2. Chapter 2
Darcy’s basic Buick was parked in Netherfield's circular drive. I took a deep breath and unclenched the muscles in my shoulders and neck. We’d work it out eventually, he was too good a friend to let this come between us permanently. But I was not up to it today.
I avoided the front door and followed the flagstone path to the side of the house.
The grounds at Netherfield were spectacular this time of year.
Gardeners had planted bed after bed of dried grasses and seed heads and had even created a little pumpkin patch running along the side of the path.
The creeping plants that covered Netherfield’s stone exterior were the perfect fall accessory, highlighting the gray stone with their vibrant reds and oranges.
Movement caught my eye and I turned toward the back wall as Elizabeth Bennet ambled down the path.
Her nose was in a book and her feet were covered in mud up to the cuffs of her jeans.
I added her to the list of ‘People To Apologize To For My Sister’s Behavior But Not Today’ and ducked behind a large shrub.
I placed my hand on the door, beseeching the spirit of Netherfield or whatever magic inhabited the house to give me a way inside.
The house obliged and I slipped through a heavy oak door that appeared at my pleading.
Netherfield often opened secret passages for me, taking me exactly where I needed to go.
This one took me through a short, well-lit passageway carpeted with a plush red and blue rug that ran the length of the hall.
A door stood at the end of the passage, which I pushed open to reveal my sunny bedroom.
“Thank you!” I called to the house. I wouldn’t have time to change between my appointment with Mr.McFarland and the reveal party, so I’d better get ready now.
I slipped on the gorgeous purple dress which artfully blurred the line between professional and alluring, touched up my makeup, and slipped on my new black Louboutin heels.
I’d wanted to spend more time on my hair but the butler informed me that Mr. McFarland had arrived. He was ten minutes early.
I met him at the door and tried not to grimace at his fake, smarmy smile. “Thank you for coming,” I said. His eyes sparkled as I led him through the grand entrance hall. There wasn’t much to see here, but I made sure to point out the Tammy Renfeld original and the antique heartwood table.
His eyes glittered as I took him into Charles’s office.
I’d styled most of the rooms in the house, including this one, when we’d moved in a few weeks ago.
Charles preferred a comfortable, lived-in look, which I was happy to provide as long as he let me elevate his style a little.
Honestly, if I hadn’t insisted on helping him put together his space, he probably would have just purchased the first items he saw at some run-of-the-mill furniture store.
We paraded through the main floor, with me pointing out many of the more noteworthy pieces.
I pretended to consult Mr. McFarland on their value, though I knew full well what they were worth having curated this collection myself.
I wasn’t particularly interested in showing him Netherfield’s more interesting magical properties and Netherfeld kept quiet too, apparently uninterested in impressing the owner of The Trinket Trove .
“What’s in this room?” he asked as I skipped over one of the doors.
“Books and papers,” I said flippantly. “But the room isn’t interesting, it’s just an overflow for the materials Charles doesn’t want to display.”
What I didn’t tell Mr. McFarland was that the room contained sensitive information on the royal family and was magically sealed to everyone but Charles, Darcy, and a few other trusted people. I wasn’t on that list, which meant it remained utilitarian and stark.
There were a number of spaces I was disinclined to show Mr. McFarland, including the room of broken things and the whispering hallway, which was where the house told me all the latest gossip.
The tour was excruciating, but I kept reminding myself that distracting Mr. McFarland while Sydney convinced Phillip to sell the mirror was my highest goal and worth spending a miserable hour for.
When the time was finally up, I thanked Mr. McFarland for coming. He took one last look at Netherfield, greed marring his features, and left.
Sydney’s sage green Fiat passed him as she pulled up the drive.
“Got it!” she announced as she climbed out of her car, sweeping her arms to the side and bowing dramatically.
I grinned. “You’re the best.”
“True. I even brought reinforcements.” She gestured to her car, where the most handsome high-fae male I had ever seen was pulling the mirror out of the backseat.
He stood even taller than Darcy and was built like a wide receiver.
He turned toward me and his golden-brown hair glinted in the sunlight.
It was the same shade as Sydney’s, only glowing with health even without my intervention.
