“I don’t think it’s stopped raining yet,” observed Darcy.
“Then he’d best take his coat,” said Bingley, rather abruptly.
Darcy held up a hand to stay him. “I merely observed the rain has not abated. It would not surprise me if Mr. and Mrs. Bennet expect their daughter to remain here through the night, considering the weather. You may well find that her clothes have already been dispatched.”
As it happened, Darcy was right. A young man from that estate appeared not half an hour later with a small trunk of Miss Bennet’s things.
The rest of the evening was passed in peace. Bingley’s sisters attended Miss Bennet in her sickroom until she fell asleep at last. Darcy and Bingley discussed work yet to be done at Netherfield. Mr. Hurst found repose in his chair a few moments upon finding out there was to be no entertainment that evening.
On waking the next morning, Miss Bennet sent a message to her family at Longbourn. The messenger returned quickly, with the reply that Miss Elizabeth Bennet would be joining them at Netherfield to tend to her sister.
“I don’t see why she should come all this way,” complained Miss Bingley at breakfast. “Jane is perfectly comfortable here with us.”
“Miss Bennet’s request is not unreasonable,” said Mrs. Hurst.
“Certainly not, but now we shall have to deal with the family,” replied Miss Bingley. As Miss Bennet was still abed upstairs, Miss Bingley took no pains to disguise her feelings.
“I think it speaks well of Miss Elizabeth’s character, to want to care for her sister” said Bingley, abandoning any pretense of eating his breakfast.
“I expect you are right, Charles,” said Miss Bingley. “But even you cannot deny it’s an inconvenience, for you’ve only just arrived at Netherfield yourself. You’d hardly have guests of your own, let alone new people.”
“And what of me?” said Darcy, amused.
“You’re hardly a formal guest Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Bingley, her tone turning coy. Before she could continue, a knock sounded at the breakfast-room door and Miss Elizabeth Bennet was announced.
* * *
Darcy noticed her eyes first.
Set in a prettyish face, her eyes seemed to him so bright, he caught his breath. Due to the exercise no doubt, he thought, but the observation did not diminish his appreciation. Elizabeth Bennet seemed to take the measure of everyone in the room at once.
“Miss Bennet,” began Bingley. “Won’t you join us?”
“I thank you Mr. Bingley, but no,” she replied, clasping her hands before her.
“Please allow me to introduce my friend, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.”
Miss Elizabeth Bennet made curtsy and said, “Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.”
Darcy inclined his head and did not speak. Nor did Bingley’s sisters endeavor to draw Miss Bennet into any conversation. When the silence dragged on, Miss Bennet said finally, “I’m sorry, but where is my sister?”
“Of course, yes,” said Bingley. “Allow me to show you.” They quit the room.
“Good Lord,” said Miss Bingley. “What can she mean by arriving in such a state?”
“I trust you saw her petticoat,” said Mrs. Hurst, nodding her agreement. “Six inches deep in mud, I am sure it was.”
“And her hair!” Miss Bingley said. The sisters laughed. “To have walked so far, and alone. What say you, Mr. Darcy? You have only just been introduced but I assure you, the picture we’ve just had of Miss Eliza Bennet is an accurate one.” Darcy did not point out that Miss Bingley’s acquaintance with the woman in question was scarcely any greater than his own.
“I agree that the circumstances hardly necessitate her walking so far alone,” Darcy conceded. “I appreciate it demonstrates honest concern for her sister, but one must wonder at her judgement for it.”
Miss Bingley accepted this contribution to the thread of conversation with exuberance, and it occupied herself and Mrs. Hurst for the remainder of their breakfast.
Darcy remained silent, waiting for Bingley to return so they might get about their day. There was work to be done. Now that Miss Jane Bennet had family to attend her Darcy put both young women out of his mind, except for a stray moment or two when he found himself reflecting on a certain pair of fine eyes.
