Page 22 of Companions of Their Youth (Pride and Prejudice “What if?” Variations #9)
I t was no more than the work of a quarter hour for Elizabeth and Mark to greet their hosts and be shown up the stairs to a guest room.
Elizabeth had been secretly concerned that Jane had perhaps slightly exaggerated her malaise in order to remain longer at Netherfield, but Jane’s flushed cheeks and heated brow put that worry to rest.
“Thank you for coming,” Jane said hoarsely as Elizabeth dabbed her face with a cool cloth.
“Of course,” Elizabeth smiled warmly at her elder sister. “I know you would do the same for me.”
“You need not fuss over.”
“I shall cease when you stop looking like a boiled lobster,” Elizabeth replied, forcing lightness into her tone.
“It appears Mr. Jones was never actually sent for,” Mark said, returning to the room. “Bingley is quite livid about the matter; apparently, Miss Bingley’s instructions to the staff were misunderstood. ”
He spoke the last word in a tone of skepticism, exchanging a look with Elizabeth. Jane, however, responded in her typically guileless manner. “I feel terrible being such an inconvenience. I am certain I should be well enough to return home with you.”
She attempted to sit up, but the movement provoked a fit of coughing, and Elizabeth gently pushed her back onto the pillows. “Nonsense,” Elizabeth chided. “You are clearly in no state to be moved, and I will wager my best bonnet that Mr. Jones will agree with me.”
“I would take that wager if I had a chance of winning,” Mark said with a smirk, “as I believe it would suit me much better than it does you, as you are only tolerable—or so I hear.”
“I beg your pardon!” Elizabeth exclaimed in faux outrage.
Mark ignored his twin, choosing instead of wink at a giggling Jane. “Alas, I fear it would a losing bet—Jane does seem quite unwell—and I have no bonnets of my own to lose.”
Jane giggled, and the trio spent the next half hour in banter until a knock at the door interrupted their teasing.
Mr. Jones entered, brushing the damp from his coat sleeves and nodding politely to those assembled.
With a quiet professionalism, he approached Jane’s bedside and took her hand to examine her pulse.
“You are not to exert yourself,” he said, “nor sit up longer than necessary. I will leave powders with the housekeeper to reduce the fever and ease the congestion, and I suggest light broth, warm tea, and cool cloths for comfort.”
He turned to Elizabeth. “She is in no danger, Miss Bennet, but exposure to further damp or cold could worsen matters considerably.”
“I understand,” Elizabeth said. “Thank you, Mr. Jones.”
Jane murmured something unintelligible. Mr. Jones nodded gently and gave her hand a light pat. “You will be well soon enough, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth glanced at her brother, who gave a small nod. Mr. Jones turned to him. “Miss Bennet will be quite safe here, so long as her hosts ensure she is cared for with diligence. I will check on her again tomorrow.”
“I understand,” Elizabeth said sincerely, rising to accompany him out. “Thank you, Mr. Jones.”
The apothecary gave a respectful nod and gathered his things. As he stepped into the corridor, he found Bingley pacing near the banister, worry etched across his face.
“Well?” Bingley asked at once.
Mr. Jones repeated his assessment, this time with a few more technical details. Bingley’s expression did not ease until the words “no danger” were repeated.
“She is very welcome to stay,” Bingley said quickly. “For as long as needed. I shall instruct the staff to see to anything she may require. My home is at their disposal.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said from the doorway. “That is most generous.”
Bingley turned to her with an earnest expression. “Would your brother care to join me downstairs while you tend to your sister? We were just beginning to review some of the issues concerning the boundary drainage.”
Elizabeth turned back to look at Mark over her shoulder. He looked to her for confirmation, and she gave a quick nod. “Go along. I shall be quite content here with Jane for a while.”
Mark followed Bingley down the staircase, leaving Elizabeth alone with Jane once more.
She spent the next hour changing out the cloth, encouraging Jane to sip a little broth, and making her more comfortable in bed.
The powders had a mild sedating effect, and soon Jane’s breathing had slowed, her eyes growing heavy.
It was then that the door opened again, this time to reveal Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst.
“My dear Miss Bennet,” Miss Bingley said in her smoothest tones. “We simply could not bear the thought of you languishing in bed without company.”
“We brought tales from town,” added Mrs. Hurst, settling into a nearby chair.
And indeed, for the next two hours they regaled Jane and Elizabeth with a litany of high society anecdotes.
