The day was fine, and after she had waved the coach away, she took a turn about the gardens. She could see where the neglect of several years was being repaired and found a warm, sunny terrace where she could sit and consider her situation.
Neither she nor Jane could stay for more than another night. Quite apart from the encroachment on Mr. Bingley’s hospitality, she was wild to be home to see how her father did. Tomorrow, yes—she would request the loan of a coach tomorrow, and they would both return, even if, as seemed likely, nothing was settled between Jane and Mr. Bingley. Indeed, while Jane kept to her bed, nothing could be settled. Well, at least when they returned home they would face Mrs. Bennet’s objections in decent privacy.
Having thus determined her course of action, she set off back into the house. As she passed through the hallway on her way to see Jane and Miss Darcy, she heard Miss Bingley’s voice raised in complaint. “Charles, you cannot possibly mean to gratify that dreadful chit and hold a ball here in these savage backwoods.”
“Yes, I do, Caroline. It is time we took up our position in the society of the neighbourhood.” Elizabeth could hear him shaking out a newspaper, the gentleman’s ever-ready resource in times of domestic dispute.
Miss Bingley was not that easily out-manoeuvred. “But I am sure the poor, dear captain is far too ill to be disturbed by the society afforded by country neighbours.”
Mr. Bingley, like many good-natured men before him, had been pushed too far, and he had obviously decided to make a stand. “My dear Caroline, Darcy has seen considerably coarser society than he will see at our ball, and if he overtires himself again, he may retire and lie down until he feels better.”
“But—”
“Next full moon should give us ample opportunity to make preparations and send out invitations. May I leave that to you? Or shall I leave it all to Mrs. Needham?”
As she climbed the stairs towards the bedchambers, Elizabeth wondered whether that last comment had been innocently made or whether Mr. Bingley had unsuspected Machiavellian depths.
That night, both Miss Darcy and the hitherto-unseen Mrs. Darcy came down to dinner, arriving a little after Elizabeth and Jane. Mrs. Darcy was a small, colourless woman, rather younger than she had expected; indeed, she seemed little older than the stepson on whose arm she entered. Both ladies were dressed simply, and Miss Darcy’s gown had quite obviously been darned. From their expressions, the sight did not escape either Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst, although both ladies exerted themselves to be charming and hospitable.
Neither mother nor daughter contributed much to the conversation at table. Miss Darcy was quite obviously shy, and Miss Bingley was soon using her for a sort of conversational target practice, directing a stream of bright, false chatter in the young lady’s general direction without waiting for any response. Mr. Bingley attempted to speak to Mrs. Darcy but soon retired, defeated in the face of a thin trickle of “Yes, sirs” and “No, sirs,” and it was left to Jane to do her best to entertain and put the older lady at her ease.
The captain, in response to Elizabeth’s question, professed himself quite recovered and spent the meal staring worriedly at his sister and her mother. In an effort to enliven the evening, Elizabeth thought to ask Mr. Bingley how he and the captain had come to be friends.
Mr. Bingley seized on the topic at once. “We met in France,” he said, adding hurriedly, “in the Peace, of course. My father sent me over as soon as the treaty was signed. I think he hoped I would acquire a little Town bronze. I met Darcy a few miles outside Calais when Boney broke the peace and started detaining travellers. I did not much care for the idea of the fortress at La Bîche; the rumour was it was most unpleasant. Captain Darcy and I were in the same hotel and both decided to skip the place and try for the coast.” He smiled gaily. “Dashed horrible it was too. Took us a week to sneak through France, raining all the way, and then we had to wait ’til Darcy found us a fishing boat he could sail to England.”
“You make it sound much more exciting that it was,” interrupted the captain. “We were not twenty miles from the coast, and I had every confidence we would meet the Channel Fleet—and we did, less than five miles from shore. And once we did, we were home and dry.”
