Page 30 of Five Gentlemen at Netherfield (Pride and Prejudice Variations)
Dining Room
Netherfield Hall
Christmas Day
It was, Bingley mused, possible to grow weary of delicious, decadent meals, even as he carelessly took another bite of ham, which had been cooked in some sort of thin sauce redolent with spices and herbs.
Caroline’s influence continued to be felt – or, in this case, tasted – at the table, for she was still in residence and acting as hostess at Netherfield.
Even now she was showing off, with only the family in residence; Bingley, both his sisters, and his brother-in-law Hurst. Bingley was not entirely sure why Caroline was still showing off, for she had no guests to impress, but it was possible it was merely a personal preference on her own part, to dine as though a marriage into the nobility was fait accompli rather than a mere ambition at the moment.
Bingley frowned slightly and looked across the table at his younger sister.
She and Louisa had their heads together, entirely ignoring their brother and Louisa’s husband, who, in all fairness, was also ignoring all the other diners, applying himself vigorously to his trenching.
Bingley took another slow bite, focusing his attention on his sisters’ conversation for the first time, his frown deepening as he listened.
Caroline was doing most of the talking, which was typical, while Louisa, as was her wont, agreed with everything that Caroline was saying, most of it disparaging criticism of their neighbors.
At the moment, the Bennets were the focus of Caroline’s criticism, and she was tittering into her wine glass over how the sisters had appeared at church that morning.
She swallowed and set her glass down. “Did you see them, Louisa? I should never dream of appearing in church looking so ill! Pale and tired and not paying attention. I do believe I saw Miss Bennet nearly nod off during the sermon!”
Bingley bit back a sudden and unusual surge of temper.
Little wonder that the Bennets were pale and tired!
Their father remained severely ill and their future in flux, and in the meantime, the eldest three daughters were working hard to take care of the estate!
He had heard that a young steward had arrived in the last week to take over care for the estate, but the man was not a long-established figure at Longbourn, and there was bound to be upheaval as he settled into his duties, and his training likely requiring even more effort from the Bennet ladies.
As it was, the eldest daughters of the house continued to carry a load that they had not been raised to, because it should never have been theirs.
Now Caroline, without an iota of courtesy or understanding or even basic Christian decency, sat at her extravagant dinner table and spoke derogatorily of the young women facing such hardships so bravely.
Louisa, ever willing to follow Caroline’s lead, sat nodding along, a supercilious expression on her face.
Very suddenly, Bingley could not endure it anymore.
His efforts to take Caroline in hand were too little, too late.
She was entrenched in her ways, determined to look down her would-be aristocratic nose at all the world.
She would come of age in February, and he could legally release her dowry to her to make her own way in the world.
And that was precisely what he would do.
No longer would he tolerate her constant disparagement of everyone around them, especially those undeserving of her sharp tongue.
He was especially enraged at her criticism of Jane Bennet, who was everything sweet and kind and good and lovely and in no way deserved Caroline’s animadversions.
Bingley wondered how Miss Bennet was doing, whether she was resting and eating or sitting up late over books and ledgers.
He wished that she had been able to find it in her heart to return his regard, to love him like he loved her.
Nonetheless, he understood her reasons for declining his offer of marriage, and he could even accept her refusal with equanimity.
At this difficult moment in her life, she did not need additional obligations to which she would be required to dedicate her time and attention and effort.
No, he would not press his suit. Instead, he would learn from her example and dedicate his focus to Netherfield and becoming the master the estate needed.
He had much to learn, such as Boxing Day!
The housekeeper had discreetly brought the Boxing Day traditions to his notice some few weeks previously, and he had given her carte blanche to see to the requisite gifts as she saw fit, and had ordered her to purchase herself something nice, too.
Bingley did not even need to ask to know how his sisters would receive the suggestion that they should supervise the gifts to be delivered on Boxing Day.
No, the tenants were far better off with the kindly, attentive Mrs. Nicholls assuming the duty, even though it added to her considerable workload.
Next year perhaps Bingley would take a hand in seeing to the affair himself.
In the meantime, he could best serve his tenants by learning to be a competent master of the estate.
***
Dining Room
Matlock House
London
Christmas Day
Matlock House shone with polishing and candlelight and the waxy green leaves of the Christmas decorations, and the corridors were filled with the delicious smells of a sumptuous dinner already spread in the dining room for the family.
The Lord and Lady of the house had returned but a week prior from their country estate of Snowden, and had promptly supplemented the skeleton staff at Matlock House with a full complement of maids and footmen and grooms who had been scurrying busily about ever since.
The Earl and Countess of Matlock intended to make an extended stay at their London residence, preparatory to the upcoming Season.
Snowden, their northern estate, had been left in the competent hands of their steward, Mr. Davis, who had been executing the estate with the greatest sense and integrity for the past twenty years.
It could, in some quarters, be considered somewhat odd for the Earl and Countess to return to London a week before Christmas, but Darcy suspected he knew the reason for the sudden journey south.
He took a bite of white soup, looking up the table to where the Viscount Stanton was conversing politely with Lady Aurelia Norfolk, only daughter of the Earl of Sorston and the apple of her father's eye.
