Chapter Three
Well, Caroline? What say you? It is a fine house, is it not?”
“I say we would have been better off remaining in London,” Miss Bingley snapped. “It is very dirty in the country.”
“Tell me, Caroline, how I was to accomplish becoming a landed gentleman while remaining in London?” Mr. Bingley asked, impatiently.
“The society here is bound to be everything dreadful!”
Mr. Bingley replied, “The solicitor assured me that there is a family of young ladies not three miles distant. I do not doubt you will be fast friends with them in no time at all.”
“Country girls! Hmmph!” And with that, Miss Bingley sniffed and left the room, much to her brother’s delight.
For his part, Mr. Bingley was glad to be in the country. He enjoyed London’s delights, of course, but he was weary of the rank air, the endless horse droppings in the street, and the noise of the traffic and peddlers.
He stepped outside Netherfield Park’s front door and took a deep breath.
Ah, this was delightful! The air fresh and clean, the only sounds that of the birds making merry in the treetops above him!
Just now, he felt that he could be completely happy living in the country always.
His friend, Fitzwilliam Darcy, would doubtless understand, for he was never happier than when he was at his estate up in Derbyshire.
Caroline would never be happy here, he knew. Why she was so desperate to marry Darcy, when being mistress of Pemberley would have her stuck in the country most of her days, was a mystery to him. But that was her dilemma to resolve, not his.
Mr. Bingley reached into his pocket and reread the letter that had arrived that morning.
Bingley,
My visit to you will be delayed by some weeks. There is some sort of illness ravaging the tenants, and I must be on hand to manage the situation. I will keep you apprised.
Darcy
Mr. Bingley had not yet told Caroline of this delay. She was already in enough of a sulk.