“Not exactly dry,” protested Mr. Bingley, and went on to describe the hardships of life in a war sloop of His Majesty’s Royal Navy. “While the hanging cots are very comfortable, I regret I never got used to the way the walls kept opening up and squirting me with ice-cold seawater.” This at least had the effect of distracting Miss Bingley from her pursuit of Miss Darcy, and the rest of the dinner passed in her commiserations to the captain for the rigours of his life afloat and his attempts to assure her that, as captain of a ship of the line, it had been many years since he had slept in a shower-bath.
When the ladies retired, with Mr. Bingley’s pledge that the gentlemen would not be long, Miss Bingley seemed ready to recommence her assault of Georgiana. Elizabeth, however, was prepared. She affected to see signs of fatigue, where in truth there was only shyness and discomfort, and suggested that Mrs. Darcy and her daughter retire. The eagerness with which Miss Darcy seized on the proposal soon persuaded Elizabeth that she had been right to act. The two Darcy ladies retired, and Elizabeth and Jane went up with the younger lady to see she had everything she needed.
Once Georgiana was settled for the night and a maid was seeing to Mrs. Darcy, Jane, too, retired, exhausted by the evening after her recent illness. Elizabeth, however, went downstairs, resolving to request the carriage for the morrow.
As she crossed the hall, she could hear the querulous tones of Miss Bingley, no doubt complaining about the escape of her prey. Refusing to be daunted and quite out of patience with that lady, Elizabeth sailed into the drawing room, head held high, and had the satisfaction of reducing her hostess to red-faced silence.
Captain Darcy brought her a cup of coffee and sat beside her. “Is my sister quite well?” he asked.
“Just a little tired.”
At the other end of the room, Miss Bingley was engaged in a furious whispered conversation with her sister while they searched through the available sheet music.
“You and Miss Bennet have both been very kind. I wonder whether I might trespass further on your good nature.”
Elizabeth nodded.
“You have seen the state of my sister’s clothing. Would it be possible for you to accompany her to Hatfield or some other local town and help her repair the deficiencies in her wardrobe? I fear she needs almost everything—a full rig. I shall of course repay your father, perhaps when the bills are submitted?”
Elizabeth smiled sadly. “Sir, you are inviting a lady to go shopping with someone else’s money, and under normal circumstances I would be happy to oblige. However”—here she blushed and lowered her voice—“my father’s illness has led to at least one of the local tradespeople withdrawing credit, fearing, I suppose, that they might not be paid. I regret that any shopping we did would have to be…what is the expression? Paid on the nail?”
Despite her mortification, Elizabeth could see that his expression did not alter from one of polite interest, and while she was glad that neither Miss Bingley nor Mrs. Hurst had heard, she felt that the captain at least could be trusted with her confidences.
“Then I shall accompany you all and draw on my London bank. Perhaps Miss Bennet would feel able to accompany you, and we would not have to take a maid along too. My sister is, as you have seen, exceedingly shy, and I fear she has enjoyed too few such frivolous outings.”
“Then, sir, I should be delighted to take your sister shopping, although I fear you may have to resign yourself to several dull hours at the King’s Head while we three enjoy ourselves at your expense.”
Captain Darcy smiled, a most becoming expression, and they sat in companionable silence while Mr. Bingley’s sisters attempted to outdo each other in ex
ecution on the fortepiano. Indeed, in view of the heaviness of Mrs. Hurst’s hands and right foot, Elizabeth thought that “execution” was very probably the right word.
In a brief pause between pieces, the captain took the opportunity to ask about Mr. Bennet’s illness. There was nothing intrusive about his questioning, merely a genuine and compassionate enquiry.
Elizabeth looked at her hands. “He first took ill in July. I do not know whether you were in England, but the weather in this part of the world was extremely wet. He was caught in a downpour, took cold, and from there grew worse. The doctor says it is pneumonia and there is very little we can do except pray.” As her eyes filled with tears, she felt the sofa rock as the captain rose and strode to where the two ladies were preparing for a duet.
“I really must come a little closer,” he said. “It is not often we sailors get to hear such first-rate music.”
