Master of Netherfield

by Martin Hunnicutt

  “And paper sir?”

  “Yes, a small weight of paper as well with a few fingers of your best sealing wax.”

  “Very good sir,” Mr. Barnes said as he stepped away to gather William’s requested items. The young man joined his sister at the counter where she held the new doll, a beautiful lady with dark brown hair in a green gown though her bonnet was off and in Mrs. Barnes’ hand.

  “Brother, she is ever so lovely! May I take her home please?”

  William bent over to examine the doll but he also grinned and said, “I am certain she will be welcomed among your choir in the nursery this afternoon.”

  He turned to the shelves of toys and noticed a child’s tea set. “Georgiana, since you have so many dollies and they grow jealous, perhaps they will welcome this new friend if she comes with a gift for everyone. Shall we also purchase the tea set for her to present to the other dolls?”

  “Oh yes, brother! Thank you! Now all the dollies will be glad to have their new friend.”

  **++**

  With their purchases wrapped in paper, and the doll sitting beside Georgiana on the carriage seat, his sister told the doll about their rooms and the other dolls that waited to meet her. William smiled indulgently as the driver turned the carriage back toward the estate.

  During the ride home, his thoughts turned toward business and the matters of the estate though eventually, he remembered his short and uncomfortable conversation with Wickham.

  Seeing Georgiana back to nursery and returned to the charge of Nanny Brice once again, William changed clothes, went to the stables to select a horse and then spent two hours on a long ride. Any meeting with Wickham set his teeth on edge and a ride to the far pastures allowed him to dissipate his frustrations.

  Late in the afternoon, as he returned to the house from the stables, William reflected on the future and what he wanted – something better for his sister seemed necessary, a home and a family of his own someday. Could Pemberley ever be a home again?

  ‘Perhaps this time in Hertfordshire will be good for us all.’

  Above stairs, he found a hot bath waiting as Harris laid William’s clothing for supper with his father. Out of his dirty clothing, bathed and refreshed, William waited as his valet began to dress him. Instantly aware that something bothered his valet, at the appropriate moment he asked, “It must be a tremendous discovery to distract you so Harris. Will you share it with me?”

  The valet paused for a moment before beginning his story. “Sir, your father has taken a new mistress, a lady introduced in Lambton as a widow named Mrs. Murray.”

  “Where is she? Here in the house?” William asked concerned for his sister and dread of a meeting over the dining room table at supper.

  “No sir,” Harris replied. “Below stairs, the servants speculate that she is in residence in a house the master owns on the far side of the village. He goes there every day and remains several nights each week.”

  “And once I am gone to Hertfordshire, he can bring her here.”

  The valet shook his head. “The rector at Lambton and Kympton would protest her presence in the house with your young sister in residence, sir.”

  Darcy frowned and Harris turned away to not embarrass his employer.

  “So, Father needs George invested at Kympton for more reasons than I knew.”

  He considered his plan to ask for Georgiana’s visit and grimaced as he decided, “I shall bring Georgiana to Hertfordshire and keep her with me permanently.”

  Supper was a pleasant, informal affair with just father and son in attendance. Mrs. Reynolds and the cook took special care to include all of Master William’s favourite dishes for his welcome home supper. They discussed the spring weather, planting and how well the herds of sheep looked as they waited to be sheered in the coming days.

  “I could remain through the sheering Father,” William offered. “I can work with the shepherds driving the flock to the grange where the shearers wait.”

  “That will not be necessary,” George told his son, dismissing the notion. “Pack your trunks, select some horses from the stable, and take possession of Netherfield. Life is too short to wait on others to complete some task or other.”

  “I took Georgiana into Lambton today and I decided to ask your permission for her to come and stay with me in Hertfordshire. Allow me to get settled, establish the kitchens to my liking and then I should like to send for my sister.”

  George seemed to consider his son’s offer for a full minute before he asked, “How long would you keep your sister?”

