It had been a frustrating day. Fitzwilliam Darcy and Charles Bingley had set out from London just as the sun was creeping its way above the horizon. They had ridden hard ahead of the carriages that were bound for Netherfield. The servants would see to the unloading of their things as they paid a visit to the office of Bingley’s solicitor, Mr. Phillips.
Darcy had been impressed with the knowledge and efficiency of Mr. Phillips; it was no wonder his uncle had recommended the man. Now after following that man’s directions which had them wandering in what seemed like circles in a woods somewhere in Hertfordshire, they had been directed by a kindly gentleman to seek shelter from the coming deluge at a cottage located somewhere in that same woods.
The spitting rain had left muddy trails down Darcy’s great coat as it mixed with the road dirt. Keeping to the right branch of the road as the gentleman had instructed, Darcy found himself riding up a path toward a stone cottage. “I think this is the cottage,” said Darcy.
“I do not see any other,” agreed Bingley.
Darcy saw a young woman sitting beneath a structure made for storing firewood. Her bonnet hung down her back. She brushed a stray strand of hair the color of fine chocolate from her face with a gloved hand. Then she returned to the task of removing soil from her gardening tools. Darcy and Bingley dismounted and walked toward her.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Elizabeth was intent on getting the dirt removed from her tools before storing them. Her father had given her a challenge, and she was determined not to fail. She batted at a curl that had, as was its wont, worked its way free of her pins and fallen into her face.
The soft, dripping and dropping of the rain on the roof of the wood stand was relaxing. She was glad that she had gotten the last of the seedlings transferred to the flower garden—tucked under their protective blanket of straw before the rain began. She worked as quickly as she could, wishing to be inside the cottage before the rain started in earnest. She knew that the roof over her head and the wall that faced the prevailing winds would keep her dry while she worked, but she did not relish the thought of rushing through a downpour to reach the house. She would just bide her time in the wood stand if it were not for the fact that Jane and Mary were expecting her to help with dinner preparations. So deep in thought and so concentrated on the task at hand was she that she jumped when she heard his voice.
~*~*~*~*~*~
“Good day,” called Darcy as he and Bingley approached her. The young woman jumped to her feet in surprise, a rake clattering to the ground. He halted a distance from her and said gently, “My apologies. I did not mean to startle you, ma’am. We were told that we might find refuge from the rain at Oxford Cottage.” He swept a hand toward the house. “Is this Oxford Cottage?”
Elizabeth smiled. There was only one person who could have sent these men to her cottage. “Indeed, it is, sir. My sisters and I would be happy to provide shelter for you until the rain passes.” She retrieved the fallen rake and tucked it, along with her other tools, behind the wood pile against the structure’s one wall.
“Your horses may take refuge here.” She indicated a rail where the horses could be tied; then, walking to the far end of the woodpile, she retrieved a pail of rain water.
Darcy watched her offer the pail of water to each of the horses, stroking their necks and cooing to them softly. She was captivating; there was no way around the fact. His heart had lurched, actually lurched, inside his chest when she had smiled at him. Now, witnessing her tender care of his horse—his prize possession, the stallion that he had raised and trained from a colt—he was well and truly lost.
“Allow me,” he said as he took the pail from her and carried it back outside the structure to collect more water.
Her fingers brushed his briefly as she allowed him to take the pail from her. She shook and stretched her hand as she tried to stop the sudden tingling sensation that coursed through her fingers and up her arm.
“If we wish to enter the cottage before the torrents begin, we need to hurry.” Snatching up the hem of her skirt slightly to avoid some of the mud, she walked quickly toward the cottage. Had she been alone, she would have raced, but since she was in the company of two gentlemen—two handsome gentlemen—she tried to maintain some modicum of propriety.
Elizabeth called to her sisters as she took the gentlemen’s coats and hats and placed them near the fireplace in the sitting room. The rain had not been heavy, but their outerwear was damp and needed drying. Besides, it gave her an opportunity to study the gentlemen surreptitiously.
