Author's note: Wow, thanks for all the motivating comments! I'm excited to do this story. Hopefully I will live up to your expectations. The writing may go a bit slower than my other ones
Someone mentioned they thought P&P took place in 1811 in canon. P&P doesn't actually say a year in it. It was originally written in 1796 and submitted for publication in 1797 as First Impressions but it was rejected. It wasn't pubished officially until 1813. In 1813, however, the war with France was mostly over. Throughout P&P, it gives frequence references to them still being at war. Also, there are no mentions of the Prince Regent, who took over for his father in 1811. So I may have used "canon" too liberally when saying 1805, but many of the JAFFs I've read are tied into that earlier period. I also read an excellent article when I began my first book (that I can't remember where it is) that gave great argument for why 1805 based on context clues in the book. I can't find it, however. :/ Thanks for pointing that out! :)
Chapter 2
London, September 1805
Fitzwilliam Darcy pulled the collar of his coat up higher around his neck. Just the brief walk from his coach with warming bricks and into his club caused his body to break out in goosebumps.
He strode through White's impressive doors and handed his coat to a waiting servant. "A brandy," he ordered the man as he continued his way into one of the large rooms.
Darcy settled himself into an overstuffed chair by a roaring fire and held out his hands to warm them. "Wretched weather," he muttered, rubbing his frozen fingers.
He wouldn't have dreamed of coming out in such misery, but a letter from Bingley intrigued him. Eager to avoid both Bingley's sisters and his own, Darcy arranged to have dinner together. White's didn't usually allow tradesmen, but Bingley's impressive fortune, coupled with Darcy's sponsorship, had secured the young man a place in the prestigious gentleman's club.
"Would you like to order your meal, sir?" A waiter had silently materialized at Darcy's elbow, brandy in hand.
"No, I will be waiting for Mr. Bingley."
"Very good, sir."
The waiter left the glass on the small table next to Darcy's armchair, then disappeared as silently as he had arrived. Darcy picked up the brandy and took a sip, looking around the room as he did so.
Unsurprisingly, the room was rather empty. The Season had not quite begun, and many members of high society were still at their country homes, overseeing the harvest and making preparations to spend the winter in London. Only a few relics from his father's day were present, reading newspapers and playing chess.
Darcy had come to London earlier for the simple reason that there was not much of a harvest to oversee. With Derbyshire being so far north compared to much of the country, the lack of warm summer weather hit them much harder than in other counties.
The thought of his tenants going without their usual harvest caused Darcy's stomach to clench. Over the years since his father's death, he had prided himself on being a good landlord and master, and this situation was no exception. He had already waived the rents for the upcoming quarter-day, but not even he could make food appear out of thin year.
How will we all survive? he wondered silently, a worried frown creasing his brow.
Already the price of food was atrocious, and the cost was sure to become astronomical by Christmas. Simple economics and the law of supply and demand would see to that. The idea of his tenants' children crying with hunger caused his eyes to water slightly. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists; tears would do no one any good.
His musings were interrupted as a flurry of snow and cold flew past him and into the other seat by the fire.
"I declare, it's cold enough out there to freeze the tail off a brass monkey!"
Darcy couldn't prevent a small smile. "My consolations on the loss of your tail," he told Bingley dryly.
Bingley guffawed as he shook snow from his hair and warmed his hands at the fire. "Are you calling me a monkey?"
"Perhaps if you acted more like an adult, I would not be so confused."
Bingley threw his head back and laughed, causing the few members of the club who were present to cast frowns of disapproval their way. Darcy's lips twitched, but he fought to maintain his stoic mien so as not to offend his late father's associates.
Darcy gave Bingley a few minutes to warm up and get settled. Once his friend appeared comfortable, Darcy began to speak. "Thank you for coming to meet me today, Bingley. I know it was not easy to come out in this weather."
"Not at all, old chap!" Bingley said with a grin. "Caroline has been driving me mad the last several days, as she has not wanted to leave the house due to the cold. However, she has become bored with remaining at home and unable to shop or call on her friends."
"Perhaps she will take up reading?" Darcy suggested.
Bingley gaped at Darcy in astonishment. Only a slight twitch of lips revealed the jest. Bingley burst into laughter again. "Only if she thinks it would make you offer for her."
Darcy grimaced in response. "No offense, but I'm afraid it would be a cold day in hell before I ever asked your sister to be my wife."
Bingley widened his eyes and blinked innocently at Darcy. "So based on this eternal winter we've been having, I should be seeing you for an interview come November?"
The surprised chuckle that escaped Darcy's mouth was somewhat rusty. "Touché," he said with a wry smile.
A comfortable silence fell over the two men for several moments before Bingley said, "So what did you want to discuss, old chap?"
"Are you still planning to lease an estate in the next year?" Darcy inquired, sipping his brandy.
"That's the plan," Bingley replied. "Caroline wishes me to take an estate in Derbyshire."
