Chapter 2 #2
The remark was so entirely Bingley that Darcy could not help but be entertained by it.
He had often thought his friend too ready to trust, too easily pleased, and too inclined to believe the best of every new acquaintance, but there was no malice in him, and very little vanity.
His errors, when they came, sprang more often from too great a degree of warmth and compliance than weakness or any lack of good sense.
They rode on in companionable quiet for a time, the horses moving at an easy pace along the lane.
Darcy allowed himself to take in more of the country than he had while indoors.
It was not Pemberley, nor could it be expected to resemble it, but there was a gentle order to the place, an old settled quality in the fields and hedges, that spoke of families long rooted in the neighbourhood.
Such places had their own pride, though not always one visible to strangers.
Bingley, naturally, interrupted this reflection before it could become too solemn. “We must go to the assembly, you know.”
“So you have said.”
“And you must dance.”
“That does not follow.”
“It follows very naturally. I take a house, we come into the neighbourhood, the assembly is held, and the gentlemen are expected to dance.”
“I was not aware that the lease included such obligations.”
“It does when one leases from society itself.”
Darcy gave him a look. “A legal doctrine I had not previously encountered.”
“Then I am delighted to be the first to instruct you in it.”
Bingley was amused with himself, and Darcy, despite his reservations, felt some of his tension ease.
It was not the assembly alone he disliked, though he had no taste for public dancing among strangers.
It was the attention that followed, the introductions, the measuring looks from families eager to know his income, his connections, his intentions.
He had endured enough of such scenes to anticipate them without pleasure.
Bingley, who seemed able to enter any room believing it full of future friends, could never quite understand the fatigue of it.
They had turned onto a narrower road bordered by a low stone wall when Bingley’s attention shifted. He sat straighter in the saddle, looking across the fields to their left.
“What have we there?”
Darcy followed the direction of his gaze. At first, he saw only the ordinary signs of estate work. A few labourers moved in the distance, and a pair of men stood near the edge of a lower field. But then he noticed the third figure among them, and the scene immediately became less ordinary.
A young woman stood beside the men, her bonnet tied beneath her chin, her gown plain and not spared from the effects of mud and damp ground. She was speaking with one of the men, not as a passing curiosity, but as though she had some claim upon the matter under discussion.
Bingley gave a light laugh. “Upon my word, we are short of labourers indeed, if even maidens must take to the fields.”
Darcy chuckled at that, though his attention remained on the young woman. “It would seem Hertfordshire has unusual customs.”
“She is pretty, I think, even at this distance.”
“You are able to determine a great deal at a distance.”
“I am willing to be generous where beauty may be concerned.”
Darcy did not answer at once. They had slowed without quite deciding to do so, both of them watching the group in the field.
The young woman turned slightly, and even from where he sat, Darcy could see that her manner was not timid.
She appeared intent, engaged, and entirely unembarrassed by her position.
A strange scene indeed. Not improper, perhaps, if she were the daughter of a tenant or a steward, but odd enough to draw the eye.
Bingley’s curiosity, once engaged, was not easily restrained. “Shall we ask what business requires such consultation?”
Darcy ought to have declined. There was no reason to interrupt strangers at their work, and less reason still to make sport of what might be necessity. Yet curiosity, sharpened by the peculiarity of the scene, overcame the better part of his judgement.
They turned their horses from the lane and toward the field.
They did not ride directly to the group at once, but approached at a more moderate pace, as though the delay might allow the scene to resolve itself without their interference.
It did not. The conversation in the field continued uninterrupted, and the young woman did not appear inclined to withdraw, nor to alter her manner upon their approach.
As they drew nearer, the details became clearer.
The man with whom she spoke stood with the ease of one accustomed to his surroundings, his posture practical and assured.
The other labourer listened with a degree of attention that suggested the matter was not trivial.
The young woman, however, stood between them not as an observer, but as a participant.
Her gown, though plain, was not ill-made. It had seen use, certainly, and her boots bore the marks of the ground upon which she stood, but there was nothing careless in her appearance. Her hair, though not perfectly arranged, had only loosened in the natural course of movement.
The slight disorder became her remarkably well. With a slight shake of his head, Darcy dismissed the thought as unworthy of a gentleman. He would never consider interfering with some farmer’s daughter.