Page 6 of The Crown’s Gift

The first two years at Netherfield had exposed how little he knew. Roofs had leaked. Tenants had been charged fees never authorized by the Crown. Fields had been exhausted by the same crops. Sir Thomas, who had once congratulated himself on understanding mankind because he could detect foolishness at twenty paces, discovered that understanding a drainage account required humility of another sort.

He had learned.

Longbourn had changed with him. Its cottages were repaired, hedges laid, tenant agreements made fair, and the house renovated without destroying its character. When the Bingley inquiry arrived, Sir Thomas had felt the peculiar pain of offering another man the home in which all his daughters had been born.

Lady Bennet had felt no such pain.

"A single gentleman of four or five thousand a year may sleep in my old dressing room as often as he likes," she had announced. "Especially if he dances."

Sir Thomas read the final page. "Give Mr Bingley the lease. Three years, with the option to renew. The west tenant farms are excluded as agreed, and he is to consult us before cutting mature timber."

"Yes, sir."

"And Morris—do not tell Lady Bennet he dances."

The steward's composure broke. "No, sir."

News travelled more quickly than leases. Before the ink had dried, Meryton knew that a wealthy young gentleman from the north had taken Longbourn, that he owned a carriage, that he intended to bring a large party, and that he might possess anything from three to twelve thousand pounds a year depending upon the listener's distance from the original source.

Lady Bennet received the certainty of his arrival over breakfast.

"There, Mr Bennet. You see? We must call at once."

"He is my tenant. I have already exchanged six letters with his solicitor."

"A solicitor cannot introduce Jane."

Jane's cup paused halfway to her lips. At twenty-two she had the same delicate beauty that had caused Queen Charlotte to remark upon her during her presentation four years earlier, but serenity no longer meant she could not be embarrassed.

"Mama, Mr Bingley has not yet spent one night at Longbourn."

"Which is why we must not descend upon him today. Tomorrow will do."

Elizabeth looked at Mary across the table. Mary lowered her eyes, but a smile appeared.

"Sir Thomas will call first," Lady Bennet continued. "Then he may invite Mr Bingley to dine. Jane shall wear the ivory silk. Lizzy, you may wear the green, though as you are not yet presented—"

"I shall be invisible?"

"Do not tease. Of course you may dine with us at home. It is only in London that people make everything difficult. Mary, sit straight, my love. You need not look alarmed. No one will present you to Mr Bingley."

This assurance made Mary look more alarmed.

Elizabeth reached beneath the table and pressed her sister's hand. Mary returned the pressure quickly.

Mary had changed most visibly from the solemn child who once read sermons she did not understand. Miss Harwood had discovered that she possessed a fine ear, then obtained a master who praised effort before display. Freed from the belief that she must be wise because she was not beautiful, Mary became quiet rather than severe. Her brown hair was dressed simply. Her eyes, behind light spectacles used only for reading music, were soft and observant.

She dreaded her coming presentation.

Elizabeth had been eligible two seasons earlier. She had delayed first because their grandmother Gardiner had fallen ill and died, then again because Mary confessed—one midnight, in broken whispers—that she could not walk into the Queen's drawing room alone after watching Jane do it so perfectly.

"Then you shall not," Elizabeth had said.

Their father had objected. Their mother had lamented. Elizabeth did not yield, and in the end Sir Thomas admitted that a presentation undertaken freely was worth more than one hurried for convenience.

Now the sisters would enter Court together in the spring.

"We shall dine quietly," Sir Thomas said. "Mr Bingley may bring those staying with him. I understand his sisters accompany him, with one sister's husband and a friend."