6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

" F orgive me, sir, but you have a visi—"

The butler never even got the word out before Charles Bingley burst into the foyer. "Darcy! Thank heaven you're back. I've been waiting for hours."

Darcy suppressed a sigh, forcing a polite smile. His head still throbbed, and the news from Dr Westing had left him so shaken he could hardly stand. "Bingley. I was not expecting you today."

"I know, I know," Bingley said, running a hand through his hair. "And it was dashed rude of me to simply invite myself in, but—"

"Come now. Giles would not have permitted you if I had not given standing instructions for you to be welcomed at any time."

Bingley's posture eased somewhat. "Very kind. I am at my wit's end, Darcy. This property search is driving me to distraction."

"I thought we settled the matter last night. You intended to wait until spring."

"Nooo…" Bingley's brow furrowed. "That was your advice, and I conceded the wisdom in it, but my mind could not let the matter go so easily."

"I see." Darcy's shoulders sagged. He was in no mood for Bingley's whims tonight. His head pounded with every heartbeat, and his vision blurred slightly at the edges, but… well, it did take his mind off his own troubles. "Very well. Shall we retire to the study?"

Once settled, Bingley spread a sheaf of papers across Darcy's desk. "Look here. My man of business has suggested a dozen properties, but none seem quite right."

Darcy picked up the nearest document, skimming it without much interest. His hand trembled slightly, a residual effect of the spasms earlier. "You have already considered and rejected this one."

"Yes, yes, but perhaps I was mistaken. What do you think? I know there is no ballroom, and you found the farmlands vastly disappointing, but it did have a fair view of the valley. "

"It had a view because it was perched on a rocky hillside. The property cannot possibly sustain itself in farm rents."

"Well, what about this one? You recall, the one situated near the New Forest in Hampshire."

"How could I forget? The western wing was sinking into a peat bog." Darcy leafed through a few more pages, then impatiently tossed them back together in a stack. His fingers felt stiff, and he struggled to keep his composure. "What precisely are you looking for, Bingley?"

"That is just it!" Bingley exclaimed. "I thought I knew, but now... I want something grand enough to impress, you see, but not so large as to be overwhelming. Good hunting, of course, and a decent neighbourhood. But not too close to town. I want to establish myself as a country gentleman, after all."

Darcy raised an eyebrow, suppressing another wave of nausea. "That is quite a list of requirements."

Bingley deflated slightly. "I know. Perhaps I am being too particular?"

"Not at all." Privately, he thought Bingley might benefit from being more particular, not less so. "It is a significant investment. You should be satisfied with your choice."

"Indeed. And the more I think on it, the more disappointed I am that I could not get Netherfield." Bingley poured himself into his chair, his face dropping into dejection.

Oh, this would not do. Darcy straightened the pile of papers and pressed them back toward his friend in a dignified stack. His vision twisted again, and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear it. "I suggest speaking with my solicitor instead of yours. Perhaps he knows of something on offer."

"If it is your solicitor, he will try to lease me an earl's estate," Bingley groaned. "My income is not that comfortable."

"I will clarify your requirements. Are we agreed? Let us speak of this again when we have something new to speak of."

Bingley looked crestfallen. "You are right, of course. I am sorry to have imposed on you like this, especially when you clearly have affairs of your own to attend."

"It is no imposition. I am merely suggesting a fresh start might yield better results."

Bingley was just leaning forward in his chair to gather his papers when the door to Darcy's study swung open with a bang, startling both men. Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam strode in, his military bearing evident even in his casual attire.

"Well, well! What have we here? A war council? "

Darcy rose to greet his cousin, his legs feeling unsteady. Just when he wanted nothing more than to retire to his chambers… "Richard," Darcy greeted wearily. "What brings you here this evening?"

"Oh, this and that," Richard said airily, helping himself to a glass of brandy at the sideboard. "Mostly escaping the tedium of the barracks or my mother's drawing room. And you, gentlemen? Planning the invasion of France?"

Bingley chuckled. "Nothing so exciting, I am afraid. Just trying to find a suitable property to let."

"Ah, the great estate hunt!" Richard exclaimed, dropping into a nearby chair. "I had forgot all about that. A noble pursuit, to be sure. But surely not one to occupy all your time? Come now, you both look as if you've been poring over those papers for days."