More than a little surprised, Elizabeth placed her hand on the sofa, preparatory to rising and leaving the room in haste, but as she did so, her fingers touched a small bundle of cloth. It was a gentleman’s silk handkerchief. As she hurriedly wiped her eyes, she looked up and saw the broad, dark blue back of the captain, standing precisely in the spot that hid Elizabeth from the gaze of everyone else in the room.
The expedition to Hatfield was planned at breakfast the following day, and Elizabeth resigned herself to staying another day and night at Netherfield, a decision rendered easier by the recognition that Jane had not yet quite recovered and would prefer to spend the day quietly.
Captain Darcy set off in a curricle with a groom the moment everything was decided and Elizabeth, Miss Darcy, and a maid followed in the carriage, having first ascertained that Mrs. Darcy, too, preferred to remain indoors.
It was a cold, overcast day, but they were warmly wrapped and well equipped with heated bricks and rugs and passed the time pleasantly, deciding where they would go and what they would purchase. Elizabeth was pleased to find her companion a modest young lady with modest requirements. She shuddered to think what Lydia and Kitty would have demanded had they been in Miss Darcy’s position.
They arrived at the King’s Head and found Captain Darcy and a room he had ordered for them with hot tea and buttered toast to revive them after their journey. While the maid was fixing Miss Darcy’s hair, which had a tendency to escape its pins, the captain took Elizabeth to one side and pressed a purse into her hands. “If this is not enough, pray have word sent to me and I will come and find you.” He glanced over at his sister who was giggling with the maid as they both struggled to contain her hair. “Whatever she needs, Miss Bennet, and no expense spared. That coat cannot be warm enough, and surely she needs new boots and…” He smiled ruefully. “I am sure you know better than I what is needed, but please let me press upon you that this is one occasion where economy would be false indeed.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she peered into the purse. “I assure you, Captain Darcy, there is more than enough here to outfit your sister from top to toe.”
“And if she sees any books or music or…or…” He was obviously struggling now. “Paper and pencils for drawing, or anything to divert her during the day, please lay them in too.”
Elizabeth, greatly daring, placed a hand on his arm. “Do not worry. I will see she has all the most affectionate brother could wish.” He looked a little self-conscious at this and turned away to kiss his sister and wish her joy of the outing.
Luckily it had not come on to rain, as Elizabeth had half-suspected it would, and they bustled along the main street to the draper Mr. Stevenson, who could usually be relied upon to have some ready-made items in stock in addition to all the fabrics, ribbons, and other makings they would require.
Once he realised the nature and extent of the purchases they required, Mr. Stevenson and his wife devoted themselves entirely to Miss Darcy, who appeared to be shyly enjoying the attention although it was some time before Elizabeth could induce her to express an opinion. They only managed to find a single dress for day wear suitable for a young lady of Miss Darcy’s age and height, but it was very becoming, a cream-coloured muslin with little sprigs of violets. Where fabric was concerned, they were more fortunate and, despite Miss Darcy’s protests that they would not need half of their purchases, bought enough for three more day dresses and two for evening.
Mr. Hitchens, the mercer, produced cloth for a fine warm coat in a handsome, almost naval blue. The boot maker had shoes for indoor use and took the measurements for some half boots, undertaking to call at Netherfield for a final fitting.
Word got around the shopkeepers, and everywhere they went, they were met with eager attention. Stockings, bonnets, gloves, under things, and a fine, warm fur muff. They went back to the King’s Head for more tea and some hot soup before venturing out again.
“We will go to Mrs. Cottam to have the fabric made up. She is slightly more expensive than Mrs. Finch in Meryton, but having her nieces with her, she is in a larger way of business and we will get the dresses sooner. We can have the coat made in Meryton, which will ensure we do not cause too much ill feeling, for you can have no idea how easily people in small villages are offended, my dear.”
Miss Darcy nodded breathlessly as she trotted beside Elizabeth’s determined stride. “Oh, Miss Bennet,” she said. “Will you not let me pay for anything? I do have a little money, you know.” She was about to say something more when she realised they were passing the bookshop and stationers and stopped dead.
