Haste

[Mr Jonathan Keeper]

[Tag: Mr Bingley]

It was a little over Jonny's first week at Netherfield Park, and he had never been more satisfied with his position in life. He was working doing that which he loved best, his pay promised to be far and beyond anything he had ever before received, and he held a position with a prominent family of town, which could only mean good things for his own family: present, and, he hoped, future. Jonny was of course interested in settling down with a wife of his own, and his new work at Netherfield promised to help him secure a future Mrs Keeper.

Really, though, that seemed to be all that was in Jonny's favor at the moment: his courser language and quiet ways lent him no favors in the eyes of women. He hoped his position here would turn the thus far stagnant tide.

It was with these thoughts in his head that Jonny diligently mucked the stall of the horse belonging to the Lord of the house, Mr Charles Bingley. Jonny had not yet truly spoken to Mr Bingley, and was honestly ignorant of the many manners expected of him: one such being what he was to call him. Mr Bingley seemed too informal--Lord Bingley? My Lord? Jonny was thankful to have so far not had to make conversation with him as he was still learning the delicacies of his station. So far, the staff to house relations had been overseen by the stablemaster, and Jonny was free to quietly tend the horses. But as Jonny thought of marriage and refilled the water trough, the familiar gallop of the white thoroughbred belonging to Bingley sounded in the distance.

Jonny's thoughts turned to the present considerations: he finished tipping the bucket of water into the trough and replaced it on the peg inside the stable, dried his hands on an already damp and slightly soiled towel hanging just below that, and steeled himself to receive the horse from Mr Bingley. Jonny had noticed with slight concern how the horses always returned well worked and sweating, and the tired creatures walked to their pens with hardly the energy to take a drink. But they never went uncared for, Jonny made sure, and if anything he was sure they appreciated the romp as much as the rider did.

So as the galloping slowed to a trot and the sound of pounding hooves grew louder, Jonny looked to the rider and readied himself with a gentle hand for the horse and a kind expression for Mr Bingley. He was certainly grateful to Mr Bingley for his letting of Netherfield, but he was not sure if he was allowed to express his gratitude. That was something he would have to discuss with the Stablemaster in the near future to ensure he did not overstep his boundaries, nor jeopardize his employment. Stablehands and groomers were no doubt easy to come by, even if Jonny regarded himself of a higher caliber within them. He hoped, at least, that shower.

The white horse approached with its rider and Jonny received them steadily. It was, perhaps, unusual for Mr Bingley to venture so near to the stables himself, but Jonny had heard that Mr Bingley was an occasionally unusual fellow. The horse appeared tired but giddy from his thrillingly paced run, and Jonny noted how Mr Bingley seemed equally delighted. Jonny smiled at that took the reins, with a slight inclination of his head. "My Lord," he ventured cautiously, still not entirely convinced that was how he was supposed to address him. "...I trust your ride was well?" The words sounded funny in his ears, as he hoped his manners were not too offensive nor his language too course.

[MR CHARLES BINGLEY]

O, what a glorious day! Bingley had relished the opportunity to get out of the house and enjoy himself. It was not that he did not like the company of his sisters – if he had not, he might not have invited them here, even though he did feel rather obligated to do so, and Heaven knew he would have been hopeless without them attempting to run a household. Still, as much as he appreciated their willingness to help him and remind him of things, there was nothing he liked more (well, alright, almost nothing!) than the sensation of the wind in his hair and the feeling of liberation that came of a good hard ride.

He dismounted neatly and handed over the reins, still a little out of breath from the canter. There were parts of Hertfordshire in which the roads were not quite as good, but the open fields! - he had seen nothing in London that could compare. He knew he simply must take advantage of it, and so he did so with pleasure. “It was excellent, thank you,” he replied, giving the horse a fond pat before glancing to the stableboy with a bright smile of his own. He was still becoming familiar with many of the servants, even though Caroline had told him that it was silly, because he might decide that he did not like Netherfield as much as he had first thought and wanted to leave it so that he could let someplace else. There was no use, she'd said, in getting attached to the servants here, or to anyone here, really; they had each other and they had the Darcys, that was what mattered.

