Master of Netherfield

by Martin Hunnicutt

  “Ice?” Mrs. Bennet replied. “I am not certain we have any ice in the cellar. Our ice house is certainly empty.”

  “Papa, send for ice!” Jane exclaimed.

  “We shall wait for Mr. Taylor’s arrival and confirmation of your diagnosis,” Mr. Bennet told his eldest daughter. “You are not an apprentice to the blacksmith.”

  Mrs. Bennet fussed, “Mr. Bennet! Such a notion! Girls are not apprenticed. Jane’s fascination with horses has gone quite far enough when she is spending time with the blacksmith!”

  “She is always chaperoned by Mr. Taylor at the livery,” Mr. Bennet told his wife. “I know of each of Jane’s visits to the livery and her knowledge. She will have to marry a man with horses someday.”

  When Taylor arrived at Longbourn shortly thereafter, he came with several large buckets of ice buried in sawdust and covered with burlap bags.

  “Mr. Bennet, Mr. Hill says you have taken in four horses that have floundered,” Taylor said walking into the stable.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Bennet,” the man said as he bowed before he smiled at his favourite pupil, Jane Bennet. “Ah, Miss Bennet, tell me how you find the horseflesh this evening.”

  Moving with Mr. Taylor to the first stall where the team waited patiently, Jane summarized her discoveries for the blacksmith in her gentle voice that seemed to sooth the distressed horses. “This team has problems with their front hooves. The mare on the right; both front hooves are in trouble. The mare on the left; only her right hoof appears to be in pain. All hind hooves are good.”

  “And the other team?” he asked.

  “I think they are in poor condition but their hooves are not injured.”

  When Mr. Taylor attempted to look at the hooves, the horses stamped their hooves so he stood aside and allowed Jane with her gentle touch to raise the hooves for his inspection.

  Outside the stalls, Mr. Taylor made his proscription, “For the next three days, we want the horse to move as little as possible. The soft dirt in the stalls helps. Tonight, we put all four front hooves of this pair in ice buckets for a half hour at a time.”

  “Even the good hoof of the second mare?” asked Elizabeth.

  As he and the stable boys set to work with buckets and ice, Mr. Taylor nodded and explained, “If both front hooves are cold, she’s more likely to stand still.”

  Then he looked at Jane and asked, “What else should we do to treat floundering?”

  “We don’t feed them for two or three days. They can have water but no feed,” the young lady replied. “I would probably keep the second team without feed for at least one day and then move them out into the yard to feed them away from their team mates but not put them in the pasture.”

  “Good,” Mr. Taylor agreed. “And I shall check their shoes and hooves then. If the swelling has gone down, we’ll give them new shoes and allow the mares to rest in the stalls for at least another week with moderate amounts of oats and a little well-dried hay.”

  Taylor went into the second stall to check the second team of bays and returned, satisfied with Miss Bennet’s evaluation of the horses.

  “Not in the pasture?” Mr. Bennet asked. “Oats are expensive this early in the summer.”

  “Pasture grass and too much travel is what brought these horses to flounder today. I would say their owner has skimped on oats and hay all spring leaving them to gorge on pasture grass without enough exercise.”

  Mr. Bennet frowned. “And then to drive them without rest of over fifty miles in two days’ time, I am not surprised they floundered.”

  “Who did you say these horses belonged to?” Mr. Taylor asked. “They are expensive horses that have been sorely mistreated.”

  “It was a noble lady who was lost on her roads,” Mr. Bennet explained, catching the eyes of wife and daughters. “I loaned my carriage and team to take her back to London. I sent young Tolliver with them to drive the team back from town tomorrow after taking the lady to her brother’s home in London.”

  Mr. Taylor grimaced and shook his head, “I hope your team comes home in shape Mr. Bennet. No telling what noble folk’ll do when you’re not watching ‘em.”

  Mrs. Bennet cleared her throat and said, “Girls, let us return to the house.”

