3. Netherfield Park—5 December 1809
Since the death of their father, Darcy and his sister Georgiana had celebrated Christmastide with their aunt, uncle, and cousins in London, rather than in their ancestral home in Derbyshire.
This year, Darcy had travelled south earlier than usual for several reasons.
He had wished to visit his good friend Charles Bingley, who looked forward to hosting him at the estate he was leasing; and when he had realised how close that estate was to Longbourn, home of E.
R. Bennet, he had arranged to see the glasshouse he had heard about in monthly letters.
Another reason for an earlier journey south was that Georgiana had been staying with his relations in Matlock and would reach London in early December; he missed her and wished to maximise his time with her.
Furthermore, he had promised to attend a meeting of the Columbarian Society in London so that he could complete a promised sale to a gentleman from Kent.
The sale was one of Darcy’s prized turtledoves.
Although Jackson, one of Darcy’s footmen, had been specially trained to care for birds in the pigeon family and tended to most of the daily care for the bird, Darcy personally checked on the turtledove every day.
He had expected, when first writing to Bingley of his plans, to keep the bird in a travelling cage in the manor house, but he had been excited when his friend wrote back that Netherfield Park had a conservatory that was, in part, a large walk-in aviary.
Darcy certainly did not imagine that Bingley had suddenly developed a passion for breeding birds, so as he read the letter, he had asked aloud, “Is the aviary empty?”
Since at the time he had been alone in his study, at Pemberley, no one had answered his query.
However, now that they were installed at Netherfield, Jackson had ascertained that the aviary held at least ten birds of different species.
Darcy and Jackson had made an appointment to speak with the gamekeeper immediately after luncheon the day after their arrival.
Darcy invited Jackson to inspect the aviary with him shortly before luncheon.
They examined the plants, smelt the soil, gingerly tasted the water of the small stream—a gravity-fed pipe system had been installed—and inspected the feeding and water bowls.
Cages hung from the ceiling, but apparently all the birds had free rein of the aviary.
Darcy was impressed and hopeful that he could utilise the aviary for his own bird.
After luncheon, Darcy and Jackson met Mr Mellin. Darcy started by reporting that they had just that day inspected various aspects of the aviary and had found everything clean and well maintained. Then he asked if all of the birds belonged to the owner of Netherfield Park.
Mr Mellin replied, “No, actually, only four of the fifteen adult birds currently residing here belong to the Kennington family. The rest are owned by two neighbours.”
“That is interesting that there are so many bird fanciers in the community,” Darcy commented.
“I imagine that the interest in the neighbours was born because of Mr Kennington’s aviary. Ah! Here comes one of the neighbours now.”
Before he turned around and saw her, Darcy knew it was Miss Elizabeth who approached.
It was not as if he could hear her soft tread on the wood grating that covered the gravel flooring; it was, perhaps, the faint whiff of lavender he thought he detected.
Another more embarrassing possibility was that she was never far from his conscious thoughts.
He turned, raised his eyebrows to signal his surprise and smiled politely.
“Miss Elizabeth?” he asked—although it was a silly thing to ask.
Of course, he could clearly see that it was her.
“Horticulture and bird breeding?” he asked, leaving out half the words the sentence ought to have had.
Miss Elizabeth looked at least ten times more shocked than he felt.
Before she spied him, she had been walking briskly, but the moment he spoke, she lifted her eyes to his face, stopped walking abruptly, and stared.
“Mr Darcy!” Then she appeared to give herself a little shake and answered, “Yes, plants and birds. I happen to be invested in fostering life.”
He smiled at hearing his own words echoed back to him, and yet he was certain she was sincere about her interest.
Sincere—but also, clearly, confused. “Do you know Mr Kennington?” she asked.
“No, I have not had the pleasure of meeting him,” he explained. “My friend Mr Bingley, whom I am visiting, is leasing Netherfield from the owner.”
“Oh! I had not realised he is no longer living here.” Miss Elizabeth smiled and added, “Are you interested in birds as well as exotic plants, Mr Darcy?”
In answer, he said simply, “Pemberley has an aviary with more than one hundred breeding pairs.”
Miss Elizabeth opened her mouth in an astounded-looking “O,” although no word passed her lips.
“What kind of birds do you breed, Miss Elizabeth?”
“I have a breeding pair of common canaries, a pair of diamond firetail finches, and a turtledove. I am saving for a mate for the latter, of course.”
Jackson interrupted with astonishment, “A turtledove?” He turned to Darcy and said, “I had not spotted it, sir, or I would have alerted you already.”
Darcy nodded and addressed the other two, “Miss Elizabeth, Mr Mellin, the bird I was considering allowing access to this aviary is a female European turtledove, born and bred in captivity. I have an agreement to sell her to a man I will meet next week; therefore, I cannot release her if she might mate. What is the sex of the turtledove in residence?”
Miss Elizabeth grimaced a bit in sympathy. “Mine is a male Barbary dove. I am so sorry if it does not work, but would the birds mate in December?”
Darcy closed his eyes briefly in regret. But he rallied at once and answered, “I doubt that they would mate with the days so short, but it is kept warm enough in here that they might. Barbary doves are…fairly aggressive when they breed.”
“Ahh. Well, I truly am sorry.”
He shook his head, then turned to ask, “I imagine you are wishing to purchase a female Barbary, not to catch a wild European female?”
“I imagine the latter might result in sterile offspring, would it not?”