While the latter part of the statement was certainly true, and he was most grateful for it, he would, he hope, manage to befriend some of the stableboys, one in particular, a very quiet one. Of course they were expected to be quiet, as servants, and Bingly had not heard much from him yet, but he was certain that they would come to know each other better soon. After all, he rode out nearly every day if the weather was good, and every day, this particular stableboy was always there to bring out his horse after it was groomed and settled, then take the reins back from him when the ride was finished so the horse could be untacked and groomed once more. No proper gentleman would ride his horse hard and put it away wet; the servant always ensured that the steeds were properly cooled down after a good gallop. Bingley was impulsive, yes, but it might be incorrect to call him reckless, and he certainly was not cruel.

“Please, Bingley will suffice. And your name is... oh, bother. Jack, was it? Or Jonny? Yes, that's it! Jonny, isn't it?” He gave the boy a smile . His friends had always called him by his last name, and he considered Jonny a friend, not just a servant. He differed from Caroline in that respect, who would have every due title pronounced with respect and crispness. “This gelding is magnificent! You keep him in excellent condition. I thank you for it.”

[Mr Jonathan Keeper]

Jonny nodded quietly as Mr Bingley dismounted, sure that he would then make his way to the estate and leave Jonny to care for the horse proper. His mind had already started to switch gears as he patted the horse gently on its neck, noting with a slight smile how its hair was slick with the sweat of a hard run. Jonny made ready to lead the horse to his stable so he might begin to relieve the white gelding of its saddling, when Mr Bingley again spoke to Jonny. Jonny's head instantly whipped up; he was not aware Mr Bingley had not yet left for the main house. He suddenly felt nervous in his presence, and shuffled his feet a little as the horse shook its head.

Jonny's mouth went slack at Mr Bingley's offer to call him simply "Bingley," but his surprise soon turned to a smile at the opportunity. He smiled a happy little close-lipped smile and agreed to Bingley's request with a nod, opening his mouth again to offer his own name when Bingley finally recalled it. Jonny received Bingley's smile and was still nervous to call him anything other than his proper title (which he assumed was Lord, after all--or Sir?) but having little other information to go on, merely thnked him for his kindness. "You're very kind, Si--er, Bingley." The name sounded very right to him, as Jonny was happy to call Bingley what he wished, but he was afraid he would be reprimanded should he be overheard expressing such informality. "Aye, it's Jonny. I'm very pleased you're satisfied with him. He's a remarkable creature," Jonny said quietly and smiled, giving the horse an encouraging pat. Emboldened by the bit of freedom Bingley allowed Jonny, he felt compelled to add "You keep him well exercised." He ran a hand down the gelding's neck so that his palm was wet, and rubbed his fingers together in front of Bingley to emphasize the horse's exertion. With a smile and a soft voice, Jonny nearly laughed, "Its a wonder he's legs left for standin' come your return."

Was this too far? Jonny suspected Bingley to be a jovial fellow with a great delight in riding, as the man fetched a horse whenever the weather was fair. Jonny admired this greatly in Mr Bingley, and was pleased the horses under Bingley's name were not merely a fashion statement. Though they were exercised thoroughly, there was no strain or overexertion. If anything, Bingley's animals grew all the stronger for their being ridden and the care of himself and the other stableboys.

So Jonny figured his words harmless. Should he be mistaken, he would certainly never duplicate the overstepping of his boundaries. He chanced a quick glance up at Bingley as he walked the gelding back to the stables, as the horse was impatiently breathing loudly through its nostrils, eager for Jonny to begin his cooling down. Jonny murmured softly to the creature and let his eyes fall back to the ground, resuming again his inward turned posture.

[MR CHARLES BINGLEY]

“It's just 'Mister,'” Bingley replied with a slight smile. He wasn't upset with the boy for not knowing. His father had made his money through trade recently, not through being the great-great-grandson of someone who had owned a good deal of land, and he had only recently come to letting property himself. He didn't come from a line of landed gentlemen, not like Darcy did. It had never bothered him too much; he was just happy to have enough to live on, and spend extravagantly on his sisters when the opportunity arose, as it often did.