  “I would like to stay and help Mamma,” Jane replied and Elizabeth echoed the sentiment. But Mary was ready to return to the house so she and her mother disappeared into the darkness with one of the lanterns while Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth watched Jane and Mr. Taylor care for the horses.

  It was midnight before Mr. Bennet forced his two girls to return to the house and it was not many minutes after following them up the stairs that they were all abed.

  **++**

  “Lizzy! Lizzy!” called an excited voice.

  Stretching as she woke from a deep sleep, Elizabeth asked, “Jane? Whatever is the matter?”

  “The horses are better! Much better! Mr. Taylor has discontinued the ice baths and he believes they will recover.”

  Hugging Jane, Elizabeth celebrated. “They were too beautiful to die!”

  “Father will write to Mr. Darcy today and begin arrangements for their proper care I am certain.” Jane paused and shook her head, “I do not know why someone with money would so abuse a beautiful animal such as these horses!”

  Imitating the lady who had passed by Longbourn the day before, Elizabeth said, “I am certain ‘Her Ladyship, Lady Catherine de Bourgh’ did not see them as animals any more than she saw her driver as a person. Did you see the gash she gave him with her cane?”

  “Will Mr. Darcy make his aunt take better care of the horses do you think?” asked Jane.

  Elizabeth nodded, “Mr. Darcy can do anything. Everyone listens to him.”

  **++**

  Longbourn

  Mr. Darcy,

  I must write and share a most interesting story with you from yesterday that involves a lady claiming to be your aunt – one Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Forgive the length of this letter and the cost of franking for multiple pages – I hope you find some humour in this tale. While my wife and I were absent from home, Elizabeth was in the front gardens when a great carriage came up the drive. The passenger in the carriage announced that she was “Her Ladyship, Lady Catherine de Bourgh” and she was looking for Netherfield Park, the home of her nephew, Fitzwilliam Darcy.

  In the short time we have been in acquaintance, you have learned Elizabeth’s nature sir and can imagine my daughter’s reaction to the lady’s manners when Elizabeth attempted to explain to your aunt that you were away from home. I believe your aunt refused to acknowledge that ‘a wild creature of the forests’ knew her nephew. She insisted that she was “Her Ladyship, Lady Catherine de Bourgh and the child should remember it!” I have a faithful report by my servant Hill that with every civility thereafter, Elizabeth referred to your aunt as ‘Your Ladyship, Lady Catherine de Bourgh’ in every sentence that she spoke. Elizabeth offered your aunt refreshments and twice told her that her horses needed to rest and take water but your aunt most strenuously objected to the notion of receiving hospitality within my home. In the end, Elizabeth provided directions to Netherfield Park to your aunt’s driver who seemed most concerned about his horses.

  Until this point, I was amused with the story but then I learned that your aunt’s carriage had broken down halfway between Longbourn and Netherfield. Our mutual neighbour, Mr. Goulding graciously stopped his carriage and offered take your aunt and her daughter on to your home though he assured your aunt that you were gone from the neighbourhood for a time. My understanding is that in a fit of anger, Lady Catherine struck her coachman with her cane and left the man with a gash in his head on the side of the road. At Netherfield, again your aunt’s temper was displayed when she found you were absent from home – she pushed her way into the house and searched the rooms upstairs and down. Now scared of your aunt and her footmen, Mrs. Hobbes summoned your stable hands and footmen, forced your aunt from the house and refused her demands to use any carriage or
any of your horses. I understand there was some damage to some of the furnishings in your home and Mrs. Hobbes is greatly distressed.

  With your aunt and cousin still in his carriage, Mr. Goulding came to me in my role as magistrate for this corner of Hertfordshire for assistance with your aunt. She loudly explained that she was ‘seriously displeased’ with her situation and finally I prevailed upon her ladyship to make use of my carriage to return to town. Her loud and expressive statements of mortification to be seen in such a carriage were only mollified when I assured her that she could lower the curtains and under cover of darkness, ship into London to your uncle’s home. I did not tell her that you were at your home in the same city with your father and sister – perhaps you can thank me with a bottle of that excellent port you stock?

