“What does it mean if they do?” Elizabeth asked.
“It would worsen a disaster,” Darcy muttered.
Elizabeth was looking at him with interest and concern. He had a glimpse of what it might have been like to have a wife to have equal share in all of his concerns at Pemberley.Is it too late for her to ever have any precious feelings for me?
Darcy supposed it was natural for him to have hopes on the subject, but he could not yet be secure of her feelings. “Downstream mills have penned-back water by a weir to reduce the fall upstream. The millponds hold water that flows under the wheel. Many in the past thirty years have purchased leases along the rivers and erected water mills. There are two mills at Pemberley alone.”
“If the weirs are destroyed, it will not only affect the mills’ production...”
“If the weirs and gates are carried away by a flood, even more water will come rushing down and the surge would flood the banks and cause more destruction than will come from all the rain.”
“It has been a dreadfully wet season,” Georgiana said quietly.
“I spoke with Mr Knowlton, the Duke of Devonshire’s estate manager, after we came down. He has recorded the rainfall at Chatsworth and says that we have had 135 percent more rain this May, June, and July than is typical.”
“Did I hear you mention the Duke of Devonshire?” Balfour said as he brought back his coffee cup. “I was disappointed the rain prevented me from taking the travelling chariot to apply to see Chatsworth. Hester has never been. I missed the party when the duke came of age last May. Did you attend, Darcy?”
He nodded, thinking about how easily the River Wye west of Rowsley, near its junction with the Derwent, could spill over its banks.
“They say the expense of the duke’s party was not to be limited, not even in the hundreds of pounds,” Balfour said.
“He has sadly inherited properties that are heavily mortgaged,” Darcy said, shaking his head. “And he holds them in fee simple.” His lordship—and his expensive tastes—had absolute possession of all hisestates. “There is no legal restraint to prevent him from increasing his encumbrances.”
“All the better,” Balfour cried, with a wink. “Chatsworth is splendid.”
Darcy gave him a dark look. The idea of mortgaging any of his properties was abhorrent. “Such extravagances must be paid for.”
“Youought to spend a little more of your?—”
“I think Darcy ought to spend a little more time with his friends,” interrupted Bingley, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Let us decide on a game!” he called to the room at large.
“Yes, that should do very well,” Elizabeth said. “Won’t you join us, Mr Darcy?”
Without waiting for his answer, Elizabeth drew his sister to where the others were gathering to decide what to play.
“Shall we play a game of action? Or a game of intelligence?” asked Mrs Bingley.
“A social game,” said Balfour. “Utterson, put down that letter and come near! Mrs Hurst, if you would not mind waking your husband?”
“Very well,” said Utterson, standing grudgingly. “But no game of memory because Darcy always wins.”
Darcy listened to the rain again, wondering when it would end. “You may play what you like,” he said, walking to one of the windows.
“Miss Darcy, what shall we play, since your brother will not choose?” Bingley asked.
During the silence that followed, Darcy listened to the thunder and watched for lightning, judging the storm close by and wondering when it would move on.
“Well, at school, we would play the ribbon game.”
“What is that?” Miss Bingley asked.
“Everyone takes hold of a ribbon, and the conductor of sport holds the ends of their ribbons whilst we form a half-circle?—”
“Oh, the rule of contrary!” cried Mrs Bingley. “My sisters have played that, but with a large handkerchief.”
“I think with so many of us, we shall each need a piece of ribbon,” said Mrs Annesley.
Several ladies dispersed to retrieve ribbons from their workbaskets whilst Darcy tried to get a better look of the front lawn through the window.
