“Why, everyone knows that you knew him as a lad, that your father paid for his education. He is not ashamed of that—rather, he speaks of it to anyone who will listen, that the Darcy family are responsible for any good that comes from him.”
Darcy’s jaw clenched. “He says that, does he?”
“That, and a deal more. Oh! You have not heard the splendid things he was just saying to Mrs Philips about Miss Darcy. He declares she will be next Season’s Incomparable, sure to be courted by… why, Darcy, you do not look at all pleased. Something the matter?”
Darcy’s mouth had screwed into a bitter scowl, his head throbbing more intensely. “What business has he in speaking of my sister? The cad!”
Bingley drew back. “Darcy? What is the matter? You are not… good heavens, no. I know you are notjealousof George Wickham, but I cannot understand this violent displeasure toward a man who speaks only well of you. Are you ill?”
Darcy blinked and forced a gulp of air into his lungs, fighting the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. That excuse would do for the present. “Perhaps I am. Forgive me, Bingley. I ought to consider returning to Netherfield before I spoil anyone’s pleasant afternoon, as I am clearly not required here.”
“Well, hang on. Some of the gentlemen were talking, and you know, there is a question of petitioning for assistance from Parliament.”
“Par…” Darcy squinted against the pain. “Parliament?Whatever for?”
Bingley winced and scratched his ear nervously. “I suppose it depends on how heavily the fields truly were damaged, of course, but Wickham and Bennet were just saying that if the topsoil is washed away, and it becomes a hardship…”
“Yes, yes, I see.”
“So, you will come speak to them?”
“I?” Darcy sputtered. “Why would they ask for me?”
“They did not, but I suggested you might have some answers. Your uncle, the earl, is, of course…”
“An uncle in the House of Lords does not grant me any particular insight into the workings of politics. You ought to speak with one of the MPs from Hertfordshire.”
“That is just the thing. You see, it seems that Meryton has its own MP. Sir William was just telling us a bit about it. Something to do with an old agreement with the Marquess of Hertford, and… oh, it would be better if you heard him explain it for yourself.”
Darcy was rigid with interest now, despite the pounding in his skull. He narrowed his eyes, trying to mask his discomfort. “Indeed. Very well, Bingley. Lead the way.”
As they approached, MrBennet was deep in conversation with Sir William Lucas and a few other gentlemen. Darcy and Bingley lingered at the back, listening attentively. Sir William was animatedly explaining to Mr Wickham the historical context of the borough’s representation.
“You see, Mr Wickham,” Sir William began, “the Marquess of Hertford managed to create a pocket borough here in 1703. Quite the thing it was, trading support on various issues to gain a representative for our borough.”
Wickham nodded, and it was probably the first time Darcy had ever seen the man paying any mind to discussions of politics. “And how did he leverage his influence in the House of Lords?”
Sir William continued, “It all began with the great flood of 1701. The River Mery burst its banks, devastating the town and surrounding farmlands. The Marquess of Hertford, who held substantial estates in the area, saw an opportunity amidst the crisis. He understood that to rebuild and protect his interests, he needed more political influence.”
“Ah!” Wickham laughed. “Gracious, but that is a familiar problem, is it not?”
“Indeed. The following January, the Marquess hosted a grand gathering at Hertford House. He invited the Earl of Salisbury, Viscount Grimston, and several other prominent figures. Over lavish feasts and prolonged discussions, he began to negotiate alliances. Hertford promised the Earl of Salisbury his support in a forthcoming bill concerning trade tariffs, which was of significant interest to Salisbury’s holdings in the North. In return, Salisbury agreed to back Hertford’s proposal for a new borough representative.”
“Simultaneously, Hertford forged an understanding with Viscount Grimston, who was eager to secure military funding for a new regiment. Hertford pledged his votes in the House of Lords to support Grimston’s cause, provided Grimston would advocate for the creation of the Meryton seat in the Commons.”
Wickham’s brow furrowed as he absorbed this information. “So, it was a series of quid pro quos, each man seeking his advantage.”
“Precisely,” Sir William affirmed. “The final and crucial move came in October 1702. Hertford utilized his influence in the House of Lords to apply pressure subtly but persistently. During the debates on the allocation of funds for coastal defences, he swayed key votes by promising to support their interests in exchange for their backing of his borough proposal. His timing was impeccable, aligning his request with the broader concerns of national security and local governance.”
“By February 1703, Hertford’s network of alliances was strong enough to present a united front. They submitted a petition, carefully crafted and supported by both the Lords and influential MPs in the Commons. The proposal highlighted the economic benefits and strategic importance of having a dedicated representative for the Meryton area.”
“And we must presume it passed?”
“Oh, most assuredly,” Sir William harrumphed, tugging at his lapels. “It was spring of 1703—forgive me, I quite forgot the date—the House of Commons passed the motion to include Meryton as a borough with its own representative, much thanks to Hertford’s relentless lobbying. We have enjoyed particular attentions ever since.”
Wickham laughed in astonished pleasure, even clapping his hands. “Why, there is our answer! A masterstroke of political strategy, indeed.”
But Mr Bennet, who had been listening with keen interest, was shaking his head. “One might think as much, but I daresay if you plan to rely on Sir Harold Fenton, you had best accustom yourselves to mud that floods your Wellingtons and empty coffers.”
