Wickham’s pleasure faded, and he turned to Mr Bennet in dismay. “Whatever for?”
Bennet chuckled. “Sir Harold has been our representative for nearly three decades. A good man for the most part, but his health has been in decline. Though he has served faithfully, his capacity to address our current needs is severely limited.”
“Oh, dear. How dreadful for the poor man.” Wickham sighed. “Well, what other options have we?”
“Wait a moment,” Bingley put in, just as every other gentleman had begun to shake his head and look grave. “Darcy here read law at Cambridge. Darcy, surely there might be some alternative. Is there any chance of putting some more capable representative in the House of Commons?”
Darcy, who had been observing in silence, glanced reluctantly about the curious faces assembled before him. This was not his problem, and he had much rather stay out of the affair. But with everyone looking at him and the solution so obvious before him, it was a simple matter to speak the words.
“The appointment is for life, so I am afraid he cannot resign. However, if Sir Harold is willing, he could submit a request for the ‘office of profit under the Crown.’ This would allow him to take up another ‘office,’ if you will, making him no longer eligible to serve as MP and creating an opening for a special by-election.”
Sir William’s eyes lit up. “A sound plan, Mr Darcy. This could be the solution we need.”
Wickham turned to Mr Bennet with a hopeful expression. “Mr Bennet, do you believe Sir Harold would consider such a resignation?”
Mr Bennet, who seemed to be the only one with personal knowledge of the MP, pondered for a moment. “I do know Sir Harold. He is quite elderly and may welcome the opportunity to step down gracefully. I will draft a letter immediately and see if he might be amenable to the suggestion.”
“Oh, but before you ask the man to resign, you ought to at least put the question to him of our little local disaster,” Wickham urged. “It may well be that we underestimate the man. I should hate to think we might put a good man out to pasture before his time.”
“A capital notion,” Sir William applauded. “Let goodness and fairness be our watchwords, gentlemen. Meanwhile, let us sample a bit of that luncheon our fair ladies have assembled before us, shall we?”
Chapter Sixteen
Elizabeth bustled under thetent, her hands deftly arranging the tray of biscuits as she prepared to serve the gentlemen. Rain still seeped through the fabric of the tent, creating running drips wherever some careless youth—Lydia, for example—had touched it, but there was also an odd blend of sun piercing through the clouds, casting a golden haze over the misty work site. She watched the faces of her father and her neighbours as they approached, each man’s expression heavy with both inspiration and fatigue from the day’s discussions.
Mr Bingley was the first to approach. He grinned as he walked into the tent, his gaze fixed solely on Jane, who stood nearby pouring tea. His admiration was obvious to anyone with eyes, his smile wide and genuine as he moved closer to her. Well, indeed! Perhaps her mother would have pleasure from that quarter, at least, for the man seemed only to increase his attentions to Jane the longer he stayed in town. But there was no point in staring at the couple now, so she continued her own task of serving biscuits to the others.
Mr Wickham walked with Sir William, both appearing quite pleased with something. Whatever their conversation was, it must have been an engrossing one, for Mr Wickham seemed to be oblivious to the fluttering attempts of the ladies around him to capture his attention. His allure was undeniable, yet he managed to maintain his focus on the discussion, only pausing to graciously acknowledge the ladies with a polite nod.
As Wickham approached, Elizabeth offered him a warm smile and a tray of biscuits. “Mr Wickham, would you care for some refreshment?”
He returned her smile, his eyes twinkling. “Thank you, Miss Bennet. You are most kind.” He accepted the refreshment and quickly became involved in a conversation with Mr Long, their tones hushed and serious. Elizabeth would have very much liked to ask him what their discussion had been about, but they moved away too quickly for her to inquire.
The flow of gentlemen continued, each accepting Elizabeth’s offering with varying degrees of gratitude and distraction. She moved with practised ease, ensuring everyone was attended to, yet her thoughts kept drifting back to the conversation between her father and Wickham. What could be so urgent and secretive?
Finally, Mr Darcy approached, looking decidedly unhappy about something. His usual stern demeanour was even more pronounced, and Elizabeth’s curiosity fairly simmered over. Gone was her vexation with the man. He might be the only one willing to answer her questions. She met him with a bright smile, hoping to brighten his mood and goad him into a few rare words. “Mr Darcy, would you care for some refreshment?”
He looked around at the other gentlemen, who had mostly all wandered off or got snared into other conversations, before finally nodding and accepting a biscuit. “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” he said curtly.
Elizabeth watched as he stood close, eating in silence. His brooding presence was almost a physical wall. Drawing him out might prove a challenge worth accepting. “Mr Darcy, I could not help but notice that there was a rather serious discussion taking place earlier. Might I ask what the gentlemen propose to do?”
Darcy hesitated, his eyes flickering with some internal conflict before he finally spoke. “We have been discussing the possibility of petitioning Parliament for aid. The damage to the fields is extensive, and without effective representation, our appeal may go unheard.”
“And how do you plan to secure such representation?”
Darcy chewed in silence for a moment, and she thought he would not answer at all. Then, at last, he spoke. “It would seem that Meryton has its own representation in the House of Commons. However, your father informed us all that the current MP is quite elderly and may not be able to advocate effectively. They are considering asking him to resign to allow for a special by-election. If he agrees, the community could elect someone more capable.”
Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. “And who do you think might take on such a role?”
Darcy’s gaze sharpened. “That remains to be seen. It must be someone who understands the gravity of the situation and is willing to act in the community’s best interests.”
“Well, was no name put forward?”
He dipped his head toward the others. “I believe that is the very subject being canvassed at the moment.”
“And you are not among them to offer your wisdom and advice? Mr Darcy,I misjudged you.”
His brow lifted. “I cannot tell whether that is an honest appraisal of my abilities or a sardonic jab at what you must perceive to be my officiousness.”