Darcy rolled his eyes in response. Bingley continued, "I would not like to be so far away from London, however."
"Would you consider taking an estate in Hertfordshire next month?"
Bingley paused. "Where is Hertfordshire again?"
Darcy sighed in mild exasperation. "About thirty miles north of London. For comparison purposes, Pemberley is around one hundred and fifty miles north of London. Shall I draw you a map? Perhaps I could give you directions to Bath as well?
Bingley flushed. "Not all of us spent the entirety of our time at university in books."
"Better books than losing a fortune at cards."
"You know that was just the once," Bingley retorted, flushing slightly. After a pause, he asked, "What's in Hertfordshire?"
"An estate called Netherfield. It has been empty for many years, and there very few tenants left. The owner passed away, and the heir is some chap in Canada who has little desire to move to England."
"If it is in such bad shape, why on earth should I lease it?" Bingley asked in confusion.
"The fact that the ground has remained mostly unplowed makes it perfect for a new type of crop I wish to try," Darcy answered.
"Why not give it a try at Pemberley?"
"Because I do not know what it will do to the land," Darcy admitted. "It comes from Russia."
Bingley stared at Darcy. "I know I'm not as smart as you, Darcy, but this has me more lost than usual. Why on earth would you want to grow a crop from Russia of all places?"
Darcy leaned forward. "Because I think we are all going to starve to death this winter."
There was a long pause, then Bingley slowly said, "Darcy, old chap, I think this cold may have frozen your brain a little. Or are you just bamming me?"
Darcy shook his head seriously. "You haven't seen my fields, Bingley. They are barren. We had snow in August! Nothing has grown, and I don't think my pond fully defrosted. It is as if summer was skipped entirely. When it wasn't freezing cold, it was pouring rain. I'm not at Pemberley for the harvest because there is no harvest to oversee. My tenants have no money and no food, and I'm afraid much of England is going to suffer the same fate."
Bingley's face grew increasingly more serious as Darcy spoke. When at last Darcy's tirade had finished, Bingley said, "So what does that have to do with Russia and Hertfordshire?"
"There is a type of wheat that grows in Russia in the wintertime and is harvested in the spring. I want to see if I can get it to grow here. I have already place an order, and it should be arriving any day. I do not want to try it on Pemberley's lands, because I do not know if it would damage the soil for next year's crops. The only empty estate I could find in almost all of England is in Hertfordshire."
"Why can't you just lease the estate for yourself?" Bingley asked.
"I would, but I haven't the funds to do so. With no harvest, I will have to forgive my tenants' rents for the next two quarters at least. I cannot allow them to starve - many have been working Pemberley land for as long as my family has owned it. I plan to use the funds I have available to purchase food and fuel. If this summer was any indication, the winter will be brutally cold."
Darcy sat back in his seat, the weight of his responsibilities clearly weighing him down. He picked up his brandy and took another sip. "What do you say, Bingley?"
Bingley frowned, mulling it over for several minutes. He occasionally muttered to himself and, at one point, appeared to be counting on his fingers. Darcy nursed his drink, tensely watching his friend.
"If most of the tenant farms are empty, who do you plan on doing the work?"
Darcy smiled in satisfaction. "That is some of the genius of my plan. I will be taking my tenants from Pemberley down to Hertfordshire with me to care for this crop."
Bingley gaped at Darcy. "You meant to tell me that you will be relocating all of your tenants and their families over two hundred miles, all for an experiment?"
Darcy shook his head. "No, not the families. I will be moving the wives and children into the dower house. I will close all of Pemberley except for one wing and the servants' quarters, which will house my servants and any others who need shelter for the winter. Some of the men will remain, but the majority will come along with me to the Hertfordshire estate, Netherfield."
"Now I know you're jesting. Move your tenants into Pemberley?"
"I cannot allow them to die when I could do something, Bingley."
Bingley shook his head. "Caroline will never believe this. The master of Pemberley, giving his home to servants."
Darcy let out a bark of laughter. "I admit it is unorthodox."
"Unorthodox? I believe the word you are searching for is insane, my friend."
"Perhaps word will spread, and I will no longer be hunted at ever ball I attend."
Bingley smirked. "With your looks and income? You could invite the pigs into your ballroom and the match-making mamas will still throw their daughters at you."
"So will you do it, Bingley?" Darcy's eyes searched his friend's face. "Will you lease Netherfield and allow me to try to save lives?"
Bingley nodded solemnly. "I would be honored."
Darcy's shoulders sagged slightly in relief. "If this is successful, we will split the proceeds equally, of course."
Waving his hand, Bingley responded, "Never you mind that. Let's just do all we can to keep people alive."
The two men spent the next hour discussing everything they would need to do the rest of the day in order to make preparations to go to Netherfield.
At the end of the discussion, they shook hands and retired to their respective homes with plans to meet again the following day at Darcy's townhouse.
Darcy winced as a shrill voice echoed down the hallway of his home and into his study. In a comfortable chair across from him, his sister Georgiana jumped slightly.
