by Nancy Kelley
Concern added a note of sweetness to her voice, and the disdain Darcy heard in Miss Bingley's reply set his teeth on edge. "Do not trouble yourself with the time, Miss Eliza. It is quite natural you should come to see your sister."
"Jane is not well at all," Mrs. Hurst provided. "She slept ill, and as you can see, she was not well enough to leave her room."
Worry darkened Miss Elizabeth's eyes. "Is she feverish?"
Miss Bingley nodded. "I am afraid so."
Bingley walked toward Miss Elizabeth and took her hands in his. "We have called for Mr. Jones," he said comfortingly. "I have hopes he will tell us our concerns are exaggerated and that Miss Bennet will be returned to health in a few days' time."
Elizabeth managed a weak smile. "Thank you. May I see her?"
Miss Bingley rose from her seat. "Of course, Miss Eliza. I will take you to her room."
The ladies moved toward the stairs, and as Miss Elizabeth left the room, it was evident that the back of her petticoat was coated in mud. The thought of a lady walking such rough roads alone bordered on indelicate. Was it quite necessary for her to expose herself to the elements, just to visit her sister?
"I believe we must find some way of amusing ourselves today, gentlemen." Bingley's voice cut into Darcy's thoughts. "If we remain indoors, we will only get in the way."
Darcy was very willing to absent himself from the house and the disconcerting effect of Miss Elizabeth's presence. "Hertfordshire offers excellent hunting."
"A capital suggestion, Darcy. Mr. Hurst, will you join us?"
The lazy gentleman grunted his assent. His wife said, "Caroline and I will, of course, spend most of our day with the Bennet sisters."
"I trust you to treat them both with every politeness," Bingley said. The plans for the day were shared with Miss Bingley when she returned, and then the gentlemen departed to change.
They gathered in the entryway fifteen minutes later, dressed in warm hunting clothes. A footman held the rifles and a bag to carry any birds they might hit. Bingley opened the door, and the early November sunshine seeped into the house. "Are we ready, gentlemen?"
Darcy and Hurst nodded, and they set out for the wooded area which surrounded Netherfield on three sides. From their rides across the property, Darcy and Bingley knew of a small pond where they might conceivably find fowl.
Their destination was approximately thirty minutes away on foot, over some rather steep hills. For Darcy and Bingley it was but an easy walk, but Hurst was puffing when they reached the water's edge. "Is this it?" he said, disappointment clear in his voice.
"It is." Bingley gestured for the footman to hand out rifles, but though Darcy readily accepted one, Hurst held up his hands in refusal.
"I think not. I have no intention of standing here in the shade on a cool November afternoon, with nothing to do but wait for a bird to appear." He surveyed the area and then pointed to a large tree on the bank. "There is a spot of sunshine; I am going to sit down for a rest. That walk left me entirely fatigued." He was asleep within moments, and Darcy and Bingley shared a look of amusement.
However, it did not take Darcy long to realize Bingley did not have much more interest in the hunting than did his brother-in-law. Birds came and went without Bingley's notice, and of the ones he shot at, he missed more than he hit. After his fifth missed shot, Darcy said, "Where are your thoughts, Bingley? For it is clear they are not here."
His friend smiled sheepishly. "You have caught me, I am afraid. I am worried about Miss Bennet. Do you think Mr. Jones has been to visit her yet?"
Darcy raised an eyebrow. Though it was plain to everyone in the neighborhood that Bingley preferred Miss Bennet, this was a new level of solicitude. He glanced at the sun and judged it to be mid-afternoon. "We should return to the house to change for dinner. Perhaps you will be able to inquire after her."
Bingley brightened. "Yes, let us. Hurst, are you ready?" They roused the gentleman and the whole party returned to the house, where Bingley immediately set out to find someone who could tell him the state of Miss Bennet's health.
That evening as he dressed for dinner, Darcy considered once again the Bennet ladies. He had escaped to the privacy of his own rooms when they returned to the house, and he had not heard anything about the apothecary's visit. He eyed his valet in the mirror and finally said, "Vincent, how does Miss Bennet fare?"
Vincent took a step back. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy?"
Darcy flushed lightly. He was well aware his question was outside his normal behavior. He did not encourage gossip among his servants, and he never participated in it. But I need to know if she... "Come, man. I know you are aware of what goes on in this house. How ill is Miss Bennet?"
Vincent narrowed his eyes, and Darcy forced himself not to squirm under his servant's examination. "She has caught a violent cold, as was to be expected," he said finally. "Miss Elizabeth would go home, but Miss Bennet was so concerned when she announced her departure that Miss Bingley invited her to stay." Vincent snorted. "I do not imagine she enjoyed that."