Chapter 3
It was not the last time Darcy wondered about those fine eyes. In the hours that followed, he found his curiosity piqued by the woman who’d braved three miles of dirty road alone to help care for her sister – an unnecessarily dramatic gesture, perhaps, but a telling one, too.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet attended dinner with the family of Netherfield the first night; upon her exit, she was soundly abused by both Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. Charles was so much distressed by the health of his guest he scarcely attended the conversation at all, leaving Darcy to his own devices. As his friends did not require his participation, and as he did not care to take part in the criticism for which Miss Bingley showed such enthusiasm – he instead attended his letter-writing, a never-ending task for a man of his station.
Miss Bennet was pretty enough, he mused as he prepared his pen, but there were plenty of ‘pretty-enough’ girls in the world. Why she should stand out in his mind, Darcy could not comprehend. He knew very little about her character and what he knew of her family he’d had secondhand; the sum of all that information he’d obtained from sources which were disinclined to stark objectivity. Jane Bennet herself was the exception to that information, of course, but a few days in a nearby sickroom hardly made a strong foundation for acquaintance.
Miss Elizabeth had not lingered at the meal, preferring to return abovestairs to tend to her sister, but her conversation at dinner revealed their newest guest was clearly disposed to amusement at the world in general, no matter what the circumstances. Darcy supposed this must be what had charmed him so; he could not account for his level of distraction otherwise.
Distractions of the female persuasion should not be novel at his age, Darcy thought. His position was one that did not necessitate a life’s companion, as the only title in the family was long since passed to another branch of the family. With the unexpected death last year of his dear cousin and friend, Colonel Fitzwilliam, there had been some concern among the family that Darcy ought to consider bearing an heir himself, but he’d not yet reached thirty years of age; there was plenty of time yet to see to it. Pemberley was in no danger and the estate provided enough of a living that when combined with her own sizable dowry his sister, Georgiana, would be well taken care of for the rest of her natural life. Whether she married was entirely immaterial except with regard to her own preference.
Darcy shook his head to dispel his errant thoughts and bent his head once more to the work at hand.
He had just concluded a letter to his sister regarding details about her living arrangement in London when the housekeeper appeared to speak with Bingley. It was most unusual for her to be seen at this hour and when Bingley returned to the room, Darcy’s suspicions proved well-founded.
“It seems after keeping so close to her sister since her arrival, poor Miss Elizabeth has now fallen ill herself,” said Charles, rubbing a hand over his face. “Those poor ladies.”
“Poor indeed,” said Miss Bingley, wrinkling her nose. “Poor, in the sense that they are impoverished and there are unmarried men of good fortune in this house.”
“That is crude, Caroline, and unkind,” said Bingley. “Furthermore it is beneath you to say such a thing. They’ll remain her as our guests until they’re well enough to return home.” In a rare show of distemper, Bingley stood and faced his sisters. At the unyielding look on his face, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst fell silent.
The week that followed would live in Darcy’s memory as among the happiest he’d ever spent. Bingley was steadfast in the opinion that the Misses Bennet remain at Netherfield Park and was supported in this stance by Mr. Jones, the apothecary who came daily to observe his patients’ progress. Mr. and Mrs. Hurst were k
een to leave lest the disease spread any further but Miss Bingley persuaded her sister to stay on, as the Misses Bennet could hardly remain in the house if there were no other ladies in residence. Furthermore, Miss Bingley could not bear the thought of playing the sole nursemaid and attending Mrs. Hursts demands would prevent her from serving thusly. Under the weight of all these arguments, Mrs. Hurst was suitably convinced to remain.
Bingley attended his own business, not the least of which included calling upon his new neighbors. He saw Miss Jane Bennet as often as his sisters would allow him. Darcy knew he wished to see still more of her, though they never spoke of the woman between themselves.
Darcy himself paid a visit to Miss Elizabeth Bennet once. He felt he could afford to be generous with his time, as Bingley did not require him that morning and all his business affairs were caught up to date. As the alternative was spending the entire day in the company of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, he’d determined a short visit to an invalid would bring harm to none.
