Chapter Twenty-One
T he next morning, Mr. Darcy was up bright and early, as was his custom. Charles and Mrs. Bingley were already breaking their fast when he entered the breakfast room.
“You slept well, I trust, Mr. Darcy?” his kind hostess enquired.
“Extremely well, I thank you, Mrs. Bingley,” he responded. “The bed is most comfortable. I see you have learnt to keep country hours, Bingley,” he observed. “I do not recall ever before seeing you this early in the day.”
“Jane told me that if I am to become a country gentlemen, I must keep country hours,” Bingley replied. “I will not say it was an easy transition.”
“And I take it the Hursts have not followed in your footsteps?”
“No; they will not appear downstairs for another two hours.”
“Is not Hurst heir to an estate somewhere?”
“Yes, in Shropshire; but his father is hale and hearty, so Hurst is not concerned about having to change his Town ways any time soon.”
Mr. Darcy was too well-mannered to pass on his thoughts about Bingley’s indolent brother-in-law, so he instead bent his attention to his omelette, filled with cheese and sprinkled with chives, and his coffee.
“Will we visit tenants today?” Bingley was all but vibrating with enthusiasm.
“Indeed, and we should leave immediately after breakfast so that I can be back at Netherfield by early afternoon.”
“And why, if I may enquire?” Bingley suddenly looked stern.
“Your guess is correct; I plan to call on Miss Bennet.”
Mrs. Bingley looked up from her toast. “So you are interested in my sister.”
“I think it no secret, Mrs. Bingley. I have been interested in her since we met in Kent, and it was that very interest that upset my Aunt Catherine to the point of demanding that Miss Bennet leave the county.”
“I am glad you will act on that interest, Mr. Darcy. But please be careful with my sister’s heart; for all her clever chat and witty ways, her heart is tender and easily bruised.”
***
An hour later, booted and hatted, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley were on horseback, visiting the tenant farms. There were, as Mr. Darcy had anticipated, issues that the absent landlord had not taken care of. It made sense, of course, as it was only the main house that would be of interest to prospective tenants, but anyone thinking of buying the place had best look deeper.
“Remember this, as well as the other problems we have seen, Bingley,” Mr. Darcy said. “The Caldwell cottage needs a new roof, and there should be another room added on, as Mrs. Caldwell is with child again and the family is already too crowded.”
“I fear I will forget all that we have spoken about, Darcy.” Bingley’s tone was rueful.
Mr. Darcy glanced at his pocket watch. “Then let us go back to Netherfield’s study and write down all that we have learnt. I will also tell you how much each repair is likely to cost, and we can consider how those repairs should affect the purchase price.”
***
Finally free of his responsibilities to his host, Mr. Darcy went upstairs to prepare for his visit with Miss Bennet. Evans had a bath ready and his clothing already laid out, so it was not long before he was at the Bennet’s estate, Longbourn. The manor house was not as large as Netherfield Park, nor as well-kept, but it was far older. He recalled Miss Bennet saying that there had been Bennets at Longbourn for two hundred years, and he thought that at least a portion of the house must be that old.
A stable boy appeared to take his reins, and he made his way up the steps. The front door opened and an older woman greeted him. “Mr. Darcy, is it?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied, removing his hat.
She nodded; beckoning him to follow her, she led him into a parlour which seemed quite full of ladies. They all rose and curtsied, and he bowed. He asked after everyone’s health and was assured that they were all quite well.
Mrs. Bennet beamed at him as she directed him to sit beside Miss Bennet. “Mary will move to a different seat, will you not, Mary?”
The young lady in question protested that her sister was showing her a new stitch, but Mrs. Bennet would hear none of it, and the seat beside Miss Bennet was soon vacated. Mary settled herself in a chair by the window and began to read, ignoring Mr. Darcy completely.
As tea and little cakes were served, Miss Bennet addressed him. “You and Mr. Bingley had planned to ride over the estate today, I believe?”
“You recall correctly; we spent the morning visiting tenant cottages.”
“So you saw the roof at the Caldwell cottage, the dry well at the Barstow’s, the broken porch support at the Baxter’s, and the cracked door in the tool shed at the Daniels; but given the kind weather, you will have missed the fact that the fireplace in the Ardwell cottage smokes dreadfully and the family can no longer use it.” She laughed at his expression.
“I might have spared my horse the exercise and just come to you, then?” he asked.
“Or to my sister, Mrs. Bingley, yes.”
“I wonder that Mrs. Bingley did not mention it this morning at breakfast.”
“Truly? You wonder why a wife does not show her husband that she knows something he does not? Also, of course, she wants him to make his own decision regarding the purchase of the estate, so it is incumbent upon him to go out on his own and investigate the situation.”
“But how does she – and how do you – know the concerns of the Netherfield tenants?”
“In the absence of the owner, Jane and I have done what we can for them. We do not have the financial resources to make the repairs I have just mentioned, but we have tended them when they became ill, delivered baskets of food and other necessities, given blankets and toys to the new babies, and so on.”
Mr. Darcy was astonished.
Seeing his expression, Elizabeth shrugged. “We could not have done otherwise, Mr. Darcy. The families were in need. Would you not have done the same?”
“Of course,” he said. He would have liked to tell her what he had done for Lady Catherine’s retired butler, but feared it would sound boastful.
Mrs. Bennet had, evidently, been listening to the conversation eagerly. “My daughters are trained in managing households, Mr. Darcy,” she informed him. “While there was never a governess in the house, those who chose to learn were given every opportunity.”
