CHAPTER 5
The wedding itself passed in a blur of flowers, tears, and half-remembered vows.
The whole of the neighbourhood had pronounced it the finest thing Meryton had seen since the Assembly rooms were built.
Mrs. Bennet wept through the ceremony and laughed through the breakfast that followed, and declared to anyone who would listen that she had never in her life been so completely, thoroughly happy.
During one such excessive display of happiness, Mr. Bennet leaned toward Elizabeth and, with the quiet dryness that so often accompanied his observations, remarked, "I hope her mother might be persuaded to marry off the rest of her daughters at some more leisurely interval, for my nerves are not equal to a repetition of the present exertions on any shorter notice than an annum. "
Elizabeth, knowing her father too well to mistake his complaint for genuine distress, simply said, “I, for one, shall see to it, Papa.”
He had endured Mrs. Bennet's anxieties and the endless bustle of preparations with greater patience than he would admit. Elizabeth knew her father’s cheeky declaration of exhaustion was less a protest than an affectionate surrender to the inevitable, that he loved his daughters dearly, though he preferred their happiness over larger periods of time.
Jane is radiant, Elizabeth thought, feeling delighted, as she watched her sister. The new Mrs. Bingley was standing next to her new husband, smiling, as he spoke merely with their neighbors.
She was made to be a bride, Elizabeth reflected; and Bingley, for his part, appears so thoroughly besotted by his new wife. They are a fine match.
Elizabeth’s thoughts flew back to the wedding ceremony. She stood next her sister, and opposite to Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth could not help but notice how occupied Mr. Bingley was looking at his soon-to-be wife with undisguised delight.
Though, it did not pass Elizabeth's notice that Mr. Darcy, though far less expressive, was no less attentive.
His gaze did not linger openly as Bingley's did, but she found herself increasingly aware that his stare remained frequently on her throughout the ceremony.
Elizabeth had caught several of his brief glances and small, looming attentions.
Mr. Darcy stared too much, Elizabeth, feeling a new sort of fluttering, had decided during the wedding breakfast. Worse still, he stared at her with such seriousness that she could not help but imagine he was taking account of every imperfection he discovered.
Indeed, Mr. Darcy’s manner was so intent that she found herself wondering whether he ever looked at anyone without considering their deficiencies. It was a most provoking habit, and an even more provoking one because she found herself wishing to know what conclusions he had reached.
Nevertheless, during the wedding breakfast, Mr, Bingley, ever open to changing plans when affection suggested a better course, surprised Jane with a short wedding tour.
What had originally been intended as a quieter arrangement was abandoned the moment he imagined his new wife deprived of even a few days of adventure and pleasure.
“A week,” he declared, “is hardly excessive when one considers the importance of beginning married life properly, my dear.”
Jane, as expected, was delighted by the thought but protested the inconvenience to everyone else. “But Charles, what of Mr. Darcy and the London staff are still working on the new wallpaper in the Library? Would not that be a great inconvenience?”
Bingley dismissed such concerns with ease. "My dear, we shall only be gone a week," he insisted. "Surely Netherfield, and Darcy, can survive without us for that long."
To which Mr. Darcy, who had long since accepted that his friend's enthusiasm would always outrun his practicality, replied that he, along with Netherfield, had survived much greater challenges and would likely endure this one as well.
Rather than depart for London immediately, Darcy agreed to remain at Netherfield during their absence.
There were still several matters requiring attention around the estate, most particularly concerns regarding the drainage near the lower grounds, which had been neglected far longer than any responsible owner would have allowed, thought Darcy.
The work was neither glamorous nor particularly agreeable, but Darcy had always possessed a sense of duty that made him attentive to matters others were willing to overlook.
Bingley was grateful for the assistance, though he made certain to assure everyone that Darcy's presence was entirely voluntary and not at all the result of being trapped into managing responsibilities that belonged to the master of the house.
And Darcy, for his part, made no effort to correct the assumption.
Elizabeth was invited, upon their return, to stay with the happy couple at Netherfield for a time, both to keep Jane company and to assist her as she adjusted to the unfamiliar responsibilities of being mistress of such an establishment.
Elizabeth was more than pleased to offer her support to her eldest sister.
While Jane possessed every quality required for the role, gentleness, good sense, and a sincere consideration for others, she had never been required to direct a household of servants, manage expectations, or make the many small decisions upon which the comfort of an estate depended.
***
The morning after their wedding, the Bingleys departed Netherfield for their brief wedding trip. That same morning, Elizabeth found herself walking the grounds of Longbourn, towards the perimeter it shared with Netherfield Park.
As she reached the lower edge of the grounds, she discovered Mr. Darcy standing near the boundary wall, with several estate workers.
He had removed his coat and stood examining the ground.
His boots were marked with mud, and there was a seriousness in his expression that suggested he was in deep thought at the predicament before him.
Elizabeth slowed her steps, not wishing to interrupt whatever discussion was taking place. Mr. Darcy, however, seemed to sense someone near, and lifted his head from his conversation. One of the estate workers beside Darcy also shifted his gaze towards Elizaebth.
She had not intended to be seen, but Elizabeth found she could not simply turn and ignore the man.
Instead, she offered a polite smile, and a pert comment that sprang from her before she had troubled to temper it.
"Mr. Darcy." She dropped him the smallest nod.
