This was quite enough to decide Elizabeth that she must visit Jane as soon as possible. The very next day she set off across the fields and lanes, clambering over stiles and leaping over puddles, determined to arrive as soon as possible, no matter the jeopardy to her shoes and stockings.
There was no doubt that Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were, or pretended to be, much shocked at her arrival in this manner. However, Mr. Bingley was all that was welcoming and quickly ordered a maid to take her up to Jane’s room. It was soon evident that Jane was really unwell, and with her father’s health so much in the foremost of her mind, Elizabeth was happy to agree to Mr. Bingley’s suggestion that the apothecary be sent for.
Jane grew more feverish and uncomfortable as the hours passed, and it was only when Mr. Johns arrived and reassured them all that it was merely a bad cold that Elizabeth felt she could leave her sister. It was by then too late for her to return to Longbourn, so she readily accepted the invitation to dine and stay the night.
It was obvious that Mr. Bingley was truly concerned and that Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst merely pretended to be. When Elizabeth eventually left Jane to go and dine, she overheard those ladies engaged in abusing their acquaintance. When they had exhausted that entertainment, they both moved to wondering what could have kept Captain Darcy, who had been expected back that day, and wishing he were there already. Remembering the gazetteer, Elizabeth realised that, for a lady in Miss Bingley’s position, Captain Darcy, a wealthy member of a much-lauded profession with an independent fortune and aristocratic connections, was a prize well worth bestowing her £20,000 on.
She wondered whether the captain had any views on the subject, or even whether he was to be allowed any. Miss Bingley would doubtless scorn Mrs. Bennet for her matchmaking, but in ambition and cast of mind, there was little to choose between them.
After a dull evening in which only Elizabeth seemed to be content to sit with a book, which she soon discovered held the missing gentleman’s bookplate, they all retired for the night. Jane was asleep when she checked; so, unwilling to disturb her, Elizabeth went to her own room.
Elizabeth had been given the room next to Jane’s and left the doors to both rooms open in case Jane needed her during the night. A little after midnight, she was awakened by the sounds of a carriage outside and voices and running feet in the hall below. The same noises had obviously awakened Jane, for Elizabeth heard her name being called.
Swiftly, she wrapped a shawl about her shoulders and tiptoed to the door of her room. She could see the light of candles in the hall and hesitated in case someone should come upstairs.
The voice of Captain Darcy rang clearly up the stairs. “I am so very sorry, Bingley, but I could think of nowhere else to go. If we can but rest here for a few days, I shall arrange to rent a place I can take them to.”
Mr. Bingley replied with all the gruffness of an English gentleman caught in the act of being generous, “Think nothing of it, my dear fellow. Mrs. Needham is making up the rooms now. Come into the library; there is a fire in there, and tea will be along in two shakes.”
As Elizabeth scurried into Jane’s room, she heard Mr. Bingley exclaim, “Oh, what a truly damnable business!”
Jane had an uncomfortable night and did not truly fall asleep until almost dawn. As Elizabeth left her sister, she could hear the house beginning to stir. Despite her restless night, she was determined to come down for breakfast, for it would never do to give the impression that the Bennets were lie-a-beds.
She need not have worried as only the gentlemen were present when she arrived. Mr. Bingley was quick to enquire after her sister, and even Captain Darcy managed a few civil words. He seemed unaffected by a disturbed night, and Elizabeth reflected that a captain at sea must be accustomed to a lack of rest.
She had almost finished her repast when Miss Bingley swept in, bearing the unmistakeably signs of someone not used to early mornings and doing her best to hide the fact. Watching her greet her brother, and especially the captain, Elizabeth realised that Miss Bingley knew someone had arrived in the night but had not yet been informed who it was, and she was consumed by a curiosity it would have been most ill bred to display. She had just begun with, “Charles, I understand—” when there was an almighty crash of broken china from somewhere close that quite drowned what she was about to say.