  Once my carriage and team were gone to London with your aunt and cousin, my tenants and I retrieved the coachman and the team of horses deserted in the road with the carriage. The coachman who was cared for by my wife and our housekeeper required eight stitches in his head and if the lady was not your aunt sir, I would have confined her until such time as she made restitution for the injury.

  My eldest daughters took a great interest in the four bays your aunt deserted on the road – all the horses are in poor shape – grass fed without proper exercise before the long excursion from Kent to Hertfordshire. They lead the horses back to the stables here at Longbourn where Jane diagnosed the two mares as floundered. Our local blacksmith, Mr. Taylor, and Jane spent many hours last night tending to the mares with ice buckets for their front hooves and my eldest daughter believes they have been saved. I must warn you sir, if my daughters are ever in your aunt’s presence again, I fear for the lady’s peace of mind – Jane and Elizabeth are both in a temper about the horses.

  I have directed Mr. Taylor to have his men recover your aunt’s carriage and move it to Netherfield. The rear axle is broken. He will wait on your direction before making repairs. The coachman is housed in my stables with the four bays for their mutual recovery though I believe you shall have to negotiate the recovery of the bays with Jane and Elizabeth upon your return.

  Please advise me if I should send the bills to your uncle or to your aunt’s steward; there are expenses for Mr. Taylor’s services, the last ice in Meryton in October, the coachman’s injury and oats. We shall have to find another position for the coachman – he will not go back to your aunt’s service and he hopes you will take ownership of the bays. I do tell you now; I shall not return them to your aunt’s hands until all accounts are settled.

  Sincerely,

  Thomas Bennet

  **++**

  William left Georgiana in the dining room completing her morning meal to venture to the study and begin the day’s work with his father. It had been George Darcy who suggested the family meet in London in October. The season in town was over and the harvest complete, it was time to turn their attention to matters of trade and business for a few weeks.

  Mr. George Darcy maintained the facade of not dealing in trade to appease the ton but William had known since he was sixteen that trade and manufacture offered the family great sources of income that were more assured than agriculture. A drought meant less grain, hungry tenants and labourers as well as less gold in the master’s pocket. With the monies from some interests in trade with India and the Americas, the Russians and Africa, the Darcy wealth had almost doubled in ten years. If peace were ever restored to Europe, British trade would expand on the continent and the Darcy wealth could grow even more.

  ‘The purchase of Netherfield did not dent our family reserves,’ William admitted. ‘And I have enjoyed taking charge of the estate.’

  A footman opened the study door and the son found his father already at work with a secretary.

  “Good morning William,” Mr. Darcy greeted his son.

  “Good morning Father. Where shall we begin with our review this morning?”

  “I thought with the Pemberley harvest...”

  Two hours later, father and son sent the secretary to write some letters to the stewards of Pemberley, Hunter Chase and Foxglove House regarding tenant issues.

  “The labourers in Derby and Derbyshire protest any new harvest equipment,” William stated. “Perhaps if we offered employment in factories first and reduced the number of available labourers then the remaining men would welcome the new harvest equipment.”

  Mr. Darcy frowned. “Our neighbours will not welcome our stealing the farm labour.”

  William nodded his head but argued, “We shall always make someone uncomfortable with our improvements. I believe the lords and gentry can withstand change easier than the men we depend on to herd our sheep and harvest our oats, wheat and barley.”

  Now Mr. Darcy laughed and confessed, “I remember a conversation similar to this once with your uncle. The French were in the midst of their bloodletting in Paris and I argued that we should improve conditions with our tenants and labourers so they would not rise in revolution as well. And the Earl became furious that I was suggesting we spend money on the lower classes to improve their lives. But he eventually agreed with me and other landlords followed suit. Derbyshire has been fairly tranquil in the past generation.”