Darcy's brow wrinkled in a frown. "Why would Miss Elizabeth not wish to stay, if her sister is truly ill?"
Vincent raised an eyebrow, and Darcy realized he had referred to Miss Bingley. He nodded to show he understood, though this was every bit as confusing as what he had first believed. Why would Miss Bingley begrudge giving every consideration to her sick guest?
Vincent said no more, and Darcy respected his circumspection, though he felt he had missed something. A few minutes more, and he was ready to go down for dinner.
When Darcy exited his room, he heard the quiet snick of a door closing on the adjacent corridor, where he knew Miss Bennet's room was. Unwilling to encounter Miss Elizabeth on the stairs, he waited a moment to allow her to reach the dining room before he did.
In fact, Darcy was the last to arrive. Upon his entry Bingley gestured for the footmen to bring in the first course. "And how is Jane doing?" Miss Bingley asked, and Darcy gathered she was continuing a conversation with Miss Elizabeth that his arrival had interrupted.
"She feels quite ill, I am afraid. She wished me to send her apologies for keeping to her room."
"Well, of course we could not expect her to join us," Mrs. Hurst exclaimed. "The poor dear, to have a cold. It is quite a miserable experience."
"Oh yes," Miss Bingley chimed in. "I declare there is nothing so wretched as lying ill in bed. And to be in a strange house as well! When I am sick, I wish for nothing more than the comforts of home."
Miss Bingley did not wait for a reply from Elizabeth, but turned to Darcy instead. "Mr. Darcy, I hear you received a letter from your sister yesterday. Tell me, how does she fare in London?"
The rapid change of topic caught Darcy off guard, but he answered her question tolerably well. Unfortunately, his answer led to another question, and he quickly found himself locked in conversation with the two people in the room he least wished to converse with--Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst.
Elizabeth's light laugh caught his attention, and he looked over at her. She and Bingley spoke with some animation, he supposed about something for the elder Miss Bennet's comfort. He had been glad when he sat down to be on the opposite side of the table from her, but now he wished he could be closer.
At last, the footmen collected the dishes from the final course of the evening. Miss Elizabeth rose to her feet when they exited the room and said, "I believe it is time I returned to Jane. She was asleep when I left, but I am sure she is awake now and wanting my company."
"We must make every effort to give her some home comforts," Bingley said. "Miss Elizabeth, is there anything in particular, anything your mother would do for your sister that we can offer?"
Miss Elizabeth smiled. "I fear my mother is not the most tender of nursemaids. Jane is so very agreeable; I cannot think of anything we might lack."
"If anything comes to mind, please just let the servants know."
"Pray come down to join us if she sleeps again,
" Miss Bingley added, and Miss Elizabeth nodded her thanks before she left the room.
Darcy caught the half-smile on Miss Elizabeth's face and wondered at it. A minute later, her reason became clear. No sooner had she gone than Miss Bingley began to abuse her.
"I declare, I have never been so surprised by the manners of the lady as I have been by Miss Eliza Bennet," Miss Bingley remarked. "They are very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence that is utterly without fashion. And did she really just leave us to tend to her sick sister? She truly has no conversation. I pity Jane her company. Of course, her style is lacking, but no one expects that in the country--even from one reputed as a great beauty."
The sisters shared a laugh, and then Mrs. Hurst offered her observations. "She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild."
Wild is not the word I would use. Darcy shifted uncomfortably at the memory of Miss Elizabeth's appearance that morning.
"She did indeed, Louisa! I could hardly keep my countenance. Very nonsensical to come at all!" Miss Bingley tsked softly. "Why must she be scampering about the country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair so untidy, so blowsy!"
The ladies laughed again, and then Mrs. Hurst continued. "Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to hide it, not doing its office."
"Your picture may be very exact, Louisa," Bingley countered, "but this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice."
Miss Bingley turned to Darcy, and her arch smile seemed very smug when compared with Miss Elizabeth's genuine expressions. "You observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure, and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see your sister make such an exhibition."
"Certainly not." There was no way to deny it, but he kept any hint of censure from his voice when he agreed. After all, the difference in age and station of life quite excuses Miss Elizabeth from any wrongdoing in this case.
He had thought this would end the conversation, but Miss Bingley took his comment as license to continue. "To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! What could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country town indifference to decorum."
Darcy pressed his lips together to hold in a stinging retort, but Bingley was not as restrained. "It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing."
She ignored her brother and turned instead to Darcy. "I am afraid, Mr. Darcy, that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes."
He now regretted that wayward comment, for honesty compelled him to say, "Not at all, they were brightened by the exercise."
