“That, and…” Hartford paused. “Mr Bingley has shown particular attention to my daughter Lady Jane. Lady Hartford does not care for the attachment, given the difference in their stations.”
Darcy nodded slowly. “I understand the concern about the disparity in rank. He is not titled, I assume?”
“No. He comes from trade. He does well for himself. Quite wealthy. Five thousand pound a year, Lady Hartford tells me. But he is a commoner. You see the trouble?”
“I do.”
“If Bingley has no serious intention of settling permanently in the neighbourhood, it would be cruel to allow Jane’s feelings to develop further. Not to mention Lady Hartford’s nerves. “Hartford rubbed his temple wearily. “Yet I cannot simply forbid the acquaintance without seeming churlish to a potential buyer.”
“Perhaps I might speak with him?” Darcy suggested. “As steward it is well within my duties to call on those letting your properties. I could gauge his true thoughts about remaining in Hertfordshire. If his interest in the property is genuine, I might be able to nudge an offer along.”
“That would be most helpful,” Hartford agreed. “Bingley is an affable fellow, a little gullible if you ask me, but good hearted. If he were to become a gentleman and if Jane were to care for him, I might be able to convince my wife, but as it stands—” he turned his palms up.
Darcy made a note to call upon Bingley within the next day or two. The conversation would require delicacy, but it was exactly the sort of service he could provide his employer whilst helping to resolve a delicate family situation.
“Speaking of my daughters,” Hartford continued, “have you had occasion to meet them yet? I meant to introduce you but I think thus far, you have only met my wife. I do hope the basket she brought was satisfactory.”
He blinked. The basket? Lady Hartford had sent a maid with that. Why would he think his wife had brought it? Not wanting to embarrass his employer, he nodded.
“A lovely lady indeed. As for your daughters, I met Lady Catherine and Lady Lydia in the gardens. Very spirited.” Darcy replied diplomatically. The two youngest Bennet sisters had accosted him near the rose garden, full of questions about his horse, his travels, and whether he intended to attend any local social events. Their enthusiasm had been rather overwhelming.
“And silly,” he said with a sigh.
“And the others?”
“I have not yet had the pleasure.”
Lord Hartford’s face brightened. “Well then, tonight provides the perfect opportunity! Why do you not come to the Meryton Assembly? You can meet my daughters properly and become acquainted with the rest of the neighbourhood.”
“My lord, I hardly think it appropriate for a steward to attend such an event. The assembly is meant for local gentry, not those of my station.”
“Nonsense!” Hartford waved away his objection. “The whole town attends—merchants, farmers, professionals. Apart from myself, the only other ranking gentleman in the area is Sir William Lucas, who received his knighthood some years ago. You certainly won’t stand out as being beneath your station.”
“But surely the local families would find it presumptuous.”
“Not at all. In fact, I insist upon it. How else are you to become properly acquainted with the people whose lands border ours?” Hartford’s tone brooked no argument.
Darcy felt cornered by his employer’s unexpected insistence. To refuse too strongly would seem ungrateful, yet the idea of attending a social gathering where he might be seen as overstepping his position made him deeply uncomfortable.
“I confess I had not packed appropriate attire for such occasions,” he tried.
“Your Sunday coat will serve perfectly well. This isn’t Almack’s, my dear fellow—it’s a country assembly in a small market town.” Hartford stood and moved towards the window, clearly considering the matter settled. “The dancing begins at eight o’clock. I shall introduce you properly to my daughters and whoever else you haven’t met.”
Looking at his employer’s expectant face, Darcy realised he had little choice but to accept gracefully. “Very well, my lord. I should be honoured to attend.”
“Excellent! You’ll find it quite enjoyable, I’m sure. Nothing like a bit of country dancing to help one settle into a new place.”
As Darcy returned to his ledgers, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the evening ahead would prove more eventful than Lord Hartford anticipated.
***
The assembly rooms at Meryton droned with conversation and laughter, but Darcy felt every bit as out of place as he had feared. Despite Lord Hartford’s reassurances, he was acutely aware of the curious glances and whispered conversations that followed his progress through the room. His Sunday coat, whilst well-made, marked him clearly as someone of modest means amongst families who had dressed in their finest silks and satins. Even if they were not titled.
“That must be the new steward,” he heard one matron murmur to her companion. “Rather handsome for a working man. He would do.”
“Worked for an earl, I hear,” another voice said. “Wonder why the earl did not hire him directly.”
“I care none. He will make a fine husband for my Marjorie. Working at that fine house he is bound to have a handsome salary and comfortable home for life.”
