The only part of Elizabeth Bennet’s arrival to serve as Miss Bennet’s nursemaid that surprised Mr. Darcy was the carriage.
She was first brought into the breakfast room where they all still sat.
Elizabeth held in her hand a book with the title lettering in Greek. She did not look towards him, in a way that rather surprised Darcy, because she tended to glance in his direction when they met.
The dress she wore today was better fitting than those she usually wore in company, being a simple morning dress from muslin. Her hair was in a simple bun, but tied much less severely than usual, and a few curls sneaked, almost but not quite, fashionably out the sides.
She also wore a handsome silver locket. It was the first time that Mr. Darcy had seen her with ornamentation, and he thought the locket handsomely offset her slim neck.
He always wanted to stare at her.
An animal thing inside Darcy liked the look of Elizabeth Bennet. That animal especially wanted to comfort her when she was anxious around Mrs. Bennet. Darcy wanted to cover her with himself and make everything well for her, forever and always.
Stupid and impossible, and what was more, not worth thinking of.
Elizabeth was the penniless relation of a family with little consequence in the world. And he was the son of his parents. Any connection but one of friendship was impossible.
Darcy could admit to himself the strong attraction he felt for her because her station was so far beneath his own that there was no point in even imagining marriage. If she had been Mr. Bennet’s daughter the situation might have been different.
He would always be happy to see her, and he was happy that she had been given the carriage rather than being made to walk or ride.
After nodding to everyone, Elizabeth went up to sit with Jane.
Mr. Darcy found himself unsettled for the whole day. There always was a strong awareness that she was upstairs.
To distract himself Darcy went out with Bingley for shooting, but while the sport was entertaining enough, Darcy found himself to still be in this abstracted state, always thinking about how Elizabeth right now sat in the manor house, likely dabbing Miss Bennet’s forehead or reading to her. Maybe she was forcing Miss Bennet to drink some broth and doing whatever else gentlewomen did when nursing someone.
Bingley was as distracted as Darcy, so they both were mostly silent.
As they walked back into the house, leaving a fair number of previously caught birds in their cages for a future day, Bingley remarked to Darcy, “I do hope Miss Bennet’s illness has not worsened. Do you think if we called a physician from London that he might—”
“No.”
Bingley sighed. Laughed. Then sighed again. “Mr. Jones had said there was no cause for worry, and Miss Elizabeth will tell us if there is anything to worry of. Miss Bennet is lucky to have such a devoted friend to care for her.”
“I do not think,” Darcy said rather annoyedly, “that Miss Elizabeth’s presence is exactly that of a friend.”
Bingley paid no attention to Darcy’s comment in his eagerness to leap into the house. Miss Elizabeth stood with Bingley’s sisters near the bottom of the big stairway, speaking quietly.
Bingley asked, “What news, has Miss Bennet worsened?”
Elizabeth smiled at him with a soft amused air. “Just a sore throat, aches, and an ordinary fever. You need not be particularly concerned.”
“Oh, I am glad!” replied Bingley.
Mr. Bingley’s exclamation was rather too enthused for Darcy’s taste. Surely Bingley could not be thinking of Miss Bennet. She had no dowry, and her family was simply awful. But this was much like Bingley always was. A great enthusiasm for new acquaintances and flirtations, followed by becoming distracted by the calls of other new acquaintances.
A glance shared with Miss Bingley showed that she had a similar disapproval of Bingley’s enthusiasm.
A few hints to that gentleman would not go amiss.
Darcy studied Miss Elizabeth. She looked cheery enough, and upon noticing his gaze she first looked down, shook her head with a smile, and then quirked a grin at him.
“Are you exhausted from your efforts at the bedside?” Darcy asked her, thinking he must say something.
“I should be a quite weak creature if three hours with Jane could do so much.” She lightly laughed. “Jane is the sweetest and most docile patient. Quite superior in character to myself when ill.” A pause. “Mrs. Bennet always says that whoever she marries will be a lucky man.”
Bingley smiled as though pleased at that thought. Miss Bingley frowned darkly. Mrs. Hurst rolled her eyes.
Darcy was concerned for Miss Elizabeth. “Do not tire yourself out nursing her all night.”
She smiled and shrugged. “A few sleepless nights will do me little harm, and I owe the Bennets that and far more.”
