by Nicky Roth
'I'm okay, Jane. And I actually think I did quite well, considering that this was my first time on a horse,' Bingley said not the least embarrassed by his mishap. 'Darcy here bought himself that beauty there and thought, since the one I was riding just now was to be put down, he'd take it, too.'
'Oh, that was very sweet of him,' Jane cooed.
'And that was why you had to ride it now?' Elizabeth asked, slightly bewildered.
'Yes. They needed exercise after their long journey here and in a week's time it's up north for them and they'll be locked up in a horsebox once again for hours on end,' their proud owner replied as if that explained all.
'Yep, and since they needed exercise and I had always wanted to sit on a horse, I kindly offered my services. Okay, he forced me to, kind of. Thank goodness, this one is so tame that even a baby could ride it. Plus, it just trots on as long as Hermes here is going, so... - And anyway, what better exercise than to ride over to visit good friends?'
Wow! High time to plan the wedding, ey?
'How did you know you'd find us here?' Jane inquired bashfully, the slight tint of a blush making her prettier by the minute.
'Mr Collins, I believe was his name, mentioned that you lived here,' Bingley explained, 'amongst other things.'
'Such as?' Elizabeth could not help asking.
'Well... - I have to confess, that I didn't really pay much attention.'
This produced an unladylike snort from Elizabeth and even a soft chuckle from Jane. No-one ever paid much attention to what Penny uttered, for though speaking ceaselessly when he had the chance, he hardly ever said anything while doing so and even less of any interest for anybody but himself.
'Oh,' Bingley added with a smile, 'did I actually tell you that he is acquainted with your aunt, Darcy?'
'That does not really speak for him having any sense,' was his friend's puzzling reply. 'Only that he apparently has too much time on his hands.'
Oddly enough though, Mr Darcy had hit the nail on its head.
'This is a well-kept farm,' he continued, soothingly patting his horse's head.
'Oh, that is all thanks to my sister,' Jane replied, looking proudly at Elizabeth. 'In the spring our father had an accident and Lizzy took over until he is recovered.'
The last word hung heavily in the air, for as yet it was not certain Thomas Bennet would ever recover, and if, it was still doubtful whether he would be able to resume his profession.
'I am sorry to hear it,' Darcy said softly, while Bingley patted Jane's arm in a sympathetic gesture.
'Yeah, well, I must be going, the pigs are still waiting for their breakfast and then there are Nellie and Dorothy...' Elizabeth trailed off.
Looking at the stately horse, or horses even, for though Mr Bingley's mare had certainly seen better days and was past the age of twenty, if not close to thirty, both must have cost a fortune. What were their two old shaggy Shire Horses in comparison?
Why her father had bought them, Elizabeth was not entirely sure of, for aside from Jane no-one ever dared ride them despite their calm temper and patience. Perhaps their height was just too daunting. Elizabeth definitely thought so. She was no horsewoman.
'Would you like something to drink?' Jane presently asked and her invitation was gratefully accepted by Bingley, while Darcy declined politely.
Great! Elizabeth had dearly hoped to be able to finish her chores without being further scrutinized by Mr Darcy, but it seemed that had been wishful thinking.
Bingley and Jane disappeared into the milk chamber, where her father, and now her, kept a stash of water and apple juice. - Well, and there was always the milk, of course. By now it should be sufficiently cooled down by their refrigeration system, for if there was anything Elizabeth really despised, it was milk still cow-warm. Brrrrr!
Darcy, now left with two horses to tend to, stood slightly forlorn on the path. Yeah, alright, she got it.
'You can tether your horses over there, Mr Darcy,' she pointed at the solid fence of their own horses' paddock.
'Thank you, that would be great.'
Why, oh why did he have to always sound so very haughty even when he was being polite?
'Is there anything I can help you with?' Darcy inquired when he had tied up his beasts and Elizabeth could not help noticing that other than his friend from London, he did not give five straws about all the mud and manure that lay in his path.