Darcy sighed, his headache throbbing more persistently. "It has been... a challenge."

Richard's eyebrows shot up. "A challenge? For the great Fitzwilliam Darcy? Surely not." He leaned forward, a conspiratorial grin on his face. "Gentlemen, what you need is a diversion. Something to clear the cobwebs and sharpen your senses."

Bingley glanced at Darcy, then back at Fitzwilliam. "What did you have in mind?"

"A shooting party!" Richard declared. "In Derbyshire. I expect to have a month's leave. The weather is fine, the birds at Pemberley are always plentiful, and it would do us all good to escape London for a spell."

Bingley's eyes lit up. "Capital idea! Darcy, what do you say?"

Darcy hesitated. His vision swam again, and he felt a wave of dizziness. "It does sound diverting. But to leave Georgiana alone in London..."

Richard's expression sobered immediately. "Ah, of course. I should have thought. Mother has been trotting the poor lass out nearly every day."

"And I could not be so far away as Derbyshire. Perhaps another time," Darcy said apologetically.

Richard nodded, then snapped his fingers. "Wait! Why not bring Georgiana along? The country air would do her good, and she could stay at Pemberley while we are out shooting."

Darcy considered this. His head pounded, and his thoughts were sluggish. "Lady Matlock would be most seriously displeased."

"Oh, Mother will find some other young debutante to torment. Who knows? She might even happen upon one who enjoys all her attentions while Georgiana slips off to happier pursuits in Derbyshire. Come, Darcy, what say you? "

"That... might actually be beneficial. A change of scenery could lift her spirits."

"Excellent!" Richard clapped his hands together. "It's settled then. Bingley, you will accompany us, of course?"

Bingley nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely! Why, it is the very thing."

"Splendid!" Richard drained his glass and stood. "When shall we leave? Three days' time—Friday? Darcy, you'll see to Georgiana?"

Darcy nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the persistent pain. "Yes, I will speak with her tomorrow."

"Perfect." Richard strode towards the door, pausing only to clap both men on the shoulder. "Friday it is!"

As Richard turned to leave, he paused, giving Darcy a long, searching look. "Darcy, how are you faring? Mother mentioned you were... unwell earlier."

Darcy straightened, forcing his expression to remain calm and composed. "I am perfectly well, Richard. Just a bit of travel fatigue, nothing more."

Richard's eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded. "Very well, if you say so. But take care of yourself, cousin."

Darcy nodded again, the tightness in his chest easing slightly as Richard finally exited the room. He closed his eyes briefly, willing the headache to subside and his strength to return.

E lizabeth stepped carefully around a particularly treacherous puddle as she made her way through Meryton's main street with her sisters. Jane walked beside her while Mary trailed behind, her nose buried in a small book of verse she had brought along specifically to read in case they should happen to pass any males with whom she did not wish to make eye contact. Kitty and Lydia bounced ahead, their excited chatter about ribbons and lace floating back to Elizabeth's ears .

"Lizzy, do mind where you're walking," Jane gently admonished as Elizabeth's foot squelched into another muddy patch.

Elizabeth grimaced, lifting her skirt to inspect the damage. "I am beginning to think we should have brought a boat rather than trying to wade. This flooding is getting quite out of hand. Even the streets of Meryton are scarcely passable!"

"They are not so bad if you keep to the edges," Jane commented drily. "You would insist on crossing every time you see someone you want to talk to."

"That is my entire purpose for coming to town." Elizabeth waved airily. "I am hardly in need of more ribbon, and I did not offer to chaperon Kitty and Lydia merely for the pleasure of seeing their purchases."

"Then, I suppose you will have to put up with a bit of mud on your hems. Oh, look, there is Mrs Goulding."

As they approached the milliner's shop, Elizabeth rushed forward when she saw how her neighbour was struggling with her parcels. "Oh, Mrs Goulding, let me help you with those," Elizabeth offered, reaching for a precariously balanced package.

Mrs Goulding smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. I thought I was going to slip the moment my foot left the doorstep! This dreadful mud makes everything so much more difficult."

"Indeed, it does. I was just saying to Jane that the flooding seems to be worsening. Have you heard any reasons why it might be so bad this year?"