Darcy knew that was in one way true. But he also knew there was something amiss. He did not like the way that Mrs. Bennet handled Miss Elizabeth or spoke to her.
When the party gathered that evening in the drawing room before they would proceed to the dining room, Darcy noticed that Elizabeth had not joined them. He remarked upon this with some surprise.
Miss Bingley frowned at him. “You wish her to dine with us.”
“She is not a servant. She is a gentlewoman,” Darcy replied severely. “It is improper for her to be treated as though she were a hired nurse.”
“Yes, yes.” Miss Bingley immediately nodded. “I shall go myself to ask her to come down to us.”
Dinner was in fact delayed some ten minutes before Elizabeth changed her clothing and came down.
Oddly what she wore now was more flattering, with more correct fitting and better coloration, than anything he’d seen her in before this morning. It also was very modest and simple, looking more like a day dress than the proper sort of clothing one wore for a dinner.
Elizabeth apologized as she entered the drawing room, and she did not look towards any of them. “I did not mean to delay you all. I know I am hardly dressed for the occasion. I confess it had not crossed my mind that I would dine with you all.”
“Of course you shall!” Miss Bingley exclaimed. “You are not simply Jane’s nursemaid. We wish to show you every hospitality.”
Elizabeth ducked her head and almost appeared as though she wished to look smaller.
Elizabeth spoke little during the course of the dinner, chiefly only speaking of Miss Bennet’s infinite and inimitable virtues every time Bingley brought the conversation back to Miss Bennet, which he did frequently. But whenever Elizabeth spoke about Miss Bennet there was a hint of a private amusement in how she spoke, one that Bingley did not notice at all.
Several times she touched that new locket which she was now wearing, and she ran her fingers over it, as though to comfort herself.
Darcy could guess how it was: Mrs. Bennet had ordered her to praise Miss Bennet to Mr. Bingley with every opportunity, and she did as ordered. However, it was impossible for someone with her clever sense of humor to avoid having a sensibility of the ridiculous in her when she did so.
Rather before the rest of them completed their meals, Elizabeth pushed away her food, and said that she must return to her duties to Jane. Miss Bingley exclaimed, “It is terrible how they treat that poor girl—she deserves better.”
Mr. Darcy rather suspected that Miss Bingley had perceived that he strongly disapproved of Miss Elizabeth’s treatment, and meant to make him think better of her by condemning it.
“What do you speak of,” Mr. Bingley replied. “Do you mean Miss Elizabeth?”
“ You surely have seen how Mrs. Bennet makes her jump to and fro,” Miss Bingley said to Mr. Darcy.
“I see what you hope me to say,” Mr. Bingley said, “and I shall not play along. I am determined to think well of the Bennets.”
“You do not find it strange,” Miss Bingley said, “that it was not one of Jane’s sisters who came to care for her.”
Bingley had a mulish expression. “Why would it not be Miss Elizabeth?”
“It is a sister’s place,” Darcy said. “Sending her in this way makes it seem as though they treat her as a nursemaid, rather than a full member of the family. Even if she is in an inferior place, as they have raised her as their ward, they ought to always ensure that her consequence is maintained, and due deference given to her.”
Miss Bingley nodded. “And that poor girl, she is terrified of Mrs. Bennet. It pains my heart to see.”
“She is not,” Bingley replied. “If she was scared of Mrs. Bennet, why would she always insist that she is so grateful to her.”
This was a statement with such an obvious retort that none of Bingley’s interlocutors felt obliged to make it.
The young man reddened under their stare, and then he said, “I insist, there is nothing amiss. Miss Elizabeth is a happy person, who is well cared for. And she ought to be grateful, for she is being raised by the Bennets as a gentlewoman, when such kindness was not necessary. From what Jane said she is in fact a very distant relation. Miss Elizabeth’s case proves the goodwill and kindness of the Bennet family. They are capital persons, all of them.”
“She dresses to look as ugly as she might with her pretty face and figure. That is not ordinary.” Miss Bingley said, “She did not do so tonight, likely because she had not expected to be sitting in company, so I had not noticed before. But when she attends parties, she always dresses to make her person appear less interesting than it is.”
“So?”
