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With a glance about, Bingley lowered his voice to caution, “You do realize you will be trading Lady Catherine’s marital ambitions for Caroline’s?”
“Miss Bingley is far less vigorous in her desire to see me in a wedded state than my aunt, I assure you.” And while Miss Bingley would hound him, she would also do everything in her power to be interesting and pleasant, unlike Aunt Catherine. If Miss Bingley offered a carrot, Darcy’s aunt definitely wielded a stick.
“So long as you do not say I did not warn you.” Bingley sipped his drink before adding, “I can sign the lease as soon as I like, the agent said.”
“May I ask on which property you settled?”
“That Netherfield Park place.”
Darcy frowned, thinking back to when Bingley had arrived at Darcy House one afternoon with a stack of listings. “The one in Hertfordshire, almost due north of London?”
“Yes. Hurst pointed out that not only does the listing for Netherfield Park seem the most honest, the location avails us of London should we choose.”
“We? The Hursts will join you as well?”
Bingley chuckled again. “When have you known Hurst not to enjoy someone else’s hospitality?”
“You often enjoy his,” Darcy felt obliged to point out.
“Precisely. All’s fair and all that.”
With nothing to say to that, Darcy nodded again. “Thank you. I appreciate you taking the lease early on my behalf.”
Bingley glanced at the table of card players, who’d once more begun shouting out wagers. “A little time in the country will undoubtedly do me good.”
As he agreed, Darcy again made no comment.
“I think I should like to see the place first, however,” Bingley added slowly.
A pang of guilt hit Darcy. He should not rush Bingley into the weighty decision of leasing an estate. What if this Netherfield Park proved horrible? “Yes, you should. If you like, I will accompany you.”
Bingley grinned. “I hoped you would offer. You know much more about such things than I. Tomorrow, then?”
“I am at your disposal, but you may want to contact the leasing agent before making plans.”
“Right. Yes. Not mine yet and all that.” Bingley took another sip of his drink. “I will inform you of his reply.”
Darcy nodded, relieved. A day spent inspecting Bingley’s prospective property was already a day out of the reach of his aunt. Now he need only hope the estate proved suitable, and that it took Lady Catherine considerable time to realize Darcy had no intention of joining her at Rosings.
Chapter Two
Steven Hurst glanced about as he descended the steps of his carriage, his slightly stooped, disinterested demeanor calculated to cover how carefully he searched the street about him. General Padgett would have men watching the outside of his home, but Steven’s habit of care was too ingrained to be denied, and another pair of eyes never hurt. Not that there was anything suspicious about a gentleman calling on another gentleman, which was all the world would see.
Steven knocked, handing over his card as he entered, as any caller would, even though he’d been summoned by the general and was expected. The moment the door closed, the butler’s posture changed from the stiff-shouldered haughtiness of an upper servant to the equally rigid but less supercilious stance of a soldier.
He handed back the card. “The general is expecting you, sir.”
With a nod, Steven removed his hat and gloves, happy to be rid of them in the London heat. He passed them over, saying, “I am certain I recall where to find him, Sergeant.”
“Very well, sir.”
As he strode unescorted through the London house General Padgett used as a front for his clandestine position in the King’s service, Steven reflected that they had either come to trust him or to view him as posing no threat at all. Quite possibly both.
He approached the door to the general’s office to the sight of two footmen, their posture as suspiciously militant as the butler’s, one standing on each side of the door. Sighting him, the nearest turned and knocked, saying loudly, “Mr. Hurst to see you, sir.” Steven couldn’t make out the rumbling reply, but the man opened the door and gestured him in.
No matter how many times he entered the office of General Padgett, a rather unassuming gentleman of perhaps fifty, the utter military presence of the man always took Steven aback. Just as his staff dressed as typical servants, Padgett dressed as a gentleman, his clothing neither expensive nor threadbare. His office appeared similar to any gentleman’s study, much like what Steven had in his own home. Yet something, perhaps the exact placement of every piece of furniture, of every book, or maybe the sheer number of right angles, cried ‘military’ to Steven.
“Ah, Hurst, good of you to come,” Padgett said, as he always did…and as if Steven had any choice.
