“I still say Darcy ought not to stare out the window looking grim when he has all of this.” Balfour gestured to the breakfast room. “And I shall continue to spend more than I ought until I have an income to support my tastes.”
“Many who know they are apt to inherit a fortune are apt to be lazy and unfocused,” Utterson replied, still looking at his post.
“Says you, who avoids Inns at Court whenever he can and wishes for a new desideratum every time he walks down Bond Street.”
“Rather like you.”
“True, but I spend twice as much. I thought we already established that I am on the high road to ruin, to Hester’s and my father’s shame. What shall be done to reclaim me?” Balfour asked, laughing, but Utterson merely turned a page of his letter and did not answer.
“You could take an interest in Hyde House so you are not oppressed and ignorant when your father dies,” Darcy answered, aware now how they held the attention of the room. He thought of how distressed he had been at his father’s death and knew he would have felt adrift had he not already known what Pemberley needed of him.
“But you were instructed from your earliest youth, and it has made you dull, my dear Darcy. Thank goodness you have friends like Bingley and me to draw you out.”
“And what a shame it is that my influence has done nothing to improveyou. What can I say or do to convince you to spend more of your time in Scotland and less of your time parading in town?”
Balfour waved him off. “I shall worry about it when I eventually become a country gentleman.”
The conversation ended, and smaller groups began to talk whilst others read their letters or the newspaper. Darcy noticed that Utterson spoke with Elizabeth. It was not the first time he had noticed a short tête-à-tête between them. Last evening, Utterson hadapologised for some complaint he had said out of turn and had asked her to reserve a dance. Seeing them talk together made him feel as though Utterson was a rival, even though Elizabeth was not his lover.
I cannot criticise him for talking to a woman I admire. I am not a jealous friend.
He had no right to be jealous, after all. His suit was rejected, rightfully rejected. But the hope of strengthening Elizabeth’s affection towards him, the hope of her growing in love with him, would not allow him to look kindly on any man who pursued her. Was Utterson merely enjoying her conversation, or did he have greater expectations?
“What is the matter?” Bingley asked. “You worry for your tenants amidst all this rain?”
It was better to be thought a conscientious landlord than in love with Bingley’s sister-in-law. “I do. You cannot sow in heavier, wet soil, then the cold spring and summer and lack of sunshine means harvests are also delayed, with poor yields.” Darcy looked up and noticed the butler entered and had a quiet word with Balfour.
“You will almost certainly have a low yield?” Bingley asked.
“Every crop: wheat, drilled beans, turnips. And everything growing in grassland, mown land, and pasture. What shall my tenants’ sheep and cows eat this winter if this weather continues? What shall that mean for livestock and planting next season?”
“I suppose it means they won’t be able to pay their rent.”
“As though Darcy need worry about his income,” Balfour interrupted as the butler left. “I will cheer all of you: my new carriage has arrived.” He stood from the table. “You must come see it,” he said with a grin. “The weather will be averse to outdoor exercise before long.”
His enthusiasm was infectious, at least to the men. They strode into the hall and outside to the stable yard to see it; the ladies followed more slowly, as though indulging a child. The wind was strengthening, but it had not yet begun to rain, and they all gathered around Balfour’s new equipage.
“It is a travelling chariot!” he said, admiring it and encouraging his sister to look at the upholstery. “You and I can sit just there when we go to Scarborough. Utterson, three shall fit across.”
“And I thought you might have me sit with your man on the rumble seat,” Utterson muttered, walking round the carriage.
“Why did you not order a chaise if you wanted your own carriage rather than travel post?” Mrs Lanyon softly asked. “It might be more useful to have a carriage that could seat four.”
“I wanted something more substantial than a chaise. And to this I can add a box for a coachman whilst in town and remove the rumble seat so a footman can stand on the sideboard for making calls.”
Balfour was pointing to this and that whilst Hurst and Bingley looked on with interest. The equipage had looked impressive to Darcy from a distance, but, as he came nearer, he looked at the panels with some concern.
“They did not use seasoned wood, Balfour. You could not have ordered this,” Darcy said as he ran his hand across the door.
“Indeed, it is exactly as I asked for. Well worth the price for a man to have something new!”
Bingley bent low and peered at the undercarriage. “I think Darcy could be right,” he said.
“If you did not order wood like this, then the carriagemaker cheated you,” Darcy said quietly.
Balfour’s bright expression darkened, and he looked to be gathering patience. However, he laughed and said, “Aye, you are only jealous that I have something new, my dear Darcy.” He turned to the ladies and said, “’Tis a shame he has such a jealous, resentful nature. Must be why he is still single.”
Now suspecting that Balfour knew exactly what he paid for, Darcy stayed silent. He who would not ask for seasoned wood was throwing money away to order a carriage from such materials. It was made from wood so green that the panels would slip from their mouldings within three months.Balfour always thinks he needs what is new, rather than what is lasting.He would rather have a lower-quality travelling chariot now rather than save to have a more lasting coach in the future.
