Page 34 of The Mercy of Chance

A s the guests began to take their leave, Colonel Fitzwilliam made his way to where Jane sat, having just resumed her place beside Elizabeth with a soft exhale and a hand resting lightly on her knee.

She had danced more than usual, and though her countenance remained equable, there was a subtle weariness about her posture.

The Colonel paused before her with a warm smile.

“I trust,”

he said, in a tone pitched for her ear alone, “that this evening has not overtaxed your strength.

I believe I detected a hint of favouring your left ankle during our last set.”

Jane blinked in mild surprise, then smiled.

“Only a little stiffness.

I should not have accepted that final reel, perhaps.”

“I am glad you did,”

he said simply, with no trace of gallantry.

“Some partners make one forget the room.”

There was a moment’s pause—not awkward, but quiet, as though something meaningful had been exchanged and need not be named.

From across the room came the cheerful call of another departing guest, and Jane turned her head.

A moment ago, Mr Bingley had taken his leave with warm thanks to the family and a genial wave to the assembled company, his gaze skipping lightly over them all.

The Colonel bowed over her hand.

“Miss Bennet,”

he said, his expression composed yet curiously intent, “it has been an honour.”

He bowed again, more deeply than the occasion strictly required, then turned away without further flourish, leaving Jane with the faintest crease between her brows and a thoughtful look in her eyes.

The night air had grown sharp with frost as they awaited their carriage, their breath forming delicate clouds in the lamplight.

Lydia was quite exhausted, managing naught but the occasional sigh of “Lord, how tired I am!”—punctuated by a most unbecoming yawn.

The rustle of silk and the scratch of boots on gravel accompanied the servants bustling about, returning cloaks and summoning carriages, whilst the last strains of the orchestra floated out from Netherfield’s brightly lit windows.

Mrs Bennet gathered her five daughters, their ball slippers whispering against the stone steps as they approached Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst to offer their gratitude and take their leave.

Mr Bingley, who had lingered a moment behind to exchange a few last pleasantries, now joined his sisters with his usual affable warmth.

Mrs Bennet expressed her earnest wish to receive the entire party at Longbourn, assuring Mr Bingley what pleasure it would give them all were he to join them for a family dinner at his convenience.

Whilst Mr Bingley accepted with all his customary warmth, Miss Bingley could scarce conceal her profound distaste for such a prospect.

Upon the announcement of the Bennet carriage, Mrs Bennet executed a graceful curtsey to their hosts.

“We are most grateful for your generous hospitality at this splendid ball.”

With these words, she beckoned to her daughters, who each performed their own elegant curtsey and murmured expressions of gratitude.

Mr Bingley’s gaze lingered upon Jane until the subsequent departing party commanded his attention.

Mr Freeman appeared to hand Mrs Bennet into the Bennet carriage, his fingers lingered perhaps a moment longer than strictly necessary on hers.

“I look forward to our continued discussion of the Meryton Assembly rooms, Mrs Bennet.

Your suggestions for improvements were most insightful.”

“Oh! Well, I have always thought that with just a few changes, they might be made much more comfortable,”

Mrs Bennet replied with a becoming modesty that made Elizabeth look at her mother with renewed interest.

“Indeed, they might,”

Mr Freeman agreed, his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners.

“And I find myself in Meryton most days on business.

Perhaps we might continue our discussion when next we meet.”

“That would be most pleasant,”

Mrs Bennet replied, settling her skirts with a composure that Elizabeth found both surprising and gratifying.

Each Bennet lady entered the carriage by order of age, with Mrs Bennet and the two eldest securing the forward-facing seat and the three remaining sisters facing them.

Inside the carriage, the familiar leather creaked beneath them as they settled into their seats, the faint scent of lavender and warm wool filling the confined space.

The rhythmic clop of hooves and gentle sway of the carriage gradually lulled the younger girls toward sleep.

After a moment of silence broken only by the soft jingle of the harness, a quiet sigh could be heard from Jane.

“Is that a happy sigh, my dear girl?”

Mrs Bennet asked.

