Chapter Five

September 1811

Hertfordshire

Darcy

"It appears to be a fine estate," Darcy said. He and Bingley were walking their horses across the fields that surrounded the manor. It was a handsome building made of bricks commonly found in the area. The front of the manor house had columns and a covered portico, and formal gardens in the back. The carriage drive also had a porte-cochère, a desirable trait for any grand house. Its face boasted many windows, their glazing glistening in the afternoon sun. The taxes were surely outrageous, but if the estate could afford it, there was no concern.

"The manager has agreed to allow my involvement in the management typically handled by the estate steward," Bingley said jovially. "I imagine that will aid me in learning whether I am suited to life as a country gentleman."

That was fortunate. Many masters of leased estates were not involved with the day-to-day running of the place. The stewards managed everything, reporting to the absent owner via the estate manager rather than the manor's resident.

"There is no shame in admitting that you prefer the busyness of Town," Darcy agreed. "I prefer the country, to be sure, but there are certain sights and experiences one can only enjoy when in the city."

"Owning an estate was my father's dream," Bingley confessed. "I have never had much of an interest in the same. He would box my ears to hear me say so, but there it is. Caroline must never know, either. She would be apoplectic if she thought I was even considering foregoing such a purchase. I suppose a year is plenty of time to discover if estate life suits me."

Darcy was glad to see his younger friend was proving to be so conscientious in his decision-making. Bingley had often been fickle in the past, allowing his impulsivity to lead him into scrapes. "It requires a lot of time and effort," he concurred. "A competent steward can do much good, but without a conscientious master overseeing things, the same steward could fleece an estate in very little time."

"I have a good head for business matters," Bingley mused. "Perhaps they will serve me as I embark on this endeavor."

"Then you are resolved to take it?" he asked.

Bingley nodded. "I believe I am. Shall we make our way back to the solicitor's office in Meryton? Mr. Morris is the name of the estate agent with whom I have been corresponding and he is expecting me today to tender my decision."

"Onward, then," Darcy said cheerfully. Bingley pushed his mount into a gallop and Darcy followed close behind.

Samuel Morris was a congenial man with thinning gray hair and a merry disposition. Darcy immediately appreciated his forthrightness. He and Bingley peppered the man with questions and clarifications as they examined the lease. Mr. Morris certainly knew his business, and Darcy felt satisfied that his friend was not being taken in by an unscrupulous man. An hour later, with documents signed and stowed in Bingley's saddlebags, the pair left Meryton for London. An effervescent Bingley suggested celebrating at the inn, but Darcy was quick to remind him they had planned to be back in Town for dinner.

"We could always take a room for the night and return in the morning," his friend suggested. Darcy burst into laughter, having predicted his friend's thoughts with such ease, and told him so when he inquired about the nature of Darcy's mirth. Thankfully, Bingley also found humor in the situation.

"We will return to town as planned then," Bingley agreed, and the pair directed their horses out of the market town and toward London.

Darcy's companion could not long contain his excitement. "The house shall be ready before Michaelmas!" he crowed. "I am thrilled to be taking this step. Do you think Caroline will be pleased? It is the largest house in the area; such is sure to grant her the distinction she craves."

"I am sure I cannot guess what Miss Bingley's reaction will be," Darcy said politely. Indeed, Miss Bingley's opinion did not matter in the slightest. The lady did not like him, and he was more than happy to forego her company if that was her desire.

"Yes, she was rather cold toward you when last in your presence," Bingley chuckled. "Consider yourself fortunate that your besmirched reputation is in place. Otherwise, she might be unbearable. If you recall our conversation at Hurst's estate this summer, I expected her to ignore the rumors in favor of your ten thousand a year. Apparently, she craves society too much to risk losing it by uniting herself with a cursed man." Bingley laughed and shook his head. "Society is so fickle."

Darcy rolled his eyes. "I can certainly do without Miss Bingley's fawning," he said wryly. "I will concur that it has been rather surprising that so many mercenary mamas and their progeny will throw away the chance to be Mrs. Darcy due to some ridiculous rumors. One would have such extraordinary sources of happiness as Mrs. Darcy so as to have no cause to repine the loss of society."

