought you might go after her husband next.”
Elizabeth’s eyes were wide, her mouth open in astonishment, her cheeks burning with a deep blush. She stepped back and took several deep, shaky breaths, unable to speak. She remembered Lucy Long’s accusation at the haberdasher’s. Had Mrs Hargrove added to the malicious gossip?
Mr Philips muttered an oath. “Of all the ridiculous… I cannot believe that he gave up an excellent position over such nonsense!”
“Aye, sir, but Mrs Hargrove, well, she rules the roost. Mr Hargrove married up, if you take my meaning.”
“Mr Pearson, do you think the estate needs a new steward immediately?” Elizabeth asked.
“Should Mr Philips start a search for a replacement straightaway?” Her tone was brisk and businesslike, though her flushed face and tear-filled eyes likely showed her distress.
She was trying, and failing, to stay calm.
“We’re fine for now, miss. There’s always the chance of troubles, a flood or storm such as, but I reckon we can get by till harvest. Need a man in place by then.”
“Thank you, Mr Pearson.”
The farm manager nodded ruefully and silently departed.
As uncle and niece turned to leave, Mr Philips murmured, “Are you well, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth was indeed distressed. “How many people”—her voice broke—“believe I am some sort of…” She choked on the words. “…selfish, greedy…harlot?”
She wept, her hands rising to cover her face. “I have never been so humiliated! When I have finished this, I am leaving and never coming back!”
Though perhaps, Elizabeth realised miserably, this was a case of just deserts.
She had tried and convicted Mr Darcy in a court of rumour and innuendo.
Now she was being tried in the same court.
His only crime had been his justifiable pride and his reserve.
That, and refusing to dance with her. Lord, I am as ridiculous as Lydia!
Mrs Neeson put her arm around Elizabeth’s shoulder.
“Oh Miss Lizzy, most people hereabouts do not believe that tittle-tattle. Mrs Hargrove, well, she’s a mean, suspicious woman.
She would accuse the maids of stealing, but they never did.
I’ll bet that the people who would believe those things about you are jealous and don’t know you at all, if you don’t mind me saying so. ”
With a deep breath, Elizabeth straightened her shoulders. “Thank you, Mrs Neeson. I am sincerely grateful for your kindness.” She turned to Mr Philips. “What does one do to hire a steward? Is it a matter of placing a notice in the newspapers?”
“I expect it is, though I have never participated in hiring one.”
They bade the housekeeper goodbye. As they walked slowly back to the carriage, he frowned, stroking his chin.
“I will compose an advertisement and submit it to newspapers that are most likely to be read by stewards or those who aspire to such a position. Now that I think about it, there are agricultural publications that would likely be the proper venue for that.”
He handed Elizabeth back up into his carriage. “Do not let this worry you, Lizzy. You have almost completed your task. I will compose the advertisement immediately and have my clerk send copies to several publications.”
Darcy set the letter down with a heavy sigh. The latest missive from Mr Thompson contained more discouraging news about Elizabeth’s situation.
…there remain some persons who believe she has inherited outright, that she is personally wealthy.
Of late, some person has industriously circulated the rumour that Miss Bennet secured her place as Mr Goulding’s heir by some impropriety, hinting at her seduction of the old man.
This allegation has quickly taken root among those who most resent her seeming good fortune.
Her reputation has suffered some damage; in fact, the long-time steward of Haye-Park, a Mr Hargrove, resigned suddenly yesterday…
Jealousy. Jealousy and spite that led to hurtful gossip. He had experienced this many times and had grown immune to it, but most likely Elizabeth was not. She had always had the generally good opinion of her neighbours. This vindictive rumour-mongering must be painful for her.
Once again Darcy wavered. More than anything, he wished to immediately saddle a horse and ride for Meryton. He needed to see for himself that Elizabeth was well and being protected.
And now Haye-Park needed a new steward. Mr Philips was a solicitor; he would not have any experience in hiring a steward.
Neither would Mr Bennet, so far as Darcy knew.
Longbourn was a small estate and did not have a steward, though from what he had seen, it could use one.
Haye-Park was slightly smaller than Longbourn, though it was well-run and generated a higher income.
Did he know of anyone who might fill the position?
All his own properties were well cared for, and the stewards were experienced.
Pemberley was vast enough to require an under-steward, but the man was not ready for a promotion yet.
Lord Matlock’s steward was getting up in years, but he did not believe a replacement was being trained.
Perhaps someone of his acquaintance knew of a man suitable for the job.
He leant back in his chair, fingers drumming on his desk, recollecting that he had recently heard a gentleman extolling the virtues of an eligible young steward.
Lord Metcalf. It was Lord Metcalf, whom he had seen during his time at Rosings in March.
Metcalf had an under-steward whom he thought would soon be ready to take up a position of his own.
Darcy’s own mind had been so full of Elizabeth, he had barely heard the older man speak.
In fact, Metcalf had had to repeat it twice.
And he is in town. Darcy had noticed him at services at St George’s.
He hurriedly scribbled a note and sent it off with a footman. He would make an appointment to speak with Metcalf and acquaint him with the details of Haye-Park.
Within hours, Darcy was discussing the matter with the older man.
“It is a peculiar situation, my lord. Haye-Park is a small estate and well-run. The late owner had no one left to inherit. I met the man, a Mr William Goulding, on several occasions. He was a man of intelligence and morality, excellent character, a former clergyman. Since he had no heir, he chose to have his estate become a charitable society that would benefit the surrounding community, where his family lived for many generations. It is to be his legacy to his home. The steward would manage the farm operations as per usual, yet the proceeds support the charity.”
Lord Metcalf nodded. “That is quite a tale. He must have been an admirable man. It might be just the opportunity for young Galbraith. Small estate, no major problems, managed for a good cause.”
“Have you written Mr Galbraith a character reference, my lord?”
“I wrote one for him before I came to town.” The elder man winked at Darcy. “I gave him a most flaming character. I daresay one could read it in the dark. He also has a letter from the rector in our parish.” He leant forwards for emphasis. “The parish that is in my gift. Not Collins.”
“That is capital.” Darcy gave him Mr Philips’s direction, and he promised to send it to his estate in Kent immediately.
Darcy was feeling rather proud of himself. Galbraith would be in contact with Philips within a few days. The young man’s credentials were impeccable. Darcy was sure he would be hired on the spot and Elizabeth would have one less worry.
When he arrived home, another letter was waiting for him, this one an express.