“Mr. Darcy to see you miss, if you’re well enough,” said the servant in low tones. Darcy paused a moment before entering the room, but not because he was unsure of his welcome.
Certainly it was not because he was nervous.
Elizabeth Bennet was sitting up on her bed. She had now been a guest of Netherfield the better part of a week and though Mr. Jones insisted on her continued rest, she was keen to be moving about and not at all shy about saying so – so Miss Bingley had complained.
“Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy by way of greeting. “I came to ask after your health.”
“That is very kind of you, sir,” she said. “I thank you for it. I am feeling much better, despite what Mr. Jones seems to think.”
“He has a great deal of experience with these things, I understand,” said Darcy.
“As much as any country doctor, I daresay,” said Miss Bennet. “But one’s feelings do not lie, and mine tell me with every passing hour that I have been abed too long.”
“Are you so very active, then?”
“I am rather fond of walking,” she admitted. “Please, do sit down. I confess, I am perhaps a little less than charming today. I am not used to inactivity, you see; your estimation is correct.”
“Perhaps I might keep you company for a short while,” he offered. The poor woman was clearly in need of distraction.
“I should like that,” said Miss Bennet. She smiled. Darcy caught his breath, for he had never seen her smile with any measure of authenticity until now. It had the remarkable effect of lighting her whole face, lending brilliance to her eyes.
His own eyes lit on the maid-cum-nurse, drowsing from her chair near the window. Her presence assured him it would not be inappropriate to stay a little while.
Darcy caught sight of the pile of books next to the bed. He spoke the first sensible words that came to mind.
“What are you reading?”
She laughed. “Anything I can.”
“At present, then. You prefer novels,” he observed, noting the books’ titles.
“I do. Does it speak to one’s character, do you think, if one prefers the fiction of others to the facts of their own life?”
Her question was asked rhetorically, but he answered her anyway.
“Perhaps, but it need not follow that the indication is a negative one,” he said. “I’d imagine there are many people in the world in need of an escape from their lives, if only for a short while.”
“You are not such a one, I think,” said Miss Elizabeth.
“What gives me out?” he asked, the start of a smile about his lips.
“Your situation in life seems a comfortable one,” she said. “I am hard pressed to imagine conditions which might persuade you to leave your present circumstance, even if only for the duration of a novel.” She inclined her head. “If you read, Mr. Darcy, I think you must read for pleasure, not to escape.”
“Have you made a study of me, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked, curiously invested in her answer. “Or do you take your own opinions and use them to uncover the workings of others?”
“Now you have caught me out,” she said, laughing in surprise. “I suppose it is one of my faults. Not everyone views the world as I do, though I cannot comprehend why.”
“It sounds as though the world would be a better place if they did,” he said.
Time passed in pleasant conversation. Miss Bennet was as fond of reading as she was walking; thence they found some common ground, lingering there until Bingley knocked sometime later.
“Miss Bennet,” said Charles with a tentative smile as he came to stand near Darcy’s chair. “I do hope you’re feeling better.”
“Much better, thank you Mr. Bingley,” she said smiling broadly back at him. “Your generosity and the company of your friend here have helped me pass the afternoon most agreeably.”
Darcy glanced at the clock on the mantel for the first time. He had no idea of so much time passing, yet he had indeed passed the better part of the day in her company.
“I’m here to retrieve him from you, I’m afraid,” said Bingley. “Darcy’s needed downstairs.”
“We’ll let you rest,” said Darcy, uncomfortably aware that he did not wish to leave but conscious that the duration of his visit might already be seen as inappropriate; chaperoned or not, there was a limit.
“Thank you for coming to see me,” said Miss Bennet. The depths of her gratitude showed briefly on her face; Darcy had to look away. The expression spoke to him, deeply. She continued, equanimity restored. “You were a great help to a restless invalid.”
“I’m glad to be of service to you,” said Darcy. “Perhaps I might visit again tomorrow, if Mr. Jones has not freed you.”