She had been engaged to be married the previous year, but an influenza of the lungs had swept through Town and carried off many poor souls, her betrothed among them.
That had been over a twelvemonth now, and it seemed that Lady Aurelia’s parents had decided it was time to once again be thinking of her marriage.
The earl of Sorston had, perhaps, spoken with – or, more likely, written to – Matlock and suggested they see if their respective heirs were amenable to making a match of it.
It might yet come to pass exactly as the parents hoped.
Lord Stanton was an easy-going man with no real moral flaws that might make a father object to a marriage, and Lady Aurelia was pretty enough, with fashionable blonde curls and blue eyes.
Darcy ate another bite of soup, once again looking up the table to Stanton and Lady Aurelia and trying to recollect what he had heard about the lady.
Darcy was not much in the habit of listening to the marriage mart gossip, but nor did it behoove eligible single gentlemen to be entirely ignorant of the latest rumors.
From what he could remember, the earl’s daughter had no black marks against her character, but was accounted an accomplished lady, adept at harp and pianoforte and watercolors alike.
In addition to her connections and abilities, she was quite the heiress, worth thirty thousand pounds.
Doubtless Stanton would take that little nugget of information into account before he decided whether to accept or reject the latest overture of his matchmaking parents.
Either way, it was hardly Darcy’s business.
He took another bite of soup and turned his attention to his sister, who was seated across the table.
Her bowl was more than half empty, and her smile was bright as she spoke to her neighbor and cousin, Lady Susannah Fitzwilliam, who was only just twenty years of age and enjoyed music almost as much as Georgiana did.
At the moment, they were engaged in a spirited discussion of Beethoven.
“Well, Darcy, do you intend to marry Anne de Bourgh this year?” a feminine voice suddenly asked from his left.
He jolted in surprise and turned toward his aunt, Lady Matlock, who was seated at the foot of the table.
“What did you say?” he said in a cool tone. He had heard her well enough, of course, but his marriage was not his aunt’s business, not at all.
“I asked if you are going to marry your cousin Anne,” the lady replied, lifting one dark blonde eyebrow.
“And do not bother to tell me it is not my affair, Darcy. You are eight and twenty and not yet married, and with your own mother dead, I believe it both my right and my obligation to discuss this matter with you.”
Darcy frowned. “Both of your sons are older than I am and not married.”
“True, but Zachary will be, and soon. Lady Aurelia is extremely eligible and accomplished, along with being wealthy, and I have decided that Zachary is finished sowing his wild oats. He has a responsibility to provide an heir for the earldom, after all. As for Richard, well, he is a second son and thus does not have the weight of providing an heir on his shoulders. Darcy, you are the only son of your house, and it is your responsibility to marry, and soon! What if you should die without heirs?”
“Pemberley is not entailed, Aunt, and would thus devolve to Georgiana.”
Lady Matlock huffed and said, “My dear boy, that would not do at all, and you know it! She is a wonderful girl, my niece, but very young. Just think how dreadful it would be if she suddenly was responsible for all of Pemberley!”
Darcy looked at Georgiana, who was still chattering happily with her cousin Susannah.
For a moment, he allowed himself to think of a future where he was, indeed, dead, and it was a dreadful picture without a doubt.
Georgiana was sweet and kind and intelligent, but she would be entirely overwhelmed by the needs of the estate.
He suppressed a shudder and turned back to Lady Matlock. “I will keep what you have said in mind, Aunt.”
“Good,” Lady Matlock replied and then continued in a lower tone, “I am not urging you to marry Anne, you know. She is a sickly lady and I do not think that either of your esteemed parents would wish for such a union. It is, of course, your choice, but I would advise wedding a woman who is healthier.”
Darcy again glanced down the table and then turned a suspicious look on his aunt. “Perhaps my cousin Susannah?”
To his considerable surprise, she shook her head firmly. “No, not my daughter. I know it is the way of the nobility and upper gentry to marry close relations, but I am of the view that is not wise.”
Darcy looked startled. “Indeed? Why ever not?”
“My dear departed father was quite a historian and said that the House of Hapsburg likely failed because of consanguineous marriages.”
Darcy bent his considerable intellect to his remembrance of the House of Hapsburg, which had indeed ended with the sickly Charles II of Spain, producing a succession crisis. All the same…
“That seems unlikely,” he declared. “I have known many marriages wherein husband and wife are cousins, and all has been well.”
“Perhaps my father and I are wrong,” Lady Matlock said with a delicate shrug of her shoulders.
“You have every right to marry Cousin Anne, but I would never permit my daughter to be your bride. Whatever your decision, though, I encourage you to make it! It is high time that you wed and start a nursery.”
Darcy’s initial irritation at Lady Matlock’s remarks now gave way to genuine thoughtfulness. The truth was, he suddenly realized, that he did not wish to marry his cousin Anne and had been delaying a decision on making her an offer because he felt guilty about refusing her.
The only woman he had ever met whom he genuinely admired, and yes, loved, was Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn.
She was not a near relation, so if there was anything to Lady Matlock’s recommendations, it was only more reason in Miss Elizabeth’s favor.
“Thank you for your advice, Aunt,” he said.