Chapter 6

Netherfield Hall

Two Mornings Later

18 th October, 1811

The thin autumn morning sun was insufficient to warm the air, casting a cool wavering light that sparkled off anything reflective and threw soft-edged shadows behind the two riders on the hard-packed dirt path. Phoenix blew out a white cloud, wreathing his proud dark head like some horse from an ancient myth, before the fine droplets dissipated. Darcy lifted one drooping end of his scarf and tucked it into position, his attention on Bingley, who rode beside him on Argo, a mild-mannered bay gelding.

Bingley adjusted his hat against the sun, riding high now at almost ten in the morning, but still slanting down into their eyes as he and his friend returned to the main house. The two of them had gone on a long, meandering ride around the southwestern quadrant of the Netherfield lands, observing cottages and fences and fields and woodlands.

"I am glad you approve of the estate," Bingley said cheerfully as he urged his horse to a trot. Argo increased his speed with alacrity, eager to attain the stable where cool water and oats awaited.

Phoenix began trotting without direction from his master, and Darcy pulled up next to his friend and said, "Yes, the land is definitely good. You will need to arrange to have those fences fixed, of course."

"Of course," Bingley agreed. "Moreover, that cottage with the bad roof…"

"The Langes, I believe."

"Quite. That roof needs to be repaired as soon as…"

Bingley trailed off and rose in the saddle to peer at Netherfield, which had just appeared over a slight rise. Darcy looked as well and observed an unfamiliar carriage which was standing near the front door of the mansion.

"I do think that is Miss Bennet and her family come to call on my sisters! I must hurry to see them!" Bingley exclaimed, and Argo surged forward still faster.

Darcy sighed but matched his friend's haste. It seemed that the new master of Netherfield was yet more enamored of Miss Bennet than Darcy had originally thought.

/

Drawing Room

Netherfield Park

The Netherfield drawing room had been the height of fashion fifteen or perhaps twenty years ago, and the furniture was, if slightly threadbare in the most often-used places, still sturdy and comfortable. It also had a strange, unlived-in feel to it; the mantel and curtains were clean and the furniture nicely arranged, but there were no flowers in vases, no knickknacks on the mantel save for the old oak clock that had been let with the house, and no pictures on the walls.

But the chimney was in good repair, and the fireplace was swept and wide. The fire crackling there was very welcome in the October chill. Steam curled up from the cups of tea that Caroline, sitting very erect, was pouring and passing around to her guests with practiced smiles. Mary, the youngest lady visiting, accepted her cup, white china with pink roses across the side, with murmured thanks.

"Have you ever been to London, Mrs. Bennet?" Louisa Hurst asked.

"I have, though not often," Mrs. Bennet replied. "My husband dislikes Town, and I do not care to travel without him."

Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley exchanged glances, and the latter laughed softly. "That is charming, Mrs. Bennet, if rather surprising. In the haut ton, of course, it is common for married couples to spend weeks, and even months, apart! You and Mr. Bennet are to be congratulated on having such a close marriage."

Elizabeth blew out a slow breath to calm herself and took a sip of truly excellent tea. It was not, of course, that her mother wished to devote all her time with her cynical and irritable husband – no, Mrs. Bennet knew that it would be unfair to her daughters to long abandon them to their vituperative sire.

The door opened before anything else could be said, and Charles Bingley appeared with a rather adorable smile on his face.

"Mrs. Bennet, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary!" he cried out. "Good morning!"

"Good morning," the Bennets chorused, and Caroline said, "Charles, I had no idea you would be back so promptly! Is Mr. Darcy with you?"

"He will probably be down shortly," Bingley said, though in a distracted tone. "Miss Bennet, I hope you are well?"

Jane colored and said, "Indeed I am. I hope you are as well?"

"Yes! Darcy and I just returned from touring the southwestern part of the estate. Darcy has far more experience than I do in managing an estate and informs me that the land is in good heart, though there are some areas where fencing and cottages need to be repaired."

"There is also an area in the northeastern section of Netherfield where the drainage is poor," Mary remarked.

Bingley, who had been gazing raptly at Jane's lovely face, now turned a startled look on the third Miss Bennet. "Is there?"

"Yes," Elizabeth concurred. "That marches next to Longbourn land, you know, and there is an area which is very wet. That would not be a problem except that on the Netherfield section, the tenant owner is expected to make use of the land, and it floods more often than not, ruining the crops."

"I am surprised that you are aware of such things as soil and crops, Miss Elizabeth?" Miss Bingley remarked archly.

"I am the daughter of a country gentleman," Elizabeth replied calmly. "Furthermore, our family's fortunes depend on the tenants doing well."

"But surely such tasks are for your father?" Mrs. Hurst suggested.