There was something familiar about the man who had startled her. She felt as if she had seen him before. He was beautiful—tall with broad shoulders, dark hair that hung down around his ears and across his forehead, a face that was not youthful and yet not aged either, and his eyes, they were a piercing blue. Elizabeth was quite sure that she could spend many contented hours studying those eyes, as well as most everything else about him. Feeling a faint blush beginning to creep its way up her neck and towards her cheek, she turned her eyes away from him and examined his friend.
The second gentleman was quite fine to look upon as well—slightly shorter and narrower of frame with golden hair that curled about in a rather haphazard array. He wore the expression of an exuberant youth although his face was not much younger in appearance than that of his friend. Her examination of this gentleman was interrupted by the entrance of Jane and Mary, although in reality, her attention had not been fully focused on him at all as her eyes had wandered more than once back to his much more temptingly handsome friend.
Darcy watched the two young ladies enter the room. One was fair and classically handsome. The other was dark like the sister he had met by the woodpile but wore a more serious mien. He wondered to himself how one small cottage could contain such an abundance of beauty.
Jane wiped her hands on her apron as she entered. “How does Mrs. Hill always manage to make the bread without wearing the flour,” she muttered. Noticing the visitors, her face flushed.
“These gentlemen were told they could find shelter from the rain at Oxford Cottage,” Elizabeth explained. Darcy noticed the eyes of the other two young ladies grow large with understanding.
Elizabeth’s eyes twinkled and a playful smile tugged at her mouth as she turned to the gentlemen. “Now that we are safely ensconced inside, perhaps we could proceed with introductions?”
“Pray, forgive us,” said Darcy. “We have completely forgotten our manners, Bingley.”
“Perhaps the rain washed them away,” quipped his friend. “I am Mr. Bingley recently of Netherfield, or at least, I will be once this rain stops, and I find my way there.” He laughed at his own folly.
“And I am Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.” He noted a flash of recognition in the eyes of the young lady they had met outside. Should he recognize her? Or had she simply heard of his estate?
“It is very good to meet you, Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy.” Jane curtseyed. “I am Miss Bennet and these are my sisters, Elizabeth and Mary. Please, will you not be seated and take some tea with us?”
“Bennet?” Darcy’s brow furrowed.
“Yes, daughters of Thomas Bennet of Longbourn. I believe you met him?” Elizabeth took the teapot that Mary had brought into the room.
Darcy looked at her and held her captivating eyes with his. She seemed to be enjoying his confusion. An eyebrow lifted challenging him to ask more questions. “Yes, we met him.” Darcy raised an eyebrow in return and accepted the cup of tea she offered him. He settled back into his chair as if the questions eating away at his sensibilities did not exist. He would play her game.
“If he is of Longbourn, then why are you here at Oxford Cottage?” A small look of triumph crossed Elizabeth’s face at Bingley’s question.
“Our father is a singular gentleman.” Mary placed a tray of biscuits on the tea table. “He has his very unique ways of seeing that his daughters are trained properly.”
Again, Elizabeth raised a challenging eyebrow to Darcy daring him to ask. She watched as he fought his curiosity. Finally, she rolled her eyes and with a sigh, conceded him the point. “My father has no sons to send to Oxford, so he has created this, Oxford Cottage. He wishes to see if we have truly learned all we need to know to run a household. This month, we have been required to complete all the household tasks on our own. But, in six days’ time, our footman and maid, who currently serve for protection, chaperonage and correspondence between Longbourn and Oxford, will be allowed to assist us. While we are here, our two youngest sisters must take on our responsibilities at Longbourn.”
“And how long does your father expect you to stay here?” Darcy was fascinated by the concept. It was a brilliant way to evaluate learning.
“The plan is to remain through the summer until harvest. After that, we will be needed at home to help with the preservation of the harvest.” Jane sipped her tea occasionally glancing at Bingley.
The door opened, and the kindly gentleman with the twinkling eyes that Darcy and Bingley had met in the woods walked in. He stopped by each of his daughters and kissed them on the cheek. Mary handed him a cup of tea, and he settled into the chair next to the fireplace—the one in which Elizabeth had been sitting. She pulled up a stool and sat at his side.
“Elizabeth, have the flower beds been finished and the tools cleaned and stored?” He asked.
“The seedlings are planted and the tools are cleaned, but I have not yet stored them due to the rain. They are protected in the wood stand for now.”
