Page 28 of Master of Netherfield
**++**
“Lizzy! Lizzy!” called an excited voice.
Stretching as she woke from a deep sleep, Elizabeth asked, “Jane? Whatever is the matter?”
“The horses are better! Much better! Mr Taylor has discontinued the ice baths, and he believes they will recover.”
Hugging Jane, Elizabeth celebrated. “They were too beautiful to die!”
“Father will write to Mr Darcy today and begin arrangements for their proper care I am certain.” Jane paused and shook her head, “I do not know why someone with money would so abuse a beautiful animal such as these horses!”
Imitating the lady who had passed by Longbourn the day before, Elizabeth said, “I am certain ‘Her Ladyship, Lady Catherine de Bourgh’ did not see them as animals any more than she saw her driver as a person. Did you see the gash she gave him with her cane?”
“Will Mr Darcy make his aunt take better care of the horses do you think?” asked Jane.
Elizabeth nodded, “Mr Darcy can do anything. Everyone listens to him.”
**++**
Darcy, I must write and share a most interesting story with you from yesterday that involves a lady claiming to be your aunt–one Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Forgive the length of this letter and the cost of franking for multiple pages–I hope you find some humour in this tale. While my wife and I were absent from home, Elizabeth was in the front gardens when a great carriage came up the drive. The passenger in the carriage announced that she was “Her Ladyship, Lady Catherine de Bourgh” and she was looking for Netherfield Park, the home of her nephew, Fitzwilliam Darcy. In the short time we have been in acquaintance, you have learned Elizabeth’s nature sir and can imagine my daughter’s reaction to the lady’s manners when Elizabeth attempted to explain to your aunt that you were away from home. I believe your aunt refused to acknowledge that ‘a wild creature of the forests’ knew her nephew. She insisted that she was “Her Ladyship, Lady Catherine de Bourgh and the child should remember it!” I have a faithful report by my servant Hill that with every civility thereafter, Elizabeth referred to your aunt as ‘Your Ladyship, Lady Catherine de Bourgh’ in every sentence that she spoke. Elizabeth offered your aunt refreshments and twice told her that her horses needed to rest and take water, but your aunt most strenuously objected to the notion of receiving hospitality within my home. In the end, Elizabeth provided directions to Netherfield Park to your aunt’s driver who seemed most concerned about his horses.Until this point, I was amused with the story but then I learned that your aunt’s carriage had broken down halfway between Longbourn and Netherfield. Our mutual neighbour, Mr Goulding graciously stopped his carriage and offered take your aunt and her daughter on to your home though he assured your aunt that you were gone from the neighbourhood for a time. My understanding is that in a fit of anger, Lady Catherine struck her coachman with her cane and left the man with a gash in his head on the side of the road. At Netherfield, again your aunt’s temper was displayed when she found you were absent from home–she pushed her way into the house and searched the rooms upstairs and down. Now scared of your aunt and her footmen, Mrs Hobbes summoned your stable hands and footmen, forced your aunt from the house and refused her demands to use any carriage or any of your horses. I understand there was some damage to some of the furnishings in your home and Mrs Hobbes is greatly distressed. With your aunt and cousin still in his carriage, Mr Goulding came to me in my role as magistrate for this corner of Hertfordshire for assistance with your aunt. She loudly explained that she was ‘seriously displeased’ with her situation and finally I prevailed upon her ladyship to make use of my carriage to return to town. Her loud and expressive statements of mortification to be seen in such a carriage were only mollified when I assured her that she could lower the curtains and under cover of darkness, ship into London to your uncle’s home. I did not tell her that you were at your home in the same city with your father and sister–perhaps you can thank me with a bottle of that excellent port you stock? Once my carriage and team were gone to London with your aunt and cousin, my tenants and I retrieved the coachman, and the team of horses deserted in the road with the carriage. The coachman who was cared for by my wife and our housekeeper required eight stitches in his head and if the lady was not your aunt sir, I would have confined her until such time as she made restitution for the injury. My eldest daughters took a great interest in the four bays your aunt deserted on the road–all the horses are in poor shape–grass fed without proper exercise before the long excursion from Kent to Hertfordshire. They lead the horses back to the stables here at Longbourn where Jane