In the dead silence that followed the crash, Elizabeth heard the sound of running feet and a boy crying out, “I am sorry, Mrs. Needham—I am, I am; it just sort of slipped.” She could not hear the reply, and the voices disappeared downstairs as someone came to sweep up the broken pieces.
“Really, Charles! How many times have I told you? We have to get rid of the boy before he breaks every piece of china we have!”
Mr. Bingley looked self-conscious. “Caroline, I told you. I promised Reverend Carter to find a place for the boy so he would not have to go on the parish, poor lad, and he is perfectly willing—just clumsy.” He turned to Elizabeth. “I appeal to you, Miss Bennet: What would you do?”
Elizabeth hesitated, unwilling to interfere with another woman’s housekeeping, but the look of indignation on Miss Bingley’s face spurred her to reply. “Well, if it were up to me, I would put the boy to work in the stables. Is it the youngest Dalton, by the way? I know there were five children to place when the parents died. If it is, Mr. Dalton was our local farrier, so the boy is used to horses. If you still need someone in the house, Mrs. Needham is a local woman. She is sure to know of a lad who would suit.”
Mr. Bingley sat back in his chair and blew out his cheeks with relief. “Bravo, Miss Elizabeth. All our problems solved in one go. A Solomon come to judgement indeed.”
Miss Bingley appeared about to expostulate when a maid entered, curtsied to the captain, and said, “Excuse me, sir, but the young lady was asking after you.” The gentleman quickly rose, tossed his napkin on the table, and with a bow to the ladies, left the room. After a few seconds, Elizabeth followed suit, realising that Miss Bingley was about to start an argument with her brother that she had no wish to witness.
Upstairs, she found Jane still asleep, so she left her to return to her own room. However, as she stepped into the corridor, she discovered Captain Darcy waiting for her. He bowed, appeared uncomfortable, and then said, “If you have a moment, Miss Bennet, may I ask for your assistance with my sister?” He looked at the carpet, at the wallpaper, and then at Elizabeth. He was not wearing the green spectacles, and for the first time, she saw that his eyes were an attractive deep brown. “I brought my sister and her mother with me last night. My sister is unwell but is understandably unwilling to discuss what is wrong with an elder brother she has not seen for over five years. I would ask Mrs. Darcy, but she had a very disturbed night and is still sleeping.” For the first time, he looked tired but ploughed on. “Am I asking too much if I request you to see whether there is anything to be done? She is very shy, but since you have younger sisters, I feel sure you are the best person in the house to help. I shall, of course, wake her mother if need be, but I would prefer not to if it can be avoided.”
Elizabeth professed her complete willingness and waited while he knocked on his sister’s door. “May I come in, sweetheart?” he said gently. Captain Darcy must have taken the confused murmur from inside as assent because he waved Elizabeth to enter with him.
There was a maid was in the room and a fair young lady in the bed. At first Elizabeth took her for perhaps seventeen or eighteen years of age but soon realised that she was rather younger, for all her womanly form and features.
“Dear, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” he said. “She is staying at Netherfield with her sister, and I thought it might be easier for you to talk to her than your old sea-dog of a brother. Miss Bennet, my sister Georgiana.” Elizabeth curtsied and did her best to appear all that was amiable and helpful. “I shall be off now, but if you need me at all, you know you must s
end for me immediately.”
The pale face in the bed smiled and said timidly, “Aye, aye, Captain.” Elizabeth watched as Captain Darcy’s lips compressed and he looked away, obviously deeply affected, then he strode over to the bed, kissed his sister on the forehead, and left the room.
Left alone, Elizabeth went over to the bed. With a smile and a “do you mind?” she sat on the counterpane and took the young lady’s hand in hers. “Now, what is it I can do to help, my dear?” she said.
