Chapter XVI #3
“That is fortunate for Mr. Bingley,” said Mrs. Bennet. Then she brightened. “Perhaps a new family will take the lease.”
Though no one said anything, they all realized that by family, Mrs. Bennet meant gentleman—Mrs. Bennet yet had three unattached daughters, after all.
“No, actually,” said Mr. Darcy, his manner almost offhand. “Should all go to plan, I will need a place to stay nearby in the future. I am giving serious consideration to purchasing Netherfield.”
“Purchase Netherfield?” demanded Mrs. Bennet, her eyes wide with shock.
“It makes sense, do you not think?” asked Mr. Darcy. “Longbourn, though it is an excellent estate, is not large enough to hold many visitors. We would all be more comfortable if there was another estate nearby where we could stay when in residence.”
By that time, Mrs. Bennet’s eyes had grown to the size of teacups. “Purchase Netherfield?” repeated she in a voice lacking comprehension. “Is that even feasible?”
“Very much so,” replied Mr. Darcy. “Not only would it be a place to stay in the neighborhood, but it would be an excellent investment.”
That was the first time Mrs. Bennet had any notion of the true measure of Mr. Darcy’s wealth.
“Well played, Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet, showing he understood the subtext. “It will also give my widow a place in the neighborhood to live should I predecease her.”
“I had not considered that,” said Mr. Darcy. “Would that make it easier?”
“What say you, Mrs. Bennet?” asked Mr. Bennet. “Would you prefer to stay in the neighborhood?”
“Oh! Well . . . Yes, I . . . I suppose that . . . Acceptable. Yes! That is quite acceptable.”
Later, when Elizabeth had the opportunity to speak in privacy with Mr. Darcy, she raised the subject, curious to know what he would say. Elizabeth had no notion that Mr. Darcy had spoken to prove his worth or his wealth. In this, she had correctly sketched his character.
“Do you suppose your mother thought that?” asked he, more than a little uncomfortable at the notion.
“No, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth gently, “though if my father were less discerning, he might have.”
“In truth, I had not considered it that way,” confessed Mr. Darcy. “The idea of purchasing Netherfield is worthy for the reasons I suggested. It never occurred to me to suppose your family would see it as anything other than an excellent investment.”
“Yet my family is not accustomed to wealth and privilege and the benefits they provide,” said Elizabeth. “You suggested purchasing Netherfield as if it were nothing—I suspect it is well within your means.”
Mr. Darcy nodded, still considering. “It is, and I would expect to recoup that entire investment long before we have children old enough to inherit the estate. The yearly profit will do much, and the ability to stay here will do the rest.”
“Please do not suppose that I am criticizing, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth. “We come from different worlds. It will take time to combine them.”
“Then you are not put off by my casual arrogance?”
Elizabeth smiled and touched his arm. “I can now say that it is not arrogance, Mr. Darcy. In the end, we are all accustomed to that which we know. You did not speak of purchasing Netherfield intending to display your wealth. You did it because you know it will make us more comfortable in the future.”
“Harrington and your sister may also stay here when they are in the neighborhood,” said Mr. Darcy. “In fact, that would be a boon—another pair of eyes on the property, as it were. A steward can only do so much, after all.”
“That is sensible, Mr. Darcy.”
For several moments, they spoke of other concerns, and soon the subject of Mr. Bingley arose between them.
Mr. Darcy expressed his happiness for his friend and confided that Mr. Bingley had already asked him to stand up at his wedding.
Miss Whitcombe had passed a message through Mr. Bingley’s letter entreating Elizabeth and Jane to attend—Elizabeth had no compunction at all about attending, and she knew Jane would agree at once.
“What of Miss Bingley?” asked Elizabeth. “Did Mr. Bingley mention his sister?”
“Only to say that she had grown much quieter,” replied Mr. Darcy. “Mr. Hurst and Miss Bingley will plan their brother’s wedding breakfast, and they have both expressed their delight.”
“Then they accept Miss Whitcombe. That is all she ever wanted.”
“They will be happy, I think.”
“Tell me, will you ask Mr. Bingley to stand up with you?”
Mr. Darcy’s expression was measured, but he said: “No. That honor will go to Fitzwilliam, for he has been my companion for much longer than I have known Bingley.”
“We are speaking as if our union is inevitable,” observed Elizabeth.
“Is it not? I have not offered my hand just yet, but you know my sentiments.”
“Yes, Mr. Darcy. They are unmistakable.”
“Then we shall proceed at whatever pace we both find agreeable.”
It was, Elizabeth thought, the best possible outcome for them both, and she realized her situation, Jane’s, and perhaps most of all, Miss Whitcombe’s were similar. What had once been managed, delayed, and mistaken was now simply allowed—and in that, at last, everything found its proper place.
THE END