“The only reason she does this,” Miss Bingley said, “is that she fears what Mrs. Bennet would do to her if she outshone even the plain one of her daughters. The one who played piano so dreadfully. Miss—Oh, I cannot recall. Darcy, you danced with her, what was her name?”
Darcy shrugged. He also did not remember the woman’s name, and he felt no shame for not doing so.
This brought a laugh from Bingley. “ I never noticed anything amiss in Miss Elizabeth’s clothing.”
Miss Bingley shook her head. “And who are their connections—beyond the penniless Miss Elizabeth. One is a country lawyer.”
“They also have an uncle in Cheapside,” Mr. Bingley replied.
This brought both Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst to laughter.
This was clearly Miss Bingley’s plan to suggest to Bingley that he was paying too much attention to Jane. But the reference to her poor connections was unlikely to have the effect they hoped.
In reply to the laughter, Bingley exclaimed, “Miss Bennet and her sisters would not be one jot less agreeable if they had uncles enough to fill all of Cheapside!”
“But that would materially decrease their chances of marrying anyone of consequence in the world,” Darcy said.
The expression on Bingley’s face was stubborn.
As Darcy opened his mouth to say something further, he realized that he wished to discourage Bingley chiefly because he felt a resentment that he did not have a right to have on Elizabeth’s behalf. He thought ill of their treatment of Elizabeth, so he wanted all the world to think ill about them.
None of that was his business .
Darcy turned back to his roast.
His mind wandered back to Elizabeth. Her slender frame. She had an almost underfed look to her. The way that she smiled at him. The way that her hair had been more ragged today, with a few locks escaping the severe bun.
Had that really been a copy of The Iliad that she had brough with her?
No, that was unlikely.
She had looked almost confused by her presence at the dinner table. The memory of her voice echoing from the balcony, I think he is a much more interesting person than Mr. Bingley .
He thought far too much about her.
But it was difficult to stop. She had said she found him interesting. That combined with her regular refusal to dance with him, was perhaps the source of Darcy’s own fascination.
Another notion crossed his mind: It was a thing sometimes mentioned by writers, the idea that two persons, separated by station, consequence, life situation, and perhaps even temperament might find some sort of connection between the platonic forms of their souls.
Absurd.
After dinner Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst went up the stairs to help Elizabeth entertain the invalid for a little.
Darcy had a general feeling of wellbeing at the thought that Elizabeth Bennet was in the same house as him, and that he was likely to see her during the course of the evening.
To Darcy’s strong disappointment, she did not appear when the party was called together for coffee in the drawing room.
Miss Bingley said to Bingley’s worried inquiry that Miss Bennet was quite miserable at present, and that Elizabeth had not wished to leave her charge alone. This made Bingley almost moan with worry, which made Darcy almost roll his eyes.
After a little, Darcy sent a maid up to the sickroom with a cup of coffee for her to enjoy, saying that the beverage must be of more use to her in her present work than to them.
He still hoped to see her tonight. Hours of this tense waiting continued. Eventually, Darcy felt rather silly about having expected her.
The way that she had behaved when called down to dinner showed that she had not expected any such recognition from them—she ought to have, as she was a gentlewoman. She had been uncomfortable at dinner.
When they all played loo, Darcy found himself making frequent small miscalculations. It made no sense to him.
He wanted to see her again.
After a while with a sober mien Darcy said to Miss Bingley, “Do you think it is possible Miss Bennet has fallen asleep? I worry that Miss Elizabeth will make herself sick if she never takes a break from attending on Miss Bennet. Perhaps it would be good to invite her down.”
“You are all attention to her,” Miss Bingley said with a close look.
“I always am all attention to anything which is a matter of what is proper and right.”
“The poor girl must hardly expect so much condescension from us,” Miss Bingley said seemingly satisfied by Darcy’s manner, “She very much considers her sole task here to be to see to Jane’s well-being. I dare say we shall treat her better than she is used to at home.”
As Miss Bingley went up to call the lady down, Darcy wondered at himself.
There was a wrongness in the lack of attention to her comfort and interest that Miss Elizabeth received, and it was right for him to show her what attention he could. Even though they were wholly unconnected, this was what any upstanding and uninterested gentleman would seek to do.
Those frequent words of his father came back to him again: A man can always do his duty.
These thoughts flew away when Elizabeth entered the room with Miss Bingley.
