Page 9 of Transforming Mr. Darcy
“What a shame, then, that it is entailed away from your family,” Miss Bingley added, nearly before her brother had finished his thought.
Elizabeth shook her head. “Longbourn, or any estate, really, is not truly owned by the family who lives on it. We are merely stewards of the property, Miss Bingley.”
Mr. Darcy nodded in agreement.
Miss Bingley lifted an incredulous eyebrow. “You compare yourself to a steward, Miss Eliza? How . . . interesting.”
Mrs. Hurst tittered and lifted a spoonful of soup to her mouth.
Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. “Idothink it is difficult for those who have never been landowners to understand, Miss Bingley. It is a different way of life, but those of us fortunate enough to have grown up on an estate are aware of our duty to it.”
She pretended not to see Miss Bingley’s nostrils flare, but she could not help but see Mr. Darcy’s intense gaze upon her. There was just enough warmth in it to convey his approbation.
“It is about continuity, you see,” she added. “The land will be here long after we aregone. It is the obligation and privilege of the gentry to pass it on intact, even improved, if possible, to the next generation.” Her father had maintained the estate rather than improved it, but he met all his obligations without complaint.
Elizabeth met Miss Bingley’s eye with what she hoped was an innocent gaze. “My grandfather passed away after an accident in London, but the three Bennet men who inherited Longbourn before him all lived into their nineties. While no one can predict the future, it is reasonable to assume that my father will be in charge of the estate for many years to come. You need not be anxious for us.”
Mr. Bingley’s face was alight with mirth. Mr. Darcy returned his attention to his food, but when Mrs. Hurst leaned over to say something quietly to her sister, he shot Elizabeth a look that told her he had found the exchange entertaining.
They finished the meal with less pointed conversation. When it was time for the women to separate from the men, Elizabeth begged to be excused, as she wished to return to her sister. Miss Bingley nodded imperiously, and Elizabeth retired.
She was joined in the hall by Mr. Darcy, who explained in a raspy voice that he was only recently recovered and was attempting to be prudent by cutting his evening short.
“I hope that you are feeling better,” she said.
“I am, thank you,” he replied quietly.
“Mr. Darcy,” she asked him abruptly as they reached the stairs, “do you believe in fairy godmothers?”
He chuckled. “No. I am afraid they are merely the stuff of legend. There is no magic in this world, Miss Elizabeth, but what we conjure for ourselves.”
An eminently sensible response. If only it was also a correct one.
“Doyoubelieve in fairy godmothers?” He coughed a little and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. “Forgive me.”
“Not at all,” Elizabeth reassured him. She meant that she forgave him, but he took it as an answer to his question. Just as well. There was no way she could answer it and remain both truthful and in Mr. Darcy’s good books.
“I for one am glad of it,” Mr. Darcy continued. “For I should rather choose a wife myself than have one magically foisted upon me. I do not believe that would be desirable, for either party.”
“Are you a romantic, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth inquired, raising her eyebrows.
He grinned wryly. “Does that surprise you?”
“I must admit that it does. Most gentlemen are not, and those who are do not confess it.”
“I trust you with my secret,” he assured her with only a gentle tease in the words. They arrived at her door, and he bowed. “I do hope you find your sister in better health tonight. Good evening, Miss Elizabeth.”
What a confusing gentleman!
She entered Jane’s room. Her sister was sleeping soundly, but she was still too warm.
Mildread and Priscilla were working on their embroidery. They lit a candle so she could see.
“Mildread,” Elizabeth said haltingly, “I would be glad for Mamma to see Jane. She will be anxious if she does not. Would you be able to keep her from saying anything to Mr. Bingley or . . .”
“Or Mr. Darcy?” Mildread inquired coolly. “I am sure she has nothing to say that he should not hear.”
Elizabeth dipped a cool rag in the water and placed it on Jane’s forehead. She knew the fairies would not allow Jane to become seriously ill, but it seemed to suit them to have Jane at Netherfield just now. Mamma would be nervous, though, and despite the likelihood of her mother making a scene, Elizabeth would not feel right leaving her at home to fret. Once she saw that Jane was not in any real danger, Mamma would return to Longbourn and happily await their return. Perhaps she could get Mamma in and out of the house without an audience. Were not the men meant to go out in the morning?
