Page 30 of Mr. Darcy's Folly
“I see.”
It was a wonder how two words could be infused with so much sympathy and yet not feel cloying. He gazed out into the darker part of the cavern. “It is strange how much power a few words can have to change your life.”
She was silent, contemplative as she finished her work.
“I went home right away, of course. And within a week, I was the master of Pemberley. It was a difficult few months, for I moved directly from lectures and examinations to running an estate, from Greek and Latin to sheep and fertilizer.”
She bent close to check the bandage, and Darcy shivered when she spoke nearly in his ear.
“Did you have no assistance?” Satisfied, she sat back and winced.
Darcy frowned. “Old Mr. Wickham was an immense help. But my father and I had planned to take the entire summer to go over everything he wished to begin teaching me, and that was only to be a start. He spoke of relinquishing more of the work to me and allowing me a percentage of the estate’s income. But in our discussions, this was to take place over several years and with his guidance.”
“A double blow, then,” she said quietly.
“More than that, Miss Bennet. I had a sister to care for and an estate to run, and so I kept moving, and I learned. But there were a great many mistakes indeed, though at the time, I believed I was doing my duty well enough.”
“What sort of mistakes?”
He frowned, recalling. “One of my earliest errors was in the matter of the tenant leases. My father had always taken the time to review them personally, speaking with each farmer about their needs and concerns before agreeing upon new terms. All our tenants had been on their farms for at least a generation, and so I thought it a waste of time.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I had a solicitor prepare the documents and sent them out with the steward, assuming that would be sufficient.”
She raised a brow. “And it was not?”
“Hardly.” A wry smile twisted his lips. “Several tenants refused to sign, and one, a man who had been on the land for decades, packed up his family and left rather than deal with a master who would not even grant him the courtesy of a conversation. It was only after I realised what I had done—what I had lost—that I took my father’s place in those discussions, learning firsthand how to listen rather than dictate.”
Miss Elizabeth tilted her head. “A hard lesson, indeed. But I daresay, an effective one.”
“It was not the last.” He ran one hand down his face. “There was also the matter of the sheep.”
“The sheep?” Her words had a merry lilt to them, as though she was in expectation of some delightful bit of foolishness. Well, he would oblige her.
“The shepherd came to me one day with a concern about a particular breed my father had been considering introducing. I had no patience for the matter and told him to proceed with the plan.” He paused, then grimaced. “It turns out that my father had decided against them for good reason. They were ill-suited to Pemberley’s climate and grazing land. Within a season, the flock was sickly, and I was forced to sell them at a loss.”
“Well, that is not so bad,” she said. “Expensive, I am sure, but nothing so calamitous.”
Darcy exhaled, shaking his head. “There was one more mistake in that first year. But I hesitate to speak of it.”
Miss Elizabeth smiled, her eyes were alight with curiosity. “Oh, now youmusttell me. I insist.”
Her playful disposition cheered him even here. “Very well. There was an incident with the geese.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “The geese?”
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Pemberley has always kept a gaggle of them near the pond, both for their eggs and as a sort of natural guard system. My father always said no intruder could cross the grounds unnoticed with such vigilant sentinels about.” He sighed. “They frightened Georgiana, and I, in my youthful wisdom, ordered them removed.”
She smiled, clearly in expectation of something delicious. “Removed? You dismissed your most dedicated guards?”
He grimaced. “I did. I thought them a nuisance. They hissed at the horses, chased the tenant children, and took an unholy dislike to my valet. I had them sent to one of the farms.”
“And then?” Her eyes were already sparkling.
“And then,” he said heavily, “we were overrun with frogs.”
She let out a delighted laugh. “Frogs!”
“Yes. It seems the geese had been keeping them in check. Without their watchful presence, the pond and the surrounding gardens became infested.” He ran a hand over his face. “For weeks, the croaking was unbearable. They hopped all the way up to the house. They got into the kitchens. Into the cellars. Georgiana found one in her slipper. Fortunately, she was not missish about such creatures.”
Elizabeth clapped a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with mirth. “Oh, you poor man.”
