The manager of the house has asked that I come posthaste so that the matter of the inheritance might be settled, and thus, sooner close out the estate. I am sorry, my friend, that I will not be there to help you as you settle into your new country home, and I beg you will forgive me. However, if it isagreeable to you that I visit at a later date, and that I bring Georgiana along with me, I should very much like to come when we have arrived back in England. With luck, I may yet be there in the fall to help you deplete your stock of birds.
Give my best to your sisters and Mr Hurst.
In haste and as always with warmest regard,
Darcy
∞∞∞
Darcy read the letter over, and when he was satisfied that its brevity was only hasty, not rude, he blotted, folded, and sealed it, and put on the letter tray as the first of many letters that he would have to send before they left.
He gave a crooked grin as he thought of the look on Miss Caroline Bingley’s face when she was told of the news that Darcy would not be coming to Netherfield after all. He was anything but displeased that he would not have to endure her games and schemes. Miss Bingley had made no secret of her wish to catch him, a wish quite obviously founded on the Darcy name and holdings rather than any real sympathy between them. Their union would have been a triumph for Caroline Bingley, the daughter of a wealthy merchant.
While it was a disappointment that he could not see Bingley, his closest friend, it would be a relief not to have to see his pernicious sister. Darcy sat back and let out a long breath, taking a momentary respite from the many tasks that lay ahead.
Perhaps Scotland had one more benefit to its name. For however many weeks he might spend at Strathalt House, he would surely be safe from eligible young ladies.
Chapter 3
The journey north had been eventful in the best of ways. Though Mr Bennet had travelled as a young man, Elizabeth had never been as far north as the border. When they crossed over into Scottish territory, she was sure she had never seen anything as beautiful as the view from the carriage windows. It did not matter that it rained most every day. The rains left the land floating with mists that were sure to carry the famed will-o’-the-wisps she had read about in fairy stories and Gothic novels. It seemed the whole countryside was poised for romance and adventure.
After two weeks of travel, she was coming to have a new respect and affection for the Scottish Highlands and the people. They had stopped in Edinburgh briefly, and while it was a lovely city, it had been the quaint Scottish villages that truly captured her fancy.
They were a proud people, but kind in their way. And full of courage. She could have listened to them talk for ages and never tired of their lilting speech. After Edinburgh, they had taken the ferry across the Firth of Forth and continued due north. Though the countryside grew wilder and wilder as they travelled farther away from Edinburgh, there was a small villageonly a stone’s throw from Strathalt House. Better still, the house was located at the very shores of Loch Ness.
“There it is,” her father breathed as they left the last buildings of the village behind them and neared the house. When they pulled up alongside the steps leading up to the house, they were greeted by a stately older woman dressed in a practical black woollen gown.
Elizabeth was handed down by the coachman. She gave him a wordless bow of thanks before greeting the woman. “How do you do?”
“Quite well, Miss, thank you. I am Mrs Graham, the housekeeper here at Strathalt House. Allow me to welcome you,” she said in a thick Scottish accent that thrilled and charmed Elizabeth.
“I am pleased to meet you, Mrs Graham. This is my father, Mr Bennet,” she said as her father climbed slowly out of the carriage.
Her father grunted, his bones no doubt sore from the bumpy ride. “How do you do, Mrs Graham?”
“Very well, thank you. I hope your journey was not too uncomfortable?”
Her father opened his mouth to answer, no doubt with reassurances that they were well up to the task. Before he could say a word, a large dog came lumbering toward them. The Scottish deerhound looked to be at least seven stone. Had Elizabeth not taken the precaution of crouching and stretching out a hand to meet his joyful, bouncing advance, she would surely have been knocked over.
“My goodness, who is this?” Elizabeth asked, gleefully petting the creature. He raised his head as if to ask for more scratches behind his ear, then sat on his horse-like haunches at her feet, leaning against her legs for support and nearly knocking her over. He panted with pleasure as she rested her hand on his head.
“Ah, that is Bruce. You’ll have to forgive him, deary. He thinks he’s a lap dog, don’t you now?” Mrs Graham laughed. “Go on, Brucey. You’re making a nuisance of yourself.”
“Oh, no, he is not,” Elizabeth said with a smile. The dog bumped against her again, wagging his tail profusely and panting loudly.
“Well, he is a sweet creature, but his master, Mr Campbell, has no proper control over him, as you can see.” She waved at Bruce and clicked her tongue in disapproval. “He lets him get away with everything. It ought not to be for a hunting hound, if you ask me.”
Elizabeth patted the hound’s head. Bruce soon calmed down, lying at her feet as if he had known her all his life.
“Well, you must be exhausted from your journey. Allow me to take you on a brief tour of the house and grounds, and then I am sure you’ll want to rest.”
They followed Mrs Graham into the house and were shown the library, drawing room, and dining room. Then she took them out onto the terrace at the rear of the house to see the modest gardens. Though done in a simple style very different from the formal gardens Elizabeth had viewed at estates such as Netherfield, they nearly took her breath away. Any greater formality could only have been a detraction, for the natural beauty of the Scottish Highlands spoke for itself.
When they came back inside, her father seemed pleased with the good condition of the house and where it was situated, just a brief walk from Loch Ness. “This would make a superb home for you, Lizzy, and for your mother and sisters, if it comes to that.” He looked around the foyer as Mrs Graham took them back the way they had come. “And it will not be under an entail,” he added.
“Well now, I suggest you both take a brief rest, and I shall find Mr Campbell and let him know you are here. I shall ring the gong when tea is ready to be served. Mr Campbell usually stops in at that time to see if any of the heirs have arrived, so you can meet him then. Is that agreeable to you, Mr Bennet?” she asked.
“Yes, very adequate,” he agreed. “Thank you.”
