“I must.”
His cousin’s expression hardened. “Then I think it would only be polite. We would not want him to think we have forgotten him.”
Darcy strode to Georgiana’s side and inclined his head to speak softly to her. “Georgiana, Fitzwilliam and I will return shortly.”
She smiled at him. Miss Elizabeth rose. “Are you seeking my father?” she inquired quietly, and Darcy nodded. “Allow me to show you the way.”
Miss Elizabeth knocked on the door to the book room. They waited and she knocked again before they heard a muffled invitation.
“Papa,” Miss Elizabeth said as she opened the door, “here are Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam to see you.” She curtsied and left them there.
As Darcy stepped inside, he was struck by the room’s elegance. It was larger than he had expected, almost imposing, with three walls lined with towering bookshelves, each shelf packed tightly, some bowing slightly under the weight of all the volumes. The rich scent of leather and old paper filled the air, and he found himself instinctively drawn to the sheer variety of titles—histories, treatises, novels, even a few rare works from Swift and Defoe that he would like to acquire for his own library sat on ashelf near him. Fitzwilliam was eyeing them too, as though the titles could tell him what he wanted to know.
A heavy oak desk stood prominently near the side of the room nearest the window, its dark surface polished but bearing the marks of frequent use. Behind it was Mr. Bennet, a book balanced precariously on his knee and a pair of spectacles slipping down his nose.
At their entrance, Mr. Bennet slid a ribbon between the pages to mark his place, then set the book down with a casual ease. Behind him, the tall window framed the study’s north wall with the drapes pulled back, offering the room some natural light and an unfiltered view of the wilderness on that side of Longbourn’s property.
Mr. Bennet waved them to two chairs before his desk. “Ah, gentlemen. Come to inspect the library?”
“Not today, sir,” Fitzwilliam replied smoothly. “We thought it only proper to pay our respects.”
Mr. Bennet chuckled. “Ah, propriety—the very lifeblood of my household.” His eyes twinkled with amusement as they took their seats, though Darcy noted his gaze sharpened with interest. “Tell me, how do you find Hertfordshire? Not so dreary a place as you expected, I trust?”
“Not at all, sir,” Fitzwilliam replied. “It is a lovely place.”
“Hmm. Yes, we are quite fortunate to live in such a paradise,” Mr. Bennet replied. “And to think, I might have been raised somewhere far less picturesque, if not for my father’s good fortune in inheriting Longbourn.” He settled back, watching them with an expression Darcy could only describe as playful.
“Indeed, sir,” Darcy said, seizing the opportunity, “Longbourn is a fine estate.” He leaned back in his chair. “How long has your family been in possession of it?”
Mr. Bennet tilted his head, amusement flickering in his gaze. “Two centuries, more or less. My father inherited when his brother died. I was just a babe in arms then.”
He and Fitzwilliam exchanged glances, and when they looked back at Mr. Bennet, he was eyeing them shrewdly. “What prompts this curiosity?”
Darcy hesitated, but Fitzwilliam interjected smoothly, “Merely a matter of interest, Mr. Bennet. Darcy here has always held an appreciation for the history of estates and the families that inhabit them. It is part of his nature as a landowner and a far more palatable subject to him than fashion plates and painted screens.”
Mr. Bennet’s gaze shifted between the two. “I cannot say I blame you, Mr. Darcy. I am to become an object of study, then, am I? Well, as often as I have done the same to others, I suppose I cannot complain.”
“I suspected as much,” Fitzwilliam said, making himself comfortable. “You appear to be an erudite man.”
Mr. Bennet now seemed amused. “From our brief introduction?”
Fitzwilliam indicated the book Mr. Bennet held in his hand. Darcy saw that it was in Greek. “I am a soldier, sir—it does not take me long.”
“You gentlemen must forgive me if my knowledge of the estate’s finer details is somewhat lacking. As for my lineage,” he continued with a shrug, “I confess I have never been one to pore over family records. I leave that to historians and those better suited to caring about the matter, such as my daughter Elizabeth. My father came to Longbourn when he inherited, and as my parents’ only child it has been my lot to carry on the family line since.”
But was it the correct family line? The correct estate? Darcy nodded. “I find myself in much the same position, sir, asPemberley’s responsibilities often require my attention. It has been difficult to be away during the harvest, knowing that matters continue in my absence and not being able to make quick decisions. There is always the concern of whether things are proceeding as they should.” His land steward was excellent, but still, many letters had been passed between them, and Darcy had not liked being away at that time of year.
Mr. Bennet chuckled, more bemused than concerned. “I imagine Pemberley’s harvest runs itself as well as mine does, thanks to competent stewards.” His gaze grew momentarily distant.
“Then your harvest this year was successful?” Fitzwilliam inquired.
The older man waved a dismissive hand, his lips quirking in amusement. “As good as most, not as good as some,” he replied with a tone that suggested he gave the matter little thought. “I leave the intricacies of crop yields and market prices largely to my steward. I am sure he keeps a far more diligent account than I ever could. I manage the ledgers to calculate the profit and make myself visible enough to make certain I am not being cheated. That is enough for me.”
Darcy glanced at Fitzwilliam, who almost imperceptibly raised one brow. It was clear to both that Mr. Bennet’s primary concern was in maintaining its income, not in increasing it or seeking out other lines of revenue for the lean years that would inevitably come. Fitzwilliam leaned back in his chair, his tone deceptively teasing. “And do you find yourself content here, sir? I only mean that a man with such a library in his private study might have wished to remain at university.”
Mr. Bennet let out a dry chuckle. “Content enough, Colonel, though I would be lying if I claimed to possess a great passion for the role. I daresay I am as diligent a master as is necessary to avoid debt, not a simple task with five daughters out at once.”His flinty gaze softened as it wandered to a spot behind Darcy, who turned his head to see three small stools, only large enough for children, sitting in one corner. Mr. Bennet cleared his throat and finished his thought. “I leave the daily management and real labour to those who possess more acumen for it.”
Darcy sat forward again and offered a small, respectful nod. “Indeed, it is no small feat to balance the demands of a family and an estate, even with such capable stewards as you describe. It is a practical approach, sir.”