  William tilted his head to one side, a mannerism of his mother that George Darcy recognized instantly; his son was dealing with something difficult.

  “I should like to keep her close by me for many months sir,” he finally answered and George smiled broadly.

  “That is an answer that could mean ten or twenty or even forty months.”

  William only nodded his head but Mr. Darcy told his son, “Get settled and I shall send Georgiana to you before her birthday.”

  “Thank you.”

  **++**

  As he finished his plans and packing for his journey south, William went below stairs to meet with Mrs. Reynolds. The lady had been selected as housekeeper at Pemberley from the senior staff when he was five years. She had served the master and mistress well, helping to raise both children after the passing of Mrs. Darcy ten years ago when Georgiana was born. As he approached the kitchens William encountered Alfred Clemmons, the business secretary for his father, and he asked the man to join him.

  “Have you come to say farewell already, Master William? I hear you are to leave us,” the pleasant woman told the young man when he appeared at her office below stairs. “Mr. Clemmons, good morning.”

  “Good morning Mrs. Reynolds,” replied the secretary.

  “I have an important task ahead of me,” Master William replied, motioning Mrs. Reynolds to return to her seat and Clemmons to an empty chair, as he closed the door himself and sat across from the housekeeper. Remembering times when he had been disciplined by the housekeeper in this same room for pilfering biscuits or scaring the maids on the servant stairs on All Hallows Eve, William smiled comfortably.

  “How can I be of assistance Master William?”

  “I do not have to ask you to maintain your governance of my sister. Nanny Brice is very cheerful but strict with my sister but Georgiana looks to you as a protective aunt.”

  “Who is also strict,” Mrs. Reynolds reminded Master William.

  “In a few weeks, I shall send for my sister to join me and once she is with me, I shall keep her close.”

  He paused a long minute before saying, “I understand there is a new woman in my father’s life. What happened with the other woman?”

  Mrs. Reynolds grew pale, glanced once at Mr. Simmons, but then she shared what she knew. “Mr. Darcy’s long-established kept woman was Mrs. Hammond. In February, she received an offer of marriage from a well-to-do tradesman from Wiltshire. She married him with a special license and left for the south of England. Mr. Darcy was greatly affected by her desertion.”

  William could imagine the dark mood of his father and how it affected the entire household and so he waited until Mrs. Reynolds was ready to continue talking.

  Mr. Clemmons joined the conversation at that point saying, “Master William, I believe Mrs. Hammond grew tired of waiting for Mr. Darcy to marry her. She accepted the other gentleman’s offer of marriage, left your father’s protection and deserted the estate he gave for her life. Mr. Darcy required me to recover the estate but the steward and all monies go through my papers so it was no trouble to do so.”

  “He found another lady quickly and did not pine for Mrs. Hammond,” William observed but neither the secretary nor the housekeeper had any comment though Mrs. Reynolds blushed.

  Now, William came to a startling realization, “My father kept two mistresses at the same time. Mrs. Hammond must have grown jealous and that is why she accepted th
e proposal of marriage.”

  “Has this affected my sister?” he asked urgently.

  “Generally, Miss Georgiana is ignored by your father.”

  “I shall have her with me within the month,” William explained.

  “Keep her with you,” Mrs. Reynolds stated. “Mr. Darcy will move Mrs. Murray into the house once your sister leaves and he will not want to move the lady out again.”

  “I understand Mrs. Simon left but no one seems willing to discuss the whereabouts of her two sons. Has my father made arrangements for his natural children?”

  The secretary cleared his throat and explained, “The master has established separate trusts for the two boys – they will be fully funded with ten thousand pounds each before another year passes. Until then, he pays for their schooling out of his pocket money. When they go to University, the trust will pay their expenses and they will have the income until they are twenty-five years. Then they receive the original ten thousand.”

  “My father’s natural children will be an issue all the days of my life, I fear.” William looked across the room toward a painting of the Pemberley rose garden he had given to Mrs. Reynolds several years before at Christmas. “And Wickham was here yesterday.”