Bingley concurred. "All the better for you. I think many such ladies are also in love with the society you inhabit rather than just your fortune. Should a lady choose you over society, she is more worthy of the title of your wife than many others would be."

That was a fair point. Perhaps this ‘curse' rumor had a positive side.

~

It was time to dress for dinner when Bingley and Darcy arrived at Darcy House, travel-worn and dirty. They bathed and changed for the meal, eating in quiet companionship before retiring. His friend continued to wax long about the estate he was to inhabit, and Darcy listened without comment. He was eager to join him in the country, hoping to move about their society without the scorn he faced where he was better known. Bingley was out and about early the next morning, arranging for his possession of Netherfield Park and calling on his sisters and brother-in-law to tell them his news.

Darcy occupied himself with letters of business. He sent one to his steward, informing him he would not be returning to Pemberley for the harvest. Mr. Noah Wilson had been Pemberley's steward since Old Mr. Wickham had passed away, and Darcy trusted the man to see to things in his absence.

He also took the time to pen a letter to Georgiana, informing her of his impending removal from Town.

Dearest Georgiana,

How do you fare, my dear? Though it has not been long since you departed Darcy House, I miss your presence. Aunt Tilda writes that you are all bound for Matlock in a few days. I envy you; harvest time in Derbyshire is lovely, and I will not get to witness it this year.

I, too, am leaving Town shortly. My friend Mr. Bingley has leased an estate in Hertfordshire. We viewed it yesterday, and it is a pretty sight. Netherfield Park is the largest house in the area, and it seems well-maintained, despite having sat empty for several years. Bingley is eager to try his hand at estate management and has begged for my presence as he embarks on this path of becoming a landed gentleman. I am certain he has nothing to be concerned about; he has a level head on his shoulders and is not an unintelligent man.

I shall write to you with my direction when I remove from Darcy House; until then, you may send letters here. I look forward to hearing from you, my dear sister.

Your devoted brother,

FD

Darcy sanded and sealed the missive, sighing as he did so. Resentment lingered over the need to send his beloved sister away from his presence, but his aunt had been correct: Georgiana needed it to be so. He hoped his sister would find solace and healing while she dwelt with their aunt.

Immersing himself in his work, Darcy glanced at the clock every so often as he awaited Bingley's return. Finally, his friend arrived, his cheerful disposition dispelling Darcy's loneliness.

"Hurst was right," Bingley said as he entered Darcy's study. "Caroline insists she will manage my household. Louisa does not mind, and so Caroline shall be my hostess. Hopefully, she is manageable and not a complete tyrant."

"Will Hurst and your elder sister accompany you to Netherfield Park, as discussed last summer?" Darcy asked.

"They will," Bingley said. "You are coming, too, are you not? Not that you need reminding, but my invitation still stands."

"I did not consider that you might rescind it and have taken steps to inform my family of my plans," Darcy answered. "I have no other engagements, as you well know." He smiled derisively. Invitations that came were from indigent gentlemen with single daughters almost on the shelf. Such ladies would hardly make a satisfactory mistress of his homes. It would be far better to decamp to Netherfield Park than sink to such levels.

"Excellent! I shall travel to Hertfordshire on the twenty-first of September. It will take a few weeks to interview staff and prepare the house for company. I can return for you and my sisters when all is ready."

"That is most agreeable," Darcy replied. "I have a few matters of estate business that need to be handled in the meantime." He had taken care of most of his business matters, but he was certain he could find something to occupy his time while his friend was gone. Thankfully, Bingley planned to be at Darcy House for another week. Darcy was determined not to be forced into solitude just yet. He spent the following days assisting his friend with the minutia of preparing for his departure. Though he was happy to be employed with such a task, he was also cognizant that each day that passed brought him closer to Bingley's departure.

Bingley left a week later, leaving him alone again in his large house. Darcy missed his friend's gregarious personality, and he missed his sister. His Aunt Tilda and Mrs. Annesley kept him well informed of Georgiana's progress—it was not encouraging. His sister still ate little and slept much. She eschewed her pianoforte and sketching pad and half-heartedly completed her studies.

Darcy wished to cheer his sister in any manner he could and wrote to her often. He related the mundane happenings of his life and assured her of his love and how he missed her company. She did not reply. Still, he faithfully wrote to her twice a week, praying that, eventually, she would feel ready to answer him.

