The public room of the inn was filled with the murmur of patrons, and Witting sat there, nursing his second ale. He was enjoying a rare night off, for Mr. Darcy had dismissed him for the evening about six o' clock. The area was abuzz with activity as shopkeepers kept their doors open late to cater to the needs of the many servants who were free from their duties due to their masters' attendance at the ball. Mr. Hill and Chuck, a farm hand were dining with him, although there had been little in the way of conversation between them. This was as they all preferred it, all tired from their labours.
Nearby, several farm hands from Netherfield were complaining that their wages from the harvest had not been as great as in previous years. Mr. Bingley had brought in threshers, which limited the amount of work needed to bring in the harvest. With so many people in the area relying on the estates for their livelihoods, the situation caused widespread concern. Add Machines had also been installed in the mill and brewery, making the situation worse, as those men could not count on earning wages elsewhere. Witting was thankful that no machine could replace his position.
"Halling has the right idea," said one farm hand. "We oughtn't just let them starve us this way."
Mr. Hill flicked a glance at the man's plate, which held two potatoes and a large piece of chicken, then raised an eyebrow. Witting had to hold back a laugh.
"They ain't done nothing of worth yet," said another. "Marching back and forth, throwing dung at the mill owner. It doesn't stop it. They just wash it off and continue."
The other agreed that his friend was right.
The voices became whispers, and Witting couldn't hear what was being said except that it was still about Halling.
"Glad Mr. Bennet ain't got machines yet," said Chuck.
"Ain't likely to for a while. He is always several years behind the others," confirmed Mr. Hill. "Your wages should be steady enough. By the time he takes an interest in machines, then saves enough money to buy one, it will be a decade out."
Mr. Witting could not help but think of the possibility that Miss Bennet and Mr. Bingley would marry. Then Chuck's position would not be so secure. He would not tell his friend that, however. There was no need to distress him yet. Witting drained the last drops from his tankard, then bid his dining companions a good night. As he exited the inn, he nearly collided with Sarah, causing them both to stumble. He caught her arm to steady her, and the closeness of their bodies made his heart race.
"I thank you, Mr. Witting." She looked up at him with a grateful smile, and he wished very much that they were not in public. He had received word from the butler at Pemberley that he was considering retirement and was planning to ask if he could fill that role. Although the change in position and duties was significant, it would mean he could stay in one place instead of travelling with Mr. Darcy. It would also allow him to take a wife if he wished — and he very much did wish it, if Sarah would have him.
"Mr. Witting?" asked Sarah.
He had been too distracted with thoughts of her to notice what she had been saying. "I am sorry. Pray, repeat what you said."
Sarah's smile widened, and he could feel his heart race in response to her knowing gaze. "I just asked if you knew that Mr. Gerald is using his cart to transport the servants of the big estates back and forth. There's a time schedule posted," she said, gesturing at a piece of paper tacked to the door of the inn.
"I had not known," he replied. "Thank you. However, I think I shall walk, as I am leaving soon and it is not yet late."
Sarah's shoulders slumped and Witting felt an immediate pang of regret.
"If you are leaving for Longbourn soon, I would be happy to walk with you thither," he replied.
Her face lit up a bit upon hearing this, but she declined by shaking her head. "I have to wait for Polly. She will be some time yet. She is at the cobbler, as she needed new boots."
It was Witting's turn to be disappointed. He knew he couldn't delay his return to Netherfield any longer, as there was much to be done on his extra evening off. A few of his own garments needed mending, and he had not had time to see to them with all the preparations for the ball. He debated putting the chore off again, but he had only one pristine set of clothes currently. He sighed and told Sarah that he could not delay until Mr. Gerald's cart returned, which would not be for over an hour.
"I wonder," he said, a thought coming to his mind, "if you might tell me on which day is usually your half day. Mr. Darcy allows me some freedom of choice in mine, assuming he has no pressing engagements that evening."
Sarah's cheeks turned pink as she explained that she had Saturday afternoons off, except when the Bennets had plans for the evening. If they did, she had either Friday or Monday as her half day.