  “George Wickham is not your father’s son,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “Each of your father’s sons has his look – his hair and his eyes.”

  “And my sister?”

  “She is your mother’s child...” replied Mrs. Reynolds though she did not wish to say more.

  “It does not signify. Mr. Clemmons and I shall remain in correspondence regarding all of the business affairs of Pemberley, and I will remain in contact with Mrs. Reynolds,” William told them.

  He turned to Clemmons and asked, “Do you have anyone you would recommend as secretary for my estate in the south? I understand there is a steward but I wish to hire a secretary as well to handle all of the correspondence for trade my father wants me to continue to manage.”

  **++**

  The trip to Hertfordshire required three days. William and his valet often rode ahead of the carriage and wagon that followed them, to survey the roads and inns along the way. With the future including annual journeys between Derbyshire and Hertfordshire, William intended to have established rights for rooms and spare horses at the different stables along the route.

  He brought six horses to Netherfield, a team of greys pulling the carriage and a team of workhorses pulling the wagon of trunks. William and Harris rode saddle horses most of the day, and they as well as the drivers and footmen were armed as their small caravan carried a fortune in horses, clothing and supplies. On the third day, William and his valet road ahead of the wagon and carriage; the young man anxious to catch the first glimpse of his new home.

  **++**

  Coming from the north early in the afternoon, William Darcy found the drive leading to Netherfield Park and he slowed his horse, a gelding named Jupiter, to a walk and looked about him intently – the grove of oak trees that marked the entrance to his estate, the stone fences that lined the fields where a few sheep grazed, and the roof of the distant manor house under the bright, blue English sky that was the backdrop to his land.

  The first person he met was a boy running along the drive who stopped when Darcy pulled his horse to a stop and tipped his hat to the youngster. The boy bobbed his head and said, “G’day sir.”

  “Good day young man. What is your name?”

  “M’ name is Davie Hall, sir.”

  Dismounting, William turned to the boy again while his horse stamped one hoof as if impatient to reach the house. “Well Davie, can you tell me if this is Netherfield Park?”

  Pointing back to house in the distance, Davie confirmed the estate’s name, “Yes, it be Ned’rfields, sir and there’s a to-do here abouts, let me tell you.”

  “Why is that?” William asked the boy.

  “Me da says that th’ new master be coming and he’ll likely throw us out of our home.”

  “Throw you out? Why would the new master dismiss your family? Is your father a good farmer?”

  “He is a good farmer f’r certain – we had more oats from our fields than any other farm at Ned’rfields. But the swells don’t like us folks – the last master at Ned’rfields was rough on e’ryone.”

  “Where are you going this afternoon?”

  “M’ going home. I carried a pail of honey to th’ big house but gotta get back. Our farm is ‘cross the road and through th’ woodlot and me ma needs me to mind me brudders while me sisters help in the barn with some hay.”

  Darcy pulled a shilling from his pocket and handed it to the boy.

  “Thank you for stopping to talk to me this afternoon, Davie Hall. I am Mr. Darcy, the new master of Netherfield and I hope to see you again soon.”

  “A shillin’? Thank ye, sir! I h’d a penny once but never had a shillin’ before.”

  “It is good luck for me to give you a coin because you are the first person I met at Netherfield,” Darcy insisted as the boy grinned and hid the coin in his pocket.

  Harris waited quietly while his master and the boy had their conversation, and when Darcy mounted his horse again, they continued to the house at a walk.

  “The tenant boy had a very thick accent sir,” the valet suggested and Darcy laughed.

  “Harris, you laboured many years to remove your Derbyshire accent,” Darcy said. “Besides, I like the sound of ‘Ned’rfields’ and so does Jupiter.”