diagnosed the two mares as foundered. Our local blacksmith, Mr Taylor, and Jane spent many hours last night tending to the mares with ice buckets for their front hooves and my eldest daughter believes they have been saved.I must warn you sir, if my daughters are ever in your aunt’s presence again, I fear for the lady’s peace of mind–Jane and Elizabeth are both in a temper about the horses. I have directed Mr Taylor to have his men recover your aunt’s carriage and move it to Netherfield. The rear axle is broken. He will wait on your direction before making repairs. The coachman is housed in my stables with the four bays for their mutual recovery though I believe you shall have to negotiate the recovery of the bays with Jane and Elizabeth upon your return. Please advise me if I should send the bills to your uncle or to your aunt’s steward; there are expenses for Mr Taylor’s services, the last ice in Meryton in October, the coachman’s injury and oats. We shall have to find another position for the coachman–he will not go back to your aunt’s service, and he hopes you will take ownership of the bays. I do tell you now; I shall not return them to your aunt’s hands until all accounts are settled. Sincerely, Thomas Bennet
**++**
William left Georgiana in the dining room completing her morning meal to venture to the study and begin the day’s work with his father. It had been George Darcy who suggested the family meet in London in October. The season in town over and the harvest complete, it was time to turn their attention to matters of trade and business for a few weeks.
Mr George Darcy maintained the facade of not dealing in trade to appease the ton, but William had known since he was sixteen that trade and manufacture offered the family great sources of income that were more assured than agriculture. A drought meant less grain, hungry tenants and labourers as well as less gold in the master’s pocket. With the monies from some interests in trade with India and the Americas, the Russians and Africa, the Darcy wealth had almost doubled in ten years. If peace were ever restored to Europe, British trade would expand on the continent and the Darcy wealth could grow even more.
‘The purchase of Netherfield did not dent our family reserves,’William admitted.‘And I have enjoyed taking charge of the estate.’
A footman opened the study door, and the son found his father already at work with a secretary.
“Good morning, William,” Mr Darcy greeted his son.
“Good morning, Father. Where shall we begin with our review this morning?”
“I thought with the Pemberley harvest...”
Two hours later, father and son sent the secretary to write some letters to the stewards of Pemberley, Hunter Chase and Foxglove House regarding tenant issues.
“The labourers in Derby and Derbyshire protest any new harvest equipment,” William stated. “Perhaps if we offered employment in factories first and reduced the number of available labourers then the remaining men would welcome the new harvest equipment.”
George Darcy frowned. “Our neighbours will not welcome our stealing the farm labour.”
William nodded his head but argued, “We shall always make someone uncomfortable with our improvements. I believe the lords and gentry can withstand change easier than the men we depend on to herd our sheep and harvest our oats, wheat and barley.”
Now his father laughed and confessed, “I remember a conversation similar to this once with your uncle. The French were in the midst of their bloodletting in Paris, and I argued that we should improve conditions with our tenants and labourers so they would not rise in revolution as well. And the Earl became furious that I was suggesting we spend money on the lower classes to improve their lives. But he eventually agreed with me and other landlords followed suit. Derbyshire has been fairly tranquil this generation.”
Rising from the desk, George Darcy said, “I shall leave the matters of trade and business to you. William. Just promise you will not mention them to your uncle when we dine with them; I do not want to hear his cries of contamination from ‘trade’.”
“But he will ask you for another loan of money,” William argued. “And it will be money that he will never repay.”
“And he will get nothing without handing over a deed or two. Decide before we go to supper which lands to demand. Your cousin will inherit a shell of an estate at the rate your uncle gambles away his income.”
“My cousin Richard has made the army his profession,” Darcy informed his father. “He prefers to be in French line-of-fire to the battles at Matlock between his father and brother, and between his mother and his sisters.”
George looked queerly at this son for a moment before saying, “And do not entertain any notions that I shall sanction a marriage to either ofthe Fitzwilliam daughters. They will bring you nothing but empty purses and grasping hands to pull you down.”
“Father, I have no intention...”
