Page 5 of Ever After End

CHAPTER 4

H ighbury - June 1811

Darcy stood in the study of Bingley’s newly leased house, The Gables. It was an attractive manor, well furnished and tastefully decorated. Miss Bingley had made it plain that she did not approve of the decor and was wild to change it, but Bingley had put his foot down. Money was to be spent on the tenant cottages and the improvement of the estate. He had come to learn how to manage an estate, and that was all he was willing to spend on the venture. Miss Bingley had complained bitterly about the place since the Darcys arrived.

The Darcys had been in residence for all of an hour and a half. They had taken tea in the drawing room with their hosts, before being shown to their rooms to wash and change. Georgiana was often overwhelmed by Miss Bingley’s cloying attentions, so she remained upstairs to rest after the journey.

Now, Darcy stood in front of Bingley’s desk and listened as Bingley pointed out cottages and farms on a map, listing all the issues he had identified as needing attention. This information had been compiled by Bingley himself. His steward was so far unhelpful and sullen. Additionally, Bingley had a list from the owner of the estate of work she had been billed for in the last three years. Bingley investigated the matter and could find no evidence that such repairs had ever been carried out.

“The ledgers are nearly incomprehensible, Darcy,” said Bingley. “I cannot make heads nor tails of them.”

“That is often the case when a steward is attempting to create confusion,” said Darcy. “I assure you, I will be able to make heads or tails of them.” There was a tremendous amount of work to be undertaken, but with that in consideration, the rent on the estate was less than half of what the place was worth. “If you had bought this place for yourself, Bingley, I would say that you had been terribly used. But considering what you paid for the rent, and the fact that you actually want to undertake all of this work as a learning experience, perhaps it is the perfect place for you right now. How is the neighbourhood?”

“Ghastly,” answered Bingley. When Darcy raised an eyebrow, he laughed. “I know, I know! If I am complaining about the neighbourhood, it must be bad. To tell you the truth, I never even asked the solicitor about the neighbours. I find country manners charming, and assumed that I would find a delightful village, but there are hardly any neighbours to speak of. There are only two great houses nearby. One is a widower with a daughter who is at her majority, and another is a bachelor who does no entertaining. There is a newly married couple with a small estate nearby, but they are middle aged with no children at home. The vicar is a mindless fop, his brand new wife makes Caroline appear demure, and the only other neighbours to note are spinsters and a few genteel families from the village.

“I do not think we will dine with even twelve families. Caroline is furious that I dragged her to this backwater. The widower and his daughter have not even called upon us. The bachelor, a Mr Knightley of Donwell Abbey, says that his neighbour, Mr Woodhouse, imagines himself sickly, and rarely leaves his estate, but neither has his daughter called upon Caroline. I fear they mean to snub us, which will frustrate Caroline even further. I apologise in advance if her temperament is unpleasant as a result.”

“Well at least Georgiana will be here to provide your sisters with some company, and I suppose they can console themselves that it is what they consider to be superior society. Perhaps Miss Bingley will humour her by practising a duet with her. I know that would please Georgie above anything,” said Darcy. “I believe I know Knightley and his brother from town. They can be curmudgeonly sorts, but then I suppose I am no one to talk. They are both older than I.”

After a fortnight, it was absolutely clear that Miss Woodhouse, at least, intended to snub Darcy’s hosts. Darcy and Bingley had accompanied Mr Knightley to Hartfield, the home of the Woodhouses, to meet Mr Woodhouse. It was pertinent for the men to meet, for Hartfield shared a border with The Gables, and Bingley wished to discuss the mending of a number of fences that were neglected.

Mr Woodhouse apparently had no objection to spending whatever was required to make the repairs, but it was clear he had little interest in planning the endeavour. The man looked well enough, but was particularly preoccupied with drafts, and their conversation was interrupted thrice by the gentleman shouting in anxiety about ‘ fatal chills ,’ and had footmen scurrying all about to move screens in order to preserve the heat in the already sweltering room. They mostly planned out the new boundaries with Hartfield’s steward and Mr Knightley, who seemed to take great concern for his neighbour.

Their party had been invited to several small entertainments amongst the lower gentry of the village, and they accepted them all for lack of anything else to do. Darcy, Bingley, and Hurst were at least very much occupied with the work of the estate, and Darcy’s host found it very satisfying to roll up his sleeves and assist the men, at Darcy’s encouragement. By such methods, Bingley learned to cultivate the trust and respect of his tenants, and to gain an understanding of what it was like for the men who undertook the work .

Their party had received an invitation to Randalls, to dine with their neighbours the Westons and the rest of the neighbourhood. It was made obvious again that Miss Woodhouse intended to snub them. They still had not met her, for the Woodhouses accepted no invitations where their party was expected, nor had she called upon the ladies of the house. She was never at home to visitors when the men called upon her father with Mr Knightley.

