Prologue
Mr. Darcy frowned as his carriage hit yet another rut. It seemed that no matter how carefully his carriages were designed, the English roads – combined with the endless rain – defeated those efforts. Indeed, it was near to impossible for him to read the correspondence he had brought with him, and this added to the irritation that had been his constant companion on this journey.
Was it worth it? If friendship could command such a price, was it even sensible tohavefriends? In his current frame of mind, it was not at all clear to him that the game was worth the candle! He had never imagined that his friendship with Charles Bingley would result in him having to travel across England to an insignificant little village in southern England, when he should – rightfully – be dealing with the myriad issues involved with his estate.
Why, oh why, did Bingley have to break his blasted leg just before he was due to begin his lease on – what was it called?– yes, Netherfield Park. And rather than asking a steward or an attorney to sign the final papers and accept the keys, Bingley had sent a messenger to ride like the wind to Pemberley, carrying a plea to Mr. Darcy to act in his stead. He had even enclosed a formal note authorising Mr. Darcy to act for him in all business matters.
Mr. Darcy recalled how he had read that message, eyebrows raised in disbelief that Bingley would – could! – ask this of him. He had thought of a hundred reasons he could give to refuse this unreasonable request. Georgiana ill… a fire in a tenant’s cottage… anything that would demonstrate that his presence was absolutely required at Pemberley. It would be reasonable and rational to write back to Bingley to suggest that he have his attorney perform this task, and rationality was Mr. Darcy’s guiding principle in life.
But in the end his conscience got the better of him, not allowing him to employ such deceit, and thus it was that he found himself in his best traveling carriage, headed to Hertfordshire.
Chapter One
Caroline Bingley stared hard at her brother. “Mr. Darcy is going to Netherfield?” Her voice rose in disbelief.
Her brother, wrapped in his dressing gown with his injured leg propped up on a padded footstool, handed her the message. “Read it for yourself, Caroline.”
Bingley,
Received your message of the 20thof September. Will be at Netherfield on the 29thof September per your request.
Darcy
Miss Bingley could scarcely contain her excitement. “Mr. Darcy at Netherfield! I can scarce credit it!”
Her brother raised his eyebrows. “I take it that the countryside now has more appeal, Caroline?”
“I am certain I will adore Netherfield!” Her face shone.
“Ten minutes ago you told me that breaking my leg was a sign and we should give up our lease at once,” Mr. Bingley observed.
“I am certain I never said that,” she replied, quite firmly. “How can you imagine such things, Charles?”
Despite his irritation, Mr. Bingley felt that he had to admire his younger sister’s astonishing ability to forget past statements, beliefs and even histrionics whenever it suited her. No wonder men were in charge of everything important! How would he, Charles Bingley, attend to his affairs if his brain were in such disarray?
“…changes everything. Matilda must repack my trunks at once…
“What was that? I apologise for my inattention.” The sound of his sister’s voice pulled Mr. Bingley away from his thoughts.
“Really, Charles! Where is your mind these days?”
“You will recall that the doctor prescribed laudanum for the pain.” Mr. Bingley did his best to look contrite. “That must be the explanation for my abstraction.”
“Oh. Yes. Indeed. In any event, I was saying that if Mr. Darcy will be joining us, then I will need far more fashionable gowns than I had originally packed.”
“He is notjoiningus, Caroline. He is goinginstead ofus.” Mr. Bingley gestured toward his heavily wrapped leg.
“But – but, surely –“ Her eyes were wide with disbelief and disappointment.
“I am sorry, Caroline. But the doctor says I must rest the leg for eight weeks complete, and it has been only two weeks.”
“Do you mean to say that I shall not see Mr. Darcy at all? You cannot mean it, Charles!” Her voice now rose in a wail.
“I do not know, Caroline. Perhaps he will consent to stay for a time after you and I arrive at Netherfield, but I suspect he will be eager to return to Pemberley.”
Mr. Bingley thought again how lucky he was to have Fitzwilliam Darcy as a friend. He could have asked his attorney to sign the Netherfield lease for him, but there was no one like Darcy when it came to estate matters. And, doubtless Darcy would have been offended had he not been asked to do this small service for his friend.
Chapter Two
