Gossip fatigued Elizabeth as it never did before when Longbourn had been her proper home. She felt too much a stranger in the neighbourhood to care about what houses were let and who lost their servant and who had another baby. Still, Elizabeth tried to do as she ought and show enough interest to satisfy her mother.
“Is Netherfield House let yet? It has been empty two years.”
“No, we will never have a proper family settled there!” her mother cried. “The only newcomer to the neighbourhood is that man who rents the lodge at Netherfield. I have only laid eyes on him a few times outside of church, but we all know a dishonourable man when we see one.”
“How do you know he is dishonourable if you have never spoken to him?”
“Your mother is entirely right,” said Mr Collins. “He has a disreputable character. I cannot neglect my duty as head of this household,and I therefore insist you to draw back from any acquaintance with this man.”
Mr Collins loved nothing more than to remind her that he owned Longbourn and she was dependent upon him. Ignoring him, she said to her mother, “You cannot leave me in suspense. What has the man done, Mamma?”
“Sir William Lucas called on him, and I understand he returned the call as a matter of course, but he hosts no parties and goes nowhere! He says nothing of where he is from or who his people are. He attended three evening parties in six months, but other than that, we only ever see him at church where he speaks to no one!”
Elizabeth laughed. “How dare he!”
“Mr Collins called on him, and when he returned the call, he declined my—Mary’s invitation to dine!”
Mary gave her mother a disapproving look. “That is the least of his defects. His true faults are of a moral nature. It is universally acknowledged that he keeps a woman at the lodge with him as his mistress. Sir William always tries to draw him out, but it is shocking, and this family is fortunate that we do not dine with him.”
“I heartily agree, my dear Mary,” said her husband “Although I did not see the lady when I called, the gentleman told me the woman who resides with him is his sister. Far be it from me to assume anything ungentlemanly about a man who claims to be a fellow Christian, but as she is not seen in public, not even at church, nor does she do the compliments of his table, we must assume she is his mistress and he is ashamed of the sinful nature of their relationship, and therefore keeps her hidden.”
Mrs Bennet leant forward and dropped her voice. “Sir William said he heard from his housekeeper, whose sister helps with the washing at Netherfield Lodge once a week, that she is an invalid, and that is why she is not seen in the neighbourhood.”
“Then it is possible this man is truly overseeing the care of a sick sister.”
Elizabeth’s four companions drew back and shook their heads at her apparent ignorance and stupidity. Her mother’s eyes lit up as sheshared more salacious news. “Mr Jones is known to call frequently at Netherfield Lodge.”
“The apothecary visiting is a natural consequence of tending to an invalid,” Elizabeth said.
“His partner in the apothecary shop in Meryton has a cousin whose son is a footman of the Gouldings at Haye Park, and he told the coachman who told Hill that the woman there has been seen embracing the man! And she is very young. He is living with a woman who has lost her virtue!”
“And worse, he rents the gatehouse!” Lydia rolled her eyes. “They say he only has a few servants and does not keep a carriage. I doubt he has five hundred a year.”
Elizabeth attempted to share a look with anyone at the table about this ridiculousness, but of course, in this she was entirely alone. She managed to catch Mary’s attention and said, “It sounds to me that you have little information about this man, yet you are determined to think the worst of him based on his unsocial nature and rumours spread by servants.”
“There is countless talk of a scandal that surrounds the inhabitants of Netherfield’s lodge,” Mary intoned, “and, of course, we know there is a woman he hides there. You will do well to stay far away from Mr Darcy.”
CHAPTER TWO
Fitzwilliam Darcy had hated Netherfield Lodge at first sight, and he still hated it after having lived here for six miserable months.
The gatehouse had just two rooms at the front on the ground floor; behind there was only the kitchen, a study, and the stairs. Above were just four bedrooms and an attic. Darcy looked around what was allegedly a drawing room. No cornice marked the junction of wall and ceiling, while the beams that supported the upper floor projected into the rooms below in naked simplicity. Cold slate floors were beneath his feet, and the furnishings left everything to be desired.
Netherfield’s lodge was uniformly plain and modest, the least comfortable accommodation he had ever suffered, and it was of little consequence and attracted no notice.
Just as I am supposed to do: be a man of no consequence in the world, and attract no notice as I move quietly through it.
Darcy looked to the sofa where Georgiana was dozing. This corner room had more windows to open than her bedchamber, and if he kept the drawing room door open, the open windows across the hall in the dining room helped to keep the space ventilated for the sake of her lungs. Her persistent dry cough worsened a year ago when heremoved her from school, and had been constant ever since, now with loss of flesh and shortness of breath.
This was not how it was supposed to end. They were supposed to live in seclusion temporarily, and then both return home. Fear settled in the pit of his stomach that he would be returning alone, that it was only a matter of when. He would do all that was possible to postpone that event. People in Georgiana’s condition often lived for years, after all.
She awoke with a hollow, cavernous cough, and Darcy had to blink his eyes before approaching her.
“Would you prefer to return to your room?”
“No, I would like a little exercise. Let us take a turn in the garden whilst I still can.”
Her calm manner unnerved him. “I wish you would not talk that way.”