He was glad that Jonny had agreed to call him just plain 'Bingley,' even if he had stumbled over it at first. The smile was evidence enough that he didn't mind. It disconcerted Bingley that everyone went around looking so serious and tight-lipped here, not saying anything – the servants, that is, though that description, he supposed, could also apply to Darcy. He hoped that he had found a friend in Jonny, as even though he had his sisters, Darcy, and Mr. Hurst here, he had not enlarged his acquaintance quite as much as he would have hoped, even in his own house. He had not personally met all the servants yet, and Caroline and Darcy had been responsible for the acquisition of most of them, he believed. It had made the process quite convenient for him, though he regretted it now; expedience was not always beneficial. Not that he distrusted any of his servants, of course; he simply didn't know them. It wasn't like they'd been working for his family for generations or something, as was the case with others of his class.

He was brought out of his thoughts when Jonny spoke again. “I try,” he grinned. His smile faltered a little when Jonny showed Bingley his palm, wet with the horse's sweat. “You don't think I ride him too hard, do you?” he asked hopefully, slightly worried. He had always been fond of riding, but sometimes he did not take into account the welfare of the horses quite as much as he should, if he thought about it. Surely Jonny knew the animals much better than he would, and he would never forgive himself if he had been unknowingly cruel. Brows furrowed, he continued nervously, “I thought he enjoyed it – I just let him have his head to run. I never use the crop.” He didn't even jump the horse all that much, and never once had his mount so much as turned a hoof in a field. He was careful going over uneven ground. The worst that had happened was a lost horseshoe so far, and the farrier had been brought in quickly to resolve that. The horses never seemed tired when he took it out the next day, and he alternated between the black and white horse. He smiled faintly as he watched Jonny murmur to the horse. “And you... you take very good care of them,” he added gently. He couldn't think then that the animals had been mistreated or neglected.

[Mr Jonathan Keeper]

Jonny's face colored at the correction from Mr Bingley, but his face was already ruddy with the sun that he was sure it would go unnoticed. "Of course--I apologize Mr Bingley," Jonny rather muttered, his eyes cast downward resolutely in appropriate embarrassment. But the way Bingley continued on as if it made him no difference what the exact deference was due him was a comfort, and Jonny breathed an internal sigh of relief. With Mr Bingley on one side of the white horse and he on the other, it appeared as if Jonny was merely distracted by his duty to the Netherfield Park stables, and hopefully not apparent that he was wholly ignorant of high manners.

Mr Bingley smiled at him reassuringly, and Jonny was, in fact, reassured. He found that alone to be the mark of an excellent person let alone employer and master of the house, so Jonny felt encouraged enough to offer him a tiny smile in return. He nodded his thanks at Mr Bingley's kindness, and continued making their way to the stables. He wondered briefly if Bingley would stay and watch Jonny untack and groom the horse, but figured a man of his standing had things of much greater import with which to occupy his time. Resigned to this idea, Jonny picked his head up and steadied his gaze in front of him, not wanting to dissuade Mr Bingley from his company with standoffish posture.

He had shown Mr Bingley the extent of the horse's good exercise, and himself faltered when he saw Mr Bingley looked unsure. “You don't think I ride him too hard, do you?” Mr Bingley questioned, and Jonny was almost surprised that he should ask a mere groom for his opinion. Jonny was greatly encouraged by that, and kept his eyes on Mr Bingley for the rest of his reply. “I thought he enjoyed it – I just let him have his head to run. I never use the crop.” Jonny nodded enthusiastically, perhaps a little too much so, eager to assuage Mr Bingley's concerns. "Aye, I'm sure he rather does. I've rarely seen horses in as steady health as the horses under your direction." Jonny again patted the gelding's neck, feeling the heat radiating from the animal's skin and hair. "An' I do not know that a riding crop does an animal any favors but to scare him," he confessed as he briefly remembered a horse he had once seen whose hindquarters were speckled with sores. "The freedom you lend him an' the black one make them very trusting creatures." Jonny looked again at Mr Bingley. "Never have I seen the like. I believe it amazing."