There was an anxious look to her eyes. She’d pulled her hair back into its usual severe bun, which pulled the skin taut around her cheeks and kept as much softness away from her looks as possible. She wore a shawl that covered her whole neck up to the chin. It struck Darcy as rather unnecessary in this weather.
Her cheeks were pale, and there was an uncertainty in the way that her eyes darted around the room.
Darcy smiled at her and she came towards them at the card table, and Mr. Hurst asked if she would join them at cards.
“Oh, no, I would much prefer books,” she said and looked at a table with some books on it.
“You prefer books to cards,” Mr. Hurst said. “Singular.”
“Would it aid you if I loaned the money for the play?” Miss Bingley said, seeming to have come to the same conclusion that Mr. Darcy did, that the young woman would (correctly) expect them to be playing too high for her.
“No, no. I’d not feel right upon that matter—I have pocket money enough if you insist that I play,” she replied, that sort of confusion. “Is that what I ought to do?”
“We shall play for pennies,” Miss Bingley said in a tone that she no doubt hoped would quell any complaints from her brother-in-law.
“For pennies!” exclaimed Mr. Hurst, “What is the purpose of that ?”
“To while away the time at cards,” Miss Bingley said sweetly. “Not all of us are as happy to lose money in play as you are.”
“I am ahead ten guineas tonight,” he replied. “You are the one who loses the most frequently.”
There was a widening of Elizabeth’s eyes at the sum quoted, and which confirmed to Darcy that they were in fact playing far too high for her.
“Then I do not wish to lose anymore,” Miss Bingley replied with annoyance.
“You really must not. I beg you, do not change the pot for my sake,” Elizabeth said. “I would happily look at the books instead.”
“It is already decided,” Bingley said cheerily. “And to your benefit, for I am certain that there is nothing in my meager library which would interest such a great reader as I understand you to be. Please, do sit down, Miss Elizabeth.”
Such an order could not be ignored. The previous pot and cards were cleared, to Mr. Hurst’s benefit. That gentleman grunted his intention to lie down for a nap, and he ventured unto the sofa to put this noble intention into practice.
Darcy had half expected that anxiety in Elizabeth’s eyes to continue, but instead she shook herself, and it seemed as though a different spirit came to rule her mind. She smiled, “Preferring a sofa and nap to cards? Singular.”
It was with difficulty that Darcy choked back a laugh at how similar Elizabeth’s tone of voice was to Mr. Hurst’s.
The way that Elizabeth glanced at him after telling the joke, to see how he’d reacted, made a flutter in his guts.
Mrs. Hurst failed to hold back her own laugh, and that brought both Bingley and his other sister to laughter.
With a shout from the sofa Mr. Hurst ordered them to be quiet and focus upon the play.
They played together, all grinning for a few minutes.
Darcy asked, “Can you do other impressions?”
“Oh, yes.” Elizabeth grinned. “Mr. Bennet taught me the trick to make it sound just right.”
“Then imitate me,” Mr. Bingley asked.
Elizabeth paused for a moment. A thoughtful frown. She then burst out, “’Pon my word! I’ve never met so many friendly people in one place. Only I dare say, it is a deuced shame that the dance ends not long after midnight.”
General laughter ensued.
“Can you do me?” Miss Bingley asked.
“Perhaps, but I warn you that in general my impressions are perceived as much truer with male voices. It is easier to—let me see. ‘My dear Jane, I am grieved for you. I hate it so dreadfully when I am sick, myself. Yes, yes. Being sick is a quite dreadful thing. I never do it if I can avoid it. You must recover fast.’”
Miss Bingley smiled. “Oh my, I do not sound like that.”
“You do, my dear,” both her siblings insisted.
“Oh.” She laughed a little. “And now Mr. Darcy.”
“That is a difficult task. But let me see.” Elizabeth paused looking at him. Then with a sparkling smile crossing her face, she said, “I must apologize for making reference to an incident for which you have already apologized, but my muse guides—Ahem, Bingley, those two girls are tolerable enough, but not handsome enough to tempt me .”
Bingley grinned with a boyish expression of delight. “You both heard that!”
“I hope that Miss Lydia has forgiven me,” Darcy said. “She appeared most upset.”