It took a great deal of blushing and stammering before Elizabeth gathered that it was nothing more than a case of a very shy young lady in a strange house with very little baggage, who had been surprised by the early arrival of her courses before she had made provision for the usual rags. Turning to the maid, Elizabeth dealt with the immediate problem, ordered a little breakfast for Miss Darcy, and set her mind to putting that young lady at something approaching her ease.
She quickly realised that Miss Darcy, or Georgiana as she was soon invited to call her, was for some reason unwilling to talk about her home or the reason for the visit on which she had just embarked. However, she was more than happy to talk about the brother who had just left, even if she would not talk about the one she had left behind in Derbyshire.
As far as Georgiana was concerned, Captain Darcy was all that was kind and generous. “For we had a post-chaise all the way and stopped three times at various inns. He would not let us pay for anything even though I had my pin money and Mama had several guineas in her purse. Maids to see to us, the best of everything—he even got me a new”—here she blushed—“nightgown when my old one fell out of my bag while it was being loaded at Stamford.”
Elizabeth was beginning to wonder whether she should be hearing these artless confessions. It was surely very odd that a young lady from such a wealthy family should be so unused to those attentions that even families like her Uncle Gardiner’s expected as no more than their due whenever they travelled.
The breakfast arrived, and Elizabeth took the chance to leave and reassure the captain, whom she found loitering in the hallway for her. In a few brief words, she did her best to make such explanations as she thought fit for him to hear and was pleased by his evident comprehension and gratitude. She was about to return upstairs to see how Jane was faring when she saw him sway suddenly on his feet. He was far too tall for Elizabeth to think of supporting him, and there was no one on duty in the hall, so she seized a chair from against the wall and dragged it over so that he could sit or, rather, collapse into it.
She was just about to ring for a footman when the captain raised his voice in a bellow that, she reflected, must have been trained by many a storm at sea. “Starkey!”
After a few seconds, she heard the sound of pounding feet, and the famous valet appeared, local report having once more lied, for in the matter of legs he had an undeniably complete set. He was also dressed in the decent subfusc of an upper servant, even if he did have an impressive pigtail hanging halfway down his back.
“You’m not been wearing your giglamps,” he scolded, producing the spectacles from a pocket. “You know what Mr. Luscombe said.”
“Luscombe’s an old woman, and you are another.” However, the captain took the spectacles and put them on. “I do not think they make a damned bit of difference.” He squeezed his eyes shut and lay back in the chair. “Is Miss Bennet still there?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
“Pray, accept my apologies for the language. I am afraid I am not bearing my troubles with equanimity. Would you be so very kind as to keep an eye open for my sister and Mrs. Darcy? I shall have to go and lie down for a while.”
Elizabeth assured him of her willingness to do so, reproaching herself silently for her earlier lack of charity. The poor man was obviously wounded or unwell.
“Is Anderssen there?” he asked as another man, this one in the sailor’s traditional blue jacket and wide trousers, came thundering down the stairs.
“Aye, sir.”
“Then help me upstairs. Miss Bennet, your servant.”
Foolishly, Elizabeth curtsied although his eyes were still shut, and the two seamen half-led, half-carried him upstairs.
Jane was awake and dressing when Elizabeth next called in to see her. It was almost time for luncheon, and Jane was feeling so much better that it was decided that they would go down together once Elizabeth had called on the other ladies.
Georgiana was still in bed and confessed, on close but kindly questioning, that she was in some discomfort. So Elizabeth ordered a small stone bottle filled with hot water and wrapped in flannel to ease her pain. Once again, the poor young lady seemed bemused by such kindness but still managed to say all that was grateful.
However, when Elizabeth knocked on the door next to Georgiana’s, a maid answered that Mrs. Darcy had eaten but was still very tired and preferred not to see anybody at the moment. “And,” said the maid, whom Elizabeth recognised as a cousin of their Hill, “if I let you in, I’d ’ave to let that Miss Bingley in too, and she’s already sent her maid round with ’er ears ’anging out. The poor lady don’t need botherin’ no more and that’s a fact.” Then, obviously realising that she had said more than it was her place to, she scurried back into the bedroom.
