“I like the quiet and the clean air and water, of course. But more importantly, it is necessary that we be there. The tenants are crucial to our livelihood, Mr. Darcy. If we are not there to see to them, then they suffer. If they suffer, we suffer.” Her reply was clearly heartfelt.
“Surely your mother…?”
“Of course, she does a good deal of the work involved with being the mistress of the estate, but she relies on me to assist her. I do a good deal of the plain sewing for the tenants. My sister, Emily, manages the stillroom, though I am also trained in herbal remedies.”
Well, better and better! “And I suppose you play, Miss Stanford?”
“I do, of course, as all young ladies must, though I do not consider myself a proficient. I prefer to read, if I am honest, though I know this is not something my mother wants me to say about myself.” She smiled.
“I am a great reader myself, Miss Stanford, so you need have no concerns in revealing this to me. What sort of books do you prefer?”
“Oh! Poetry. Shakespeare, of course. Robbie Burns. And I freely admit that I read novels as well!” She shook her head at herself, laughing.
“There is nothing wrong with novels,” Mr. Darcy said, staunchly. He glanced, then, at Miss Bennet, who was smiling at something Mr. Stanford had said.
Miss Stanford followed his eyes and remarked, in a low voice, “She is extremely beautiful, is she not?”
Mr. Darcy began a half-hearted protest, but she stopped him. “No, no; it is simply the truth. And it seems she is as beautiful inside as she is outside, for we have never had a cross word from her.”
“It is easy enough to maintain such a façade during a courtship,” Mr. Darcy said.
“You are quite right, which is why my brother spends as much time with her as possible. He has taken her to every art exhibit in the City, and she had remained sweet, calm and even-tempered throughout.”
“Is she interested in art?”
“I do not know. She has not objected to the expeditions, but…” Miss Stanford shrugged.
“Is your brother serious about her?”
“He is much taken with her, of course, for who would not be? But she has no connections whatever and relatives in trade; her dowry has not been mentioned. I do not believe my father will allow the match.”
“I see. Where is she from?”
“A small town in Hertfordshire; I do not recall the name.”
“Hmm. I have a friend who has just leased an estate in that county, but it is unlikely to be in the same area.”
“You may ask her, of course.”
“Perhaps I shall.” With an effort, Mr. Darcy took his eyes from the glorious Miss Bennet. “But now, Miss Stanford, tell me more about yourself. Do you ride?”
***
Mr. Darcy found himself seated between Miss Stanford and Miss Bennet at dinner. He was careful not to neglect Miss Stanford, but he could not pass up an opportunity to speak with the blonde goddess on his left. “Miss Bennet, I understand your home is in Hertfordshire.”
“That is correct, Mr. Darcy.”
“A good friend of mine has recently leased an estate in that county; I believe it is near a small town called Meryton. Might you know of it?”
Miss Bennet smiled at him, revealing white, even teeth. “I know it well. And I imagine the name of your friend’s estate is Netherfield Park, and the man himself is Mr. Bingley.”
He gaped at her. “But how…?”
“My family’s estate is not three miles distant from Netherfield Park, and my sister, Elizabeth, has kept me informed about the new tenant.”
“This is astonishing!”
Mr. Stanford, on Miss Bennet’s other side, was clearly unhappy at the amount of time she had spent conversing with Mr. Darcy, so she turned her head and hastened to explain to him. “Mr. Darcy’s good friend, as it happens, has leased an estate that borders that of my own family! Is that not an odd coincidence?”