Elizabeth giggled. “I must tell you a shocking thing about her, but she in fact approached you as a joke and not out of any real sentiment. But she found you rather too imposing to carry it off in the manner she intended.”
Bingley was delighted by this tale also. “There is no object I know so imposing as Mr. Darcy, especially on a Sunday night, in his own lodgings, and when there is nothing to do.”
This consideration did not fully please Mr. Darcy, but he kept his polite smile.
There was another cry from the sofa demanding that they attend to their game and stop speaking nonsense.
They did so, and after another round Miss Bingley said to Mrs. Hurst, “I marvel that your husband is more intent on us paying attention to the game than we are, even though he has retired from the field.”
This statement did not please Mrs. Hurst. Her expression suggested that she rather took her sister’s words as a criticism, and whilst she no doubt acknowledged the justice of said critique, she did not wish to have it bandied about.
All quiet.
Clinking of pennies. But then they ran out of a sufficient supply, and Mr. Bingley rang the bell to demand the footman acquire more for them, since they were not to play with real coins.
That was the sort of thing that made Darcy smile at the grandness of the newly rich. He was fully aware that there were a great many people on his lands for whom even a penny was a matter of consideration, being a substantial portion of a day’s wages.
Upon returning to the table, Bingley said to Elizabeth as they waited, “I perceive that you have been very fortunate to have fallen in the hands of the Bennet family.”
Elizabeth had turned herself into a charming young woman of spirit while making those impressions. She was dressed modestly, and with an unflattering arrangement of her hair, but the smile made all of that meaningless.
She was pretty, beautiful, and vivacious.
Bingley’s question brought stiffness.
Eyes narrowing. A breath let out. She slumped and turned a bit away from the table to not look directly at any of them. The dimples disappeared. She smiled again, with a smile that did not meet her eyes. “I am always exceedingly grateful to them.”
“See,” Bingley said, “That is what I said. I dare say that Mrs. Bennet is like a mother to you, and Jane, I mean Miss Bennet, and the rest like your sisters? That is what Jane has said. That you’ve been raised amongst them like a sister.”
Elizabeth immediately showed that wide, false smile again. “Mrs. Bennet always shows me great condescension and kindness. I am grateful to her. I cannot be more grateful. Of course, Jane is the sweetest. Of course she is like a sister.”
“Ha,” Mr. Bingley looked at Darcy and Miss Bingley, as though Miss Elizabeth’s reply to his leading questions said anything at all. “You are very fortunate. Is it not the case that you are Mr. Bennet’s favorite?”
“Certainly,” Elizabeth replied with a real smile. “I love Mr. Bennet as much as I would if he were my own father.”
“You do not think that you have been made rather too much to be like a servant?” Mr. Darcy asked with a frown.
“I am very grateful,” Elizabeth replied. “It is only right that I help when I might. Besides, I am not a servant.”
“Have you had a chance to learn the normal accomplishments?” Mrs. Hurst asked.
Mr. Bingley cheerfully answered for Elizabeth, “Of course she has. It astonishes me how every young woman is so accomplished. You all net purses, draw pictures, play on the harp, paint tables. I have never heard of a woman spoken of for the first time, except I am immediately informed that she is most accomplished.”
“Miss Elizabeth, would you agree with Mr. Bingley that you have been given all the accomplishments?” There was a false sweetness to Miss Bingley’s tone.
Darcy could tell that she hoped for this conversation to convince her brother to think less of Jane Bennet.
“I…” Elizabeth hesitated.
“Do you draw?” Miss Bingley asked.
“I have no skill there. But…” She then frowned and looked down. There was a line in her forehead, and Darcy wondered what it meant.
“Play piano?” Mrs. Hurst asked.
“Not at all. Nor the harp or even the flute, if you plan to ask.”
“Fine embroidery and dancing?”
“I can dance well enough. But as for the rest, no.”
“French, German and the modern languages?”
Elizabeth stared at the table before answering. She pushed the pennies side to side. And then that change came over her again. As Darcy watched, she once more ceased to be the devoted and frightened servant of Mrs. Bennet and turned into the quite odd, but charming and lively girl that he thought was far nearer Elizabeth’s true self.