Jane put her gloved hands to her face, cooling her reddening cheeks.

“It was a magical evening,”

Jane said.

“Everything was so beautiful.”

Mrs Bennet smiled in the darkness of the carriage.

“And made more beautiful by certain attentions, I think.”

Her voice held a quiet satisfaction.

As the carriage pulled away, Elizabeth watched her mother’s profile in the faint moonlight.

There was something seemingly youthful in her expression, a glimpse of the handsome, spirited young woman she must once have been, before years of worry over five daughters’ futures and a husband’s early demise had etched permanent lines of anxiety around her eyes.

“Mr Freeman seems a most agreeable gentleman,”

Elizabeth ventured.

“Oh, he is merely civil,”

Mrs Bennet replied, although the slight lift at the corner of her mouth betrayed her.

“Do you not think he is rather handsome, for a man of his age?”

Jane and Elizabeth exchanged a look, brows raised and suppressed smiles.

“Mr Bingley danced with Jane twice,”

Kitty reported with sisterly precision.

“And looked quite put out when he could not claim a third.”

“Whilst Mr Darcy danced with Elizabeth twice,”

Mary added.

“Most unusual, given his general reluctance to stand up.”

Elizabeth shifted on her seat, grateful for the darkness that hid her expression.

“Mr Darcy was being courteous to a neighbour with whom he shares business concerns.”

“Business concerns do not usually involve such constant gazes across the ballroom,”

Lydia observed sleepily, then yawned again.

“Lord, what a night! And did you see how Lady Lucas asked Jane about the new method of storing root vegetables? As though we were any other ladies discussing household matters!”

“Better than that,”

Elizabeth said, deliberately steering the conversation away from Mr Darcy’s gazes, constant or otherwise.

“She asked as though she genuinely wished to learn.

How far we have come from the days of whispers behind fans about ‘those poor Bennet girls, reduced to common labour.’”

Success breeds acceptance,”

Mrs Bennet said simply.

“Our years of proving ourselves has done what no amount of social manoeuvring could have achieved.”

Elizabeth nodded in the darkness, although her thoughts strayed treacherously to the feeling of Mr Darcy’s hand clasping hers during their dance, the surprising warmth in his eyes when she had made him laugh.

She must not allow such fancies to distract her from what truly mattered–the estate’s security, her family’s independence.

“Jane,”

Kitty’s voice broke through her reverie, “do you think Mr Bingley might really come to dinner?”

“I could not say,”

Jane’s voice was soft but steady.

“If he is indeed different from other gentlemen.

More willing to see beyond conventional expectations.”

“Unlike his sister,”

Lydia muttered.

“Did you see her face when Mrs Long complimented our wool yields? As though discussing sheep might somehow taint her pumpkin silk skirts!”

“Miss Bingley’s opinion matters little,”

Mrs Bennet said firmly.

“What matters is that the neighbourhood has accepted us on our own terms.”

Elizabeth pressed her hands together in her lap, chasing away the memory of Mr Darcy’s hand from their last dance.

Through the carriage window, she could see their breath frosting the glass, creating small clear patches that revealed glimpses of silvered moonlit fields.

The carriage wheels crunched over the familiar roads toward Longbourn whilst inside, six ladies dozed or dreamt, their skirts rustling with each gentle sway.

Elizabeth alone remained fully awake, watching the shadowed landscape pass by and trying very hard not to remember the way Mr Darcy had said “remarkable,”

his deep voice carrying that word across the candlelit ballroom as though it were the highest of compliments.

The morning after the Netherfield ball dawned clear and crisp, with autumn sunlight filtering through the trees lining the lane to Longbourn.

Colonel Fitzwilliam rode at a measured pace, having contrived a reason to visit the estate before his imminent departure for London.

He had mentioned to his cousin an interest in observing some of the agricultural improvements discussed during the ball, and Darcy, with a knowing glance, had made no objection to his plan.

“You seem rather eager this morning, Fitzwilliam,”

Darcy observed, as his cousin checked his pocket watch for the third time whilst they waited for their horses to be brought round.