Recognising a fellow reader in the look of ardent curiosity, Elizabeth allowed herself to be persuaded to enter, and they did not come out again for quite half an hour, followed by the shop boy with another parcel for the King’s Head.
Mrs. Cottam’s house was warm and a little stuffy, and by the time the measuring, fitting, and consulting of pattern books was quite finished, Elizabeth was tired and Miss Darcy was positively exhausted.
“So, shall we say Monday at Netherfield for the first fitting?” said Elizabeth. Mrs. Cottam, enraptured by the arrival of so much hard cash, would probably have agreed to anything Elizabeth suggested.
Once in the cold afternoon air, Miss Darcy revived somewhat and did her best to express her gratitude for all that Elizabeth had done. In her anxiety that Elizabeth understand, she became quite animated, and this, with the colour whipped into her cheeks by the autumnal air, made such a pretty picture that Elizabeth could see how struck the captain was when they bustled into the room at the King’s Head. He smiled at Elizabeth as they both watched Georgiana run to thank him, only to stop short when she realised there was another gentleman present.
“Georgiana, Miss Bennet, you must allow me to introduce an old friend and shipmate. Lieutenant Grace, this is my sister Georgiana and her friend Miss Bennet.”
Lieutenant Grace was a weather-beaten gentleman, rather older than the captain, with a pleasant face and a somewhat old-fashioned way of dressing, the cuffs of his coat falling well over his hands. As they all sat once more, Elizabeth realised that he was missing some fingers from his left hand. “I had no idea Grace was living in Hatfield,” said the captain. “One loses touch with shipmates far too easily.”
“I only wish I had known earlier,” said the lieutenant in a deep Yorkshire burr. “Mrs. Grace and I would have been so happy to have you to dinner.” He glanced at the clock on the mantel. “And talking of Mrs. Grace, I had best be getting home; she will be wondering whatever has happened to me. Miss Darcy, Miss Bennet, your servant.”
The two men shook hands. “You have my direction now, sir. I shall expect to hear from you.”
“My hand on it, Grace, and my compliments to Mrs. Grace.”
It was now quite late, and the roads would be dark, save for a half moon and the stars. After a brief, hot meal, they all, including the captain, climbed back into the carriage, and were wrapped in shawls, given hot bricks for their feet, an
d were then packed in clean straw, a process that reminded Elizabeth more than a little of storing apples for the winter.
Exhausted by the excitement, Georgiana soon fell asleep with her head on her brother’s arm. Tentatively, almost shyly, he put the arm about her and held her against his chest. He was sitting opposite Elizabeth, and the tenderness on his face as he drew the rugs about his sister’s shoulders was both affecting and curiously charming. He looked up and saw that Elizabeth had seen him and coloured. “I am beginning to wish I told the ostler not to bother with the lamp,” he whispered.
She smiled back at him. “Your secret is safe with me, Captain.” The coach rumbled on through the night, and the snores of the maid in the corner soon joined the noise of the wheels. They said nothing more until they were approaching Meryton, when Elizabeth saw him struggling to remove something from his coat pocket.
Eventually he managed to extricate a small box, which he passed over to her. “It is her birthday on Sunday. The jeweller assured me this was suitable. Was he right?”
She opened it to find a beautiful little pearl necklace. Elizabeth closed it and handed it back. “You could not have chosen better,” she whispered back and then had to smile at the contortions he had to perform to get the box back into its hiding place.
They were passing Longbourn now, and she turned her head to look out of the window. To her horror, the door was open, light spilling onto the carriage sweep, and a figure in black was descending from a gig.
“Oh, stop the coach, please, stop the coach!”
No sooner had the captain rapped on the roof and the carriage halted than she was out and running towards the house, not waiting for the step to be lowered or the groom to accompany her up the dark road. She lost her footing and almost fell, but righted herself and ran on.
Fair Stands the Wind Page 4