Page 6 of A Matter of Murder
“Except for the east wing?” Darcy asked.
“Oh—yes. And on second thought, best to stay out of the barns as well. The stables weren’t in terrible shape, but I fear that I’ll be investing a bit more than expected in getting this place up to snuff. Say, would you mind walking the grounds with me tomorrow? It’s not nearly as grand as Pemberley, but I’d love to get your advice...”
“Of course,” Darcy said, for if there was one thing he knew aside from the law, it was how to manage an estate. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I suppose all these years, I thought of your great-aunt as playing a recluse in some old hunting lodge. I didn’t expect... this.”
He glanced about the dim study, which, despite having been very recently cleaned, smelled of musty books and showed signs of its age and disuse. But still, there was no mistaking that in its prime, the house had been quite impressive.
“Neither did I, to be perfectly frank. My father used to speak of the place, of course, and he’d send letters to Honoria every now and then, but they’d always be returned unopened. To this day, I haven’t the faintest clue why she and my grandfather became estranged.”
Darcy drained his glass. “Well, I suppose there’s no use in dwelling on it. Not when you have a successful business, a wonderful wife, and now a proper estate.”
But he must not have done a very good job at masking his jealousy, because Bingley said, “Don’t be too quick to judge my life perfect. Caroline has been rattling about for weeks, growingmore cross with each day. She’s even more restless now that Jane and I are married, and while they get along well enough, she’s made no secret of the fact that she wants to return to London as soon as possible.”
Which would prove difficult if Bingley and Jane were to host them for the foreseeable future. Darcy felt properly chastised. “Forgive me, I appear to be in a rotten mood this evening. I’ll blame it on the travel.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Bingley told him, but he looked worried. “Will you be all right?”
His father had all but threatened disinheritance, Lady Catherine was out there somewhere, and Lizzie was angry with him. Of all his problems, the last one felt most significant. He lifted his empty glass to his lips, forgetting he’d already finished his drink. He hurriedly set it back down.
This did not have to be a miserable trip. He’d help Bingley with his estate, and he’d think of ways to placate his father. He couldn’t do anything about Lady Catherine, but as for Lizzie...
He’d find a way to convince her to forgive him. He had to.
“Of course,” he said. “Shall we go through?”
Not an hour later, Darcy was beginning to doubt his abilities.
The entire house party gathered in the drawing room before dinner, and Lizzie had yet to look at him once. She and Charlotte were sitting on a settee near the window, and Darcy sat in a nearby chair, hoping that he might be able to join theirconversation, but despite a few sympathetic glances from Charlotte, Lizzie had steadfastly ignored him. Instead, Darcy was left to observe the others spread about the drawing room—Mrs. Bennet had engaged Bingley and Jane in an exhausting and animated discussion about the house’s renovations and her opinions on particular design choices while the two youngest Bennet sisters cavorted about the room inspecting the various fixtures and objets d’art, whispering noisily to each other. Mary sat next to her mother, frowning with disapproval at talk of replacing the old furnishings, and Mr. Bennet was, unsurprisingly, reading a newspaper he’d brought with him from London. Caroline looked on from her position in a chair near the empty fireplace, bored. Darcy didn’t even have Guy as a distraction—one of the maids had whisked him off to the kitchens, and the little dog had been more than happy to abandon his humans in favor of table scraps.
It was enough to make him wish he’d tossed back another drink.
When there was finally a lull in the conversation, Bingley stood and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, everyone. Might I have your attention briefly?”
Darcy tried to catch Lizzie’s eye for a brief moment as she turned to look at Bingley, but her gaze slid right over him.
“I’m just so pleased that you’ve all joined us here at Netherfield Park. Jane and I hope that you will all feel very welcome here for many years to come. We want this estate to be a retreat from London life and a place to build many happy memories.”
“I have a question,” Lydia interrupted. “Kitty and I saw the ballroom—is there to be a ball while we’re here?”
“Oh,” Bingley said, looking to Jane. “Er—”
“Lydia, that’s impolite,” Lizzie chastised when it was clear that Mrs. Bennet was also eagerly waiting for a response to her youngest daughter’s question.
“We haven’t planned one,” Jane said.
“Oh, but dear, you must consider it,” Mrs. Bennet insisted. “It’s your first summer in your new home. Surely there are enough families of good standing in the area to hold a simple ball?”
Darcy had not ever in his life known a ball to be “simple,” but Mrs. Bennet looked at her new son-in-law expectantly.
“A ball? In the country?” Caroline scoffed. “Who will come, farmers and their sheep?”
“Sheep might make for more interesting conversationalists,” Lizzie muttered, and Darcy bit his tongue to keep from laughing.
“There are a number of genteel families in the neighborhood,” Jane said. “Not as many as in London, of course, but we shall not want for company here. It’s only that with the repairs—”
“Do throw a ball, Jane!” Kitty implored. “Please.”
“You simply must—Jane, tell your husband he must!” Lydia looked as though she’d stamp her foot if she didn’t get her own way.