Page 3 of Stranded at Michaelmas

“You have already been to Netherfield, then?” Elizabeth asked, interested in his impression of the estate. Although few in her family realised it, she still visited there with some regularity. After Lady Glenross’s death just last year, Lord Glenross had asked her to continue writing occasionally about the tenants and families she had come to know.

“For the better part of two days,” Mr Darcy answered. “Bingley wished to inspect the house and estate once more before establishing his household there, and he asked me to accompany him.” A slight smile touched his lips. “My friend is enthusiastic about his new venture, though somewhat less interested in the particulars of leases, accounts, and household arrangements.”

Elizabeth raised a brow. “And you are more interested in such matters?”

“Necessarily,” he said with perfect gravity. “I have an estate of my own.”

She studied him before realising that he was teasing her. “I see. Then I suppose your interest is entirely unavoidable.”

Chapter Two

Darcy could scarcely understand himself. He had never flirted with a lady before, particularly one with whom he had only just become acquainted, yet here he was teasing Miss Bennet as though they had known each other for years. They certainly had not, for he had never seen her before this afternoon and knew almost nothing about her.

She seemed intelligent, however, and that spoke in her favour. Miss Parton had always struck him as an intelligent, sensible young woman, entirely lacking the grasping tendencies he had encountered in so many others. Of course, he had known her more than a decade ago, when he was still quite young, and while Mrs Gardiner seemed much as he remembered her, he could hardly assume that her niece possessed the same qualities.

Still, Miss Bennet was plainly a gentleman’s daughter, and the Parton family had always been well regarded in Lambton. Her connexion to Mrs Gardiner could hardly be considered an unfavourable one.

It might be pleasant to have at least one sensible acquaintance amongst the neighbourhood when the inevitable dinners, assemblies, and calls began after Bingley took possession of Netherfield. From what Darcy had gathered from his friend and the steward, the house had stood largely unoccupied for several years. It had nevertheless been kept in excellent repair, and both the housekeeper and the steward appeared to have managed their responsibilities well.

If Miss Bennet was as familiar with the estate as she appeared to be, perhaps she might prove useful in helping Bingley understand the neighbourhood as well.

Darcy suddenly became aware that he had been silent too long.

“What can you tell me about Netherfield?” he asked.

Elizabeth smiled, and he found himself wanting to return the expression without quite knowing why. “Mrs Nicholls has been the housekeeper there for a number of years, and the steward, Mr Ainsworth, nearly as long. They are both very diligent in maintaining the estate, and I frequently stop to speak with them when I see them. My uncle is the solicitor in Meryton who is responsible for leasing the estate, and I am certain that your Mr Bingley has spoken with him.”

“Yes, we met all three individuals, and I was impressed with each of them,” Darcy replied, thinking back to the three. It was somewhat surprising that this young lady knew so many of the servants at the estate by name, but perhaps not so strange in a village where the estates were not as separate as Pemberley was from its neighbours. The land here also appeared to be more intensively cultivated than much of that at Pemberley. A great deal of his own estate was given over to pasture and grazing, while other portions were simply unsuitable for crops. Netherfield, though considerably smaller, seemed to have a greater proportion of productive arable land.

“Mr Ainsworth and Mrs Nicholls have long been entrusted with a great deal in their positions,” Elizabeth replied. “They both take their responsibilities very seriously and would never willingly neglect the estate.”

“That is obvious in the care they have used regarding its management in the absence of the owner,” Darcy agreed.

Mrs Gardiner, who had been quietly listening to their conversation, glanced towards the window. “I fear neither London nor Longbourn will be reached anytime soon. The rain does not appear to be easing.”

Darcy followed her gaze. The storm had only worsened since his arrival, and the windows now rattled occasionally beneath the force of the wind.

“The innkeeper advised me that the road towards London is already becoming difficult,” he said. “I suspect none of us will be travelling again today.”

“Then I am very glad we reserved a room,” Mrs Gardiner replied.

“As am I,” Elizabeth said. “Although I confess, Aunt Maddy, this is not quite how I imagined our journey home.”

“Nor I.” Mrs Gardiner smiled at the pair as though she knew something he did not, but Darcy tried not to be troubled by it. He did not think her mercenary, nor did he believe she was attempting to push her niece towards him. Still, she seemed to look between the two of them rather more often than necessary.

Regardless of such thoughts, Darcy found himself smiling. “I cannot speak for Mrs Gardiner, Miss Bennet, but I begin to think being stranded here may not be entirely disagreeable. Would it be too much trouble if I asked to share this private parlour with you for the remainder of the afternoon? I have already ordered an evening meal for myself and had intended to eat in my room, but with the two of you here, I would much prefer the pleasant company. If you would not object, I should be pleased to treat you both to dinner.”

Elizabeth looked at him, briefly taken aback before amusement took its place. “You have been here considerably less time than we have, Mr Darcy. You may wish to reserve judgement. It has been pleasant thus far, but what if we find that we disagree vehemently on books or music, or something of greater importance, such as whether a walk without a destination is superior to one with a purpose?”

“Aimless walking is by far preferable, Miss Bennet,” Darcy answered immediately, thinking it was the answer most likely to please her. “But if I am completely honest, I must admit that riding is infinitely preferable to either.”

“Oh, that will never do,” Elizabeth cried, placing a hand to her bosom in feigned astonishment. “I cannot ride—Papa never kept a horse, nor did he ever bother to teach us girls. Oh, this will shock you, Mr Darcy, for I have four sisters, and I am only the second. Can you imagine a household full of five girls?”

“If they are all as interesting as yourself, I can only imagine what your father must endure,” Darcy found himself saying.

He laughed, both at his own shameless flirtation—something he had never before attempted—and at the thought of four more young ladies like the one before him. If they were anything like Miss Bennet, Mr Bennet must surely be quite mad.

“They are interesting, and I have little doubt my father would say the same, but they are not all like me,” Miss Bennet replied, the humour evident in her voice. “My mother decries me as entirely too wilful, too intelligent, too much of a bluestocking, and not nearly as pretty as Jane. The complaints she has about me are endless, for I have always preferred being outdoors to sitting quietly at my sewing. My eldest sister, Jane, is nearly perfect, and none of the three younger girls are nearly as troublesome as I.”