Elizabeth’s stride quickened as she crossed the courtyard, her vexation mounting with each step. Of all the presumptuous, officious behaviour! To mistake her for a servant was understandable, perhaps, but to lecture her on proper deportment and offer her jam as if she were some poor creature in need of sustenance—the audacity was remarkable.
“Well?” Jane enquired as Elizabeth burst into the morning room where her sisters had gathered. “How did you find our new steward?”
“Impossible,” Elizabeth declared, setting down her basket with rather more force than necessary. “The man mistook me for a maid and proceeded to lecture me on maintaining proper standards of dress!”
Kitty dissolved into giggles. “To be fair, Lizzy, you do rather look like a servant just now. That mud on your hem is quite pronounced.”
“I chose a practical gown for walking,” Elizabeth defended. “I had not anticipated the distance or the necessity of crossing that dreadful muddy patch by the stables.”
Jane, ever diplomatic, attempted to soothe. “Perhaps we ought not judge him too harshly. He had no way of knowing who you were, and first impressions can be misleading.”
“He gave me jam,” Elizabeth continued, producing the small jar. “As if I were some pitiful being requiring charity!”
This sent both Jane and Kitty into fresh peals of laughter, despite Elizabeth’s obvious irritation.
“Oh, the poor man,” Jane managed between giggles. “How mortified he shall be when he discovers his error!”
“At least he meant well, with the jam. Perhaps you can give it to the Bingleys,” Kitty said. “A shame we did not have it when Mr Bingley called, we could have served it.”
“Mr Bingley was here?” Elizabeth asked. Jane smiled.
“Yes, Mr Bingley called whilst you were out. He… he asked me to reserve the first dance for him at the Meryton assembly.”
“How delightful!” Elizabeth exclaimed, her own troubles momentarily forgotten.
Unfortunately, Lady Hartford chose that moment to sweep into the drawing room, her face bearing the dismay that so often appeared there.
“Jane! Please tell me you did not agree to such an arrangement! The very idea—an earl’s daughter dancing with a tradesman! What will people say?”
Jane’s colour deepened. “I found him genuinely pleasant, Mama. His origins need not define his character entirely.”
“Origins most certainly do matter!” Lady Hartford declared, her voice rising with each word. “We are not some merchant family seeking to elevate ourselves through advantageous connections. We have a position to maintain, a standard to uphold. Your father earned his title through valourand sacrifice—would you tarnish that honour by consorting with tradespeople?”
Elizabeth watched Jane’s face crumple slightly under their mother’s assault and felt her own temper flare. “I hardly think a dance at a country assembly constitute a scandal, Mama. Jane is merely being polite to our new neighbours.”
“Politeness does not require such particular attention,” Lady Hartford shot back. “A civil greeting would suffice for people of their station.”
Jane rose quietly from her chair, her composure intact despite the obvious strain. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I shall retire to my chamber. I find myself rather fatigued.”
Elizabeth started to follow, but Jane shook her head almost imperceptibly. She needed solitude to process their mother’s harsh words, and Elizabeth understood.
Chapter Four
Netherfield, October 1811
“The harvest yields should be excellent this year,” Darcy observed, running his finger down the column of figures in the estate ledger.
Lord Hartford leaned back in his chair, a satisfied expression crossing his weathered features. “Percival always said the soil here was amongst the finest in Hertfordshire. I’m pleased to see his judgement validated.”
They had been working through the accounts for the better part of two hours, and Darcy felt a growing confidence in his ability to manage Netherfield’s affairs. The estate was well-organised, the tenants industrious, and Lord Hartford proved to be exactly the sort of reasonable master he had hoped for—involved enough to understand the business, but trusting enough to allow his steward proper authority.
“There is one matter I wished to discuss with you,” Lord Hartford said, closing another ledger and setting it aside. “Mr Bingley at Longbourn has expressed interest in purchasing the property, but I confess myself uncertain.”
Darcy looked up from his calculations. “How so, my lord?”
“He is a young man, unattached, and has been residing there for several weeks now without making any definitive commitment. I begin to wonder if he is merely playing at being a country gentleman for his own amusement.” Hartford’sexpression grew more troubled. “Lady Hartford has grown somewhat uneasy about the situation.”
“The uncertainty about the sale?”
