Page 25 of Secrets Across the Sea

Wrotham Park in Staffordshire, England – 1812 – Day 13

Rounding a bend, the first view of Bingley’s new house appeared, the brilliant facade enhanced by the long line of trees which framed both the road leading up to it and the building itself.

A fine estate, if appearance alone proved right, Darcy considered as they made their way down the lane. The road seemed smooth, the outskirts of the estate well-maintained. With any luck the household, grounds, tenant farms, and other estate concerns would be equally sound, and they could leave at first light.

Half the ride at least had had him lost in thought, the conversation of his cousin and friend ignored, albeit unintentionally, as he thought of Elizabeth. Of all the time they had spent together. Of the things they had talked of. Their kiss. Of the life they would lead.

He ought to be with her, rather than prancing around Bingley’s estate… but she had been perfect. Understanding and forgiving of his going.

A rare woman.

“Darcy… Darcy. Surely you are not dreaming of your Miss Elizabeth again,” his cousin teased, his eyes crinkling as he motioned to the unmoving carriage; Bingley’s residence largely obscured as they had parked but feet from its main entrance.

Oh, how he missed her.

∞∞∞

Returning from the lengthy tour of the tenant farms and grounds, Darcy entered Bingley’s house with a vast deal more enthusiasm than he had previously; its warmth wrapping around him as the massive doors closed.

For all the moaning Miss Caroline Bingley had done–albeit she had not seen the place–he had expected rack and ruin. Instead, it appeared as well kept as any estate viewed amid a change in ownership was likely to be. As long as Bingley did his job well, the investment he made would make a fine return–financially and, if all went well, as a home for Elizabeth’s sister.

“Well then,” Bingley said as he rubbed his hands together, his feet stretched toward the fire. “What is your opinion of Wrotham Park?”

Taking a sip of his drink, Darcy smirked into the glass as he let Bingley wait– a small price to pay for dragging him from Elizabeth.

“Darcy…” Bingley warned, his small reserves of patience spent from an afternoon with nothing but suggestions for maintenance from Darcy and Fitz.

“Very well,” Darcy laughed as he set down his glass. “I would say it is one of the finest kept estates I have ever seen. True, it is not as large as some, but it certainly is not in need of much repair. I would say that with a good steward and a great deal of study on your part, it is bound to prosper.”

“Hear, hear,” Fitz cried as he raised his glass. “A fine estate. I drink to your health and your success.” Taking a gulp, he smirked, “Now, does this mean we can return tomorrow?”

“In that much of a hurry to see Miss Mary?” Darcy teased.

“Almost in as much of a hurry as you are to see your intended,” he answered, his lips curled as he leaned back. “Now then, how about one more before we go over that crop plan you wanted to discuss, Bingley?”