Mr. Bennet patted his daughter’s knee. “Good, good. You have done well. Mary, are the dresses finished for the Finch girls?”
“No, Papa. We plan to finish them this evening.”
“The bread is rising, Papa. It shall be baked before we dine.” Jane answered before her father could question.
“Have my daughters made you feel welcome, gentlemen?”
“Their hospitality has been excellent,” said Darcy.
“Have they explained what Oxford Cottage is?”
“Yes, they have. I must say I find the concept to be fascinating, sir.”
Mr. Bennet chuckled. “I pegged you for the studious type. It has yet to be seen if the experiment is successful.”
“Do you expect us to fail?” Elizabeth asked indignantly.
“My dear, I do not expect you to fail, but knowing that I have considered the possibility does invoke a greater urgency to succeed, does it not?” He again chuckled as his daughter narrowed her eyes.
“Your experiment can only be considered a true success at the end, which means its success does not rest so much on us as it does on our younger sisters? How are things at Longbourn?” Elizabeth’s eyes flashed. Her father continued to chuckle.
“The three of you are sorely missed, my dear.”
It was obvious to Darcy that such playful banter was a welcome part of this family. It was unnerving and yet pleasing at the same time.
Mr. Bennet turned to the gentlemen once again. “My daughter has inherited my indomitable spirit. I do not believe she has ever backed down from any of my challenges. Often she is successful.”
“Often?” huffed Elizabeth. “Nearly always.” She laughed. Mr. Bennet patted her knee once again, but his eyes watched Darcy’s eyes soften in admiration.
“Mr. Bingley, will you be retaining Mr. Henry as your steward? He has been working Netherfield’s lands for the last ten years.”
“Yes, Mr. Phillips recommended him and Darcy agrees. It makes sense to keep him on with his wealth of information regarding the land.”
“That seems wise. Shall you be planting next week?”
“I will. That is why Darcy is here. Normally he is at his estate for the spring, but I convinced him to help me through my first season.”
“And your estate can manage without you, Mr. Darcy?”
“My steward is excellent. We have worked together for years. He will make sure everything is done as I would want it. This is Bingley’s first estate, and I have offered to help him. I had the opportunity to learn at my father’s side. Bingley has not had that.”
“Yes, your father was in trade, was he not, Mr. Bingley?”
“Yes, sir, but he desired to see me be a landed gentleman and arranged his will with that in mind.”
“My brother, Gardiner, had many good things to say of your father. Gardiner is in trade as well.” Mr. Bennet watched the faces of the gentlemen as he shared this information. Would they accept such connections? Bingley’s face relaxed. Darcy’s brow furrowed, giving Mr. Bennet a moment of pause.
“Gardiner? That name seems familiar,” Darcy stated.
“He began his business in textiles but has expanded it to include a variety of items that are imported and exported. He is located in Gracechurch Street.”
“Yes, I believe, both my uncle and I have done business with him.” Darcy smiled. “A right fine gentleman from what I remember.”
“There are few who are finer,” agreed Mr. Bennet. He stood and held out his cup to Jane, who was once again regarding Bingley. Mr. Bennet smiled. “Well, girls, the rain has stopped, and I am sure our visiting has held up your preparations of dinner. I shall see that these gentlemen find their way to Netherfield, and then I shall return to dine with you. See that you do not burn the pudding, Lizzy.”
“I never…” gasped Elizabeth.
Her father laughed. “No, but there is a first time for everything.”
“Yours shall be the only one that is burnt, my dear father.” She hugged him and then handed him his hat.
“Will you be welcoming visitors tomorrow?” Mr. Bennet asked his daughters.
“We survived this visit, so I believe future visits would be welcome.” Mary smiled wryly.
“Indeed, they would be.” Jane smiled sweetly at Bingley.
“Good. Then, I shall let Sir William know that Charlotte may call. She has been asking to see you, Lizzy.” Mr. Bennet held the door open for the two younger gentlemen, who he would also be giving leave to call on his daughters. After all, a mistress of any estate must learn to entertain visitors. He chuckled to himself, and putting on his hat, exited behind the gentlemen who, if he had anything to say about it, would someday be part of his family.