Elizabeth shared something of all this with Jane before they went downstairs, and Jane agreed that it would be kind to visit Miss Darcy after they had eaten. She also suggested that reading to her might help to take her mind off her aches and pains.
They had just reached the head of the main staircase down to the hall when they heard an all-too-familiar voice. “Oh, Mr. Bingley, I am sure you have been all that is generous, but a mother’s anxiety, sir, you can have no idea of. With my poor dear Bennet so very ill, I felt I just had to come and see how poor Jane is doing. I am sure you will remember my youngest daughter, Lydia.”
Lydia giggled. “Oh, Ma,” she said, “how you do go on!”
Chapter Four
Swiftly, Elizabeth grasped her sister’s arm and dragged her out of sight. Jane would have protested, but Elizabeth succeeded in motioning her into silence and back into her bedroom.
“Elizabeth, that was Mama. We must go down and see her.”
“No, we must not,” said Elizabeth, searching for her sister’s nightgown. “You must get back into bed immediately. You know you are here entirely by Mama’s contrivance. What do you think she will say if she sees that you are recovered and ready to return home? Can you not imagine how indignant she will be to find all her plots and plans so thoroughly undermined?” She did not mention how that indignation would be expressed; she did not have to, for Jane began to undress hurriedly, urging Elizabeth to help her with buttons and ties.
She was under the sheets just in time, for a knock came at the door shortly after, a maid sent to enquire whether Miss Bennet was ready to receive her mother. Jane squeezed her eyes shut as Elizabeth opened the door a crack and whispered that her sister had just that minute closed her eyes and that she, Elizabeth, would come down.
When she arrived downstairs, she found her mother and Lydia ensconced in the drawing room, drinking tea and talking with all their usual thoughtless inanity. Mrs. Bennet was extolling Jane’s virtues to a fascinated Mr. Bingley and a highly suspicious Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. “I have no idea what could have happened to Jane, for she has not had a day’s illness since she was very small. Such a healthy young girl, and as for her temperament, you could not wish for a sweeter—no, nor a kinder—and although I say it—who should not—she is a girl in whom beauty of face is just a sign of the greater beauty within.”
Meanwhile, Lydia was attempting to persuade Mr. Bingley to hold a ball. “… for with the militia newly arrived in the village, there shall be partners for all, and I shall not have to stand up with Mr. Wright who does not know his ‘Sir Roger de Coverley’ from his ‘Gathering Peascods,
’ and even if he did, he does not have a red coat and a sword.”
When Elizabeth entered, she was assailed with enquiries from Mrs. Bennet about Jane’s health, and she knew she was not the only person in the room to read her mother’s determination that Jane stay exactly where she was for the time being. Mrs. Bennet’s elephantine ideas of sophistication were transparent to anyone of ordinary intelligence. Luckily, Mr. Bingley seemed too interested in and concerned for Jane to have noticed.
Once Mrs. Bennet had assured herself that her plans were—as she considered it—working to perfection, she attempted to gather up Lydia and depart. Lydia, however, had not given up her attack upon their host and his hospitality, which gave Elizabeth a chance to enquire after her father.
In the background, Lydia finally received the promise she had been begging for, but it meant little compared to Mrs. Bennet’s news. She took Elizabeth’s arm and turned her away from the party. “He is no worse, Lizzy, but I cannot say he is any better. That horrid cough—and he does not seem to sleep. And now that dreadful Mr. Collins is coming to inspect Longbourn and work out how soon he can put us all out into the hedgerows, and what I shall do without Mr. Bennet, I do not know.” For the first time ever, Elizabeth could see what her mother would look like as an old woman; her exasperation drained away, and she helped Mrs. Bennet into the family coach with more tenderness than—her conscience reproached her—she had shown for some time.
Fair Stands the Wind Page 3