by Jennifer Joy
Elizabeth was at a loss for words. She looked to Jane, who stared at mother with wide eyes and an open mouth. Father, who had taught Elizabeth through his example to see the humor in any situation, had the audacity to laugh.
“Whatever happens, you will have an interesting story to tell in years to come. People always like a good story— especially a love story,” he said.
Elizabeth bunched her fists on her hips. “We shall arrive with red noses and I see nothing romantic about a sneeze.”
Mother waved off her concern.
It was during a brief reprieve in the rain when Elizabeth and Jane mounted their horses and set off to Netherfield Park.
“We shall still look ridiculous arriving on horseback, but just maybe the weather will hold.” Elizabeth had only finished her sentence when a fat raindrop plunked onto the brim of her bonnet. She looked at Jane, and they urged their slow mounts on. By the time they were halfway to Netherfield Park, they were drenched both in body and in spirits.
The butler saw them directly to the parlor where a fire was lit. He sent for linens so they might dry off before they were received by their hostess.
“Oh, Lizzy, what they must think of us— arriving in such a condition.” The blush in Jane’s cheeks was a deeper red than normal.
“We are here now, and we must make the best of it. It was kind of the butler to let us use this room to make ourselves more presentable.”
Steam rose off their dresses as they stood in front of the fireplace. Little puddles of water pooled around their ruined slippers. They spun slowly around, rotating like they were being cooked on a spit. How ironic it would be if roasted pig were on the menu.
Jane stopped turning, her eyes fixed on the doorway. Elizabeth spun around to see Mr. Darcy standing there. They stood in uncomfortable silence while he looked from Jane to her. When he finally remembered his manners, he bowed and greeted them.
That done, he stood awkwardly silent in the doorway. Had she not known better, Elizabeth would have thought him mute.
Smiling with her chin up, she said, “It was a refreshing ride in the rain, though I fear for Mr. Bingley’s floors.”
“You did not have use of a carriage? Had I known, I would have sent mine to fetch you.”
“That would have been much too practical and far too considerate of you, Mr. Darcy, and given the circumstances of our last encounter, highly unexpected.”
“You are very quick to draw conclusions, Miss Elizabeth. Tell me, what conclusion am I to draw from your present situation?”
There it was. She had expected criticism. “Fair enough. I deserved that. Who am I to argue about delicacy when we have clearly been affected by a poor decision reflecting the utmost disregard for what is decent?”
She turned slightly to the side, rubbing her hands together as a new cloud of steam rose up from her dress.
“Far be it from me to permit you to suffer more while you are here as our guests.” He spoke with the butler, asking for tea to be brought in. He then astonished Elizabeth by stirring the fire himself. For someone so disapproving, he was attentive.
Jane thanked him. Elizabeth should have thought to do the same, but she only nodded stupidly. With Mr. Darcy standing so closely to her tending the fire, Elizabeth was grateful she had bathed that same day. Hopefully, she smelled of the lavender water she had pilfered from Lydia.
Georgiana came into the room with Miss Bingley on her heels.
“What? Did you come on horses?” Miss Bingley put her hand over her mouth to stifle her cackle. If only such a gesture would prevent her from speaking. Unfortunately, it was merely used for dramatic exposition.
Georgiana hurried to their sides. “I shall have my maid ready a couple of my gowns or you shall catch a chill.”
Jane touched Georgiana’s wringing hands. “You are very kind, Miss Darcy, but we shall dry soon enough before the fire.”
“It is no trouble. I want to help.”
Elizabeth spoke. “Your offer is very kind. However, the difference in our stature proves a problem. I should feel like a child playing dress up with the extra length dragging on the floor.”
She was half a head shorter than Georgiana. Jane was only slightly taller than Elizabeth.
“Then I insist on lending my warmest wraps.” Practical kindness must run in the family. Georgiana stood in stark contrast to Miss Bingley, who offered no solutions other than to pour the tea that was brought in. Elizabeth could see her gloating as she handed them their teacups on saucers. She looked at Mr. Darcy, but his attention was on his sister. A tender expression softened his face. Were he to look at any woman that way, surely her heart would melt.
