“A wise position,” Fitzwilliam said, folding up the map. He handed it to Darcy, who tucked it into his saddlebags.
“My wife’s brother has a growing business in London,” Bennet said, waiting as they swung up into their saddles, “and I have invested a bit with him. I have purchased sheep and last winter the tenants and I built a small mill on the property to process the wool for both market and our own clothing.” He shifted a bit in his saddle. “Five daughters can be expensive to clothe.”
Darcy smiled. “Pemberley already has other, smaller enterprises ongoing as the area is rich in minerals. Another subject for our study.”
“Your studying shall never be entirely done,” Bennet replied. “Pemberley is a very large enterprise and cannot rely solely on any one industry. Always be ready to evaluate another potential source of revenue and to turn away from one that is no longer producing.”
“It is not about inheriting and then sitting back and watching the pounds accumulate, is it?” Fitzwilliam asked. “Here, I believed we would never work a day again.”
“Which is why you did not wish to partner with me?” Darcy asked, teasing.
Fitzwilliam’s expression was calm. “Perhaps it was, in part. Above all, I cannot abide being dull. But this shall be a challenge.”
“Speaking of a challenge,” Bennet muttered and moved past them in the opposite direction.
Darcy glanced behind him to see a woman’s bonnet bobbing along a path that curved away from them. He shared a look with Fitzwilliam, who was grinning.
“Miss Elizabeth of the bridge,” Fitzwilliam said in a low voice.
They followed Bennet.
“Good morning, Papa,” Miss Elizabeth called.
She was fetching, a few curls escaping her bonnet and a deep blue cloak that set off the creamy colour of her complexion.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” she added when they halted behind her father. She held a basket in one hand, a heavy one apparently, as she set it down to converse with them.
“Elizabeth,” her father growled. “What have I told you about wandering out this early?”
“There was no one available to accompany me, Papa, but I told Mrs. Hill where I would be and when I would return.”
“Why did you not wait?”
Miss Elizabeth was not at all cowed by Bennet’s displeasure. “Papa, Mr. Abernathy requires the foxglove for his heart, and Josephine told me this morning that he was entirely out of it. Jane sent me.” She addressed Darcy and Fitzwilliam. “Josephine works in the kitchen. Mr. Abernathy is her father.”
“Jane sent you on your own?” Bennet asked, his tone highly sceptical.
Miss Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “Well, no. However, she wanted him to have it this morning, and I was already dressed and on my way out to walk, so . . .”
“I do not mind you walking on your own, Lizzy, so long as you remain within a mile of the house. You are nearly two miles away here.”
“Papa,” Miss Elizabeth said with a sigh. “You know I am well prepared.” She nodded towards the basket.
“I would prefer that you abided by the rules,” he said sternly. “Hand the basket over to me. I will make sure it is delivered.”
“Do you really think Mr. Abernathy will take a basket from you?” Miss Elizabeth inquired, placing one hand on her hip and cocking her head at her father. “He has too much pride for that. He will accept a basket from me because I am a charming young lady who will convince him that this is part of Josephine’s pay.”
Fitzwilliam chuckled and Darcy smiled.
“Why not allow Darcy to accompany her?” Fitzwilliam asked suddenly. Darcy gave his cousin an incredulous glare.
“I beg your pardon?” Bennet asked.
“It will be time for breakfast soon,” Fitzwilliam said, shrugging. “If we all hope to make it back to the house before the food is cold, we should simply split up. Perhaps Miss Elizabeth and Darcy can find other bridges to dissect.”
Miss Elizabeth’s gaze moved from her father to him.
Bennet glanced back over his shoulder. “Would you mind, Darcy?”