“You are an intelligent man, Bingley, more than capable of doing the work of managing an estate. I understand that certain aspects of the work may align more with my capabilities than with yours, but I assure you that the opposite is true as well.”
Bingley studied his friend carefully. As usual, he was being entirely honest—Bingley could plainly see that—so his own mood lightened. “Please explain to me what on earth I can do better than you!”
Darcy shot him a quick grin and said, “If you thought about it, you would easily come up with the answer.”
After some moments, Bingley said slowly, “I suppose you mean that I love being surrounded by people, and you hate it…so…. Well, I remember you speaking of holding a harvest festival and possibly, someday, reinstating a Christmas tour….” He saw that his friend was nodding his head, urging him on. “So those sorts of events, held for the townspeople or the tenant families, or both, must be a struggle for you?”
“They are indeed,” Darcy confirmed. “You would easily wade out amongst your people, greeting them, asking about their health, smiling like you do….”
Bingley lifted a finger and, when Darcy paused, he said, “I have seen you in at least one of these situations, Darce, and you did very well. It was an event held at Lambton, a spring event—do you remember? And you did all of that. I remember being very surprised that you knew more than a hundred people by name—indeed, there were only a few visitors from elsewhere you did not know.”
Darcy lifted his eyebrows.
“I thought you did very well,” Bingley repeated.
His friend asked, “And, given the fact that you know me, do you suppose it was easy for me?”
Letting out a bark of laughter, Bingley shook his head and said, “No, I suppose it was quite excruciating.”
“I dread such events, but I go because I must. What I do in such situations is to focus on the people I meet, and their needs. One thing they need is to see that I care about them, about their health and prosperity. Idocare, but I need to assure them that I do. So I make sure to remember people’s names and their families, I ask about their health and concerns, I listen, and I try to follow up with action when needed. But it is not easy for me. I would rather do the books a hundred times over than to do one such event.”
With the newly arrived coffee in hand, Bingley nodded. “Thank you, Darcy. You are quite correct—I would find those sorts of things much easier than you, although I will have to work on my name memorisation skills. So, you seem to be indicating that, even if checking the books for errors is difficult for me, I can apply myself and get it done. Correct?”
Darcy nodded. “Honestly, you can employ someone to do whatever is difficult for you—and, by the way, many estateowners have a secretary in their employ, a man who can deal with correspondence and other tasks—and I believe this is something youmustdo.” He grinned and said, “I imagine you know why?”
“My dreadful handwriting, which everyone and his mother complains of at every opportunity?”
“Exactly.” Darcy nodded but then held his gaze as he explained, “However, you should be able to check the books once in a while because it is possible that someone might deliberately steal from you. Try one more time to find the error, attempting to go column by column, checking the totals you come up with against the totals recorded. Just five to ten more minutes, and I am positive you will spot it.”
Bingley felt fortified by the hot beverage and his friend’s assurances. He sat down and very methodically applied himself, just as Darcy had suggested.
“Ah!” he finally said. “It is here in the Rents Collected.”
“It is,” Darcy agreed. “Can you spot what might have happened?”
Bingley ran his eyes over the column of numbers one more time and said, “I suppose that, if one is tired, this particular three could be seen as an eight? That would explain the total being off by five….”
“I agree that it is likely what happened. Now all you need to do, when finding such an error, is to bring it up to the steward and ensure that the correction is made. Do you see that two things result from this effort on your part?”
Bingley looked up to meet Darcy’s serious gaze. “I suppose that you mean that, not only will the books be balanced, but also the steward will know that I have put in the effort to check. He—and likely others—will know that someone with care and capability is steering the ship?”
Darcy rose, clapped him on the shoulder, and agreed. “Exactly right.” He pulled the cord and murmured, “When your man comes, ask for the steward to come for a brief meeting. It is best to handle things while they are fresh in your mind.”
Bingley fervently agreed with that and crisply gave the order. As they waited, Darcy said, “I generally do note the specifics on a piece of paper while I wait. That way, if there is an interruption, I will have a written document I can use to refresh myself with the particulars. Can you read your own handwriting, Bingley?”
Chuckling ruefully, Bingley admitted that it was sometimes a bit of a struggle, but he did well enough. He sat down and wrote a careful note. By the time he had finished, his steward, Mr Robertson, was knocking at the open door.
“Come in,” Bingley said.
Mr Robertson bowed and asked, “You wished to see me, sir?” He glanced from Bingley to Darcy, who had taken a seat at a window.
Bingley nodded and said, “I found an error in the books, Mr Robertson.” He noted that the man blanched, and Bingley quickly explained where he found the discrepancy, which column total was off, and what he thought the genesis of the error was.
Mr Robertson apologised, thanked him for his kindness in understanding his error, and bent over the desk as he corrected the error by adding an adjustment line. Bingley knew that Mr Robertson sometimes used his tools to carefully scrape ink off the page—there were several steps to the process, and Bingley had never asked what the tools and powders used were called…. But Mr Robertson had not done those things, this time, and Bingley resolved to ask Darcy why, once the man had left.
“Again, apologies, sir,” Mr Robertson said. Bingley was positive that he heard a new note of respect in the man’s voice,and he contemplated how wise Darcy’s counsel was to let his servants know that he was auditing the finances.
After Mr Robertson left, Darcy approached Bingley with his hand outstretched. They shook. “Well done, my friend,” Darcy said. “You had the perfect tone to gain the reputation of an intelligent, diligent, fair-minded master.”