"My husband, most regrettably, was badly injured in a fall from a horse some fifteen years ago," Mrs. Bennet explained, "and has thus been unable to perform all the duties he wishes to. I am very proud of my daughters, who have taken on some of the responsibilities of the estate."

"You should be proud," a male voice came from behind them, and Elizabeth turned in surprise to observe Mr. Darcy standing some five feet away from them, with a young blonde lady on his arm.

"Thank you," Mrs. Bennet replied, rising, and a moment later, her three daughters stood up as well.

"Ladies," Darcy continued, "might I have the honor of introducing my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy? Georgiana, Mrs. Bennet, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, and Miss Mary."

The ladies curtsied as Elizabeth considered Miss Darcy with interest. She was even taller than Lydia, who was the tallest of the Bennet daughters, but her face was youthful and her eyes downcast. Elizabeth wondered, for a moment, whether Miss Darcy was proud, but then the girl cast a beseeching look on her brother, who smiled at her reassuringly, and Elizabeth decided that the lady was instead merely shy.

"Miss Darcy," Miss Bingley said, "please do sit down next to me, and I will pour you some tea."

Miss Darcy did so with pathetic relief, and Elizabeth, prompted by sympathy, turned her attention on her brother, who, to her surprise, was staring at her intently.

"Mr. Darcy," she said, eying the gentleman carefully. It was odd to be stared at with such intensity, and Elizabeth could not decide whether it was a gaze of approval or criticism.

"Darcy, Miss Elizabeth and Miss Mary inform me that there is a section of Netherfield where the land needs to be drained," Bingley announced.

"I heard that," Darcy remarked. "Where is it?"

Elizabeth answered, and Darcy replied, and within ten minutes, the party had split into three conversational groups, with Bingley speaking exclusively with Jane, Mrs. Bennet speaking comfortably of fashion with Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, and Darcy and the other Bennet ladies talking about farming and crop rotation. Georgiana Darcy sat quiet as a mouse next to Miss Bingley, though Elizabeth noted that the girl was, at least, staring at her brother instead of the floor.

When half an hour had passed, the Bennets very correctly rose to their feet, to the obvious relief of Miss Bingley and the equally obvious disappointment of Mr. Bingley.

"Miss Bennet!" the master of Netherfield said as he walked the party toward the door, "will you be attending the party at Lucas Lodge two days hence?"

"I believe I will be," Jane replied with a warm smile.

"Then I look forward to seeing you then!"

/

Carriage

On the Way to Longbourn

"Mr. Bingley is such a fine gentleman," Jane said, her blue eyes dewy in the soft light infiltrating the Bennet carriage. "He is kind and amiable, and I enjoy his conversation very much."

"Yes, he seems quite a nice young man," Mrs. Bennet said evenly.

Elizabeth knew her mother well and turned a reproachful look on the lady. "Mr. Darcy may not be as charming and outgoing as his friend, but he knows a considerable amount about tenants and crop rotations. I know he is master of a great estate, and I admire him for learning about fertilizers and plant yields and the like."

If possible, Mrs. Bennet's face grew even stiffer, but she merely said, "Yes, that is entirely admirable."

Elizabeth gazed sympathetically at her mother and said, "Mamma, not every handsome, well built, intelligent gentleman is like Father."

Her mother's lips compressed, and she looked out of the window for a moment, which in turn made Elizabeth's heart clench with regret. She ought not to have said that.

"You are right, Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet said a bit later and sighed deeply. "I know that my experiences with your father have tainted my view of potentially eligible gentlemen. Our family's situation is a strange one, but at least I did not end up with my head cut off!"

There was a gasp of horror from Mary, and Elizabeth, who was seated next to her, moved her hand to pat her younger sister's leg. "Do not worry, my dear sister; Mamma is merely displaying some of her usually hidden dark humor."

"I apologize, Mary," her mother said contritely. "I was referring to Henry VIII, of course, who, as you know, had Anne Boleyn executed for witchcraft when she failed to produce a son. I have no doubt that if she had produced a couple of healthy, bonny boys, she would have remained queen until the end of her days."

"Is that why Father is so unhappy?" Mary asked sadly. "Because none of us are boys?"

Mrs. Bennet regarded her third daughter and heaved a great sigh. "Your older sisters know the entire story, but you are eighteen, my dear, and ready, I think, to learn more details of our family situation. I must request that you not discuss these things with Kitty and Lydia yet, however."

"Of course," Mary murmured, looking fearful. Elizabeth shifted a little closer to her sister in order to provide extra security, and their mother continued, "Your father's family is rather peculiar in that there have been few children, and still fewer sons, for several generations. That is why the heir to Longbourn is a distant cousin. Your father was your grandparents' third child and the only son, and oh, how your grandmother Bennet doted on him!"

"I remember her a little," Mary said. "She seemed kind."