Miss Bingley stared at him, her lips compressed in a thin line. What did I say? He went over his words again, and realized with some chagrin how they might be taken. And yet I said nothing but the truth. If she chooses to believe I am smitten by Miss Elizabeth, that is her own problem.
After a minute, Mrs. Hurst picked the conversation up at its original topic. "I have an excessive regard for Jane Bennet, she is really a very sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with such a father and mother, and such low connections, I am afraid there is no chance of it."
Miss Bingley's energy revived at this. "I think I have heard you say that their uncle is an attorney in Meryton."
"Yes, and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside."
"That is capital!"
Bingley frowned. "If they had uncles enough to fill all Cheapside," said he, "it would not make them one jot less agreeable."
For the first time, Darcy felt uneasy about Bingley's affection for Miss Bennet. He had not before considered her as a true rival with Georgiana for Bingley's affections. "But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world," he explained.
Bingley gave no sign of hearing him, but from his sisters, however, Darcy's remark received ready agreement. "Exactly so, Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Hurst said.
"You do have such a way stating things," said Miss Bingley.
Something in the compliment struck Darcy as odd. He remembered Vincent's words, and for the first time it occurred to him that Miss Bingley might believe she stood a chance at gaining his favor. And yet, if that is the case, what can I do? Bingley is my friend and I am a guest in his home.
Darcy still did not know the answer when Miss Bingley stood a moment later and glanced at the clock. "Louisa and I will leave you gentlemen to your cigars while we visit Jane. We will join you in the drawing room in approximately half an hour. Perhaps we might play cards this evening."
To Darcy's relief, conversation over port was minimal. Bingley appeared deep in thought, and Hurst settled himself into a chair by the fire for a brief nap. It was not difficult to wake him at the appointed time, however, for the promise of cards provided ample inducement.
They played loo, the stakes growing higher with each hand. After four rounds Miss Elizabeth appeared at the door. "Would you care to join us at cards, Miss Eliza?" Miss Bingley asked.
Elizabeth glanced at the table and shook her head. "Thank you but no. I will not stay below long enough to play. I shall amuse myself with a book before I need to return to my sister."
Mr. Hurst leaned forward, his mouth agape. "Do you prefer reading to cards? That is rather singular."
Darcy privately agreed, but not in the sense Hurst meant. It was his opinion that ladies in general were too much in need of outside stimulus, rather than being able to amuse themselves. Miss Elizabeth's enjoyment of a good book was singular indeed.
Miss Bingley smirked. "Miss Eliza Bennet despises cards. She is a great reader, and has no pleasure in anything else."
The insult was clear. Darcy was almost tempted to speak out in Miss Elizabeth's defense, but she raised one eyebrow and he knew she could handle herself. "I deserve neither such praise nor such censure. I am not a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things."
Well answered, Darcy thought. How I would love to see you go against Lady Catherine.
"In nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure, and I hope it will soon be increased by seeing her quite well," Bingley said, using his role as host to steer the conversation in a more genial manner. Elizabeth smiled and thanked him, and then picked Fanny Burney's Cecilia up from a nearby table. "Is there something here to your taste? If not, I can easily go to the library and bring you something else. And I wish my collection were larger for your benefit and my own credit; but I am an idle fellow, and though I have not many, I have more than I ever look into."
"No, thank you. These here will be just fine."
Miss Bingley laid her next card on the table. "I am astonished that my father should have left so small a collection of books. What a delightful library you have at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!"
"It ought to be good. It has been the work of many generations." There was something about Miss Bingley that always brought out Darcy's public manners--that is, his practiced air of boredom and disinterest. No matter what she said, he could not bring himself to have a real conversation with her.
"And then you have added so much to it yourself; you are always buying books."
He shrugged off her simpering compliment and played a card. "I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as these."
"Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of that noble place. Charles, when you build your house, I wish it may be half as delightful as Pemberley."
The friends exchanged an amused look. "I wish it may," Bingley said.
Miss Bingley would not give up. "But I would really advise you to make your purchase in that neighborhood, and take Pemberley for a
kind of model. There is not a finer county in England than Derbyshire."
Bingley grinned at Darcy and voiced the thought the two gentlemen shared. "With all my heart; I will buy Pemberley itself if Darcy will sell it."
Miss Bingley pursed her lips. "I am talking of possibilities, Charles."
"Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it more possible to get Pemberley by purchase than by imitation."
Darcy had noticed several minutes ago that their conversation had caught Miss Elizabeth's attention. Now she set her book down and took a seat at the table between Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. Her nearness distracted Darcy from play for a brief moment, but the ever-vigilant Miss Bingley soon called him back to himself. "Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring? Will she be as tall as I am?"