Chapter Ten
Despite being inexperienced in matters of estates, Mr. Bingley was far from inexperienced in matters of business, as Mr. Stanley soon learnt. Mr. Bingley asked a number of relevant questions, and then asked if Mr. Stanley would be willing to journey with him to see the property.
Mr. Stanley agreed with alacrity, adding that Mr. Darcy had already requested it.
“Excellent,” Mr. Bingley said. “My carriage will pick you up here tomorrow morning at eight; is that agreeable?”
“It is, Mr. Bingley. Thank you.” The two men shook hands, and Mr. Bingley returned to his town house.
His youngest sister, Caroline, accosted him at once. “Where have you been, Charles?”
“You recall I mentioned at dinner last night that I was investigating the purchase of an estate?”
She frowned at him. “I do recall it, yes. Louisa and I hoped you were not serious about having us all move to the country.”
“Well, I will journey tomorrow to take a look at an estate! What think you of that, Caroline?!” He hoped her to be as excited as was he, but in this he was to be disappointed.
“Move into the country? You thought I would be happy about that, Charles?”
He stared at her. “I have not the pleasure of understanding you, Caroline.”
She put her hands on her hips in exasperation. “I dislike the country intensely, Charles. You know this.”
“I do know it, as you have stated it quite frequently; but I also know that Father wanted me to purchase an estate and begin the process of moving the family up the social ladder.”
“But it will take several generations before the Bingleys are no longer considered from trade, and that will be far too late to help me make a suitable marriage!”
“I see,” Mr. Bingley said, slowly. “So you are more concerned about your own prospects than those of the later generations of Bingleys.”
“Of course I am,” she retorted. “When I marry, I will no longer be a Bingley; I will be a Dar - well, whatever my husband is.”
“I understand that, of course, Caroline.” Mr. Bingley realised that his sister was quite right, and he had been something of a fool not to have realised it sooner.
The later generations of Bingleys would be grateful to the long-gone great-grandfather Charles Bingley for having made the move to purchase an estate, but Caroline Bingley would not be mentioned.
If she sacrificed her marriage prospects in order to make this move possible, no one would thank her or even remember her.
“I tell you what, then, Caroline. You stay here in London with Harold and Louisa, and I will move to the country on my own.”
“But who will be your hostess?” Caroline asked.
“I will not have one. I will be there to learn to manage an estate, not to entertain the neighbourhood. I will leave you and the Hursts here, with sufficient funds to maintain yourselves in my absence.”
Caroline hugged her brother in delight, something she rarely did, and then she whirled off to tell her sister Louisa that they need not to move to the country after all.
***
The next morning, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Stanley journeyed together to Netherfield Park, just outside of a little town called Meryton.
The town was entirely charming, with attractive little shops, a tidy main street, and friendly faces calling out greetings to one another.
By the time they stopped at the office of Mr. Philips, the solicitor who was responsible for leasing the property, Mr. Bingley was already smiling happily.
“Ah, you are back again, Mr. Stanley!” Mr. Philips said, bowing.
“I am, indeed. Mr. Bingley, allow me to present Mr. Philips, who acts for the owner of Netherfield Park. Mr. Stanley, this is Mr. Bingley, who may be interested in leasing it.”
The two men greeted one another, and Mr. Philips was invited to join them in Mr. Bingley’s carriage so that they might all go to Netherfield together.
Netherfield Park was a relatively new building. Its front lawn was velvet green, the gardens lush and flourishing. The entry way was newly graveled, so the carriage rolled smoothly up to the entrance.
As the three gentlemen climbed out of the carriage, the front door opened and a butler emerged. “Ah, Mr. Philips. It is good to see you again, sir.”
“And you as well, Braddock.” Mr. Philips turned to his two companions. “Mr. Braddock has been Netherfield’s butler for two decades.”
“A loyal employee indeed!” Mr. Bingley said. He nodded to Mr. Philips, who then presented Mr. Braddock to Mr. Bingley and Mr. Stanley in turn.
Mr. Philips and Braddock conducted the tour together.
They both knew the property well, but it was clear that Braddock held the house in great affection.
He knew the history of the property, and explained that the current owner, Mr. Rochester, had inherited it from his grandfather.
However, Mr. Rochester lived on the continent, and so had instructed that it be leased out until he returned to England to take possession of it.
“Will it ever be available for sale?” Mr. Bingley asked.
“As of now, no,” Mr. Philips said. “Which is why he is keen to make certain that the property is maintained in excellent condition and that the staff be kept on.”
“I see,” Mr. Bingley said, nodding his approval. “That makes a good deal of sense.”
The tour revealed a beautiful home, nicely decorated, with elegant and comfortable guest rooms, and large suites for the family. Each suite had a freestanding copper bath, an ornate mirror on the wall, and a walnut vanity.
The kitchen boasted the new-fangled Rumford fireplace, as well as a good number of large wooden tables and cupboards. Braddock introduced the cook, Mrs. Tamsworth, another long-term resident. “We were hired on the same day,” Mrs. Tamsworth said, as she curtsied to Mr. Bingley and Mr. Stanley.
“As was Mrs. Hammond, our housekeeper,” Braddock added. “Let us see if we might find her in the housekeeper’s room.”
They did indeed, and Mrs. Hammond was pleased to think that Mr. Bingley might lease Netherfield. “The neighbourhood is always happier when the house is occupied,” she said. “It is the principal house in the neighbourhood, followed by Longbourn, which is just three miles from here.”
A tour of the tenant farms was next, and it was clear that the owner’s concern extended even to his tenants, as the cottages were in good repair and the inhabitants content enough. “Still,” one man mused, while fussing with his hat. “It is better when the big house is occupied.”
“I like everything I have seen,” Mr. Bingley declared, as they headed back to the house. “And now I should like to see the lease.”
They repaired to Mr. Philip’s office, where he produced a copy of the lease that had been used in the past. Mr. Bingley read it over carefully. He had, after all, been trained by his father and knew what to look for. “No changes to the décor, eh?” he asked.
“No,” Mr. Philips said, shaking his head emphatically. “One tenant redecorated the entire house in the Egyptian style. We were all quite horrified, and poor Mr. Rochester was put to a good deal of expense to return it to its former state.”
“Egyptian!” Mr. Bingley shuddered. He had seen a good deal of it in London, and Caroline had begged him to let her redecorate their town house similarly.
He thought it everything horrible! Tables with alligator legs, crocodile motifs around the fireplace, sphinxes peeking out at you from the sideboard!
No, thank you very much. He spent several minutes reading over the lease, word by word, before nodding and looking up.
“May I see the lease?” Mr. Stanley asked.
Mr. Bingley passed it to him, saying, “I see nothing at all wrong with it.”
Mr. Stanley perused it carefully, and said, “I agree; it is quite a standard lease.”
“The lease is for just one year; what if I wish it for a second year as well?” Mr. Bingley asked.
Mr. Philips shrugged. “That will depend entirely on Mr. Rochester. He may be ready to return to England by then. I can make no promises in that regard.”
“I understand,” Mr. Bingley said. “Very well; I shall take it. I have affairs to settle in London, but I shall move into Netherfield Park before Michaelmas. I will send a note when I have an exact date.”