Okay, there she had misjudged him, he obviously really was a country boy.
'Knowing Bingley, it'll be a while until your sister will return to give you a hand,' he added when she didn't immediately reply, nodding his head in the direction where they had disappeared. 'So, if you want me to help a little, I'm at your service.'
With almost malicious glee Elizabeth, at last, answered that the pigsty needed cleaning. But had she thought his face would fall at that, she was sorely mistaken, for all he asked was: 'Pitchfork or Mini-Tractor?'
'Whatever you prefer, Mr Darcy. We've got both at hand.'
'Pitchfork actually, unless you happen to have a couple of hundred piggies. But since you said that you mainly produce milk...'
This now really stunned her and she could not help remarking: 'You are the only person I've ever met who preferred a pitchfork for mucking out the stables.'
'Well, why invest in a gym membership when one can get one's workout for free?' he asked wryly, his eyes twinkling in a manner that made Elizabeth almost weak in the knees.
'Does it work?'
'At least I hope so. I can hardly be an impartial judge of my own physique. What is your assessment?'
Arrogant ass! He must know that he looked drop dead gorgeous in his polo shirt and riding breeches. Boy, did he have a firm backside! The pictures popping up in Elizabeth's mind of Mr Darcy in the nude were both far from welcome and highly titillating.
'So, how many pigs do you have?'
'You are in luck, we haven't even got twenty and that is counting the piglets,' she replied, leaving his other question unanswered.
'Perfect!'
'You know you don't have to do that?'
'Yes, I do know that, but perhaps it keeps unpleasant ladies off my arm tonight. Truth be told, I am very glad I got it back at all last night.'
'You are not very subtle in stating your opinions, are you?'
'Why?' he asked, and actually looked fairly puzzled as to her meaning.
'Never mind.'
Mr Darcy's prediction had been an accurate one, for they had not only mucked out the stables, taken care of Nellie and Dorothy, but also repaired a hole in the fence, collected the eggs and filled in the necessary HACCP paperwork for the milk, which had cooled down just to the temperature it was supposed to, when at long last Jane and Bingley rounded the corner of the barn almost three hours later, so lost in their conversation, that Darcy needed to address his friend several times until he finally reacted.
Yep, definitely, time to start shopping for a bridesmaid's dress. - And thinking about it, perhaps some baby clothes, one never knew and after all, haylofts are notorious, aren't they?
'Oh, Darcy, I completely forgot about you,' Bingley remarked, looking somewhat sheepish and as adorable as a dachshund-puppy.
His friend didn't reply but only shook his head in mock exasperation, while handing a pair of pliers over to Elizabeth, which had still been in his pocket from earlier on.
'Do you know that you've got mud all over yourself, Darcy?'
'It's pig shit, Bingley. I hope you've got a washing machine somewhere in the house.'
'Oh? - Oh yes, there is one, but I am not sure it works. By the looks of it, it's at least twenty years old.'
'I could lend you our old washboard,' Elizabeth could not help throwing in, earning her a rather comical death glare from Darcy and a blank expression from his friend.
'Nonsense. If you need to wash something, you are welcome to use our washing machine for the time being,' Jane offered cordially. 'Just bring your stuff over here and I'll take care
of it.'
Bingley once again beamed at her in obvious admiration.
'That is very nice of you. I think we'll take up on that offer. What do you say, Darcy?'
'Do we have a choice in case your washing machine really doesn't work? Not that I would be at all surprised if it is broken, for pretty much everything else is in that new place of yours.'
'Well, come the week after next and the overhaul will start, and you'll see that by the end of November it'll be as good as new.'
'Why not next week?' Elizabeth could not help asking. 'It sounds as if you've got a tight schedule.'
Did she imagine it, or did Mr Bingley blush? Mr Darcy, at any rate, frowned as usual. Shame, working with him had been surprisingly pleasant. She had almost forgotten how aloof he could be.