Mrs Goulding shook her head. "I'm afraid not. Mr Goulding says the farmers are at their wits' end. Some claim it is the water from Netherfield's stream, but Mr Hopper, the steward, claims the bank is holding as well as it ever did."

Elizabeth's brow furrowed. "Odd. I thought it was worse toward… well, never mind. I am sure Mr Hopper knows his business."

"Oh, one would hope. But I certainly hope we have no more rain for a while, for the parishioners claim the water is overflowing into their fields, and they fear for their crops."

"That's terrible," Jane interjected, her face creased with concern. "Surely something can be done?"

Elizabeth sighed. "If only it were that simple. The problem is the main waterway branching off from the River Mery, which runs right through Netherfield. If Mr Hopper says the dikes are all holding, then something more must be done. It would require a substantial undertaking to modify or control the water's course. What landlord would authorize that to save someone else's property when the flooding is likely to be only seasonal?"

"Well, perhaps this new tenant, Mr Wickham, will be more amenable to helping than the previous one," Mrs Goulding suggested hopefully.

Elizabeth was about to respond when the sound of hooves pulling out of sucking mud drew Elizabeth's attention. A handsome bay slogged through the mire nearby, with his legs and belly splashed with muck but his step bright and eager. Mr Wickham sat astride, his tall figure and fashionable top hat cutting a dashing silhouette against the morning sun.

Elizabeth's breath caught for a moment as Mr Wickham's eyes met hers. He dismounted and approached with a warm smile, bowing gracefully to the small group.

"Miss Elizabeth, Miss Bennet, Mrs Goulding. What a delightful surprise to encounter you on this fine morning."

Elizabeth dipped into a small curtsy, acutely aware of the mud clinging to her hem. "Mr Wickham, how do you do?"

"Very well, thank you, Miss Elizabeth," he replied. "Though I must say, the state of our roads leaves much to be desired. I hope you have not found the mud too troublesome?"

Elizabeth laughed lightly. "I fear my petticoats may never recover."

Mr Wickham's expression turned sympathetic. "A tragedy, indeed. Perhaps we should petition for a fleet of boats so the ladies in town may navigate the streets without ruining their hems."

"What an excellent notion. However, I am not certain how we would manage to steer them between the shops. I doubt many ladies have had experience rowing."

"A fair point," Mr Wickham conceded with a chuckle. "We shall have to put our heads together and devise a more practical solution."

Jane, who had been listening to their exchange with a gentle smile, interjected, "Mr Wickham, we hope you are settling in well at Netherfield."

"Most kind of you to inquire, Miss Bennet," he replied warmly. "I am indeed. The house is splendid, and the grounds are beyond compare. I look forward to exploring them more thoroughly once I have put more pressing concerns behind me."

"Oh, the grounds at Netherfield are lovely," Elizabeth agreed. "Especially the walk along the stream. Though…" She hesitated. "I imagine it is rather swollen at present." That comment earned her a nudge in the back from Jane, who likely felt that such talk was not the purview of ladies, but Elizabeth was rewarded when a shadow of concern flickered across Mr Wickham's face.

"Yes, I have noticed that. It is something I intend to look into further. But come, let us speak of more cheerful matters. How fares your family, Miss Elizabeth? Your father is well, I hope?"

As Elizabeth began to reply, she was interrupted by the shop door opening behind them, and Lydia tumbled out, followed closely by Kitty and Mary. Lydia's eyes widened with delight upon seeing Mr Wickham.

"Oh! Mr Wickham!" she exclaimed, her voice pitched higher than usual. "How fortunate we are to meet you here!"

Elizabeth opened her mouth to chastise her sister's exuberance, but Mr Wickham smoothly interceded.

"Indeed, the fortune is all mine, Miss Lydia," he said, his tone kind but not overly familiar. "I see you have made some purchases. Might I be permitted to admire your selections?"

Lydia thrust her package forward eagerly. "Oh yes! Look at this lovely ribbon. Isn't it divine?"

Mr Wickham examined the ribbon with what appeared to be genuine interest. "A very fine choice. The colour will suit you admirably, I'm sure."

