Sir Thomas’s eyes crinkled with interest. “Is that so? Trade, Darcy? I expect your father was… pleased with that.”
Darcy cocked an eyebrow at his friend. “I place the blame squarely at Bingley’s feet, Sir Thomas. Whatever fool notion he takes into his head, somehow, he obliges me to muddle through with him.”
Sir Thomas laughed heartily. “I suppose I should not be surprised. You were the clever chap of the whole lot in France. And Bingley, you always were both quick to seize an opportunity, even under the most trying circumstances.”
Darcy allowed himself a faint smile, leaning back slightly. “You have judged him rightly. But I must say, our ventures these days have been rather satisfactory.”
Bingley laughed, nodding in agreement. “True enough. But all this talk of business—I am certain you must have a hundred other stories to tell, Sir Thomas. You left us so quickly in France. Other than hearing you removed to Bath when you returned to England, I hardly know what you have been about.”
Sir Thomas sipped his coffee, and his expression seemed to flicker with a touch of something pensive. “Ah, I fear my stories would pale in comparison. Besides, I am an old man, and my efforts these days are mostly confined to this little estate.” He set down his coffee and turned his gaze toward them with a curious smile. “And speaking of estates—may I ask what brought you to Netherfield? You must have started for Hertfordshire the moment you heard of it; even my agent had no chance to send word ahead.”
Bingley blushed and cleared his throat. Darcy leaned back, gesturing for his friend to take the lead. “Yes, Bingley, whatdidbring us to Netherfield, of all places, and on such urgent timing? I should like to hear that confession as well.”
“Oh, well…” Bingley managed a sheepish grin, finally gathering himself. “It is rather a… ahem, unique story. I heard of Netherfield through a lady I met recently in London. She happened to mention her neighborhood and mentioned that a house nearby might soon be… That is…” he cleared his throat again.
Sir Thomas’s eyes sharpened with interest, though his tone remained mild. “And the lady’s name?”
“Miss Jane Bennet,” Bingley admitted, looking slightly abashed.
At that, Sir Thomas’s face brightened. “Ah, Miss Bennet! I understand perfectly, then, Mr. Bingley. A gentleman could hardly fail to take an interest in an estate that so neatly suits his wants.”
“Well, yes,” Bingley replied, clearing his throat yet again and recovering his cheer. “And I had been looking for a chance to get Darcy away from London’s bustle, but the stodgy fellow would stir no farther than a half day’s drive or so from Town. I thought a country estate so near would give us a pleasant refuge without… complete exile.” He shot a quick smile at Darcy, who rolled his eyes.
Sir Thomas studied Bingley for a moment, his smile slipping into something more wistful before he sighed and set his fork aside. “Well, you heard rightly, I am afraid. Iamrather desperate to find a tenant.” His gaze drifted toward the window as though he were seeing something far beyond the frosty garden outside. “I had hoped… very much desired, that is… to stay on at least through Christmas. But I realize that might be asking too much.”
“Oh.” Bingley blinked, clearly taken aback, but he quickly gathered himself. “Well, I am sure we can consider any terms that might be agreeable to you, sir. I would not wish to… inconvenience you.”
Sir Thomas inclined his head gratefully. “Thank you, Mr. Bingley. I appreciate that consideration.”
Just then, Miss Flora—the maid from the previous night—appeared quietly in the doorway and inclined her head toward Sir Thomas. “Pardon, sir,” she murmured. “The master is wanted.”
“Of course, of course.” Sir Thomas rose, his gaze lingering warmly on Darcy and Bingley. “Please, continue your breakfast. I shall return shortly, and we can discuss any details you might wish to go over. My people will see to your comfort.” He turned to Flora, gesturing for her to lead the way, and slipped out, leaving the door ajar behind him.
Bingley took a hearty bite of his toast, completely at ease. “Well, Darcy, I must say—this has been a most satisfactory beginning, wouldn’t you agree? I could hardly have anticipated the master would be Sir Thomas himself!”
Darcy, however, frowned, glancing at the door through which Sir Thomas had just exited. “Did you not find him… altered?”
Bingley looked up, surprised. “Altered? He seemed perfectly genial to me. And clearly pleased to see us.”
Darcy shook his head slowly. “I remember Sir Thomas as a man of conviction—a decisive, powerful figure. The sort who could turn a room to his will with a single word. When we escaped to Calais, he commanded every detail with precision. Yet now…” He trailed off, his expression thoughtful.
Bingley tilted his head, considering. “You may have a point. He does seem quieter—more subdued than I recall.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Did we not hear that he had some trouble after his return to Paris? Something about being held for some months?”
“Yes.” Darcy squinted as he tried to recall. “That was the rumor, though few enough real facts reached us. My father and others rallied to support him, but it was all in the hands of the diplomats, you remember. And there was talk that he had suffered deprivation… perhaps even worse, until his full ransom was paid.”
Bingley set his fork down, his good humor momentarily faded. “So, you think… that he might have been mistreated?”
Darcy nodded slowly. “It would explain a great deal. If he suffered… or worse… It is a hard thing to return from, especially for a man of his strength.” He fell silent, thoughts churning as he tried to reconcile the once-unbreakable figure of Sir Thomas with the man he’d just seen.
Nine
Charlotte arrived at Longbournjust after noon, her cheeks rosy from the cold and her eyes bright with curiosity as Hill showed her into the sitting room where Elizabeth and Jane were enjoying a rare moment of quiet. Charlotte barely had time to exchange greetings with Jane and Elizabeth before Mrs. Bennet swept in, delighted to see the daughter of her good friend Lady Lucas.
“Oh, Charlotte, how good of you to visit! And how convenient, too—now that we have such news to share!” Mrs. Bennet’s eyes danced with glee, her voice dropping to a conspiring hush. “Have you heard, Charlotte? Two wealthy gentlemen arrived at Netherfield just last night, asking after the property! Perhaps we will, at last, have some valuable neighbors there. I am sure Mr. Bennet will drive over this very afternoon to call on them, and it is only a matter of time before we know everything. I daresay I shall have a daughter settled before Twelfth Night!”
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Mama, please, we have only just returned from London. Perhaps Charlotte is here to see us for reasonsbeyondgentlemen.”
But Mrs. Bennet waved this off with a laugh. “Oh, nonsense, Lizzy.Everyoneknows why we are all interested in Netherfield these days, and I daresay it is a far sight better than that nonsense that is carrying on now. Oh! I must ask Hill to order some ham.”