Mr. Witting smiled, saying his half day was usually Monday, but that he could switch it if she would wish to ride out with him.
"Ride out?" she asked with astonishment. "You mean like the ladies and gentlemen do?"
"Indeed. Mr. Darcy trusts me with his carriage, and he does not mind if I use it to exercise the horses instead of the grooms. If he does not have need of it, I shall send a note around before Saturday afternoon, if that is agreeable."
"That would be wonderful, Mr. Witting" she said in a hushed tone, her eyes fixed on him.
"You can call me Kevin, if you wish it. I call you Sarah. It seems fair." Mr. Witting held his breath as he awaited her response.
Sarah heard a cheerful greeting from a young maid from Lucas Lodge, and she nodded in response. "I should go attend to my errands, " she said with a sigh.
"Good evening, Sarah," said Witting with a bow over her hand.
She giggled and curtsied. "Good evening, Kevin."
"Look out for my note!" he called after her as she turned to go.
She called over her shoulder, "I will, sir!" as she went to meet up with her friend.
"We need to speak with Sarah," said Elizabeth. "That is certain, if nothing else is. And we need to know what Sir William has learned. It is unfortunate that he is not including any of us in his investigations, but I will see if my father can tell me anything."
"I suspect he might tell the son of an earl," said Colonel Fitzwilliam with a smile.
"I do not know if he will," cautioned Darcy. "He suspects us."
"You? He suspects you?" asked Kitty. "But you are a gentleman."
Darcy had not realised that his elder cousin and Miss Kitty had joined them. Lord Barlow and she had been admiring a deer that had wandered nearby the last he had noticed them.
"He does. He thinks that my valet may have learned family secrets and may have been blackmailing some one or other of us," he admitted.
"Secrets?" asked Lord Barlow. "He has been talking to Mr. Wickham? Listening to his lies?"
Mr. Darcy's lips tightened. "I will not speak of it here, but no. He did not learn of them from Mr. Wickham, but all the same, it does not matter. He thinks we may have had motive."
Elizabeth's suspicions were aroused, and she wondered what secrets Sir William had learned and whence they had come. Perhaps the person was an interested party they ought to speak to. Yet she was quite certain that Mr. Darcy would say nothing of any secrets with her sisters nearby.
She had nearly forgot about them when Jane and Mr. Bingley came bounding up the path, interrupting the conversation of the others. They were out of breath with excitement; for once in her life, Jane showed all the emotions she felt.
"We are then to wish you happy?" asked Mr. Darcy.
"Yes, indeed," Mr. Bingley replied with a broad smile. "Although, I cannot imagine ever being anything but deliriously happy with Jane at my side."
Congratulating his friend, Mr Darcy gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. Jane embraced each of her sisters in turn, glad to be able to tell them of her happiness before anyone else. "If only I could see all of you so very happy as I!" she said as she embraced Elizabeth. "I would know nothing but joy then."
With a sincerity, warmth, and delight that could not be put into words, Elizabeth congratulated the couple. Jane's happiness grew with every sentence of kindness that her sister spoke to her.
Lydia could not help some jealousy welling up within her at her eldest sister's engagement. It had been her secret ambition since she was young to usurp them all and marry first. It was absurd, of course. She had always found it amusing to think on, especially since their mother believed gentlemen preferred Jane over the rest of them. It seemed her mother was right, after all.
Kitty only expressed her congratulations and asked when the wedding was to be, a question that could not be answered when the engagement was only minutes old.
"We ought to return to Longbourn posthaste," said Mr. Bingley, "so I can ask the permission of your father."
Jane agreed. Elizabeth wished to tell her sister to wait for the gentlemen ought to be spared her mother's excesses, but held her tongue. Mr. Darcy seemed to read her mind, for as they were walking back he whispered, "It shall be well. Mr. Bingley will grin as he endures the joy and exclamations. He assured me last evening that he does not mind at all."