He then turned to Kitty and Mary, giving each of them his full attention as they shyly displayed their own purchases. Elizabeth watched, impressed by his ability to make each of her sisters feel valued without further encouraging impropriety. If only Papa had mastered that talent, perhaps his daughters would not so readily make spectacles of themselves in their quest for male attention.

When he complimented Mary on the new sheet music she was clutching with her other parcels, suggesting that he would be delighted to hear her play someday, Elizabeth felt a warmth spread through her chest. That was probably the first time any gentleman had paid her sister such an honour.

It was hard to tear her eyes from him. The way the morning light caught his profile, the gentle timbre of his laugh, the grace with which he held himself - all of it combined to create an image of gallantry that was hard to resist. When he finally took his leave, bowing once more to the ladies, she felt an inexplicable pang of disappointment. She could not help but watch until he was out of sight, his tall figure cutting through the bustling street with easy confidence .

"Well!" Lydia sighed. "Isn't he just the most handsome man you've ever seen?"

Elizabeth turned to admonish her sister but found herself unable to entirely disagree. Instead, she simply said, "Come along, girls. We should be getting home."

" D id you see the way Mr Wickham looked at me when I showed him my new ribbon?" Lydia gushed, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

Kitty sighed dreamily. "He's so handsome. And such a fine figure on horseback!"

"Kitty, Lydia, please," Jane gently admonished. "It is not proper to discuss a gentleman so."

"I wonder if Mr Wickham might teach me to ride," Lydia mused. "Wouldn't that be thrilling?"

"What are you going to ride? That miscreant of Papa's?" Elizabeth asked. "That would be thrilling. We should sell tickets, Jane."

"Not everyone hates horses, Lizzy," Jane chuckled.

"And I don't hate them, either. I just know well enough to keep my distance. And speaking of which…" She spun round when the sound of hoofbeats approached from behind, her heart quickening as she recognized the rider.

Mr Wickham, once again astride his magnificent bay horse, drew up beside them. The animal pranced beneath him, its coat gleaming in the afternoon sun as Mr Wickham held him in with a feather touch on the reins. Elizabeth couldn't help but admire the picture they made—man and beast in perfect harmony, a vision of strength and grace.

Lydia let out a small whimper of delight, quickly hushed by Jane's firm touch on her arm. Kitty's eyes widened, and even Mary glanced up from her book, a flicker of interest crossing her usually stoic features.

Elizabeth couldn't help swiping a hand over her mud-spattered hem and wind-tousled hair. Goodness, why did she always have to look a fright when she met handsome gentlemen ?

"We meet again, ladies!" Mr Wickham called out. "I hope I am not intruding, but I could not bear to pass by without offering my company for your walk home." With fluid grace, he dismounted, his boots hitting the ground with a soft thud. He gathered the reins in one hand and bowed slightly to the group.

"Mr Wickham," Elizabeth greeted him, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach. "How kind of you to offer. But surely you did not plan to walk your horse all the way to Longbourn? We could not dream of imposing on you so."

"No imposition at all, Miss Elizabeth. A short walk would do us both good, I think. Ambrose here has been cooped up in the stables far too long. Duty, you know, coupled with a spate of foul weather. I have had little leisure of late and we are both growing a bit restless. Are you not, my good fellow?" Mr Wickham patted his horse's neck affectionately.

Elizabeth eyed the horse warily. "I'm afraid I must keep my distance, Mr Wickham. The last horse I encountered saw fit to unseat me most unceremoniously into a mud puddle. I have developed a healthy suspicion of the entire species since then."

Wickham's eyes danced with amusement. "Is that so, Miss Elizabeth? And here I thought you were a fearless adventurer. Shall I protect you from the terrifying beast?"

"Oh, yes," Elizabeth replied, her tone mock-serious. "One can never be too careful. These four-legged fiends are notoriously unpredictable."

"I assure you, this particular fiend is a perfect gentleman. Purchased from the Duke of Sterling's stables and gifted to me by a dear friend. He is as trustworthy a mount as I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Perhaps he might even convince you to give horsemanship another try someday."

Elizabeth laughed. "We shall see, Mr Wickham. For now, I think I shall stick to my own two feet. Which are, I regret to say, rather sodden at this moment."