'Well... - I've had some problems with my sis... - contractor, it seems,' Bingley stuttered, his face now decidedly as red as a beetroot.
At that, Darcy only snorted and then turned towards his horses. Was he laughing? It seemed so, for his shoulders were shaking. Damn, could he never just laugh like any other person? Even now?
That he had suppressed his laughter at the ball had been one thing, actually, it had even been the polite thing to do, but right now? And what was so funny anyway? Surely not that Mr Bingley's schedule had been screwed up somehow.
Chapter 6:
A boring looking zebra
Sunday went without any disturbance. At least so far.
Bingley had driven over to Longbourn House to wash their laundry, for as a matter of course, the washing machine was broken, and as it was, he stayed there all afternoon. Also of course.
In all honesty, Darcy would have been very surprised if Charles had returned straight away. Hm, this started to be quite serious. Why was it, that Bingley just needed to smile and all the women were after him, while he never had much success, at least not with the amiable ones? The likes of Caroline Bingley he could hardly shake off, but they did not want him, they wanted his money. Once they realised that his lifestyle was by no means glamorous, and really rather mucky, they were gone.
His mind strayed towards Elizabeth Bennet and her sparkly bright eyes. He had actually had fun with her yesterday, even though it had only been farm work. Nothing special at all. But she was witty and it had been surprisingly easy to banter with her. At least to the very point where he suddenly realised that her lips were also lovely and her figure so very fine and he had to concentrate on something else - anything else, to not make a complete fool of himself. But there was no denying it, she made his heart beat just this little bit faster. Well amongst of other more obvious things.
Damn it! There he was shaking his head over his friend's infatuation when he was not a bit better. Worse even, for at least Bingley knew what to do, while he had not the slightest idea how he could win over a woman like Lizzy Bennet. How did one approach a woman anyway? Until now it had always been the other way around and each and every time it had been a disaster in the making. And “Farmer wants a wife” was most certainly not an option either!
With a sigh, Darcy decided to explore the house instead of pondering. This was safe ground at last.
Old houses were a hobby of his, and though Netherfield House was in a fairly bad condition, upon inspection, it was not as unrealistic as he had first thought, that Bingley would manage to get it back in shape within little more than two months. There were regulations for a Grade II* listed building, of course, but Bingley knew what he was doing and dealing with, as did his contractor. By the end of the coming week the old, original furniture would be picked up and be brought to a specialised workshop in Barnett, to be restored, and thus giving room for the builders. Piece of cake from there on. Hopefully. Sometimes there were hidden surprises, but as yet, it looked promising enough.
Running his fingers over the dusty surface of a sideboard he could hardly help to notice that once it was restored, it would look very lovely with its inlays and carvings. And while he was at it anyway, he started to make an inventory. After all, that was the main reason he was here. With antiques, one had to be careful, for they were not only beautiful but also expensive and had a tendency to disappear without a trace if one was not careful. Alternatively, one might get back a cheap replica for a bloody expensive item.
An hour later he had worked his way through to the library.
Books were another passion of his, but really, the library at Netherfield was pathetic. Oh, there were a few old books, but the majority of shelves were empty and those books that had been left there were so battered that in opening them they were bound to either break or crumble to dust. What a shame!
However, the most interesting things he found, were a couple of old ledgers, neatly tucked away in an old desk, and with some curiosity, he sat down to go through them.
Hm, how easy it once had been to run an estate and do the paperwork. In all seriousness, nowadays one had to study business to get through all of this shite. All the tax forms, business accounts, payrolls, HACCP tables and so forth. And that was with the help of computers!
One should really think that with having computers, that the actual amount of paper should have declined over the years, and yet, the contrary seemed to be the case. By contrast, everything was here, right there in this one ledger, and today? He would have at least five different folders, for each month that is, and still struggle to get a decent overview. Silly, really, if one thought about it.