Today, they called without Mr Knightley, but it turned out that the man was present in the house anyway. When they left Mr Woodhouse in his study, the footmen were too busy moving the screens again to show them out, but the men assured their host that they could find their way. On their way down the long hall, bright with sunshine from the many windows, admiring the art on the other wall, they heard the echo of two who clearly thought that they were alone, and had no idea of their voices carrying so far.

“It is beyond the pale, Emma!” George Knightley. “You, who claim to be Mrs Weston’s dearest friend, to have nothing but her happiness at heart, to scorn her invitation so scandalously! Whatever can you mean by it?”

“Knightley, you know that Anne understands I had no option but to decline, considering her guest list. I will not be manoeuvred into an acquaintance with persons who have no rightful place amongst us! I can only imagine their grating manners! My father is not well enough to withstand the anxiety of it.” Darcy and Bingley heard the voice of a woman answer.

“Your father has no objection to knowing Mr Bingley,” growled Knightley.

“And I object strenuously to your bringing the man here! Shame on you, Knightley!” cried Miss Woodhouse.

“They are your neighbours, and Mr Bingley very generously offered to pay far more than his share of the fences that your father has neglected for years.”

“That does not surprise me,” said Miss Woodhouse snidely. “If my father neglected the fences, it is because such things are unimportant in places like Highbury, where gentility and harmony amongst neighbours reigns.”

“You do not know the first thing about estate matters and boundaries, Emma, so do not use your silly whimsy as a weapon to shield your ignorance and your arrogance!” objected Mr Knightley. “It is helpful for your father to be around other men, and there are sadly not many sensible ones about. Mr Bingley is a good sort. And as far as your prejudices go, I have no complaint with the young woman on any merit, but you must admit your hypocrisy towards the Bingleys when you spend so much of your time with Miss Smith, whose parentage is entirely unknown!”

“It is obvious that Harriet’s parents must be of some great rank, Knightley,” Miss Woodhouse defended herself. “She is very comfortably established, well educated, and her allowance is generous indeed. Does that sound like the daughter of a low-born man to you?”

“She is known to be a natural child, and while I am happy to know her, there are many who would not agree that she is a good friend for you. And yet you snub those of perfectly decent rank,” said Knightley.

“Their father owned a shipyard!” gasped Miss Woodhouse.

“I assure you that Miss Bingley did not assist in building the ships, Emma. I do not even like the woman, but that is no reason for you to refuse the acquaintance,” Knightley groaned. “You are changing the subject. The rank of our neighbours has nothing to do with the fact that your friend Mrs Weston is entitled to this attention from you! And not to mention Miss Bates will enter society again after six months of isolation and mourning for her mother. You did not visit her nearly as often as you ought when she was stuck at home; the very least you could do is be present to welcome her back to society. Mrs Weston feels very strongly about it, for this year has been difficult for poor Miss Bates. You owe this notice to your friends!”

Darcy and Bingley looked at each other uncomfortably, and began to purposely make more noise with their boots as they continued down the long hall, hoping to make their footsteps heard.

“I must insist that it is quite impossible! We cannot possibly attend!” Miss Woodhouse was not to be moved .

“There is one thing, Emma, which a person can always do, if they choose, and that is their duty; not by manoeuvring and finessing, but by vigour and resolution!”

By this point, Bingley was purple with indignation, and Darcy saw fit to clear his throat loudly, and to begin making even more noise with his boots, practically stomping as they traversed the hall in an effort to be heard.

“I believe the exit is this way, Bingley,” Darcy said loudly. He did not have to. He and Bingley could have just crept silently away, but Darcy wanted Miss Woodhouse to know she had been overheard. She ought to be embarrassed by such speech.

They heard a feminine gasp, followed by small footsteps scurrying away, then louder, more purposeful footsteps approaching. Mr Knightley stepped out from behind a column. “Gentlemen, I did not know you were visiting Hartfield today. Have you seen Mr Woodhouse?”

“We have. We are just showing ourselves out. Good day, Mr Knightley,” Darcy said firmly to Mr Knightley, putting an end to further civilities. It was obvious that the pair had been overheard. The least the man could do was allow them to leave without mortifying Bingley any further.

“Of course,” Mr Knightley said, allowing them to pass.

Bingley was quiet for several minutes as they mounted their horses and departed.

“I am sorry, Bingley,” Darcy said to his friend.

“It is all right. I do still experience such prejudices, but not often any more, thanks to your friendship,” his friend replied. “However, I do not think it is gentlemanly of me to force my society where it is not wanted. Mr Jarvis left yesterday, and I am close to selecting a new steward from those your friend Mr Lambert recommended. In the future, my new steward can take up any necessary business with Mr Woodhouse’s man. What was his name? Mr Hunt?”