He did not reply, but glanced over at the two younger girls, whose voices had risen high in anger. He could hear that they were quarreling over the possession of a shawl.
Perhaps as a guest, he should show some interest in Miss Bennet’s sisters. He would begin with the quieter one. “Miss Mary,” he said.
The girl’s eyes lifted up in astonishment at being addressed.
“May I enquire as to what you are reading?”
She held up the book.
“ Fordyce’s Sermons for Young Women ?” he asked, his tone reflecting his astonishment.
“That surprises you, I take it?” she said, with some asperity.
“It does,” he admitted. “I believe the book to be rather outdated.”
“The word of God can never be outdated,” she returned.
“I agree with you completely, but to say that the words of James Fordyce are the words of God rather smacks of idolatry, does it not?”
She put a hand to her mouth, eyes wide.
He continued, “In addition, let us remember that the Reverend Fordyce was involved in a very serious quarrel with another preacher, Mr. Toller, which split the congregation in two. Given that behaviour, I am not at all certain that Reverend Fordyce is a reliable example of Christian life.”
She stared at him for a long moment and then set the book down on the small table beside her chair. “I do take your meaning, sir.”
“Miss Mary, I apologise most sincerely if I have given offense,” Mr. Darcy said, quickly. He was certain that he had gone astray, as the young lady seemed truly upset.
“No, Mr. Darcy, please do not apologise,” Miss Bennet said. “We have been trying to make that very point to Mary for some time now.”
“Have you a recommendation for my reading, Mr. Darcy?” Mary asked. “I welcome suggestions, but I do not prefer fiction. I think life too important for us to take refuge in fantasy.”
“A recommendation? Yes, indeed, and I believe the book is already in your father’s library.”
“What book is that?”
“ A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. ”
Miss Mary’s mouth dropped open in shock. “You have read that?” Her tone was horrified.
“I have not only read it, but I also agree with it in its entirety. Works such as Fordyce’s Sermons serve to keep lower-class women subservient to their menfolk. But once a woman is educated, once she begins to read and to understand the world around her, she soon discovers that men are truly not more intelligent than women. They simply have more opportunities for education and experience. This is a fault within our society, not a fault within women.”
Warming to his topic, he leant forward and fixed her with his eyes. “God took Adam’s rib and made woman so that they might live together, side-by-side, helping one another. Not one over the other, but side-by-side! Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, equal, the same.” He stopped, suddenly embarrassed by his outburst.
There was a long, stunned silence in the parlour. Then Miss Bennet began to applaud, softly, and soon all the ladies were clapping their approbation, smiling widely.
Mr. Bennet appeared in the doorway. “Has Mr. Darcy performed some juggling act for you all and thus earned this ovation?”
Mrs. Bennet answered for them all, “He has just informed us that he believes women are not inferior to men!”
Mr. Bennet said, wryly, “Well done, Mr. Darcy. I see I shall soon be a pariah in my own home if I do not do something equally noble.“
“But surely you agree, Mr. Bennet?” Mr. Darcy enquired, earnestly.
“We cannot lump all men and all women together, but it is obvious that many women are more intelligent than many men. Sex alone cannot make that distinction.”
Miss Bennet then led the applause for Mr. Bennet, who actually reddened with pleasure.
“You are a bold man, Mr. Darcy, to brave the Longbourn parlour,” Mr. Bennet said.
“Tish-tosh, Mr. Bennet!” His lady replied. “Mr. Darcy is not afraid of us; he does not hide away as you do.”
“Indeed? Very well, then, we shall see. Mr. Darcy, once you have had enough of my womenfolk, I invite you to hide away with me in my library. I understand that you are a great reader, and I have many treasures on my shelves.” With that, Mr. Bennet, turned away.
“Before you go, Mr. Bennet…” Mr. Darcy began.
“Yes?” The older man turned back.
“ Has King Henry walked forth this morning? ”
Mr. Bennet stared at him; then his expression cleared.
“Tell me, have I stumped you?”
“Not at all,” Mr. Bennet replied, walking back into the parlour and settling himself beside his wife. “ King Richard III , of course. You will have to do better than that, Mr. Darcy.”
“I shall do my best, but I believe it is now your opportunity to stump me.”
Mr. Bennet thought for a moment, and then spoke. “ But wherefore do not you a mightier way, Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time?”
“Shakespeare, sonnet number sixteen,” Mr. Darcy said, immediately. “I had to memorize it in school.”
“Ah, I was too easy on you. Very well; your turn.”
“ My father had a small estate in Nottinghamshire; I was the third of five sons .”
Mr. Bennet screwed up his face and shut his eyes, concentrating. “I know this, Mr. Darcy. Give me a minute.”
But too late, as Miss Lydia unexpectedly leapt to her feet and exclaimed loudly, “ Gulliver’s Travels ! Lizzy read it aloud to us this past winter!”
Mr. Darcy was dismayed at such hoydenish behaviour. What young lady leapt to her feet in the parlour, all but screaming in excitement? Her manners were not corrected, however; instead, Lydia was congratulated most heartily by her proud – and clearly surprised – father.
Mr. Darcy was then invited to stay for dinner, as Mrs. Bennet had proposed the night prior; he accepted eagerly. Then he boldly added, “It is a most pleasant day, Mrs. Bennet; might Miss Bennet and I not stroll in your garden?”