Page 34 of The Briar Bargain
"We are all greatly relieved," Miss Bingley agreed, though her attention was clearly focused elsewhere. "Perhaps this is an auspicious time to inquire how our otherguestshave found the domestic arrangements here at Netherfield."
Darcy noted the subtle lift of Miss Elizabeth’s chin, the faint tightening of her shoulders. He felt his own attention sharpen, a hunter’s instinct recognizing the opening salvo, a polite inquiry that would, with characteristic subtlety, develop into either a compliment to herself or an insult to another.
"Mrs. Nicholls has been wonderful," Miss Bennet said gently. "She has managed the additional demands without faltering, ensuring everyone's comfort despite the unusual circumstances."
First points to Miss Bennet.
"How good of you to say," Mrs. Hurst observed with false brightness. "For my sister worked many hours to ensure that her housekeeper had the instruction she required.”
This proclamation had a most galvanizing effect on those gathered. Bingley choked outright on his soup. Hurst, abandoning his wineglass entirely, turned a gimlet eye upon his wife, his brows drawn low. Even Miss Bennet’s serene composure wavered, a faint colour rising to her cheeks. Miss Elizabeth’s lips parted as if she might speak, but she glanced at him and was silent.
Only Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst appeared complacent, wearing identical expressions of self-satisfaction.
He cleared his throat. “We must all be grateful, Mrs. Hurst, that your sister possesses such a skill. It is a rare mistress who can both instruct her housekeeper in the finer points of hospitality and yet leave so little evidence of her interference.”
Miss Elizabeth’s eyes widened, and she pressed her lips together without ever looking away from him. Did she think he had come to this dinner unprepared?
Miss Bingley absolutely preened. “Indeed, Mr. Darcy. One does find that efficiency at such a level requires so delicate a touch that it appears entirely effortless.”
It had not onlyappearedeffortless, ithadbeen. On Miss Bingley’s part, in any case.
Hurst returned his attention to his bowl. "Then perhaps you ought to effortlessly instruct Mrs. Nicholls to speak to Cook about this soup. Tastes like dishwater. At this rate, we will all waste away before the river recedes."
There was nothing wrong with the soup. Hurst simply needed to say something that did not include any cursing. He could not but be aware of what his wife and her sister were about, and even he seemed to be shocked by it.
Mrs. Hurst ignored her husband and continued to applaud her sister’s work. “Caroline has a gift, even more because of the difficulty in procuring the necessary refinements for an elegant table in the country. One cannot expect the same quality of suppliers as one enjoys in London.”
Hurst, who had been methodically dismantling a roll, paused long enough to snort. “You foolish gel, who do you think supplies London? The faeries?”
His wife levelled a ponderous scowl in Hurst’s direction, and Darcy felt a treacherous flame of amusement curl in his chest.
He allowed himself a slight incline of the head towards Mrs. Hurst, his tone as pointedly urbane as he could make it. “Indeed, the elegance of any London table owes much to the labours of our countrymen. The grain for your bread, the wool for your linens, the timber for your fires—all cultivated on estates such as Longbourn, by those who rarely see the tables they provision. I daresay even the most accomplished hostess must first depend upon them.”
Elizabeth’s eyes met his, and rather than mirth, he imagined he detected admiration in them.
He sat a little straighter.
“Well, of course,” Mrs. Hurst said and then fell silent.
Hurst’s grumbling cut through the awkward pause. “If the fish proves as poor as the soup, I shall require twice the wine to endure it.” He held out his glass like a man on the verge of collapse.
“Really, Mr. Hurst,” Mrs. Hurst chided softly, though she did not prevent the footman from refilling her husband’s glass.
Miss Bingley leaned forward. “It is no small feat, Mr. Darcy, to preserve a truly refined atmosphere in the country. Yet I flatter myself we have brought a touch of Town elegance to Netherfield.”
Darcy set down his fork with deliberate precision and regarded her evenly. “I have found the house very comfortable.” He allowed the faintest pause before adding, “Though I suspect the true test of any household lies less in its grandeur than in the contentment of its guests.”
He felt a perverse satisfaction in the soft huff of breath Miss Bingley released.
Bingley, ever discomfited by the possibility of an argument, launched into a description of the planned repairs of the roads on the estate. His enthusiasm grew with each word. “I have had the men survey the worst damage, and I believe we can have everything passable within a fortnight,weather permitting.” He smiled at Miss Bennet. “Of course, the bridge to Longbourn should be restored in a few days’ time.”
Miss Bennet looked up from her plate, her expression warm. “How fortunate the village is to have such a considerate leaseholder. Your efforts will make such a difference to the families who rely on those roads for their livelihood.”
Bingley flushed with obvious pleasure and made a vague gesture with his spoon. “Well, one does what one can. Nothing so very grand.”
Miss Bingley, however, leaned forward, her voice soft but carrying an edge of practiced sweetness. “My brother has always shown a most admirable concern for such details. I only wish he were as discerning in all other aspects of life.”
"Ah, Caroline,” Bingley shot back teasingly as he picked up his fork again, “were I as discerning in all aspects of my life, I might feel compelled to examine your expenditures on new gowns and fripperies, and where should we all be then?"