Mr. Bingley joined them. Elizabeth was grateful for the interruption. She was not ready to think so kindly of Mr. Darcy— she had made up her mind that he suffered from an overdose of pride.
By the time the Hursts came, Elizabeth and Jane were mostly dry and none the worse. In a moment of vanity, Elizabeth checked her reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were bright. Unruly curls fell around her face and down her neck, but that could not be helped. She smoothed them back as well as she could and shrugged her shoulders when they refused to be tucked in. She raised her eyes to see Mr. Darcy looking at her.
Jane, of course, looked lovelier than ever. The fire brightened her cheeks and her eyes glistened. Mr. Bingley noticed and could hardly peel his eyes away.
Dinner was announced. The timing was fortunate. The more Mr. Darcy watched her, the more uncomfortable she felt. She held her head high and stuck out her chin, but her bravado had its limits. After all, she was the one who had arrived sopping wet to dinner.
Miss Bingley claimed his escort into the dining hall before Darcy had time to react. At least Bingley had better manners than his sister. He extended his arm to Jane.
Bingley, always a lively conversationalist, kept the talk at the table constant and interesting. Miss Bingley was full of information regarding ladies in town whom Elizabeth and Jane would not know and events they would be equally unaware of. Her comments were made to exclude them from their superior society, but Elizabeth, along with most everyone else at the table except for Mrs. Hurst, easily overlooked it. She enjoyed the conversation as much as the meal, her participation in both effected with enthusiasm until she looked at Jane.
Jane was very quiet during dinner. She had hardly touched her plate. Her cheeks were fiery red and her forehead beaded with perspiration. Elizabeth was not the only one to notice.
“Miss Bennet, are you well?” asked Mr. Bingley.
In a whisper, Jane said, “I am quite all right, I thank you.”
Mr. Bingley did not look convinced.
“Jane, you are not well. The food is delicious and you have yet to taste it. And you have hardly spoken a word since we arrived.”
Jane slumped in her chair without vigor enough to even raise her head.
Elizabeth reached her hand up to feel her cheek and quickly drew it back. “Jane, you are burning up.” She put both hands against her sister’s cheeks and held them there to cool them.
“I only need to rest for a moment.”
Her words, feebly spoken, sent Mr. Bingley into action. Miss Bennet could rest in one of the guest rooms upstairs. A fire would be lit in her room and a maid stationed there should she require anything at all. Her dinner would be sent up on a tray if she requested it. He made every consideration to her comfort.
Elizabeth accompanied her upstairs, her anger increasing as they reached the top of the stairs and Jane nearly fainted from the exertion. She hoped Mother would be pleased.
It was some time before Miss Elizabeth joined them downstairs. She did not wear the smile Darcy had grown accustomed to. Nor was the light in her eyes.
“How is she?” asked Georgiana as Miss Elizabeth entered the room.
“She has a fever and her sleep is restless.” She looked at Bingley, concern on her face.
“She is welcome to s
tay as long as necessary. Is there anything that might bring her comfort? You, of course, should stay as well. She will feel better knowing her sister is here caring for her.”
Miss Elizabeth visibly relaxed while Miss Bingley audibly sighed.
“Thank you for your generosity, Mr. Bingley. Jane needs to rest, and I could not leave her in her current condition.”
Georgiana pushed her chair back to stand. “I will help you, Miss Elizabeth. It is partly my fault that she is ill. I should not have insisted you come on such a wretched day.”
“Please do not think poorly of yourself. From the moment we received Miss Bingley’s invitation, we anticipated seeing you. It is not your fault in the least. There is no use in lamenting now, but I would prefer it if you would leave Jane’s care to me. It would upset her greatly if her illness were to spread to anyone else in the house.”
“I should say so,” replied Miss Bingley.
Darcy ignored her. “That is thoughtful. Are you not concerned over your own health?”