His amber eyes looked me up and down, unashamedly appreciative of what they saw as he walked toward me, carrying the mirror gently under one sculpted arm.
I didn’t bother to hide the slow smile that spread over my face before I dragged my gaze back to Sydney. “You’re a hero. How did you get him to sell it to you?”
“By saying that my overbearing boss insisted I get it for her and my job was on the line.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Really, and that worked for you?”
She shrugged. “That and I gave him a thousand dollars for it.”
“A thousand dollars? That’s exorbitant.” A thousand dollars used to be nothing to me, but now that I was on my own it felt enormous.
“We can return it if you feel that was too much.”
“No, we need the mirror. But it’s a good thing we’re about to score more clients tonight because I am running seriously low on cash, and I refuse to ask Charles for more.” I turned back to the hot male. “I’m Caroline Bingley.”
“I know. My sister has told me all about you. I’m Jack.”
I gave him the smile that had never failed to prompt the recipient of my charms to ask for my number. “I didn’t know it was ‘bring your brother to work day.’”
Sydney laughed. “He’s good for carrying heavy stuff around, but Jack would be the worst intern in the world.”
He let out an indignant scoff but followed us through the house to the breakfast room.
The dark green chair-rail molding and patterned wallpaper created just the mood I wanted, and the mahogany table stood majestically in the center of the room, polished to a high shine.
Tall candles in black wooden candlestick holders peeked out from a sea of autumn leaves and little golden pumpkins. I’d done a fabulous job.
I adjusted the chandelier’s dimness setting to medium-warm, placed the Celtic Knot on the sideboard, and turned to Jack with wide eyes and the slightest trace of a pout. “Will you hang the mirror for me?”
“Of course.” A hammer, nail, and level appeared on the sideboard. “That’s useful,” Jack said, picking up the hammer.
“Netherfield is the best enchanted manor I’ve ever been in.” I watched appreciatively as he expertly hung the mirror.
I took a step back, shifting my admiring gaze from Jack to the mirror. Yes, it was perfect. Of course, this wouldn’t be the mirror’s permanent home. Once Catherine de Bourgh hired me, it would hang at Rosings Park.
Three steaming pewter mugs filled with hot drinks appeared on the table.
I chose a sparkly one and took a sip. Peppermint tea with just the right amount of cream.
Perfect. I set the tea down carefully on the coaster the house had provided and grabbed another mug, breathing in the rich, roasted aroma. “Who is the cider for?”
Sydney picked up the third mug. “Not me, Netherfield knows I prefer cocoa.”
“It must be yours, then” I said, holding the mug out to Jack.
“Thank you.” His fingers brushed against mine as he took the mug, and the pit of my stomach warmed as though I’d already sipped my hot tea.
This was fun. Jack was a safe person to flirt with because dating my assistant’s brother would be gauche; he was absolutely off limits.
I could enjoy myself without the danger of getting too attached.
When I turned to where I’d set my drink, it was gone. I sighed. My one complaint about Netherfield was that it frequently cleaned things I wasn’t done with.
My eyes found Jack’s again. “You should stay for the party.”
He held my gaze. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
I wound my way through the lounge where the party guests sampled hors d'oeuvres and cocktails. Charles stood on one side of the room, his body language friendly and approachable and all the things I wasn’t. He remembered dozens of names, and the smiles people shone on him were genuine.
He had invited anyone in Austen Heights who might be interested in my services. Unfortunately, his good nature made it almost impossible for him to differentiate potential clients from people who were only interested in getting a better look at Netherfield Park.
It also meant the room was filled with people I didn’t know, and a nervous energy I hadn’t felt in a long time settled into my bones.
When I was among people I knew and understood, I was unstoppable.
But here, with these people who didn’t know me, I felt smaller and dimmer than ever before.
But I would never let it show. I straightened my shoulders and mingled with guests.
“Excuse me, Miss Bingley.”
Mr. McFarland loomed over me. It was an effort not to flinch. “Ah, Mr. McFarland. I didn’t expect to see you here.” Didn’t expect it because I had pointedly not invited him.
“Well I didn’t expect to return to my shop and see that your assistant made off with the mirror I told you was not for sale.
“And yet Sydney has a receipt for the purchase.”