Elizabeth found it difficult to judge his age. Since Uncle Thomas’s arrival, older gentlemen no longer appeared quite the same to her. Yet the gentleman standing before Netherfield seemed old in the distinctly English way, with white hair and a walking stick to support him, unlike the elegant cane carried by her uncle.
“Mr Oswald!” Thomas said respectfully.
“Mr Bennet!” the elderly gentleman answered, and instead of bowing, they shook hands, making it plain that this was not their first meeting.
“Allow me to present my niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” Thomas said.
Elizabeth curtseyed and received a warm smile in return.
“Pray come in,” Mr Oswald invited them.
With visible emotion, Elizabeth entered the house for the first time since November.
Everything remained exactly as she remembered it. Mr Oswald led them to the parlour where so many scenes involving Darcy and the Bingley sisters had taken place. If she closed her eyes, she could still see Darcy standing by the window, tall and silent, appearing indifferent to everyone around him.
She had disliked him from the first moment because of the unkind words he had spoken to Mr Bingley at the Meryton assembly. Proud and arrogant, he had behaved as though he considered himself superior to everyone in the room, especially the newcomers, who were neither elegant nor handsome enough to merit his approval, whilst she herself was not handsome enough to tempt him. In return, she had concealed her angerbeneath sarcasm. Jane had been right. They had quarrelled from the beginning of their acquaintance.
But now, after everything that had happened in Kent, another possibility suddenly presented itself. Perhaps, in time, she had come to regard him with less disapproval and even to admire him in certain respects. The thought was so disturbing that it nearly brought tears to her eyes in that very parlour, where he had first been amiable for a time and afterwards become arrogantly unbearable once more.
She sat in silence, scarcely listening to the conversation between the two gentlemen, completely lost in memory. Gradually, however, she began following their discussion. Mr Oswald was speaking about Netherfield itself and giving a brief history of the estate. “It has belonged to my late wife’s family for at least three generations, but our son desires a larger estate with a proper income, whilst Netherfield is merely a beautiful house.”
Astonished, Elizabeth struggled to understand the direction of the conversation. Mr Oswald praised the house whilst Uncle Thomas merely nodded and smiled.
“I asked Miss Bennet to accompany me because she knows the house,” Thomas explained.
“A little,” Elizabeth admitted. “It was rented last year by a gentleman we once knew.”
“Yes, that agreeable fellow, Mr Bingley. He came for the winter, but then departed suddenly with all his party and never returned. A pity. It is a beautiful neighbourhood, not merely the landscape but the people as well. My son knows your father, Mr Bennet, very well; they were companions in youth. There were many balls at Netherfield in those days.”
“And we intend to revive the tradition, sir,” Thomas replied, smiling at Elizabeth, who had become more perplexed than ever.
His use of the wordwesurprised her. She looked at him expectantly, and her searching glance was met by an amused nod.
“Yes, my dear. I may now tell you that Mr Oswald has agreed to sell the estate. Mr Phillips shall attend to the legal matters, but Mr Oswald has kindly given us the key today.”
Thatusonly deepened Elizabeth’s confusion. Netherfield was a magnificent house, perfectly furnished and surrounded by beautiful grounds. She had never considered it from such a perspective before, but it must cost an enormous sum. The family had viewed Uncle Thomas’s arrival almost as a charitable arrangement, imagining they were providing him comfort in old age. Yet suddenly the entire situation appeared reversed. To purchase Netherfield required immense means.
“I never claimed to be poor,” Thomas Bennet said with comic solemnity as soon as Mr Oswald had left.
But the remark explained nothing.
“Have patience, my dear. You shall hear the whole story at dinner, though in truth you already know most of it.”
Chapter 8
In her usual manner, which nobody could ever fully fathom, Mrs Bennet discovered nearly two hours before dinner that Uncle Thomas had visited Netherfield. She tried in vain to learn more from Elizabeth, but her daughter knew perfectly well how to keep a secret. For the mistress of Longbourn, two hours without knowing what was taking place beneath her own roof was a species of torture. She liked to be informed of everything happening in her household and in Meryton as well. At last, when they were all reunited around the dinner table, it was impossible not to feel that the meal itself mattered very little that evening.
Thomas smiled as he observed Elizabeth, admiring not only her beauty but also her character. With every passing day, he valued her more. From Mrs Bennet’s restlessness, he understood at once that she knew nothing of what had happened at Netherfield. Only his nephew remained perfectly calm and impassive. Surrounded by his books, Mr Bennet lived peacefully apart from the countless little agitations of family life.
For a while, they ate in silence, Thomas Bennet enjoying a certain theatrical effect.
“My dears,” he said at last, and immediately everybody laid down their cutlery, “I think it is time you learned more of my life and of our common future. As I told you from the beginning, about two years ago, I decided to make one final change in my life: to exchange adventures in distant countries for a pleasant existence amongst my family in England.
“You know that we were four siblings, three brothers and a sister, and that there is a distant branch of the family from which Mr Collins descends. Our eldest brother, Robert, lived here at Longbourn until his death seven-and-twenty years ago. He died without male issue, and I inherited Longbourn. But as I was already in India and intended to continue on to Africa, I returned only to renounce the estate in favour of your grandfather, who was but a year younger than myself.”
He was speaking principally to his nieces, who listened with delight. Uncle Thomas was a born storyteller and possessed an endless supply of extraordinary tales.
“Our Mary has even made a comprehensive genealogical tree of the family, where all our relations may be found.”