As if on queue his mobile hummed to inform him that he had received an e-mail. His weekly business reports. Yeah, figures that just when he felt that modern business was so much more complicated than it once had been, that he had to be reminded of it in such a way.
Deciding not to read the reports, Darcy, feeling quite dusty himself after inspecting so many old pieces of furniture, instead went over to the stables to look after his horses, and then perhaps ride a little.
As interesting as old houses were, they were tiring after a couple of hours and on a Sunday he tended to be a lazy sod anyway. No, better get going!
Getting close to his gelding on the large overgrown paddock was not as easy as he had anticipated and convincing him to come with him, was even more of a challenge, but he did manage and an hour later his horse was curried and brushed and ready for a ride.
'Excuse me, can you tell me how to get to the M25? I got lost,' a young lady in a sporty convertible asked him, about thirty minutes into his ride, looking fairly dim-witted, considering that right in front of her there was a sign pointing out the direction.
As if to emphasize that she was in a hurry she let the engine howl, not exactly helping with keeping his nervous horse at bay.
'That way,' Darcy replied shortly, pointing in the respective direction.
'Are you sure? I was just looking where I need to go tomorrow because we're making a film around here, you know? But can you believe it, I have been driving around for hours, and could not find the location!'
Film location? Oh-uh...
Darcy took a closer look at her and his suspicions grew. Bleached blond hair, fake tan, fake boobs and a shaved p... - Bloody hell, did women not wear knickers anymore? What was it with lasses these days that they wore mini skirts that could pass for a slightly wider belt and not wear anything underneath to top it all? It was not that he was a prude, but did they really think that this was attractive? It made them look like sluts and nothing more. Now, a bit of lace here and sateen there, leaving a bit of room for the imagination, that was something completely different!
Should he ever catch his sister dressing up like this, she would be grounded until her own bloody funeral and beyond. Though thinking about it, grounding would presumably be unnecessary, considering that he would throttle her right away.
'See that blue thing over there? It's called a sign and can you see what's written on there? M25 and an arrow pointing to the left. So yes, lady, I am sure!'
'Oh, really? I forgot to put in my contacts. It's all a blur I fear,' the woman tittered.
'And you really think it to be a good idea to drive around when you are about as blind as a bat?' Darcy inquired incredulously, wondering how one actually managed to forget to put in one's contacts or put on one's glasses when unable to see clearly past the five-meter mark.
If she had a death wish, that was fine with him, but traffic, unfortunately, was a bit more complex than that. There were other people as well, though she likely couldn't see that, short-sighted as she was.
'Oh, I manage,' she cooed. 'Is that a horse you are sitting on?'
'No, it's a boring looking zebra. The stripes are in the laundry at present.'
'Really?'
'You are a natural blonde, aren't you?'
'Yes, but it's such an ugly ash-blond...'
'Never mind. Just one more question. If you forgot to put in your contacts, why don't you just put on those glasses I see on the dashboard, especially when you are looking for something?'
'Oh, they make me look so... - dumb! And how can one miss a large house?'
'You could hardly look any dumber than you do right now, Miss.'
'What do you mean?'
'Never mind.'
'Well, perhaps we'll see each other, sometime. I'll be here for the whole of next week. You seem awfully stiff, you know. But perhaps you'd like to come by after one of our shoots and I could tend to it,' she winked insinuatingly.
'I'm tense, not stiff. And no, thank you!'
With that he turned his horse around only to realise that not far from him, Elizabeth Bennet had gotten off her bicycle and was staring in his direction, shaking with suppressed laughter, tears streaming down her face.
'A boring looking zebra?' she blurted out as soon as he had come nearer.
'Yeah, well, I hope Bingley manages to iron its stripes so I can put them back on,' he countered, before asking: 'You haven't got a mobile on you, by any chance?'
'I have, why?'
'Because I need to call the police before that nitwit runs over a child. I think the only reason she saw me and stopped to ask for the way was that the horse was big enough for her to take notice.'