“I never get sick, and I do not intend to start now.”
“If you require anything— anything at all— please be sure to let me know. You need only ask,” said Bingley.
Mr. Hurst raised his empty glass and saluted, “Here, here!” A servant refilled it while he still held it up in the air.
“Thank you. I shall alert you of any changes. For now, I must return to her. She was restless when I left.”
Darcy watched her back until she was out of sight.
They were still in the sitting room when she came back down a quarter of an hour later.
Bingley stood. “How is she?”
“She has fallen into a deep slumber. I have hopes that she will be much improved in the morning.”
Bingley sat down heavily. “That is good news. I do hope you will decide to stay until Miss Bennet is well-rested and it is safe for her to travel.”
Miss Elizabeth smiled at his repetitive insistence that they stay.
Miss Bingley’s sharp voice cut through her brother’s kind words. “I say we shall celebrate her recovery. Let us have some music to pass the time, or I shall perish of boredom. The pianoforte looks lonely in the corner by itself.”
Miss Bingley would sooner celebrate their departure than Miss Bennet’s recovery.
“Do you play, Miss Elizabeth?” asked Miss Bingley.
“Only a little and very poorly.”
“Surely, it is not that bad. You are a gentleman’s daughter…”
“I do not speak in jest. I am the poorest player in this room.”
The expression on Miss Elizabeth’s face was not one of false modesty.
“Well, if you will not give us the pleasure of your performance, let us hear the superior talents of Miss Darcy. She is, by far, the most accomplished young lady in this room.” The sincerity of Miss Bingley’s comment was tempered by her addressing it mostly to Darcy.
The panic Darcy had seen on Miss Elizabeth’s face now showed itself on Georgiana as she shook her head and her eyes widened.
“Oh, I could not possibly play in company.”
“Nonsense, dear Miss Darcy. You are among friends.”
Darcy opened his mouth to interfere, but Miss Elizabeth spoke first.
“If it is entertainment you wish for, Miss Bingley, then I will do my best. Prepare yourselves to laugh, for my ability at the pianoforte is more comedic than anything.”
Before Miss Bingley could protest, Miss Elizabeth plunked herself down at the instrument and began a simple tune.
It was not the most atrocious performance Darcy had ever heard. To be sure, he enjoyed it. The determined expression on her face as she concentrated on the keys was as charming as her coming to Georgiana’s rescue.
When she finished the song, Georgiana moved over so that she might sit by her on the couch. Clasping her hands, Georgiana mouthed, “Thank you,” to her friend.
Miss Bingley, with a smug look on her face, rose and sashayed over to the pianoforte. She fluffed her skirts out before sitting. Then, she attacked the instrument with such vigor, it snapped Mr. Hurst to attention and almost made him spill his glass of sherry.
Darcy did not realize he had been staring until Miss Elizabeth locked eyes with him. There was a hint of a smile in them, so Darcy smiled softly back. Hers deepened in response before she returned her attention fully to Georgiana.
Her presence would provide some entertainment for Georgie, and he was glad for that. He found that he, too, enjoyed her company— even if she was unpredictable.
Chapter 12
Darcy woke early the next morning. His dreams had been surprisingly pleasant, yet unsettling. He was at the Meryton Assembly, and Miss Elizabeth had agreed to dance with him. His fingers tingled at the warmth of her hands through her gloves. She smelled of lavender and soap just as she had the night before in the parlor. He had made her laugh and for a brief moment, his heart felt full and the burdens he carried lightened.
Giles entered the room and opened the curtains to the dawn.
“Good morning, sir. I trust you rested well.” Giles laid out Darcy’s favorite ensemble: polished boots; sturdy, dark pantaloons; a white shirt with a cream waistcoat; a dark blue coat; and a white cravat which Giles would tie in simple, clean folds.
“Actually, I did. It is a welcome change.”
