Mr. Bennet’s head bobbed. “Then I shall accept my loss. At least Mrs. Bennet will be pleased.”
Bingley jumped up from his chair, his voice almost cracking like a juvenile in his eagerness. “Sir, I would like to ask permission to court Miss Bennet.”
Mr. Bennet quipped. “Unless I am mistaken, is that not what you are already doing?”
“Uh, yes, I guess so.” Bingley sat back down.
Darcy asked, “Will you be announcing our engagement to the ladies of the family, or is this a task you will leave to me?”
“Let’s get to it.” Elizabeth’s father departed the room, walked to the drawing room, and loudly proclaimed, “Mrs. Bennet, you will be pleased to know that Mr. Darcy asked permission to marry one of our daughters.”
“How wonderful!” His wife clapped her hands. “Lydia?”
Darcy barely kept from shuddering. He and Lydia Bennet? Never!
“He has chosen Lizzy.”
“Lizzy is to be married? This is in every way wonderful, Mr. Bennet, since one wedding often leads to another. My, but this is the best news. I am certain that I can have everything arranged by the beginning of summer. Oh, my! We shall need to go to London to visit the warehouses for only the best fabrics will be appropriate for a June bride. I cannot wait to tell my sister, Lady Lucas, Matilda Goulding, and Agnes Long, and…”
As she meticulously described the wedding of her dreams to anyone who listened, Darcy approached Elizabeth.Taking her fingers in his, he gently squeezed, his thumb rubbing across the back of her hand.
“It is done.” The second he felt the muscles in her hand ease, relief overcame him. In three weeks, he would forever have a partner, someone to care for and support who would do the same for him. Someone who would be by his side as they overcame the obstacles in life. Someone to love.
19
Elizabeth’s confidence in Mr. Darcy was not misplaced. Once the furor calmed, she peered closer at the man who would soon be her husband. She could see signs that the conversation had been a confrontation rather than a simple question and acceptance. Fitzwilliam’s brow was furrowed, his eyes alight, as he held his spine straighter than usual.
“Come with me.” She tugged gently.
“Very well.” He followed her towards where her father had commenced reading.
She asked, “Papa, have you been to Ashworth?”
Closing his book and setting it aside, Thomas Bennet polished his spectacles with his shirttail. “I have, though it has been two or maybe three months ago.” His right brow rose as he looked between her and Fitzwilliam. “Why do you ask?”
“Mr. Crosgrove suggested it to Fitzwilliam as a potential investment property.”
Her father gestured for them to be seated. Crossing his hands over his middle after perching his glasses on his nose, he said, “Ashworth is a modest but respectable estate that has a fine manor house much smaller than ours. I believe there are only four bedrooms to our ten, with a larger drawing room than Stoke and better attics than Purvis Lodge. Unlike Longbourn, acres of land separate Ashworth village from the house, although not all of it belongs to the estate.”
Darcy leaned forward. “What can you tell me about the land?”
“Let me see.” Her papa rubbed his chin. “My purpose for visiting the property was the acquisition of Mr. John Stalworth’s library. Recently widowed, he plans to leave England in the spring to join his son, who has a position with the British government in India. I paid far more attention to the inside of his library than any other aspect of the house and very little to what was outside. If I recall correctly, the park surrounding the main house, stable, and carriage house are similar to Longbourn. Hills and dales partitioned fields of grain.” He closed his eyes as if trying to picture it in his mind. After a brief pause, his eyelids popped open. “What I remember…the kitchen garden and the fruit orchards behind. Both are unusually large and overgrown. I cannot imagine why the space was used for that purpose unless Stalworth supplemented his income by selling produce at the markets.” Rubbing his chin again, he said, “I think that is all.”
“I thank you, sir.”
Elizabeth rested her free hand on Darcy’s arm. “Papa, could you estimate the distance from here to Ashworth?”
“I suspect that the whole parcel sits not one mile west of St. Albans, so it would be four miles northeast of here as the crow flies.”
Darcy asked, “Did the house and the rest of the buildings appear sound?”
“As far as I observed, yes, they did.”
“What of the servants? Were they untroubled when they showed you into the house?”
Elizabeth turned to him. “What an odd question, Fitzwilliam. Why do you ask?”
He stroked her thumb with his. “The attitudes of those employed often reflect the care a master gives a property. If they are tense, their eyes constantly shifting to see if the master approves or not, I wonder if he is the sort who gives conflicting orders or is autocratic, keeping those under him guessing. If they are lackadaisical or if they take charge, I would be concerned that the master fails in fulfilling his responsibilities. Either way, if he cannot properly control his servants, how could he do better for his property? Much can be determined by studying the people involved.”
