“I am told the western fields hold water after heavy rain,” Bingley said. “Mr. Philips mentioned drainage in one of his letters, but I confess I have not yet understood whether it is a matter requiring immediate attention or merely one of those estate concerns which agents mention to frighten new tenants into sobriety.”
Elizabeth’s eyes lit up. “A little of both, perhaps. The lower western field is troublesome, but not hopeless. The ditch beyond Warren’s cottage has not been cleared as it ought, and when it floods, the water does not remain polite enough to ruin onlyNetherfield’s pasture. It runs toward the lane and, in a wet season, makes trouble for Longbourn’s north meadow as well.”
Bingley blinked. “You know all that?”
“Longbourn is near enough to Netherfield that our troubles sometimes introduce themselves to one another without waiting for permission.”
Darcy took a sip of wine to hide his smile.
Miss Bingley gave a light, brittle laugh. “How very attentive country families are. I had not realized young ladies of small estates were raised to inspect ditches.”
Darcy’s fork stilled. Elizabeth’s countenance did not alter beyond the faintest lift of her brows, but he had already learned that such small changes often concealed lively amusement—or sharper feeling.
“There are worse things to inspect,” she replied.
“Certainly,” Miss Bingley said. “Though I should have thought such matters belonged to stewards and tenants, not ladies.”
“My aunt, Lady Matlock, would disagree,” Darcy said.
Miss Bingley turned to him in surprise. “Surely a countess would not concern herself with such particulars?”
“Quite the contrary,” Darcy replied. “She knows the tenants attached to Matlock House and our Derbyshire properties very well. She is involved in cottages, schools, widows’ allowances, and half a dozen matters my uncle claims to understand only after she explains them to him twice.”
Elizabeth’s expression warmed. “Then Lady Matlock has my admiration.”
“She would return it, I think.”
He had spoken without thinking. Elizabeth looked down at her plate, and Darcy wished at once he had said less. Not because it was untrue, but because it carried more feeling than the table required.
Miss Bingley filled the silence with a light laugh. “How very industrious you all make country life sound. I confess, I had imagined estate ownership a more elegant occupation.”
“That is the advantage of not owning one,” Elizabeth said. “One may imagine it however one likes.”
Mrs. Hurst laughed softly, and even Hurst gave a sleepy huff of amusement.
Miss Bingley’s color rose. “Still, Miss Elizabeth, you speak with surprising confidence for one whose father’s estate is not, I believe, a large one.”
“It is large enough to have problems,” Elizabeth replied. “That is generally sufficient education. Every gentleman’s daughter ought to be raised with some respect for the land and people that provide for her. If she is not, she may enjoy the income without ever understanding the cost. And if a young lady wishes to be mistress of an estate, she should seek out the same education.”
Miss Bingley’s lips tightened. Bingley, sensing danger but not yet knowing how to escape it, hurried to say, “Then I shall be grateful for any advice you choose to give. I have no wish to be one of those gentlemen who leases a house, enjoys the shooting, and leaves everyone else to manage the consequences.”
“That resolve alone will endear you to many,” Elizabeth said. “If you add timely repairs and fair dealing, you may become dangerously popular.”
“Excellent. I have always wished to be dangerously popular.”
“You are in a fair way,” Darcy said dryly. “You have been in Hertfordshire a week and already half Meryton has decided you are amiable.”
“Only half?”
“The other half has not yet met you.”
Elizabeth laughed. “That is not true, Mr. Darcy. The other half has met him and is waiting to learn whether five thousand a yearis accompanied by respectable dancing, tolerable manners, and a willingness to subscribe to local concerns.”
Darcy felt laughter rise and was forced to take another sip of wine. Bingley made no such attempt to hide his amusement, and his eyes widened in delight. “Must I subscribe to local concerns?”
“Eventually,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “Meryton will not demand it all at once, of course. We are not savages.”
“That is reassuring,” Miss Bingley said dryly. “After all, one would not wish a gentleman to be overwhelmed by every parish concern before he has had time to decide whether the neighborhood is worth so much exertion.”