  Upon approach and closer examination of the manor, Darcy realized the Georgian architecture meant that the three-story house was relatively new – probably built in the last fifty years. They did not stop at the front door but continued around the house to the stable yard where a lone boy ran into the stable before reappearing with a pair of companions to hold the horses.

  “Good day, sir,” the eldest boy said, his pronunciation much better than the tenant boy along the drive.

  “Good day, young man. I am the new master of Netherfield, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy,” William told the boy. “Bring the horses into the stable and let us begin there.”

  Walking into the stable and leaving Harris at the back to herd the three boys and two horses forward, Darcy quickly inspected the stalls and the feed bins, counted four cats in residence to manage the mice and rats, and then climbed into the hayloft to inspect the last of the hay from the previous year.

  “Are there any oats?” he asked climbing down the ladder.

  “Yes sir.”

  “Where is the coachman?” Darcy asked inspecting the dust on the old carriage and the harness for a carriage team.

  “He left when the last master departed sir,” the boy replied. “He’d never allow us boys to touch the carriage or harness sir. But we keep the plough horses well-groomed and their harness is cleaned every week.”

  “Are you taking care of the horses yourself? Who decides how much feed and water they get?”

  “The tenant farmers talk to me and Mr. Taylor from Meryton has come out a couple times to talk to all three of us and check all of the farm horses.”

  “Very good,” William said. “The blacksmith is named Taylor?”

  “Yes sir, the only blacksmith in Meryton.”

  “My carriage and a wagon will arrive shortly,” he told the boy. “There will be six new horses here tonight so all these stalls must be cleaned with fresh straw spread about. Mr. Smyth is my coachman and he will give you orders beginning this afternoon.”

  The boy swallowed nervously and William grinned to reassure the stable boy, “Smyth is a fair man, no one who works for me will be anything but fair.”

  Turning to Harris, he said, “Shall we surprise the cook and tour the house?”

  “As you wish ‘Mr. Darcy’,” the valet replied, catching his employer off guard for a moment.

  **++**

  Chapter 3

  Mr. Bennet’s Family

  Elizabeth Bennet, with her long legs and boundless energy of a young girl of fourteen years, w
alked ahead of her mother and sisters on the road to Meryton. At twelve years, Mary was often petulant and Mrs. Bennet was short-tempered with her middle child today. Ever the peacemaker, Jane with sixteen years intervened. Fortunately, Kitty and Lydia had been left at home in the care of Mrs. Hill the housekeeper.

  “Mamma, walk ahead with Lizzy. I shall walk with Mary and we shall join you at the Lucas Emporium when we reach Meryton.”

  “Are you certain Jane?” Mrs. Bennet asked but she had already given Mary’s hand to her eldest daughter. Jane slowed to Mary’s pace and encouraged her sister to talk of the reason for the trip to Meryton – to purchase cloth to make new dresses for all five of the Bennet sisters.

  But the purpose of the trip to Meryton for their mother was for new ribbons for her cap – she must look her best. Worried that she was losing her husband’s attention – he had not visited her bed in many months – Mrs. Bennet planned a special supper for her husband tonight with their daughters. Perhaps he would come to her again if he was pleased with her skills of managing their home, their daughters and his supper table.

  When she reached Meryton, the road grew slightly wider with houses and shops lining the street and some shops were connected by a raised sidewalk of wood that reduced the amount of muck and dirt that was carried into the shops on the feet of the shoppers.

  As she reached the corner of Lucas Emporium, a wooden shop that was frequently the source of Bennet purchases, Elizabeth heard a small child crying and she immediately turned from the street and hurried toward the cries. When she stepped around a stack of barrels beside the shop, Elizabeth found Charlie Lucas, son of the proprietor threatening a much younger boy; the son of a tenant farmer.

  “Give me the shilling!” Charlie demanded of the boy.

  Recognizing Davie Hall from Netherfield near Longbourn, Elizabeth stepped forward. Davie was only eight years to Charlie’s twelve years.

  “Th’ gent’man give me th’ shilling! It be mine!”