“The country suits you. It appears you are not the only one up at this early hour.” Giles inclined his forehead in the direction of the window. Darcy looked over to see the lone figure standing at the edge of a garden path which circled around the house. She stood with her face against the breeze, wrapping her shawl more firmly about her shoulders.
“I wish she would not wander about unaccompanied.”
“Is that one of the Miss Bennets who arrived last night?”
“It is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“The servants speak well of them downstairs.”
“What do they say?”
“Of Miss Bennet, they say she is kindness personified. She has not a cruel bone in her body, and there is no fairer young lady in the whole of the county. Miss Elizabeth is a loyal friend and quick to defend the ones she cares for. It is a pity they have not yet married, but they lack a dowry and their father has neither the means nor the initiative to put them in the way of decent gentlemen to marry.”
It was what Darcy himself had observed. “What of their family? Certainly, there are objections to them.”
“Not much is said about the rest of the Bennet family. I believe they restrained their gossip out of respect for the two ladies, which is a most uncommon practice downstairs. They looked about at each other as if there was plenty to tell, but nary an unflattering word crossed their lips.”
It was strange. Darcy could only imagine the harsh comments Miss Bingley’s servants would make in the privacy of their quarters. Though she was their superior and mistress, she had not earned their respect, certainly not like the Bennet sisters had done in the short time Bingley’s household had been in Hertfordshire.
“Get my coat, Giles. I think I shall join Miss Elizabeth, or else I shall be uneasy until she returns safely. Be so good as to accompany me.”
Giles did not stop grinning until they reached the bottom of the stairs going outside. Darcy reminded himself that he was merely interested in Miss Elizabeth as a friend for Georgiana.
He set off across the lawn in the direction he had seen her take from the window upstairs, Giles following at a discreet distance. Her pace had been leisurely; she could not have gone far.
Mist swirled around his feet, and the crisp wind sharpened his senses.
He found her walking around the rose garden. Bingley’s gardener had done his best, but the plants had been sorely neglected, and it would take time to restore the garden to its splendor. Now, it was a sad place, and it occurred to Darcy that Miss Elizabeth might be out of sorts.
Not wanting to startle her, he called out. “Miss Elizabeth. Good morning.”
She turned, one hand over her heart.
“I did not mean to frighten you. My apologies.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I am so used to the solitude of the early morning, your voice calling out of the mist caught me by surprise. Were you unable to rest as well?”
He was close enough to see her clearly. Dark circles ringed her eyes.
“I rarely rest well. Is Miss Bennet any better?”
Miss Elizabeth shook her head and closed her eyes, exhaling deeply. “I fear not. We will have to impose on Mr. Bingley’s hospitality for a few days.”
“I do not think he minds.”
She whipped her head up. “His sister does. And I noticed you watching us last night. I know the circumstances of our arrival speak against our honorable intentions, but believe me, Mr. Darcy, Jane would die of shame if she knew your criticisms against us.”
Darcy could not deny that it had occurred to him when they had arrived in such a state. Why else should they ride on horses in the rain if it were not for the sole purpose of manipulating Bingley to invite them to spend the night? But Darcy had never met someone so quick to judge him and take offense as Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
“How do you know my thoughts?”
“It is true, though. Is it not?”
He would not give her the satisfaction of admitting how correct she was.
“I cannot speak for Miss Bingley, but I believe you and your sister to be more sincere than to scheme and manipulate. I do not think you were the author of that plan.”
“So, you did think it.” Her eyes, which had been tired only a moment ago, smoldered in anger.
“I said no such thing. You and your sister are innocent victims in someone else’s conniving game. That is all.”
“Whether you mean to imply that I am merely a pawn to be maneuvered about against my own will because I have not mind enough of my own to act otherwise or you are insulting my parents, I do not know. Neither is an agreeable option and the words spoken are hardly the words of a gentleman.”
Darcy planted his feet on the ground and crossed his arms.
“And those are the words of a gentleman’s daughter? Come, Miss Elizabeth, I meant no harm. Bingley is an agreeable host, and his concern for Miss Bennet is sincere— as is mine.”