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him. "You are very bold to speak so."
"Do you deny that your mother shall be clamant in her delight at your sister's betrothal to Mr. Bingley?" he asked.
"I do not, but most gentlemen would not mention it, especially to me," said Elizabeth.
"I dislike disguise. I shall not pretend that I have not been…troubled on occasion by your family's manners. They shall inevitably impact Bingley and his reputation," Mr. Darcy said stiffly.
"His reputation? Although my family may be loud, they would do nothing that would damage Mr. Bingley's reputation." Elizabeth felt a twinge of pain as she spoke, unsure if she was telling Mr. Darcy the truth. Had she not long feared that one of her younger sisters would do something to disgrace the family?
"I hope that is so," he said cooly.
Elizabeth did not reply, preferring to walk the rest of the way back to Longbourn in silence, rather than speak to Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth sat quietly by the fire, Jane having gone up to their mother and Mr. Bingley to Mr. Bennet. While Kitty and Lydia conversed with Lord Barlow and Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr Darcy stood silently at the window, lost in thought as he surveyed the desolate winter fields. The barrenness of the land and grey skies made Hertfordshire melancholy. The snow-covered fields and peaks in Derbyshire created a serene and peaceful atmosphere. He longed for such tranquillity.
In a few minutes, Elizabeth was joined by Bingley, whose conference with her father had been short and to the purpose.
"Where is your sister?" he asked.
"With my mother upstairs. She will be down in a moment, I dare say."
Mr. Bingley came to sit next to her, and claimed the good wishes and affection of a sister.
"I give my well wishes entirely," she replied. "I am only too delighted to call you my brother."
Kitty and Lydia heard their conversation and came forward to give their similar sentiments. Bingley shook each of their hands with great affection and thanked them for their goodwill. As they waited for Jane to return, he shared with them all the details of his contentment and the countless perfections of Jane. The man's love for Jane made him biased, but Elizabeth still believed that his expectations of a happy life for her sister were logical, given the strong bond between Jane and him due to their similar disposition and tastes.
It was a day of no common delight to them all. Miss Bennet's face lit up with a sweet animation, a glow of pure satisfaction that made her look more beautiful than ever. Lydia simpered and smiled and hoped her turn was coming soon. Mrs Bennet could not give her consent or speak her approbation in terms warm enough to satisfy her feelings, though she talked to Bingley of nothing else for half an hour. When Mr. Bennet joined them at supper, his voice and manner plainly showed how really happy he was. Only Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy did not appear to be perfectly happy.
"Are you not pleased for me?" asked Jane of Elizabeth after they retired for the evening.
"Of course I am pleased!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Have I not told you so many times?"
"Something is troubling you. Pray, tell me what it is, or else I shall imagine terrible things. Do you dislike Mr. Bingley?" asked Jane, her brows drawn together in worry.
"I could never dislike him. Truly, I do not think it is possible to dislike Mr. Bingley," Elizabeth reassured her sister.
"Then it is something else. Will you not tell me what it is? I shall not be easy until you do."
Elizabeth knew her dear sister was telling the truth. She was far too caring for her own good, taking other people's burdens as her own. She was, therefore, enticed to tell her sister all, if only to prevent Jane from worrying.
"I believe he was only trying to reassure you, dear sister," said Jane.
"Regardless of his intentions, he insulted our family."
"I do not think he meant it that way. He was trying to comfort you, as he saw your distress."
Elizabeth knew her sister was right, but still could not help but to feel offended.
"Pray, try to forgive him. Have you not only recently said that you judged him too harshly from the beginning? Is your vanity again clouding your judgement?"
Elizabeth had to admit the rightness of her sister's words. She did not like that he saw her family as vulgar and ill-mannered, even if she thought so herself at times.
"I do not like to know other people view our family as such either," admitted Jane, "But I daresay that Mamma cannot help it. Anyone wishing to marry into this family shall simply have to bear it."
Reluctantly, Elizabeth agreed, before parting from her sister to go to her own bed.