Jonny grew quiet again, gaze forward, as he considered the horses stabled at Netherfield. Unlike his family's horse, who was mostly employed in pulling a gig or bearing a single passenger to and from town, the horses under Mr Bingley's control were rarely used for purposes beyond sport. There were, of course, others whose uses were more disciplined, but the black and white geldings were ridden with more abandon. Jonny supposed this ought to have made them more wild than anything, yet their temperament remained sweet and gentle, which made his job all the easier.

Mr Bingley commented on Jonny's care of the horses, and he knew he could not be so self-important as to claim all the credit. "I thank you, Mr Bingley," Jonny said, making sure to get the address right. "But I deserve no such high praise when Mr Levitt does. The Stable Master is very talented," Jonny said quietly, as much to not spook the horses as to admit this to Mr Bingley. He did believe this, of course, but also figured he was rather a better handler, and would like nothing better than to replace Patrick as head groom. However, Jonny would never reveal this to Mr Bingley.

[MR CHARLES BINGLEY]

Poor Jonny. It was best, Bingley decided, not to remind Jonny again to call him Bingley. Two chastisements had probably been sufficient. The boy's job was to handle horses, not nomenclature. No doubt Caroline would have him do both, but Charles himself found it all rather tedious. A good horseman was a good horseman, and that settled it. He carried on merrily with what he was saying, easily ignoring the little slip of the tongue.

Bingley was slightly less willing to forgive himself the mistake of overworking his horses, but he trusted Jonny, and Jonny's smiles and nods, when Jonny affirmed him and said that the horse seemed to enjoy a good gallop as much as its rider did. “Truly?” Bingley asked hopefully, much pleased to hear that Jonny had hardly seen a healthier horse. He wasn't certain, exactly, how many horses Jonny had seen, but the boy had had decent references to get hired, after all, so he had experience enough. “Oh, I'm glad of it!” He hung the crop on the stable wall once they had entered the building, feeling self-conscious about having carried it at all now that Jonny said it was only good for one thing. “I don't think I need to do that, though nothing scares this one,” he replied proudly, nodding to his horse, who almost never balked and was generally very steady. He was also always willing to run.

Having his care for the horses furthermore declared amazing made Bingley flush with pleasure. “Yes, I believe gentleness and the ability to be impulsive with someone can both establish a bond of trust.” This was said with his chest slightly puffed out, though he wasn't sure whether he was talking anymore about the horses, or Jonny, or someone else entirely. It didn't matter, as Jonny's other soft-spoken comment required answer.


“Then I shall thank Mr. Levitt as well,” Bingley declared with a smile, deciding not to confuse the boy further and remind him to call him Bingley, rather than Mr. Bingley, or Sir Bingley, or some other titular nonsense. Jonny's modesty, though fitting and becoming of a man of his station, was unnecessary; it didn't tax Bingley any to show his gratitude to another member of his staff with a few kind words. He had precious few other things to do with his time, as Darcy was often writing letters or reflecting in solitude while his sisters managed the house or other affairs. He could only hope that by tacking on “as well”, the message would be conveyed to the stable boy that Mr. Levitt would not be receiving praise alone, but only in addition to the praise already deserved by Jonny. “I am very pleased by the management of this stable, on the whole.”

Though Bingley did not have the inclination to observe the minutiae of aforementioned management, he knew that everything was done satisfactorily, whoever it was that did it, so he saw no reason to make a change. If anything was brought to his attention that required alteration, the change would be made with all due haste. He gave his steed a pat before removing his riding hat, turning it over in his hands thoughtfully as he watched Jonny care for the horse. “I suppose I should let you get back to it, then,” he murmured, almost reluctantly, though he knew that his horse would not be fully cooled down until it was walked a bit, untacked, and groomed. These were processes he did not necessarily care to be part of; though he cared for his animals, sometimes it was best to entrust things that were important into the hands of others.