"It appears you have exchanged drawing rooms for ditches. "
She watched as Mr. Darcy said a few words to the laborers that she could not hear, then excused himself from the men. He walked over to stand nearer Elizabeth before he answered her. "Miss Bennet,” he started with a brief bow. “Am I to understand that my attention to neglected matters is a fault?"
Elizabeth offered a polite smile, lowering her voice now that he had come within easy hearing. "Not at all, Mr. Darcy. I only find it interesting that you are clearly capable of finding fault in both people and drainage systems."
A faint amusement crossed his expression, "I assure you, Miss Bennet, the drainage system offers considerably less resistance when corrected."
She understood at once what he had done, matched her pert remark with an equally dry one of his own, and done it so smoothly that she could not decide whether to be irritated or impressed, and settled, after a moment's consideration, on being both at once.
"Perhaps because it does not argue its case first," Elizabeth replied, her eyes bright with amusement. "A ditch, I imagine, has the good sense to remain silent.”
Darcy did not take the bait so much as turn it back on her.
"The lower ground retains water after heavy rain," he said, gesturing toward the labourers at work in the field beyond, "and has done, unattended, for longer than it ought, certainly long enough that the soil has begun to suffer for it, and the foundations of the outbuildings may soon suffer with it, if the matter is left much further.
" He paused for a moment, but was not quite finished.
"I do not think it remains entirely silent, do you, Miss Bennet?
It has been telling anyone who cared to look for the better part of a year, by the state of it.
It wanted only someone willing to listen. "
Elizabeth's smile faded, but it was not from displeasure, but from surprise. She had expected a defense or even a lecture; but what she had not expected was such a plain and practical explanation.
She turned her head to look him in the face, in a tone entirely serious. "You know rather a great deal about ditches, Mr. Darcy."
There was the faintest suggestion of amusement in his expression.
"I should hope so. They are rather important ditches.
My own estate is prone to flooding in the lower fields, and I have spent no small part of the last several years learning rather more about the management of water than I ever expected to want to know. "
Elizabeth looked at him with renewed curiosity, uncertain whether he meant to be droll or was speaking unexpectedly in earnest. "I confess, Mr. Darcy, I had not imagined that drainage would rank among your areas of expertise."
He shook his head slightly. "Few people do, until they are obliged to it," he said.
"I have found it is a great deal easier to address such matters before they become disasters than after.
" Something in the small movement at the corner of his mouth suggested he was not entirely displeased by her admission.
"Though, nor had I imagined it would become a subject of such particular scrutiny this morning, Miss Bennet.”
She raised her brows. "I assure you, Mr. Darcy, I am not so determined to remain mistaken merely for the satisfaction of being right.
In this particular case, I believe you have rather the advantage of me.
" She paused, and there was less teasing in her voice than there had been a moment before.
"I have heard enough, from those who have farmed this ground a great deal longer than either of us has lived, to know the difficulty is not so trifling as it might appear to a stranger passing through.
Several families nearer the low fields have suffered a good deal for its having been neglected so long.
You have found it out rather quickly, for a man so newly come.
That, I think, is to be praised, whatever else may be said of your ditches. "
This time, Darcy looked at her openly, and she sensed the most subtle softness near his eyes, before he started his speech.
"You give me more credit than the case deserves, Miss Bennet.
I have done nothing yet but notice a problem by walking the ground and asking a few sensible questions of the people living on it.
The credit, as such, belongs rather to your neighbours, who have been patient a great deal longer than the matter warranted, and said nothing of it to anyone in a position to remedy it until I happened to ask. "
He paused, and then started again. "Though I will own I had not expected to hear the ground I walk of a morning discussed with such particular knowledge by a lady. I had thought you concerned chiefly with poetry and satire.”
"You must not underestimate me too far the other way, Mr. Darcy, or I shall be obliged to disappoint you with an opinion on crop rotation before the week is out.
" Her eyes were bright again, the teasing fully restored.
"I assure you I collect information the way other ladies collect ribbons, indiscriminately, and with very little notion of what I mean to do with it until the occasion presents itself.
You are simply fortunate enough to have provided the occasion. "
She paused, tilting her head as though considering him fresh. "Though I confess I am almost sorry to have disillusioned you on the subject of poetry and satire. I had rather enjoyed being thought a frivolous creature.”
His eyes narrowed somewhat, though perhaps not in displeasure, and he spoke plainly, "You have never for a moment been a frivolous creature, Miss Bennet, and I think you know it a great deal better than you pretend to.
" Then, Darcy inclined his head toward the field.
"I ought to return to the men before they conclude I have abandoned the work entirely for the pleasure of speaking to a lady.
Good morning, Miss Bennet." He offered another short nod.
"Good morning, Mr. Darcy." She watched him go, and found she was in no particular hurry to resume her own walk, standing a moment longer, as he returned to the laborers.
Then, finding no ready conclusion in the standing, she turned to walk back down the path by which she had come, though she made rather less progress along it than she might have, so occupied was she in retracing, instead, the whole curious exchange from its beginning: her own teasing over ditches, his sudden and unexpected earnestness, her praise of his quick understanding, and, last of all, that one unguarded admission, the pleasure of speaking to a lady.
What was she to think of that?
Elizabeth did not know, and found, walking on with the question still unanswered, that she rather minded not knowing.