Chapter 6
“Netherfield Park is let,” her father informed them, waving a letter he had received before him.
“At last,” their mother added, and asked, “to whom is it let?”
“It is taken by a young man of large fortune from the north of England, and he is to take possession before Michaelmas,” their father confirmed.
“How come you by this knowledge?” their mother queried, eyeing the letter her father was still waving.
“I have had it by letter from Mr Stanley,” he said.
Their mother looked at Jane, but she seemed unconcerned.
The Stanleys had left Netherfield Park a couple of weeks after the incident and had never returned.
Elizabeth recalled how she had heard her mother chastise their father two days after the incident at Jane's coming out.
Apparently, he had encouraged the Stanleys to leave the neighbourhood, even going so far as to remind Rupert Stanley that he had achieved high points for marksmanship when at school.
She knew that the Stanleys had a house in town, and Elizabeth had heard a rumour that they also had one in Ireland.
Their steward had managed the land ever since, and it was now above seven years since they had resided at Netherfield.
Although the housekeeper, two house maids, and a footman had been retained to maintain the property.
Lydia was now fifteen, the age at which Jane had attended that ball at Netherfield.
“Why let the house now, Papa?” Elizabeth asked.
“Mr Stanley writes that he believes his son, who must be now near forty years old, will never wish to settle at Netherfield. He says that being the case, he has not yet finalised his plans for the future of the property. Therefore, letting it seemed to be the best plan at present,” he paused and raised a hand to his chin.
“I should not be surprised,” he said, “if he were to give it up entirely as soon as any eligible purchase offers.”
“It would be better for the neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we might get a settled family there. But, perhaps, Mr Stanley does not take the convenience of the neighbourhood as his chief concern,” Mrs Bennet said.
“I think you may be mistaken, my dear,” her husband replied. “For he took the trouble to send me word, and indeed he has assured me that the young man is of good character and has come with references which can be relied upon.”
“What is his name?” his wife questioned.
“Bingley.”
“Is he married or single?”
“Oh, single, my dear, to be sure!” Mr Bennet replied, and their mother looked intrigued at this news.
And Elizabeth had to own that she was fairly fascinated with the information herself.
There was a limited supply of young men of interest in Meryton.
Those who were of an age to be matches for Elizabeth or any of her sisters were near as brothers to them, having grown up together in such a small neighbourhood, and Elizabeth could not see herself becoming romantically attached to any of them.
But what had always intrigued Elizabeth was that their parents seemed completely unbothered by the lack of matches for their daughters.
After all, Longbourn was entailed away from the female line; surely they should be doing everything they could to see their daughters well settled?
A report soon circulated through Meryton that Mr Bingley was to attend the next assembly at Meryton, and he was to bring a large party from London.
The ladies of Meryton had great hopes that the party would include many eligible, marriage-minded men.
But when the party entered the assembly room, it consisted of just five altogether: Mr Bingley, his two sisters, the husband of the elder, and another young man.