Elizabeth looked out the window, her thoughts a swirl of confusion and concern. “Perhaps he sees it as a way to ensure the tenant’s security. If the farm becomes part of Netherfield, he might feel he can better protect them from future misfortune. Besides, if he buys it, then he can reap the benefits of his assistance in the long term.”
“I think you must be right. There is nothing wrong with looking to one’s own interests, so long as the needs of others are met first. I am sure he means to rebuild the farmhouse to something much finer than it was originally. It would be a noble act indeed.”
“Yes, let us hope. Mr Wickham has always shown himself to be a good man. I choose to believe in his altruism.”
Jane nodded, though her eyes remained clouded with doubt. “We shall see. For now, let us get some rest. I, for one, need a full night’s sleep before hearing what Mama has to say about all this tomorrow.”
“You worry about Mama, but I tell you, it is Mr Collins I do not look forward to hearing from.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Gentlemen, I must informyou that I have decided to return to London immediately. There are… urgent matters that require my attention.”
Darcy, Bingley, and Wickham were gathered in the drawing room for the afternoon, the fire crackling softly as Bingley and Wickham played at piquet. Darcy sat opposite them on the sofa with a book in his hand, the words running incomprehensibly across the page. By this point, he had no idea what book he was even holding, and he had been similarly unable to focus on Bingley and Wickham’s swirling back-and-forth of conversation. There was no point in delaying his announcement any longer—the thing must be done.
Wickham spun around, and his face fell in disappointment. “Darcy, that is most unfortunate. Why, you only arrived a week ago.”
“Indeed, but my mind is quite made up. I have asked Giles to make preparations to depart on the morrow.”
Wickham turned his attention back to the cards in his hand, but his shoulders sagged. “Well! No one ever deterred you from your object, eh, Bingley? It is a pity, though, for you will miss the ball. I had also hoped to seek your advice on several matters.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued despite his discomfort. “Which matters?”
Wickham twisted again in his chair, his face brightening with inspiration. “Do you remember last night when I told you about the Longbourn farm that was nearly washed away by the flooding?”
Darcy’s forehead crunched. “I do not recall…” Surely, if it had to do with Longbourn and the Bennets, he would have paid attention… even if he did not wish to.
“Oh, you must remember. It was when I passed you in the hall last night. We were out rather late, as you recall. By the by, what were you doing yesterday?”
Darcy swallowed. “I had a deal of business to correspond.”
“Ah, of course. Always was your way. Although the maids informed me you spent much of the day in your room, so I thought perhaps you might have found some ‘other’ amusements.”
It was a few seconds before Darcy caught the implication. His neck crawled with heat. “Er… no.”
“Ah. Well, no matter. Yes, anyway, I said something to you about that family who lost their house and the trouble of seeing all their livestock and possessions moved. ‘Twill take a deal of money and no small amount of time to put it all right again. Anyway, I have been considering purchasing the land from Mr Bennet so that it might be held by Netherfield.”
Darcy frowned, the audaciousness of the proposal striking him as more likely a figment of his addled brain than a real plan.
“Buythe farm?” Darcy repeated.
“Yes, that is what I said. Is that so shocking?”
“But you are not the owner of Netherfield. How do you intend to manage such a purchase?”
Wickham chuckled as he turned back to his cards. “Perhaps it does seem improbable, but I assure you, Darcy, I will see everything done through the proper channels. If an outright purchase is not permitted under my contract, perhaps I might sub-lease the property from Mr Bennet. I plan to speak to Mr Northam and Mr Philips on the matter, of course, and if necessary, I shall also address Sir Anthony Mortimer.”
“Sir Anthony Mortimer? That was…” Darcy had to wedge the name from where it had lodged in his brain. “He was the man being put forward as a potential new MP for the area?”
Wickham nodded. “Precisely. I am sure he is the right man for the post.”
Darcy pressed his fingers into his left eye socket as a sharp stab interrupted his line of thought. “What makes you so certain?”
“Oh, everyone around thinks well of him. At least, all those who matter, and I am certain the rest will be persuaded in time. And you remember Viscount Halstead, of course? He has always vouched for Mortimer.”
Darcy hesitated, his mind stumping on the name as if he had just blundered into a tree. “Viscount Halstead? I know no such person.”
Wickham laughed lightly, as if Darcy were making a jest. “Surely you remember, Darcy. We were all very good friends.”