"Oh, she was, even though I was not the wife she would have chosen for her precious boy. Your father was the catch of the county, you know – heir to the largest estate in these environs, and more than that, handsome, intelligent, and quite the sportsman. When I came out at the age of eighteen, I was immediately the belle of society, due entirely to my beauty – I was very beautiful in my day, you know."

"You still are," Elizabeth said loyally, and her mother chuckled and said, "I am mother to five daughters, my dear, and am long past my prime. Your father had just returned to Longbourn after obtaining a First at Cambridge, and we were drawn to each other from the start, and we believed we were in love. We married within two months of meeting, and six months later, your grandfather died and your father and I became master and mistress of Longbourn."

Mrs. Bennet looked out the window a moment, again gathering her thoughts, and then turned back to them. "We were quite happy for a number of years, really, though the arrival of five daughters in a row was distressing to both of us because of the entail. Why your grandfather arranged it so is beyond me, but there is no use crying over spilled milk. I was not even thirty years of age when Lydia was born, and I was not ready to give up – there seemed hope that eventually I would bear a longed-for son. But then your father was injured."

"In a fall from a horse," Mary stated.

"Yes, but not just any fall," her mother replied. "You are too young to remember the details, and thank God for that. He was riding a youthful stallion, not well broken, but your father was so confident in his abilities that he tried to jump a fence, and the beast shied at the last moment and crashed through; your father fell hard and broke his leg badly, along with impaling his face on a shard of the shattered fence, which resulted in that dreadful scar. The horse snapped a foreleg as well and had to be put down."

"I remember Father's screams when they carried him in," Jane murmured.

Mrs. Bennet turned a sympathetic look on her eldest and said, "I am so sorry, my dear. I know it was a terrifying time for you all, but especially for you and Lizzy. I think the other girls were too small to have any idea what was happening."

"Poor Father," Mary said.

"Yes, it was dreadful for him. Mr. Jones was a young man then and did his best to set the bone, and we also had a doctor and surgeon from London attend to him. They saved his leg, his left eye, and his life, but in that one day, your father was deprived of his ease of movement, his life as a sportsman and his good looks. It was a terrible blow to all of us, but particularly to him. He, who had been venerated and honored and admired, who had everything he could wish for except a son, lost so much that day."

The lady wiped a tear away and forced herself to continue. "He was never the same after that, Mary. His leg healed well enough to walk but not without a limp, and he has been in pain ever since; sometimes more and sometimes less, and endless suffering is a hard thing. I do understand that. But worse than that, his tendency toward a sardonic and cynical view of the world multiplied after his injury. I would not mind so much if he did not turn that cruel wit on you girls, and especially Lizzy."

"Why Lizzy?" Mary asked meekly.

Her mother opened her mouth and then closed it, and Jane said, "Because I am handsome but not intelligent, and you are intelligent but not particularly handsome, and Lizzy is beautiful and very clever, along with being more energetic than the rest of us combined."

Elizabeth blushed at these words and said, "I am not..."

"You are," her mother interrupted. "Thank you, Jane, for saying what I was hesitant to say. That is it exactly. I believe all five of you girls are more intelligent than I am – and I am not denigrating myself. I am clever enough for my role as mistress of Longbourn and mother of my children, but I do not pretend to be an intellectual. Elizabeth is extremely bright, even more so than the rest of you, and your father – I do suppose that after losing his looks and his agility, he cannot bear to have a daughter more intelligent than he is. Thus he criticizes Elizabeth, and it breaks my heart."

Elizabeth felt her own eyes well with tears, and she said, "It is not your fault, Mamma."

"I feel that it is, that I should have noticed your father's ... well, enough of that. I made my choice, and indeed, I would not give up you girls for the world. I do wish that your father would not be so hard on Lizzy, but there is little I can do about it."

"I will be well," Elizabeth said, "and while I have heard this before, it does help me to understand, and be more sympathetic, to Father. Being in pain, and losing so much, is terrible."

"Yes, but he is an adult and the master of Longbourn, and he should have sufficient maturity to control himself. The situation is what it is, though. There was one silver lining to your father's accident, and it was that I realized that I needed to think more about our future. Before his injury, I refused to consider his death and our loss of Longbourn, but he could easily have died that day, and if he had, I would have been a widow with five small children and only two hundred pounds a year to live on. Since then, I have been investing my pin money with your uncle, and altogether, I will have at least ten thousand pounds when your father dies. We will also be able to sell the books your father purchased during his lifetime. It will not be easy to flourish on such a sum, but we will manage. That is why I do not wish for any of you to rush into marriage as I did. No one should wed after an acquaintance of but a few weeks, with a lack of understanding about the character of one's spouse."

"I understand," Mary said.

"And I do as well," Jane agreed. "I do like Mr. Bingley very much, but we are not fully acquainted yet. I will be patient and strive to know him better."

"That is all I wish for," Mrs. Bennet said with a smile, and the rest of the journey was completed in silence.