He could succeed here. The property was sound, the master reasonable, the challenges within his capabilities. More than that—he would succeed. For Georgiana’s future security, for Lady Anne’s memory, for his own hard-won pride.
A maid emerged from the cottage to greet them, dropping a proper curtsey. “Mr Darcy, sir? I’m Sarah, assigned to keep house for you. Shall I show you your quarters? His lordship requested you settle in first before coming to the main house, seeing how you had such a long journey.”
Considerate. Darcy appreciated it. “In a moment,” Darcy replied, turning back to Lord Matlock who remained in the carriage. “Thank you, my lord. For everything.”
“Write to me if you encounter difficulties, and even if you do not,” Matlock said with gruff kindness. “Though I suspect your letters will contain nothing but reports of success.”
The coach pulled away, leaving Darcy standing before his new home. He followed Sarah inside, ready for the future.
Through the cottage’s clean windows, he could see comfortable furnishings, a desk ready for work, shelves waiting for his few precious books.
He straightened his shoulders and followed Sarah inside, ready to prove himself worthy of the trust placed in him—and to build the security that would ensure neither he nor Georgiana would ever again be at the mercy of circumstances beyond their control.
The afternoon stretched ahead, full of possibilities and the promise of honest work well done.
Chapter Three
Netherfield, October 1811
“Oh my,” Lady Lydia Bennet breathed, pressing her face closer to the upstairs window glass. “He is much handsomer than old Percival ever was.”
Jane moved to join her youngest sister at the window, whilst Elizabeth remained seated at Jane’s writing desk, attempting to finish a letter to their Aunt Gardiner. The scratching of her quill provided a steady counterpoint to Lydia’s excited commentary.
“And younger,” Kitty observed.
Elizabeth glanced up from her correspondence, curiosity finally overcoming her determination to complete her task. She joined Kitty, Jane, and Lydia at the windows.
Through the window, she could see Mr Darcy walking with confident steps towards the steward’s cottage, his dark coat well-fitted across broad shoulders. Even from this distance, his bearing suggested someone accustomed to authority—unusual for a man seeking his first independent position.
“He moves like a gentleman,” she commented, setting down her quilt.
“Perhaps he was raised among them,” Jane suggested charitably. “Lord Matlock would hardly recommend someone lacking proper deportment.”
Lydia clapped her hands together. “Do you suppose he will attend the Meryton assembly next week? How exciting it would be to have a new partner for dancing!”
“Lydia!” Elizabeth laughed despite herself. “No steward would presume to attend a country assembly. The very idea!”
“But he is so handsome,” Lydia protested, undaunted by such practical considerations. “Surely handsome men are welcome everywhere?”
Jane shook her head with fond exasperation. “Your logic grows more creative each day.”
“Speaking of presumptuous visitors,” Elizabeth said, returning to her letter. “Has Papa mentioned when we might expect the dubious pleasure of Mr Collins’s company?”
“Next week, I believe.” Jane’s expression grew troubled. “Poor Mr Darcy—his first real challenge will be managing the estate whilst enduring Collins’s interference.”
“At least Collins cannot actually inherit the property,” Elizabeth said. “Only the title. He will be an earl without lands. Papa was wise to ensure the lands remain unentailed.”
“I do hope he doesn’t set his cap at any of us. Though I suppose he’ll try to marry Jane or Elizabeth to get his hands on the dowry and one of those lovely cottages Papa intends to settle on us.”
“Collins has his cap set on whichever sister will take him,” Elizabeth replied dryly. “Though I rather think none of us will.”
“Mary might,” Lydia suggested with wicked glee. “She does so enjoy lengthy sermons on proper conduct.”
“That would be convenient,” Kitty agreed. “Then he could bore her with moral lectures, and she could bore him with philosophical dissertations. A perfect match of mutual tedium.”
Their laughter was interrupted by Lady Hartford’s voice calling from below. “Elizabeth! Elizabeth, come down at once!”
Elizabeth set aside her pen with a sigh. “And so my peaceful morning ends.”
