Chapter Fifty
M r. Darcy was in his study, conferring with his steward, Mr. Higgins. The weather had been perfect for the crops; both men anticipated a fine harvest, and were considering hiring additional workers to bring it in.
“We still have about a month,” Mr. Higgins remarked. “But I can begin to have the word put about in Lambton.”
“Yes, please do that.” Mr. Darcy named the wages he was willing to pay the workers.
“That should be incentive enough, I think,” Mr. Higgins said. He paused then and added, cautiously, “Any thought to a Harvest Dance?”
Mr. Darcy looked surprised. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of it. We have not had such an event since my father died, I think.”
“Quite right, Mr. Darcy; three years.”
“My mother was not equal to the task after his passing, but I think the new Mrs. Darcy would be delighted to do so. At Michaelmas, perhaps. Let me speak with her before you announce it.”
“It would be good to see that tradition revived. I think it has been much missed.”
Suddenly the door was flung open and Lady Anne appeared in the doorway. “I must speak with you, Fitzwilliam.”
Both men got to their feet; Mr. Higgins bowed, but was ignored.
Mr. Darcy said, reprovingly, “It can wait, I am certain. I am speaking with Mr. Higgins.”
“No, it cannot wait.”
Mr. Higgins excused himself, saying he would return the following day.
Mr. Darcy turned to his mother, frowning. “What is the emergency, Mother?”
“Your wife!”
“My wife is the emergency?” He was now furious at the interruption.
“None of this would have happened had you married your cousin! Without a doubt, you should have wed Anne.”
Mr. Darcy replied, “Things would indeed be better…” He paused here for a moment to watch his mother smile, and then continued. “For you, though for no one else. It is clear to me that Elizabeth is right and you should be at Cresston Hall. I will arrange to transfer you and your belongings there by the end of the week; begin packing at once.”