"Indeed. I am afraid my valet will give me rather a long look when he sees my boots. In all seriousness, Miss Elizabeth, is it always so muddy in September? If so, I shudder to think what another month or two of winter weather might bring."

Lydia giggled, twirling around to face Mr Wickham. "Oh, bother the weather, Mr Wickham. Don't you know, winter is when all the best parties happen! Do you think we might have skating parties if it floods and freezes? Wouldn't that be delightful?"

"Lydia," Elizabeth admonished, sending an appealing look to Mary, who liked being embarrassed even less than Elizabeth. Mary looked away, but not without giving Lydia a hard bump in the shoulder as if she had stumbled, thus causing Lydia to divert her attention back to the path.

Elizabeth thinned her lips in some satisfaction before turning back to Mr Wickham. "I am surprised my Uncle Philips has not already apprised you. No, this is quite unusual, and no one can account for it. It is as if the embankments were all suddenly gone, and the River Mery spilling over its confines."

"Well, that must be the case, then. Perhaps I will ride out with my steward on the morrow to inspect the weir."

"Weir? I was not aware there was one."

"Oh, yes! That is, I was told there was one upriver, but the property is large, of course, and I have not seen everything yet. Perhaps it will be a simple matter of a repair. But no matter, Miss Elizabeth, whatever it is, I shall see it attended immediately."

Kitty chimed in, "Mr Wickham, might we come along on your ride? We could have a picnic by the river!"

Elizabeth sighed, "Kitty, Mr Wickham has important matters to attend to. We should not impose."

Mr Wickham smiled kindly at Kitty. "Perhaps next spring, Miss Kitty. When the weather improves, I would be delighted to host a picnic for all my neighbours."

"That is most agreeable to hear, Mr Wickham. I know it will set many neighbours at ease for their crops next year," Elizabeth said.

"But of course. What is the duty of a landlord but to tend to his land?"

Elizabeth smiled. "It seems you quite grasp the undertaking, sir."

"I should hope I do. I was taught at the knee of the very best man ever to draw breath, Miss Elizabeth. Sadly, he is passed on these five years, but I revere his memory."

"Who was he, Mr Wickham?" Lydia asked. "Was he very grand? Oh! I bet he had ever so many carriages."

"Lydia, please," Elizabeth hissed between her teeth. "Mr Wickham, I apologise for my sisters' forwardness."

Mr Wickham waved off her apology. "Not at all, Miss Elizabeth. Youthful enthusiasm is to be cherished. He was like a father to me, Miss Lydia, and he was, indeed a very great man. Perhaps I will tell you more about him another time. Miss Elizabeth, I think you would have admired him as greatly as I did."

"I am sure he was a very good man, indeed. I hope you will not think me too forward, but what brought you to Meryton? Surely a man of your talents and connections—for, certainly, this fatherly figure did not leave you without some friends in the world—it seems you could have settled anywhere."

Wickham's expression turned wistful, a faraway look entering his eyes. "Ah, Miss Elizabeth, that is quite a tale. One perhaps best saved for a less muddy day." He chuckled softly. "Let me simply say that life has a way of leading us where we are meant to be. Meryton, it seems, is where I am meant to make a difference."

Elizabeth nodded, respecting his discretion while her curiosity only grew. "You know," she began, her voice thoughtful, "there was another gentleman interested in Netherfield before you—a Mr Bingley. I met him briefly and thought him quite kind. But I must say, I am glad it was you who took the property. Your intentions to help our community will prove invaluable."

Wickham's smile was warm, but Elizabeth caught a flicker of something—curiosity? concern? —in his eyes. "Mr Bingley, you say?" he replied, his tone careful. "I was not aware there had been another contender for Netherfield. How... interesting."

He seemed about to say more when Lydia's voice cut through their conversation. "Oh, look! We're almost home. Mr Wickham, won't you come in for tea?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth to chastise Lydia for the improper invitation, but Mr Wickham smoothly intervened.

"I am afraid I must decline, Miss Lydia. I have pressing matters to attend to at Netherfield. But I thank you for your hospitality."

As they reached the gate of Longbourn, Mr Wickham turned privately to Elizabeth. "Miss Elizabeth, it has been a pleasure. I look forward to our next encounter." With a final bow to the ladies, he mounted his horse with fluid grace and rode away.