“Yes, that is his name,” said Darcy. “That is probably for the best. The gentleman himself is a decent enough sort, but it is obvious he is preoccupied with his health and managed by his daughter. She has made it clear that civilities are unwanted. You should not force them upon their household.”

The steward at The Gables had been cheating his employer, by a number of creative methods, all of which Darcy believed he had uncovered. The owner of the estate made it clear when Bingley took it over that she wanted no scandals nor notoriety. The steward was turned out without a reference and with none of the treasures and comforts upon which he had squandered the estate’s funds, but he was not turned over to the magistrate. Darcy and Bingley had assembled a list of candidates for the new steward’s position, and after careful consideration including reviewing the references provided, agreed upon the best. That having been accomplished, they changed and met the ladies for dinner.

“Caroline, I wish you to write to Mrs Weston tomorrow, and say that we are sorry not to attend their dinner party, but that we must tender our regrets due to a family matter for which I must travel to town,” said Bingley.

“ Are we to go to town, Charles?” gasped Miss Bingley, “Please say that we may!”

“No, Caroline, you will not go to town unless you plan to remain there and stay with friends. I am going for one night only,” said Charles.

“What is the family matter, Charles?” asked Mrs Hurst.

“To be perfectly forthright, Louisa, there is not one,” confessed Charles. “We have suspected that Miss Woodhouse has been intentionally snubbing us. I received confirmation of that today, and evidence that she has declined Mrs Weston’s invitation in an effort not to become acquainted with us. It is my understanding that Mrs Weston and Miss Woodhouse are great friends, and that Miss Woodhouse owes Mrs Weston these attentions. I will not be the thorn that grows between two friends. I have already decided that this estate is just right for what I need to learn, but I will not be purchasing it. Since I am not to remain permanently, I will not willingly create fights amongst my neighbours, at least not right away. Perhaps Miss Woodhouse will be obliged to acknowledge us at some point, but I will not force it just now. You two have not led me to believe that you are pining for the company of the neighbours.”

“No, no, of course not!” agreed Caroline.

“It has occurred to me, Caroline, that it is in your best interest to stay here and learn the duties of the mistress of an estate, but if you do not wish to remain, as I said, I will conduct you to London and leave you with friends, if you have one that might invite you.”

Caroline was sorely tempted to escape this backwater, but she would not squander the opportunity to show Mr Darcy how perfect she would be at running his household. “I could not abandon poor Georgiana here, Brother,” she said. “I will remain.”

“It will be enough, I think, if I go to town,” Bingley mused. “Then the rest of you might stay at home without it causing too much gossip.”

“I beg to differ, Bingley,” said Darcy. “Let Hurst and I join you. We can stay at Darcy house, and return in a day or two. I am certain I will have correspondence waiting for me in any case and could do with an afternoon in my study. With no men in the house, and Georgiana not even being out, it will be more plausible for the ladies to remain at home.”

“If Mrs Weston puts it about that we will not attend, I am certain Miss Woodhouse will change her mind and give her friend the respect she is owed,” said Bingley. “It is better for the neighbourhood this way. I am certain we will dine with the Westons another time. Perhaps we will invite just them and perhaps a few other families here for a meal. They are good people, and this will show that we have not slighted them.”

Miss Woodhouse did indeed change her mind, but it was not only the news that the residents of The Gables would not attend that helped her decision. When the Westons visited Hartfield, they also informed her that Mr Weston’s son, Mr Frank Churchill, would be arriving in time for the dinner.

Mr Weston had been widowed when his son was just a babe, and he had also been experiencing significant financial troubles. His wife’s much older sister had no children, and Mr Weston had been bullied into giving up the boy to the Churchills’ guardianship, to be their heir, for the sake of the child’s future. Mr Weston had been prevented from visiting the boy for many years, but the young man’s aunt had died three months previous, and his uncle two months before that. He had just left off his period of mourning, and would now go out into society with a black band upon his arm.

Miss Woodhouse had been hearing of the merits of two people for most of her life. The first – Jane Fairfax – the niece of Miss Bates, was an orphan that lived with Colonel Campbell and his family as a companion for their daughter, who had no siblings. Jane Fairfax was poor, but she did have access to a superior education, and was better than anyone living at singing, pianoforte, the harp, drawing, painting, dancing, languages, and every possible accomplishment known to females in their society. Interesting things happened to her constantly; Emma Woodhouse detested her very name and loathed hearing about her.

The second – Frank Churchill – was the other person of whom Miss Woodhouse had been receiving monthly reports for most of her life, and those accounts were of a great deal more interest to her. She had been romanticising Frank Churchill, and waiting impatiently to meet him, since she was thirteen-years-old. It was with great alacrity that Emma Woodhouse accepted the invitation to Randalls once it was offered again.