“My dear Miss Bingley,” Elizabeth said her head high, and meeting the gazes all about. “I am eccentric, not unaccomplished. While I have no notion of how to speak any of the modern languages, though I read French well enough, I speak the ancient languages very well.” She then said something which it took Darcy half a minute to decipher from the Greek.
“But for mine own part, it was Greek to me?” Darcy asked laughing.
“Bravo.” She clapped and grinned. “Mr. Bennet says that it is rare for gentlemen to be able to speak the old languages at all, mostly they just read in them.”
“That is a book in Greek?” Bingley asked in a horrified tone. “The one you brought? I thought so, but I could not believe it, I refused to believe it.”
With another laugh, and satisfied air, Elizabeth replied, “I began a reread of The Iliad last night.”
Bingley laughed. “You are more like Darcy than me .”
“All your accomplishments were given to you by Mr. Bennet’s tutelage, and not superintended by Mrs. Bennet?” Miss Bingley inquired.
“Chiefly.”
“And dare I ask if you have other odd abilities, beyond that to read Greek.”
“Latin. Also, cogito ergo sum .”
Bingley remembered enough of classes on philosophy to chuckle with Darcy, while Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst both look confused.
“Mr. Bennet and I make a point of talking in one or the other for a half hour every day.”
“How useful,” Miss Bingley said in a tone that suggested she thought that it was not useful at all. She also perhaps thought that the gentlemen were now a little too impressed with Elizabeth. “And I must imagine that you were also taught to shoot and ride a horse while following the hounds?”
“I’ve never liked horses. Awful large creatures. Quite too far from the ground when seated on them. But I am recognized as one of the best shots in the neighborhood. I’ve also a little muff pistol that Mr. Bennet taught me how to use quite well. He insists I bring it with me everywhere. It is in my baggage upstairs.”
Both Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were shocked by that. “Why would you bring a gun with you to visit?”
“Did you not hear,” Elizabeth said laughing, “Mr. Bennet insists. I would feel quite odd carrying it everywhere, so I do not.”
“Why does he insist upon this?” Darcy asked. “Few of the difficulties that a gentlewoman faces can be prevented by the use of a gun.” A pistol would have offered no aid to his sister, for example, when she nearly eloped with his father’s godson.
“How strange,” Miss Bingley said. “My point, however, is proven. You have not been educated in the normal manner of a gentlewoman, and despite the bluestocking oddity of the skills you do claim, I do not think that would make you what is commonly referred to as ‘highly accomplished’.”
“I think that is all a high accomplishment, and the next time we go shooting I promise to invite you out with me and Darcy.” Bingley said, “Caroline, nothing you say will make me think otherwise. Have you any other odd accomplishments, Miss Elizabeth?”
“I can manage not only with simple sums, and not even merely with algebra. But also, I can manage my calculus, both integral and differential. And I have read all of Newton’s Principia and I fancy myself, perhaps incorrectly, to have understood it. So now you may despise me, however much you will.”
“I do not despise you,” Mr. Darcy said. “Rather the opposite.”
Elizabeth looked at him with a smile.
“Tell me of the younger girls,” Miss Bingley asked, perhaps deciding that Miss Elizabeth’s education, unorthodox as it was, would not offend her brother’s broad sensibilities. “We hardly know them, but they seem quite energetic.”
Darcy asked out of real interest, “Did Miss Lydia really approach me in that way as a joke?”
“Ah, well…” Elizabeth flushed. “Possibly I should have refrained from telling that story. Though it is quite amusing, I think. But while high spirited, Lydia never intends any ill.” And then in a different manner, Elizabeth said firmly, “And I like Mary very much, and she hardly gets the attention that she ought.”
Neither do you .
Darcy made a strong note in his mind to remember the name of the plain sister.
“And those relations in Cheapside, the ones in trade.” Miss Bingley continued her inquisition. “Do you often see them?”
“For Christmas. And usually once during the summer. I do like Mr. Gardiner and his wife. They always seem to be very much the gentleman and lady, and they are always kind to me.”
“You think that Mr. Gardiner is not much like his sister,” Mr. Darcy said confidently.
“Oh, not at all!” Elizabeth said. And then she flushed, realizing that her enthused tone smacked of a criticism of the one to whom she always swore gratitude.
Her expression fell again, and then as the round of play ended, she pushed herself away from the table, yawned, and said that she must go to sleep.