“Merely conscious of the time, Darcy,”

the Colonel replied with studied casualness.

“If we are to observe Longbourn’s agricultural innovations and I to return to London as required, we should depart promptly.”

As they rode through Netherfield’s grounds and onto the lane leading toward Longbourn, Darcy observed his cousin’s uncharacteristic fidgeting with his riding gloves.

The military man who had faced Napoleon’s forces with unwavering composure appeared distinctly unsettled by the prospect of a morning call.

“I believe you wished to observe Mr Bennet’s methods,”

Darcy said, taking pity on his cousin.

“Something about adapting military supply principles to agricultural transport?”

The Colonel’s posture relaxed.

“Indeed.

Sir William spoke of an innovative approach to moving harvested grain during inclement weather.

As you know, similar challenges arise when repositioning provisions for troops during the rainy season.”

“And Miss Bennet seemed knowledgeable in these matters?”

Darcy enquired, unable to resist the gentle provocation.

His cousin shot him a sharp glance.

“Distressingly so,”

he said with a crooked smile.

“I had prepared a rather clever observation on grain storage—but Miss Bennet had already arrived at it and improved upon it besides.”

They rode in silence for several minutes, the autumn sunlight filtering through the trees that lined the lane to Longbourn.

Tom took charge of their horses, and Mr Hill announced them in the drawing room.

“Mr Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam,”

Elizabeth said, recovering quickly as she curtseyed.

“This is an unexpected pleasure.”

Darcy bowed formally.

“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth.

I hope you will forgive the intrusion.

My cousin expressed interest in meeting your grandfather before his departure.”

“Mr Bennet is in his study upstairs, sir,”

she replied.

“Shall I inform him of your arrival?”

“Please do not disturb him on our account,”

Darcy replied, uncomfortable with the prospect of imposing upon the elderly gentleman.

“I would be most interested to learn of your transport approach,”

the Colonel replied, with restrained courtesy.

Only the slight straightening of his posture betrayed any particular interest.

Elizabeth glanced toward the ceiling.

“Perhaps we might join Grandfather? He has been reviewing the account books this morning, but I am certain he would welcome the interruption.”

“If it would not inconvenience him,”

Darcy said, still conscious of imposing upon the elderly gentleman.

Whilst a servant was despatched to inform Mr Bennet of their visitors, the conversation turned to general topics—the previous evening’s ball, the unseasonably fine weather, and the Bennets’ improvements to Longbourn.

Darcy noted that his cousin maintained perfect composure throughout, though his gaze returned to Jane with subtle frequency when conversation drew her attention elsewhere.

They were invited upstairs to the study where Mr Bennet sat in a soft chair, a blanket over his legs and a ledger book in his lap.

The smell of old paper and wood smoke thickened the air.

“Mr Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam,”

he said, bowing.

“A pleasure to welcome you to Longbourn.”

After introductions and initial pleasantries, Elizabeth mentioned their remarks on the estate’s improvements.

“Perhaps you might indulge me by examining some plans I have been considering for the western fields? I should value the perspective of gentlemen with your experience.”

Mr Bennet unrolled several maps across a table.

As he explained his proposed modifications to field usage, the practical ingenuity displayed intrigued Darcy.

“These arrangements seem quite innovative,”

Darcy observed, studying the notations in a feminine hand along the margins.

“Jane’s work,”

Mr Bennet said with quiet pride.

“She has a remarkable head for such matters.”

Darcy glanced at Miss Bennet, who received this praise with characteristic modesty.

His cousin, he noted, was examining the lady more than the calculations.

“This approach to the slope gradient is particularly effective,”

the Colonel commented.

“It reminds me of methods I observed in northern Spain for managing seasonal flooding.”

“Does it indeed?”

Jane enquired; her interest evident although her demeanour remained perfectly composed.

“I should be interested to hear more of those methods.”

As the Colonel described the Spanish techniques, Darcy observed nothing inappropriate in their interaction—a shared intellectual engagement that, in its very restraint, seemed more significant than more obvious forms of flirtation.