“I should like that very much,” she said. “Good evening.”
“Good evening.” Darcy followed Bingley from the room.
“You were there quite awhile,” observed Bingley. “Is there something I should know?”
Darcy scoffed.
“Really, Charles,” he said wryly. “She’s a guest in your home, and ill besides. I was just keeping her company.” Darcy forestalled any further inquiry by asking after the health of Miss Jane Bennet, deftly diverting Bingley’s attention. Darcy heard him with but half a mind.
He began to feel that it was a very good thing he’d not met Miss Elizabeth Bennet under the usual circumstances – at a ball, for instance. He did not always perform well among strange company, and he could not bear the thought of her scorning him for some unseen offense. She was intelligent and pretty and charming and were she any other woman, Darcy felt he should be in danger of becoming besotted with her. As it was, however, he was intact.
Chapter 4
And yet he returned the next day. And the next. And by the day that followed, Darcy had come to dread the arrival of Mr. Jones, for he knew the time for their strange little idyll was coming to an end. Miss Jane was almost entirely well again, and Miss Elizabeth had appeared well to him since the second day he visited her. Were it not completely outside his character, Darcy thought perhaps he could somehow incentivize the apothecary to stay away another week, but artifice was anathema to his character. He could no more deceive than he could expect to be crowned King of France. Darcy made peace with himself by determining he would be pleased to call on her as any good friends do once she returned home.
“What a pleasant room this is,” said Mrs. Bennet one morning a few days later. She and her three youngest daughters had arrived to visit with her eldest, and to thank Mr. Bingley in particular. “Take note, my girls, for you’re not likely to see a home so fine again any time soon.”
“We would if you’d let us go to London,” complained the youngest girl. Miss Lydia was her name. She turned to Mr. Bingley. “Papa thinks we’re not to be trusted in town, but with no dowries to speak of, you’d think he’d want us to meet as many – oof! Mary!” Lydia turned, the bottom half of her thought lost in fury at her sister.
Darcy did not acknowledg
e having seen the pinch; it seemed more appropriate to let that avenue of conversation pass, though he was curious to know how a gentleman of any means came to have five daughters and not a dowry among them.
“Leave her alone, Mary,” said Miss Kitty Bennet. “She’s already cross because her new officer beau won’t come to scratch.”
“Kitty! Lydia!” cried Mrs. Bennet. “You will stop this nonsense at once. I am so sorry for my daughters’ behavior, Mr. Bingley.”
“Oh, you needn’t –” Bingley stopped, as Mrs. Bennet would continue.
“It’s just that, without Jane’s influence at home – she always provides such an example for the rest of my girls. Elizabeth, too, but Jane is a true treasure to me. I hardly know how I shall do without her someday.”
Mrs. Bennet paused to let Mr. Bingley absorb this information.
“It will please you, then,” said Miss Bingley coldly from her chair at the far end of the room, “to learn that Miss Bennet is almost entirely recovered. Indeed, I do not think even the peerless Mr. Jones would object, should she wish to leave today.”
“Of course, we are pleased to have her here,” Bingley hastened to add. “For as long as she’d care to stay.”
“I’m glad of it, Mr. Bingley, for much as I depend on Jane, I know my Lizzy simply could not do without her while she’s ill.”
Darcy briefly considered intervening. Miss Elizabeth had appeared to him the very pinnacle of good health when he’d visited her yesterday. Yet should he speak up, it might hasten her departure and that thought did not suit at all.
Darcy held his tongue.
Mrs. Bennet’s conversation tended toward the uncouth – hardly surprising giving her youngest daughters’ earlier outbursts. It chafed his elevated sense of decorum and propriety, but Darcy’s mind wandered to the reading he’d chosen to bring to Miss Elizabeth when next they talked. If Mrs. Bennet’s conversation brought any further offense, he was deaf to it. A short time later, she and the younger women were escorted to see the elder Bennet sisters and Darcy thought of them no more.
Fitzwilliam Darcy Page 2