  Rising from the desk, George Darcy said, “I shall leave the matters of trade and business to you. William. Just promise you will not mention them to your uncle when we dine with them; I do not want to hear his cries of contamination from ‘trade’.”

  “But he will ask you for another loan of money,” William argued. “And it will be money that he will never repay.”

  “And he will get nothing without handing over a deed or two. Decide before we go to supper which lands to demand. Your cousin will inherit a shell of an estate at the rate your uncle gambles away his income.”

  “My cousin Richard has made the army his profession,” Darcy informed his father. “He prefers to be in French line-of-fire to the battles at Matlock between his father and brother, and between his mother and his sisters.”

  George looked queerly at this son for a moment before saying, “And do not entertain any notions that I shall sanction a marriage to either of the Fitzwilliam daughters. They will bring you nothing but empty purses and grasping hands to pull you down.”

  “Father, I have no intention...”

  “Good.” George Darcy rose and said, “I have an engagement this afternoon. Do not expect me for supper. I shall see you tomorrow morning.”

  Frowning but silent, William turned to three personal letters. The first letter was from his friend Charles Bingley who would finish university in another year. Bingley’s father was in trade and Charles had a sharp mind though easy manner and personality made him appear without direction at time. William and Charles had become good friends at school and they intended to maintain the connection in their majority,

  The second letter was a diatribe from Lady Catherine about Hertfordshire, wild natives and a perilous ride in a farm wagon into London in the dark of night.

  **++**

  I am a defenceless woman in need of your protection nephew. I had to abandon a carriage and four in the wilds of that land you have ventured into. How can you subject Georgiana to such an environment? Your dear mother will rise from her grave and walk the halls of Pemberley until her child is safe again! You must marry Anne and return to Pemberley, send your father’s trollop to the hedgerows where she belongs and give Georgiana the home she deserves!

  **++**

  Darcy laid the letter to the side to consign it to the flames when the door opened and the butler entered.

  “Excuse me Master William but this letter just arrived by express. It is very large and I had to pay twice the normal cost.”

  Taking the envelope from the silver tray, William saw that it was from Mr. Bennet at Longbourn. He noted the thickness of the letter and wondered what tale it contained.

  Glancing back at his aunt’s letter for a moment, he hurried to open the letter from his neighbour and learn a different
version of the story.

  **++**

  Chapter 13

  Dinner at Matlock House

  The command performance of supper with the Earl and Countess of Matlock was a regular invitation whenever the earl learned that his brother-in-law and nephew were in town. As their carriage approached, the younger man grimaced; Matlock House was one of the few places where everyone insisted on calling him ‘Fitzwilliam’ rather than ‘William’.

  The earl, James Fitzwilliam, never understood the man his youngest sister had married. Their father insisted it was a good match when he sent his youngest daughter down the aisle with a dowry of thirty thousand pounds; but George Darcy never paid the respect due to his noble relatives beyond the public bows and precedence walking into dinner. Worse, Darcy did not gamble or drink in excess though he did enjoy the company of women not his wife – few men of the ton did not keep a mistress or two during the long years of their marriage.

  Matlock House was older than Darcy House and in need of some repairs and renovations. The footmen wore uniforms that were old but well cared for – William noted that his aunt kept a good housekeeper to oversee the maids and their work. William had known the butler all of his life and he always took time to ask after the man’s family. Two sons had found positions in homes of William’s acquaintance with his recommendations.

  Following his father into the parlour, William found his uncle, aunt, their two daughters as well as Aunt Catherine and her daughter Anne.

  “George!” called the Earl rising from his chair and advancing. “I see you rescued Fitzwilliam from the countryside but why did you not bring Georgiana? How disappointing... I am certain the ladies counted on seeing her this evening.”

  William spoke up, “Sir, my sister was tired after her lessons today. I convinced our father to allow her to remain with her governess tonight and rest.”