Chapter 4

4

D arcy bowed over his sister's hand. "I hope you enjoy your stay here, Georgiana, and remember it was you who suggested I go to Hertfordshire." He raised his eyebrows.

She giggled a little. "And you already seem more lighthearted at the thought of leaving town."

Aunt Alice nodded. "But you ought only to stay six weeks or so, Darcy. Then you will have time to go to Pemberley and plan the spring planting before retuning to town in time for the season."

"Thank you, Aunt, for hosting Georgiana for me for the next month or so. Your plans are sound, except for expecting me for the season. You know how much I detest it."

"Nevertheless," her voice was steely. "You need to attend at least some events in town. I would hope that you will select a wife who can assist Georgiana with her come out and then settle down to providing you with an heir." Her gaze was unflinching, and Darcy smiled wryly.

"So we must hope that your idea of at least some events coincides with the few in my mind; but in the meantime, I thank you again for your hospitality to my sister."

Then he was in the coach, leaning back against the upholstery, hoping that at least the roads wouldn't be too rutted as they went further into the countryside. From what he'd seen of the lease and maps, Netherfield was not a complete wreck of an estate, or there might be rather more work than Bingley was willing to learn about, and there would be little time for any sport. And he hoped Bingley would not become infatuated with yet another fair-haired, blue-eyed angel. A country miss would more easily have her head turned by the attentions of a wealthy man than those in town who were in pursuit even of his friend. And Bingley wouldn't be able to concentrate on learning the duties of an estate, then, either.

"It does seem a well-managed estate, Bingley." Darcy had ridden out the next morning before his friend had joined him, bleary eyed, for breakfast. "I had a good look across the fields and boundary fences. So we will be able to have a productive discussion with the steward this morning."

Bingley groaned. "I hope there is time for me to have another cup of coffee first." He yawned. "It might take a while for me to get used to country hours."

Darcy prevented a smile by looking at his own cup. "It will be easier in the country — not so many parties."

"Ah … well." Bingley flushed.

Darcy glared at him. "I might have known. What have you let me in for this time, Bingley?"

His friend shifted in his seat. "Well, it is only once a month, Darcy. But it just happens to be tonight, so …" his voice tailed off.

"What is once a month?" Darcy nodded at the footman to refill his coffee cup.

"The town assembly. Sir William Lucas called yesterday to welcome me to Meryton, and to make sure I knew that the whole party is invited." He bounced in his chair, irrepressibly enthusiastic. "He was telling me that the young ladies of the area are quite beautiful."

"I don't know what to do with you, Bingley." Darcy shook his head. Bingley's enthusiasms were quite what drew Darcy to friendship with the man; he felt they complemented each other well. But first thing in the morning, they could be quite hard to take.

The assembly hall was as noisy and vulgar as Darcy had dreaded. Music spilled out through the open windows as he descended from the carriage, the playing abominably unpolished, although not too badly out of tune. He must be grateful for small mercies, he supposed, and planned how he would describe it to Georgiana in his letter to her in the morning.

Then Miss Bingley's hand closed onto his arm, and her sharp voice intruded into his consciousness.

"How are we to survive such common entertainment tonight, Mr. Darcy? I feel that Charles ought not to expect you to demean yourself in this way, and I shall certainly not trouble myself with all those mercenary locals!"

Her hand constricted to a claw-like grip, and Darcy's jaw tightened. She was the one thing that spoiled his friendship with Bingley. She was determined to become Mrs. Darcy and obtain his fabulous wealth and estates. Sometimes he wished he was a merely a minor landowner.

He took a deep breath. "It is important that your brother becomes well-acquainted with his neighbours, Miss Bingley. They will be gentry, even if only from minor estates."

"Of course," she purred. "I trust you to help him navigate the more mercenary of the local matrons, sir."

Darcy leaned away from her. He supposed she ought to recognise mercenary women, being one of them, but she was adept at hiding her own unpleasantness from herself. He detached her from his arm, and tapped his friend on the shoulder. "You ought to escort your sister in, Bingley, as she is your hostess."

He tucked himself in behind the Hursts, hoping the room would not be too crowded for him to be able to avoid Miss Bingley for most of the evening. It would be interesting to observe the locals objectively, and how they reacted to their new neighbours.

He didn't really listen to the introductions after Sir William, the self-appointed leader of the town, and followed at a discreet distance as they were conducted round the room.

One woman seemed to encompass the whole of what he despised about such rural neighbourhoods — apart from Lambton, of course — plump, too heavily rouged, swathed in far too much lace, and loud. Much, much too loud. Worst of all, she was surrounded by a gaggle of daughters.

He suppressed a shudder and watched as Bingley appeared to be felled by the admitted beauty of the eldest. She was exactly the type his friend always became enamoured with, and her blush and modest glance downwards showed she was the same as all young unmarried ladies of little fortune. He scowled, and glanced briefly at the rest of the sisters.

The next eldest was much more interesting, he thought. Her dark hair curled around a heart-shaped face, but her expression was flushed with chagrin at her mother's behaviour, and she was not even looking at Darcy. Her gaze was fixed on Bingley and her eyes narrowed as he begged a dance from Miss Bennet, claiming her to be as beautiful as an angel.

Then the second daughter took a step back, and once out of her mother's sight, dipped a careless curtsy and hurried away. Darcy, too, eased himself from the group being introduced and made his way thoughtfully to the other side of the room, where he stood beside a large urn of greenery.

He watched the second daughter approach the older daughter of Sir William — what was her name? Miss Lucas, that was it — and begin a low-voiced conversation. Neither of them looked pleased when they glanced at Bingley.

He huffed a laugh; perhaps they had wanted him for themselves. But he could save them any effort in their conniving. Bingley always chose tall, willowy blondes. Neither Miss Lucas nor the younger Bennet girl were the type his friend favoured.

Then the musicians played a flourish to alert everyone that the dancing was about to begin, and he saw the two ladies look up. The Bennet girl smiled at Miss Lucas, shaking her head with a laugh, as Bingley approached for his dance with the older girl. It was as well he had chosen their host's daughter for the first sets; it would not excite expectations.

But his eyes were drawn to the other, who was collecting two glasses of lemonade and crossing to her elder sister.

But as they talked, he could not see any attempt to upbraid Miss Bennet for gaining the attention of his friend. Her sister did not seem to be vexed with her, and they appeared to be close confidantes.

Darcy glanced at the dance floor. Bingley appeared to be enjoying himself as he always did, and Miss Lucas looked to be a competent and polite young woman. He did not detect any simpering, or fluttering of the eyelashes. If she wanted to catch Bingley, then she would have to try a great deal harder than that.

The second set of dances were more interesting to observe. The eldest Miss Bennet was polite and attentive to Bingley as they danced, but she did not appear to be trying to trap him or engage with him more than was polite.

More interesting was the behaviour of the other two ladies who sat close together on chairs away from anyone else sitting out. They seemed to be repeating sentences and phrases to each other as if trying to memorise something. Occasionally the Bennet girl looked irritably at the musicians. And twice, she waved away young men who seemed to be approaching to ask for the honour of a dance. It seemed she did not wish to be asked today.

What were they doing? It might be interesting to engage one of them in a dance and see if he could discover what it was. But, to keep the peace at Netherfield, he ought first to dance with Bingley's sister, and he shivered before he went to find her, placing his empty glass on the tray of a passing servant.