“And what do you believe?”
Elizabeth met his gaze directly. “I believe love is too precious to be sacrificed on the altar of social convenience.”
“That is a remarkably progressive view for a lady of your station.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps it is simply silly.”
They had reached the point where the path divided—one branch leading back to Netherfield’s main house, the other towards the steward’s cottage. The afternoon light was beginning to fade.
“I should return,” Elizabeth said, though she found herself oddly reluctant to end their conversation. “Mama will worry if I am absent much longer, and my poor sisters may need rescuing from Collins’s dissertations on proper feminine accomplishments.”
“Of course.” Darcy hesitated, as if he too was reluctant to part. “Lady Elizabeth… I hope we might speak again soon. I should very much like to hear more of your thoughts on… various subjects.”
“I should like that as well, Mr Darcy.”
As Elizabeth walked back towards the house, she reflected on how completely her opinion of their new steward had altered. The man she had initially dismissed as presumptuous and rude had revealed himself to be thoughtful, protective, and possessed of both intelligence and principle.
Perhaps first impressions were not always to be trusted after all.
Chapter Six
Darcy
Lady Elizabeth’s words echoed in Darcy’s mind as he made his way along the well-worn path towards Longbourn. Their conversation had taken him entirely by surprise. Her frank declarations had lodged itself in his thoughts like a persistent melody. How rarely did one encounter such openness from a lady of elevated birth, particularly regarding matters of the heart.
Most ladies of his acquaintance spoke in euphemisms, their conversations seasoned with proper sentiment rather than genuine feeling. Yet Lady Elizabeth had spoken of love with the directness of someone unafraid to voice unpopular truths. Perhaps his position as a mere steward afforded her a freedom she might not exercise with a gentleman of her own rank?
He paused at the crossroads, looking back towards Longbourn.
Darcy had intended to call upon his new friend to discuss the property boundaries they had mentioned yesterday, and he was due to report back to Lord Hartford on Bingley’s intentions. Yet, the truth was, he enjoyed Bingley’s uncomplicated company, his genuine warmth that required no careful navigation of social hierarchies. He had been a little lonely these past few days, despite his hours being occupied with work.
Back at Matlock, he’d spent the evenings with Mr Wickham, or Mr Jones, conversing. He had been friendly withsome of the footmen as well. Here, he was the one who oversaw the estate, the one who could cost someone their position if they spoke to him the wrong way. Friendships would be hard to come by, he knew this from Jones and Wickham.
Decided, he made his way back towards Longbourn.
“Darcy!” Bingley’s voice rang out before he had even knocked. The door swung open to reveal his host’s cheerful countenance. “What perfect timing. I hoped you might return after seeing the young lady safely home. Pray, will you help me make sense of these papers like we discussed? I cannot make heads or tails of them.”
“Then I arrive as your salvation,” Darcy replied, accepting Bingley’s enthusiastic handshake. “Though I fear I might bring more confusion than I solve. You may well regret your invitation.”
“Nonsense! Company makes even the driest business palatable.” Bingley gestured him into the comfortable sitting room, where papers lay scattered across a mahogany table. “Besides, I have been hoping for your counsel on several matters regarding the estate.”
Darcy entered into the drawing room and settled into the offered chair, noting how Bingley had made the modest space his own. Books lay open beside maps, and a half-finished letter sat abandoned near the window—everything bearing the stamp of a man genuinely interested in his surroundings rather than merely playing at country life.
“I see you have thought on the matter of purchasing in earnest,” he said, commenting on crop reports that Percival had to have given him before being forced to depart his post.
Bingley’s expression grew more serious, a rare occurrence that commanded attention. “I have been thinking of little else, truth be told. My sisters are eager for me to make myself a gentleman. Especially Caroline. She is as yet unwed and thinks it will raise her prospects…” He gestured towards the window overlooking the garden. “My father planned to see to it before he passed, but it has been left to me.”
“Was Hertfordshire your father’s choice?”
“My father made his fortune in trade, and spent much time in London. He loved Hertfordshire, as he would stay here for a few days after concluding business. He spoke to highly of it and I cannot deny its many charms.” He smiled, his eyes wandering in the direction of Netherfield and Darcy knew he spoke not only of the estate, but of its inhabitants. Of one in particular.
“There are advantages to being a true gentleman, rather than merely a wealthy one,” Darcy said.
“Precisely!” Bingley’s eyes lit up. “You understand it perfectly. There is a distinction, is there not, between having money and having… belonging. Position that comes from contribution rather than merely circumstances of birth.”
Darcy nodded, thinking of his own precarious position between worlds. “And you believe the neighbourhood would welcome such transformation?”
“Lord Hartford has been most encouraging. His own elevation proves that merit can triumph over birth, does it not?” Bingley gathered the scattered papers with renewed energy. “Though I suspect the true test lies not with him, but with his family.”