Matters of business eventually forced him out of Darcy House and took him about Town. The whispers and avoidance of his peers persisted, and eventually, their disdain no longer bothered Darcy. If they were shallow enough to believe such ridiculous tittle-tattle, then they were not worth knowing. He was above such nonsense, and instead of acknowledging their childish behavior, he still casually greeted those he knew, even when they ignored him or turned away.

One encounter was particularly memorable. Feeling bored with his usual pursuits, Darcy decided that a visit to the museum to see the latest exhibit was in order. He donned suitable attire and boarded his carriage, wishing that he was not making this journey alone.

The museum was busy, with patrons milling about and speaking in hushed voices. Darcy approached the exhibit he wanted to see and stood before the display. He leaned closer to read the inscription beneath a particularly fine vase, and straightened when he heard his name being spoken by a group of patrons standing nearby. Inquisitively drawn to what was being said, he pretended intent focus on the display in front of him and cocked his head to hear his words.

"No, Melissa, I insist you stay here !" the older lady to his left was saying. A brief glance out of the corner of his eye revealed the woman to be Mrs. Willard Boxwood. Her daughter, Miss Melissa Boxwood, was shaking her head in disagreement with her mother's words.

"I do not care about the rumors, Mama!" the young lady said. "He is so handsome and tall! Why can I not speak to him?"

"I will not have you waste yourself on such a man!" Mrs. Boxwood said. No doubt she thought she spoke in a whisper, but the vaulted ceilings in the museum caused her voice to carry.

"What goes on here?" a masculine voice asked. Darcy recognized the reedy tones of Mr. Boxwood and smirked.

"Our daughter wishes to approach Mr. Darcy, " Mrs. Boxwood hissed.

"Darcy? No, that will not do at all, Melissa," the gentleman said. "Would you wish to be miserable for the rest of your life? And that misery would come only if you were to survive his curse. What if you go the way of all the others?"

"But he is so handsome! " Miss Boxwood protested. "Just like the men in my books."

Darcy almost laughed. The young lady's comparison to her book characters was rather humorous. Most would paint him as the dashing villain now, though, rather than the hero of the tale. A streak of mischief filled him, and he turned abruptly, facing the threesome.

"Mr. Boxwood! Mrs. Boxwood! Miss Boxwood! I did not see you there just now. How do you do?" he bowed low and then straightened, flashing Miss Boxwood his most charming smile. The young lady fanned herself with her hand as her mother shrieked in dismay at his display.

Mr. Boxwood drew himself up to his full height, which was more than a head shorter than Darcy. His eyes met Darcy's and then he spun away. Darcy smirked; the cut direct stung but a little, for not only were the Boxwoods placed far lower in society than the Darcys, but he had also been subject to much worse in the past year. Besides, the cut direct was more effective when the recipient was beneath you.

"I must be going now," Darcy said, ignoring the gentleman's behavior. "Miss Boxwood, sir, madam. I do hope we will meet again soon."

Miss Boxwood tittered as Darcy bowed again and then strode away, his head held high. The mischievous feeling drained quickly as he left the room, leaving his dejected and frustrated emotions behind.

Perhaps it was better that Georgiana was living with Lady Matlock. To date, the rumors had not touched his family, leaving only him with the stain on his reputation. This was a great relief, as it bolstered his confidence that this blemish to the Darcy name would not adversely affect Georgiana as she prepared for and made her debut in society in the years to come.

Darcy left the museum and returned to Darcy House. His mood was blacker than ever, leaning more toward self-pity than anger. He reasoned he deserved to wallow in his misery, for had he not resisted such displays thus far? Why should he not bemoan his lot?

His dark mood kept him from leaving the house for a week before venturing out once more. Darcy frequented his favorite places and shops many times, purchasing books and other diversions. His state of idleness led him to swiftly exhaust his new books, leaving him once again bored. He considered going to Pemberley but deemed the journey was not worth the effort. Arriving there only to be summoned back to Hertfordshire by Bingley's readiness would render the trip futile. He found himself at sixes and sevens as he awaited word from Hertfordshire that the house was ready to receive him. If he remained in this state much longer, he would go mad!