He pulled back, and — poke.
“Bingley!”
His friend and his cousin laughed uproariously as the ball bounced against the green side of the table, and then up and off, landing on the floor with a loud clack.
“Very good form, very good!” Colonel Fitzwilliam chortled, eagerly taking up his stick. “Now close enough to even that I’m certain to take the match.”
Darcy tried to glare at Bingley, with all the force of position provided by his imposing height, but his friend’s innocent look won the day.
“But say! Greatest news,” Bingley said as Colonel Fitzwilliam lined up his shot. “I’ve just taken the lease of an estate — precise neighborhood I wished. Netherfield. Just three miles from the estate of my father’s old business partner, Mr. Bennet. Deuced good piece of luck that it went to let — Lizzy wrote straight out to Caroline, soon as the baronet announced. I went up to see it just yesterday. The agent showed me round, we agreed on terms, shook, and I’m back in town to sign the papers.”
“Very quick decision.” Colonel Fitzwilliam made his shot and Darcy grimaced as the ivory balls clacked against each other. The points were now running against him. “So you are thinking of buying an estate next to where this Mr. Bennet bought his?”
“Oh, no.” Bingley replied, “Mr. Bennet always owned the estate — or at least after his father died. His family has held Longbourn for generations.”
“Is it a decently sized place?”
Bingley nodded. “Two thousand a year, or so.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam whistled and laughed. “I would like an estate of two thousand a year. By Zeus, I think I approve of this fellow, going into business even though he had the income to maintain his place as a gentleman.”
Bingley chuckled at Colonel Fitzwilliam’s idiosyncratic swearing by Zeus — the Greek name, rather than the Latin Jove. “Not a finer fellow in England than Mr. Bennet. He was a second father to me, and his children were my other siblings.”
This was a matter that Darcy had discussed with Bingley a few times before. He made a shot that was not quite up to his usual standard.
As he stepped back, Darcy said, “I can neither understand, nor approve, of a gentleman who went into trade when he had an estate he ought to have managed.” He held up his hand as Bingley began to defensively reply. “It is singular and odd, and rather disreputable, even if the man was driven by an eccentric desire to design and build machines more than the hope of building a fortune. His place was still with his estate.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed. “This has the sound of an old argument — he liked to design machines? Nothing wrong with a gentleman scientist.”
“Yes, but—” Darcy then shrugged. “I do not know the man, and judgements from general principles often break down when the details are known.”
“Well you ought to meet Mr. Bennet!” Bingley exclaimed with sincere enthusiasm. “And Meryton is as fine a friendly place as possible. Darcy, I will have you visit! You are invited to stay as long as you wish. A year if you would like!”
“What about me?” Colonel Fitzwilliam pouted.
“You as well! Ten years even!”
“Won’t you get tired of our company?”
“Of friends? Never. My lease is only for two years though.”
Darcy ignored the conversation as Bingley spoke happily about the neighborhood, and about how close his family had been with the Bennets when they were children. There was mention of the beauty of the five daughters he’d grown up with as sisters, and the substantial size of their dowries.
Crack.
Another fine shot. Three points.
Colonel Fitzwilliam cursed at seeing it. “Devil take it!”
As Richard prepared to make his shot Bingley grinned and said, “Come now, Darcy, I’ll expect an answer from you on this. Stay for six months.”
“I’ll have business elsewhere.”
Bingley laughed. “You know what I mean — a proper long stay. You’ve hosted me at Pemberley so many times. Give me a chance to fete you properly.”
“Where is this? In Hertfordshire?”
“Mere twenty-five miles from the capital.”