He cocked his head and said, “That is a risk, certainly, but some hybridisations have resulted in fertile offspring. I only mention this because you spoke of saving money, and utilising wild birds is certainly one way to get more for less.
“I thank you for the idea. I will have to consider that further at a later time. For now, I had better see to my birds.”
She moved away, and Darcy thanked Mr Mellin and advised Jackson to maintain his turtledove in the travelling cage. They briefly discussed where to put the cage, and they agreed that they could at least take advantage of the steady warmth of the aviary.
Mr Mellin left the aviary for other duties, and Jackson trotted off to get the caged turtledove.
Deciding to further inspect the aviary/conservatory, Darcy walked the direction Miss Elizabeth had taken.
Naturally, he was not looking for her, and yet he soon found her near the back wall, farthest from the house.
The utilitarian area in which she stood was partially hidden from the rest of the conservatory by several large ferns.
Miss Elizabeth was opening a cupboard with a steeply sloping metal top. As she opened the heavy-duty latches, he could see that the inside of the cupboard was lined with metal. Inside were several glass containers.
Darcy deliberately coughed so that Miss Elizabeth would know his presence. She startled a bit but smiled briefly at him before turning back to access the containers.
“May I help you carry the birdseed?” he asked her.
“Oh. Yes, that would save time,” she replied. “Thank you.”
She opened containers of barley, wheat, and crushed cuttlebone and spread some of each onto a large, clean pan.
She suggested he carry the pan; she planned to carry a jar of millet and another of canary seed.
Then she carefully closed and latched the cupboard before leading him back through the verdant plants to an area with both a ground feeding station and elevated seed cups.
He carefully held the pan of grains and grit with one hand as he picked up the empty pan. As soon as he laid down the full pan, the dove appeared, flew to the pan, and began to rapidly gobble the grain. He turned to watch Miss Elizabeth fill two of the seed cups.
He had to look carefully to spot the canaries and finches in the trees. They had spotted their owner and knew it was feeding time, but they waited to eat.
“Come this way, to the blind,” she said. There was a wicker barrier, and they both stood behind it in order to watch the smaller songbirds swoop down to eagerly peck at their food.
Unfortunately—or one could see it as being most fortunate—that meant that they stood very close to one another.
Darcy kept his eyes squarely on the birds, and he carefully monitored his breathing, but he could not help being aware of her much-smaller, warm body so close to his.
The faint lavender scent filled his nostrils.
He had to focus more on keeping himself in regulation than on watching the birds.
When all five of Miss Elizabeth’s birds had stopped eating and flown away, they stepped out from the blind, and Darcy walked back to the feeding station to inspect the water bowls and cups.
They were algae-free, and there were almost no bird droppings visible. He asked, “Does Mr Mellin provide cleaning services? I assume you do not personally scrub the dishes?”
She said, “I am forever grateful that I do not have to clean here. Mr Mellin has trained a boy named Frank to scrub the water containers and to scrape and wash away droppings. I try to come once a day to feed my birds, because I believe I should check them regularly, but if I cannot come for some reason, such as if I go to Town, I write a note, and Mr Mellin supervises their feeding as well. Of course, I pay a monthly fee for the service, from the fund from my bird sales.”
“And how do you handle the sales?” He tried to picture her father helping her take cages full of birds to market, and he could not see the man doing so.
“My uncle, Mr Edward Gardiner, comes out every September to take the young adults to market. I go with him, but we pretend that he is the bird breeder.”
Darcy bit back a smile. He could imagine Elizabeth’s—er, Miss Elizabeth’s—opinion of others’ incredulity that gently-bred ladies could breed birds, tend plants, or grow food. He, on the other hand, had swiftly developed the opinion that ladies doing those things were to be applauded, not scorned.
“I am glad for your sake that your relation will help you take the birds you breed to market, and I admire your enterprising spirit.”
They had walked back to the cupboard, where Miss Elizabeth safely stored the birdseed.
Darcy was still holding the empty pan and asked where he should put it; it turned out that a shelf almost obscured by a tangle of fading canary creeper foliage was the right spot on which to place items that needed washing.
“Do you wish to stay and look around, sir, or will you walk me out of the aviary?” Miss Elizabeth asked.
“I shall walk with you, if you do not mind,” he responded, attempting to speak easily.
He was positive that he failed to achieve perfect ease, but he hoped that he did not seem stiff, or stern.
He tried to smile at Miss Elizabeth, but she was looking up at the plants they passed under, likely spotting the other birds that were not her own.
When they reached the outer door, Jackson was there, holding Darcy’s caged turtledove.
Naturally, Miss Elizabeth stopped and admired the turtledove. She attempted to make the turr-turr sound that a male would make, and she grinned happily when his female turtledove made a soft sound back.
She shot him a look of triumph and found him looking at her already. Growing very still, her smile turned immobile, her sparkling eyes shuttered. She dropped her eyes just as he, with effort, wrenched his eyes away from her face.
Darcy had no idea what she had seen in his face, but he was nervous as he bowed in her direction and said, “Thank you for showing me your stock birds, Miss Elizabeth. I wish you a pleasant day.” Turning towards Jackson, he just nodded his thanks before he—frankly—fled the most alluring lady of his acquaintance.
He only walked quickly away; he did not break into a run, thank heavens. Taking in the bracing cold air through his nostrils and blowing it out through his mouth, Darcy told himself firmly that he had not lost all restraint.