Jane’s questions were pertinent and thoughtful, whilst his cousin’s responses, although technically precise, carried an underlying attentiveness that Darcy had rarely observed in his interactions with other young ladies.

Elizabeth stood just apart, watching the exchange with perceptive eyes.

When she caught Darcy’s gaze, he expected the usual flash of disapproval he had grown accustomed to receiving from her.

Instead, he found something closer to assessment—as though she were reevaluating previous conclusions.

She raised one brow, then spoke, “Your estate at Pemberley faces similar challenges with spring flooding, did you not say, Mr Darcy?”

she asked, moving to where he stood by the window.

Surprised by her direct address, he nodded.

“Indeed.

Although our terrain offers natural advantages in managing water flow that Longbourn may lack.

Your efforts appear to show a great deal of study.”

Something flickered in her expression—wariness, perhaps, or determination.

“Longbourn’s preservation has required it.”

The simple statement, delivered without complaint or self-pity, struck him forcefully.

He had observed her lively wit, but responsibilities lay beneath her cheerful exterior.

“Colonel,”

Mr Bennet said, his eyes twinkling.

“Jane has a natural affinity for organisation, whilst Elizabeth possesses an innovative spirit.

Between them, they’ve implemented several improvements that have increased Longbourn’s yield considerably.

When my son passed, my girls faced the prospect of Collins taking over everything they had known.

I may have guided them, but it was their determination to preserve Longbourn that truly transformed this estate.”

Darcy recognised in the old man’s quiet dignity a strength that demanded respect.

“I had not realised their involvement was so extensive,”

the Colonel said, evidently impressed.

Mr Bennet gestured to the window.

“Do you see the south field there? That drainage works was Elizabeth’s design, adapting principles from extensive research.

And the new rotation plan in the western plots was Jane’s idea, after consulting with neighbouring farmers.”

Darcy studied the landscape with renewed interest, recognising the skill behind what he saw.

“I’ve seen regiments run with less order,”

the Colonel said, half-smiling.

“Many gentlemen farmers would be proud of such innovations,”

Darcy added, with genuine admiration.

“Indeed,”

Mr Bennet agreed.

“Although not all would acknowledge their source.” He turned to face the Colonel directly.

“You have served extensively in the Peninsula, I understand?”

“Yes, sir.

For several years.”

“Do you reckon our theories on supply management might have applications in military contexts?”

Darcy’s cousin engaged enthusiastically on the topic, explaining principles of resource allocation that might be applied to estate management.

He had rarely seen Fitzwilliam so animated in conversation outside military circles, and the old gentleman matched him point for point with practical insights gained through years of agricultural experimentation.

Darcy caught Elizabeth watching the exchange with a perceptive smile.

When their eyes met, he found something closer to assessment in her gaze—as though she were reevaluating previous conclusions.

“Might Pemberley benefit from some of these observations?”

she asked quietly.

“No doubt.

I have rarely seen such animated discussion on the matter,”

Darcy replied.

“The company at Longbourn seems to inspire particular interest.”

When they finally took their leave, the morning had stretched into afternoon.

Darcy noted the respectful handclasp between his cousin and Mr Bennet, and the genuine regard that had developed between them.

“It has been a pleasure, gentlemen,”

Mr Bennet said.

“Consider Longbourn open to you during your stay in Hertfordshire.”

As they mounted their horses, Jane and Elizabeth came to the doorway.

The Colonel’s glance toward Jane was brief but appreciative.

They rode in silence for several minutes.

Darcy noted his cousin’s thoughtful expression.

“You found the visit instructive?”

he enquired at last.

“In ways I had not anticipated,”

the Colonel admitted.

“The Bennet family manages their estate quite capably.”

“Indeed,”

Darcy agreed, thinking of Elizabeth’s perceptive questions.

As Netherfield came into view, the Colonel spoke again.

“I find myself quite intrigued by Longbourn.”

Darcy responded with a slight dip of his head, uncertain whether his cousin referred to estate management or to something more personal.