"What is she doing here?" Darcy asked in frustration. "Why on earth would Bingley bring his sister today when we were supposed to discuss removing to Hertfordshire?"
Georgiana gave her brother a pleading look. "May I be excused to my room, Brother? I suddenly remembered something I need to do in there immediately."
Darcy chuckled. "I'm sorry, dearest, but I will need your help today. Bingley and I have important business matters to discuss. I cannot leave Miss Bingley to her own devices in our home. She might badger Mrs. Smith into quitting with demands to inspect the rooms, and I cannot do without housekeeper!"
Georgiana stuck her lip out in a mock pout that made her appear much younger than her fifteen years. "What will I get for my troubles?"
"The latest novel by A Lady," Darcy responded.
"Done," Georgiana said instantly, giving her brother a wide smile.
The two exchanged a small smile just as a footman knocked on the door. "Mr. Bingley and Miss Bingley have been placed in the drawing room, Mr. Darcy."
"Thank you, Hawkins," said Darcy. He stood from his desk and held out his hand to Georgiana. "Shall we brave the lion's den?"
"With a new novel as payment? Gladly!" Georgiana giggled and took her brother's hand.
The pair made their way to the drawing room, where Miss Bingley could be heard berating a maid for the delay in Mr. Darcy's attendance on her. Darcy rolled his eyes, then entered the room with his sister.
Miss Bingley was standing at the fireplace mantle, shrewdly analyzing an expensive Oriental vase. The gleam in her eyes swiftly disappeared and a brilliant smile crossed her face upon the Darcy siblings' entrance.
"Oh, Mr. Darcy, how good of you to invite us to your charming home! Miss Darcy, you look as exquisite as ever."
Georgiana's return smile was more of a grimace, and Darcy hid a smirk. He turned his attention towards Bingley and said, "I have all the papers we discussed in my study. Shall we go there?"
Miss Bingley interrupted her conversation with Georgiana and said with dismay, "You are not going to visit with us, Mr. Darcy?"
"I told you, Caroline," Bingley interjected with an exasperated sigh, "that Darcy and I were meeting to discuss important matters of business!"
"But surely you could make time for pleasure?" Miss Bingley's voice dropped slightly on the last word, and she angled her body slightly so her figure appeared more to advantage.
Bingley's dumbfounded look almost caused Darcy to lose his stoicism. "I am sorry to say, Miss Bingley, that I cannot remain in your company another moment longer. I have, however, excused my sister for a short time from her studies in order to visit with you."
"Why, of course I am delighted you wish me to strengthen my relationship with your sister!" exclaimed Miss Bingley, oblivious to incredulous expressions from the others in the room, including a maid who had just come in with the tea things.
This interruption was all Darcy and Bingley needed to make their escape from the drawing room. Once they were settled in the study, Bingley sank into a chair and let out a groan, burying his face in his hands.
"I swear, Darcy, I tried to leave before she saw me! Someone must have told her I was coming here, because she was dressed and waiting for me in the carriage!"
Darcy's eyebrows raised high on his head. "Bingley, as much as I look on you as quite a brother, I will not be induced into marrying your sister for any reason."
"Certainly not," Bingley said fiercely. "Even if she were to be found naked in your bed! I would send her off ruined to our great-aunt in Yorkshire before I forced a lifetime of misery upon you."
Darcy winced at this reference to Miss Bingley without clothes. While she was a handsome lady, and at one time he had considered her, it had many years since he had determined she would be the last woman whom he could ever be prevailed upon to marry. Her spiteful, cloying personality rendered her one of the last attractive females of his acquaintance.
"I appreciate your friendship and support," Darcy replied. "Both with regards to your sister and the situation this winter. Now, were you able to send the letters last night?"
The conversation turned towards business and the men's plans for Netherfield. After about an hour, Darcy sent a servant to his sister that her presence was once again required for her studies. Bingley escorted his protesting sister to the carriage and sent her on her way. He returned immediately to the study, where the two gentlemen remained in discussion until last into the night.
Finally, in the early hours of the morning, Darcy sat back in his chair and laid his pen down next to a neat stack of papers. He closed his eyes in exhaustion and allowed his body to sink into plush cushions on his chair.
On the other side of the room, Bingley sat nodding off at table littered with crumpled papers, broken pens, and an empty pot of ink.
"I think we've finally completed everything we can tonight," Darcy said.
His sudden words caused Bingley to snort and jump up, knocking a few sheets of parchment to the floor in the process. Darcy hid a smile as Bingley blearily rubbed at his eyes.
"What? Oh, yes, I quite agree," Bingley said. "I will return home, and I will see you in a few days to leave for Hertfordshire."
The gentlemen shook hands, and Bingley took his leave. Darcy tiredly made his way up the stairs and into his bed. The last thought he had as he drifted into an exhausted sleep was a prayer that his efforts would not be in vain.