Though clearly intended to impress, many of the stories were so farcical that even Elizabeth had to stifle a smile.
Jane, in her usual sweet-tempered way, was delighted by their company and laughed softly when her strength allowed it, though Elizabeth could see the weariness in her countenance.
Elizabeth endured it with tolerable grace, though she felt indignant at Jane’s rest being interrupted.
Eventually, Miss Bingley stood and straightened her skirts. “It is nearly time to dress for dinner. Our carriage will be at your disposal to convey you and your brother home, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Oh!” Jane exclaimed hoarsely. “I suppose you must.” Tears shimmered in her eyes.
Elizabeth leaned forward quickly, brushing the hair back from her sister’s face.
“I shall not leave unless you are ready for me to do so,” she whispered.
Miss Bingley faltered. She looked at Mrs. Hurst, then back to Elizabeth. “Well—of course—if your sister truly requires you, then I suppose we must insist that you remain. And your brother as well, if it pleases him.”
“I thank you,” Elizabeth said, straightening. “For my part, I shall certainly stay, but I will ask Mark his preference.”
“Very well,” Miss Bingley said, her tone clipped. “Please join us in the drawing room once you are ready.”
As the sisters withdrew, Elizabeth turned back to Jane, who now lay blinking up at her with a sleepy smile. She helped her sip the last of her tea and adjust the pillows again, brushing a kiss to her brow before rising.
“I will return shortly,” she said gently. “Rest well.”
She closed the door softly behind her and made her way downstairs. A passing maid showed her to the room where she would find the gentlemen.
Mark stood near the fireplace in the study, speaking amiably with Bingley and Darcy. He turned as Elizabeth entered.
“Jane does not want me to leave,” Elizabeth told her brother simply. “Miss Bingley has kindly extended her hospitality to both of us, should you wish to stay.”
Mark’s brow rose slightly. “Only one night, I think. I have much to do before I return to school in a week, but I suppose Longbourn will not dissolve into chaos in my absence.”
Elizabeth smiled. “You always were the generous twin.”
He grinned and offered her his arm. “Shall we dress for dinner, then?”
“With what clothing?” She glanced down at the gown she had walked to Netherfield in. “Perhaps I should take a tray in Jane’s room, although I would hate to disturb her. She is finally sleeping.”
“I shall send a servant to Longbourn for some things.” Bingley approached with an amiable smile. “There is no need for anyone to change this evening. The company is perfectly suited to an informal meal. I have already given word to the staff.”
Miss Bingley entered just in time to hear this declaration and gave a tight smile. “Yes. Quite. Then let us make ourselves comfortable in the main parlor until we are summoned.”
Elizabeth followed the others, conscious of the tension simmering beneath Miss Bingley’s carefully arranged features, but more concerned with the comfort of her sister and the contentment of her brother—both of whom, for now at least, were safe and warm under one roof.
∞∞∞
Darcy had not been present when the Bennet siblings first arrived at Netherfield, but he was in the study with Bingley when Mark left Jane’s room.
The three had a comfortable discussion about Netherfield.
The contrast between the two younger men was starkly evident throughout the discussion.
He is remarkably well-informed for someone his age and still in school, Darcy thought as Mark answered one of Bingley’s questions about drainage systems.
After several hours, a soft knock on the door admitted Elizabeth, and Darcy found he could not tear his gaze from her.
There was color in her cheeks, likely from tending her sister, and though her gown was somewhat travel-worn, there was a liveliness to her countenance that not even a day spent by a sickbed could diminish.
In the parlor, Darcy stood facing the window.
A casual observer would think that he was merely looking out at the front lawn of Netherfield, but in reality, he was watching Elizabeth through the reflection.
Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled as her brother said something to make her laugh, and she threw her head back in delight.
He could not recall the last time he had seen a lady laugh so openly—so freely—and it stirred something in his chest that had nothing to do with digestion.
When dinner was announced, Elizabeth took her place at the table beside Mark—and directly across from Darcy himself.
The proximity was both a blessing and a torment.
It made her easier to observe, but far more difficult to ignore.
And so, with the ease of a gentleman trained in civility, he addressed her brother instead.
“I understand you are still at Cambridge, Mr. Bennet?”
Mark looked up and nodded. “Yes, sir. I return in a fortnight.”
“I attended there as well, though I graduated six years ago. Do you plan a tour before you settle?”