“Are you hoping to catch the first glimpse of Mrs Bingley?” Balfour asked quietly as he added more food to his plate. Darcy narrowed his eyes in confusion. “You keep watching the door. She is a handsome woman. I dinna think Bingley would mind an admiring glance, so long as your admiration was limited to that.”
Balfour could be intolerably rude in his teasing. “Mrs Bingleyishandsome, but I was only wondering what could have made them so late.” Balfour returned to his breakfast, and Darcy stopped looking for Elizabeth.
He had only spoken a few words with her last evening. After an admiring comment about Derbyshire that gratified him more than it ought, Elizabeth had thanked him after he spoke with Mrs Bingley. Did she think he still opposed the match, even when it could not be undone, even when he had all but placed Bingley in a carriage back toher? Perhaps it was gratitude for arranging for Georgiana’s maid to look after Elizabeth when Reynolds told him that she did not have her own.
Last night, they were all in high spirits and good humour, eager to be happy. If Elizabeth had not often been silent, he would have deemed the evening a successful one. Was this how he would feel for the next two weeks, always wondering what Elizabeth thought of him?He must do what he could to temper that feeling, and still show her every courtesy that she deserved.
Every courtesy I previously neglected to show her.
“If this open weather holds,” said Mrs Lanyon, “I hope to ride today, Miss Darcy, if you would like to join me?”
Darcy looked from the door in time to see Georgiana give an eager smile. He knew she disliked being in a large party, and Mrs Lanyon’s quiet manner would suit his sister’s shy temperament.
“Might your brother like to ride as well?” Mrs Lanyon asked Georgiana.
“Good morning,” Mrs Annesley said, and Darcy looked up to see Bingley and his wife enter, followed quickly by his sisters and Hurst, and then Elizabeth and Utterson. She was smiling at him and had said something just outside the door to make the stern Utterson laugh. Whilst greetings were exchanged, Darcy did his best to quell the inexplicable sinking feeling in his stomach to be civil to everyone.
After Darcy was assured that his guests had slept well and found everything in their rooms to their liking, Utterson said, “Miss Bennet and I accidentally overheard you an hour ago, talking with your steward as we admired the paintings in the gallery. You must have met him in the lobby below us.”
Darcy nodded, remembering. “Did I say anything worth noting?”
“You sounded resolved that an account of the stock—actually, every occurrence that happens in the course of the week be detailed to you on Saturday. Is this your usual practice?”
He nodded again, noting how Elizabeth was paying attention. “It is.”
“Then we heard correctly and I was right about Darcy, Miss Bennet.Not a cow calves nor ewe drops her lamb but is registered, and Darcy knows of it by the week’s end.”
“He is a controlling man,” Balfour said, laughing.
“I did not say that,” Utterson cried in his usual impatient manner. Darcy doubted Utterson would have called him controlling, but he hoped that Elizabeth did not believe him to be so.
“Aye, but does Miss Bennet think it, given what she now knows of how her host oversees the Pemberley estates?” Balfour asked.
The lady in question looked at him, her cheeks pink. Darcy held her gaze, uncertain of what she might say. She then smiled at him and said, whilst addressing Balfour, “I think he delegates well and that he cares deeply about Pemberley. Mr Darcy is a capable landlord.” Elizabeth’s eyes met his, briefly, before looking back at Utterson. “He isperhapsfastidious, as you said earlier, but certainly not controlling,” she added firmly, giving Balfour half a smile.
Whilst Darcy’s heart beat faster, Bingley said, “Think of how much paper will be saved now that you are home and need not write twice weekly to your steward.”
“Twice weekly?” called Balfour from the other end of the table. “More like daily. Waste of time, paper, and ink, I say.”
“You will not say so when Hyde House isyourresponsibility,” Darcy said drily.
“That will not be for some time. My father is hale and hearty. If all of those years in India did nothing to weaken him, spending the twilight of his years in Scotland certainly will not.” He popped his last bite of food into his mouth. “In the meanwhile, I cannot afford a quire of paper and ink to write daily letters about sheep or tenants or rents.”
“Do you spend so freely that you cannot afford a few shillings’ worth of paper?” Elizabeth asked in disbelief.
“Indeed, I cannot,” Balfour said with mock seriousness. “You would think that with all the wealth he remitted from India to Scotland, my father might give me more of an allowance, but I am scarcely better off than Utterson here.”
Utterson was at that moment reading his letters. “Oh yes,” he said in a sullen drawl, “your life is as spare as mine. You shall inherit an estate, whereas I have an older brother.” He turned towards Bingley’swife and added, by way of explanation, “My father pays my fees and expenses to enter the law, but has recently decided to reduce my spending allowance. He fears that London life will ruin me.” Utterson turned back to Balfour. “Andyouare not in such dire straits.”
“My father holds the ends of the purse strings, too, but I shall not argue with you at breakfast. Especially since I have ordered a new carriage and it ought to arrive any day.”
This was met by exclamations of surprise from everyone, with questions as to who made it and what did it look like, along with a subtle shake of the head from Mrs Lanyon.
“What is it, Hester?” Balfour asked when the others had finished. “You look as though you do not approve.”
“You bought a high-flyer phaeton last season?—”
“Thisis a travelling chariot. I am weary of hiring a post-chaise. Do not dare to say thatyouwould happily pay for it. No man wants to hear that from his sister. Why do you frown? Now we shall all be comfortable when we go on to Scarborough!”
