Darcy tried again to make conversation. “I am certain that you will be pleased to see them again.”
Bingley made a noncommittal sound, absently nodding in reply.
“What has got into you, man? I thought I was the one prone to brooding, but I have scarcely been able to get two words out of you in as many days!”
Chagrined, Bingley turned to look at him.“I apologize, my friend. I find that heavy thoughts occupy my mind.” A pang of remorse struck him. “I promise I shall attempt to be a better host.”
“Nonsense! I am more concerned about your state of mind. Do not think me unaware of that ride you took at dawn the other morning.” Darcy folded his arms. “If there is anything I can do, I should like to do it, Bingley.”
“There is nothing! That is, I do not think I can name a single thing that would help me regain my equilibrium.” He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “Some things never leave us,” he murmured. “And it appears they return to haunt our memories when we least expect it.”
“Has this something to do with Netherfield?”
Bingley shook his head. “No, I am very pleased with the place. It is everything my father wished for me.”
Darcy did not respond, and they continued their journey to Netherfield Park in silence.
The next day, Bingley kept himself occupied with estate business. They had no invitations, and he took the opportunity to go over Netherfield’s books with the steward and Darcy. Gradually, he began to grasp all that was required to run an estate, and he discovered that the running of a modest property was well within his capabilities. Pemberley, with all its satellite estates, would never be within his reach—nor did he desire that sort of responsibility. Darcy might wear the mantle well, but Bingley preferred to retain some measure of leisure in his life.
“The south field drainage could be improved,” Darcy said to the steward, tapping a spot on the map. “Your yields would increase if you did not lose this section here to flooding every year.”
The steward, Mr. Gibbs, nodded in agreement. “My master has said as much, but he is at a loss as to how to accomplish it without harming adjoining plots. One of Longbourn’s farms borders this area, and if we divert the water in that direction, their field will suffer the brunt of it.”
“We might…” Bingley began, but his attention wandered, and he left Darcy and Gibbs to their discussion. His thoughts were more agreeably engaged with the lovely Miss Bennet.
Visions of her blue eyes and blond curls danced before him. Never had he met a lady he admired more—yet her appearance accounted for only part of her charm. Her kindness and unaffected manner made him long to entrust her with his deepest secrets. Though they had been in company only a handful of times, Bingley already knew he wished to call upon her and deepen their acquaintance.
My sisters will surely approve,he thought.She is the daughter of a gentleman and will help elevate our position in society.Louisa would ask whether she had a dowry. His elder sister had always placed monetary worth and station above all else. That was why she had married Hurst—someone who would elevate her to the gentry. Privately, Bingley thought he had married Louisa simply to avoid waiting for his father's death to gain access to the family funds.
Hurst was an indolent man who enjoyed drink, cards, and sport. Though he was not cruel, neither was he intelligent. He slept after meals, even in company, and did everything in his power to do absolutely nothing. Louisa seemed happy enough, however, and so Bingley did not complain.
Caroline did not have the same pretensions her elder sister exhibited. She wished to marry well and had once tried to win Darcy’s favor, but when it became clear that the gentleman had no interest in her, she began to look elsewhere for her happiness, and found it in Sir James.
She would adore Miss Elizabeth…he froze.I meant Miss Bennet. Caroline would adore Miss Bennet. Why did I think of Elizabeth?
“Bingley, are you even listening?” Darcy frowned. “This is a serious matter, my friend.”
Shaking his head, Bingley stood. “Forgive me. I need a breath of fresh air.” He left the room without a backward glance.
Sunday passed pleasantly. They attended church, and Bingley admired Miss Bennet from his pew. Her family filled an entire bench with a silver plaque that marked it as their designated seat. Netherfield’s bench was just behind it, and so Bingley took a seat from which he could surreptitiously admire the fair angel of Longbourn.
After the service, he and Darcy opted to take a vigorous ride before tea. They spurred their mounts into a gallop, racing across the fallow fields and circling the prominent hill that stood between Netherfield and Longbourn. When they returned, Bingley was in excellent spirits, laughing and jesting with Darcy as they divested themselves of their outerwear.
Sunday night brought more dreams. Even though he retired late, he woke before five o’clock, drenched in sweat and heart racing as fast as Hercules had galloped the day before. The images that had roused him faded at once, leaving him only with panic and fear.
Rising, he went to his window and looked out over the misty grounds. The gardens held no more blooms. Leaves had turned brown in every direction. The world would be asleep for some months.I shall be glad to see Netherfield in the spring,he thought.Surely, it will be awash with color.
His thoughts turned again to Miss Elizabeth. He attempted, with resentment, to push them away, but they persisted.Louisa is to come today. Perhaps she will remember…But no, Louisa was five years Bingley’s senior. She had been twelve years old when their father moved them from London to Yorkshire. Their mother had lately died, and Mr. Montrose had offered him a partnership in his business.
Louisa had protested vehemently, and their father had agreed to have her stay with their aging aunt in London. She attended seminary, and the younger children saw her only for several weeks during the summer.
Mrs. Montrose and Mrs. Bingley had been friends as girls. They had never lost touch, exchanging letters every week. As such, Bingley’s mother had asked the lady to stand as goddaughter to her daughter Caroline. Mrs. Montrose had accepted the request with alacrity. Mr. Bingley often remarked that it was likelyherinfluence that led to the offer from Mr. Montrose.
Bingley lingered in his chambers for a few hours before calling his valet. Bridger assisted him in dressing and preparing for the day, tying his master’s cravat as expertly as he could before bowing out of the room..
“Good morning, Darcy.” He went to the sideboard in the breakfast room and began serving himself. Rashers of bacon, eggs, scones, preserves…everything that he loved. “I expect my sister and her husband before tea,” he said, sitting next to his friend at the round table. “Hurst will be eager to see what sport can be had here.”
“And Mrs. Hurst will be your hostess?” Darcy took a sip from his teacup and turned a questioning look on his friend.
