Page 28 of Five Gentlemen at Netherfield (Pride and Prejudice Variations)
Darcy House
The Next Day
The door to the drawing room opened, and Darcy rose to his feet and hurried forward to fold his young sister in his arms. “Georgiana!”
“Oh, Fitzwilliam!” Miss Darcy replied, her face glowing with joy. “I am so glad to see you!”
“I am glad to see you as well,” Darcy said, retreating a few inches and looking down into Georgiana’s face.
She was a tall girl for sixteen, but he was taller, and he used his superior height to study her carefully.
She looked very well, with pink cheeks and smiling lips, and he felt himself relax.
She had been badly distressed by her experience with George Wickham the previous summer, but it had not, it seemed, damaged her health long term.
Whether she was emotionally recovered, well, he did not know.
“Mrs. Annesley,” he said, turning to her companion. “Good day. I hope you are well.”
“I am very well, Mr. Darcy,” the lady replied with a courteous smile. She was a comfortable widow of some forty summers, and Darcy had been careful to investigate her antecedents after his disaster with Mrs. Younge the previous summer.
“Shall I order some tea?” Georgiana asked, and Darcy grinned at her. “That would be lovely, my dear.”
***
Mr. Bennet’s Bedchamber
Longbourn
Six Days Later
Elizabeth frowned heavily and moved a rook, taking Jane’s queen. It was almost certainly a trap. Jane was such a gifted player that she would never…
Jane started slightly and shook her head. “What … oh Lizzy, I walked right into that, did I not?”
There was a garbled chuckle at Elizabeth’s side, and she looked over to observe her father, who was seated on a wingbacked chair, with his legs propped on a stool, chuckling.
“Excellent job, Lizzy,” he said.
Not that the words were clear, not at all. In fact, they were garbled, which was no surprise as one side of Mr. Bennet’s face was still slack.
Of all the individuals in the house, only Elizabeth, Mr. Hill, and Caleb, a former stable boy, were easily able to understand Mr. Bennet.
Caleb, who was six feet tall, young, and extremely strong, had been temporarily reassigned to assist Mr. Hill with their mutual master, and now that reassignment was permanent.
The man was not a great talker, but he was gentle with Mr. Bennet, and was able to understand him with remarkable ease.
“Thank you, Father,” Elizabeth said brightly, concealing the pain in her heart at the sight of her father so thin and fragile.
She turned back to the chessboard and frowned in concentration.
Mr. Bennet was a great chess player, and his intellect had apparently survived the apoplexy, because he enjoyed watching Jane and Elizabeth play.
Jane always started with one less rook than her sister, but nonetheless almost always won, and Elizabeth was determined to take advantage of the current situation.
Ten hard-fought minutes later, Jane peered at the chessboard carefully and bowed to the inevitable. “You win, Lizzy,” she said.
Elizabeth grinned and cried out in an affected voice, “At last, at last, I have overcome my great and powerful opponent. At last!”
Jane chuckled in response to her sister’s dramatic words and looked at Mr. Hill, who had entered the room two minutes previously.
“Do you wish us to leave?” she asked.
“Yes, Miss,” the butler replied, and Elizabeth quickly placed the chess pieces into a soft leather bag and then put both board and bag onto a nearby chest of drawers.
Jane kissed her father on his forehead, and Elizabeth followed suit, and then they left the room in graceful haste.
Elizabeth knew, although she refused to dwell on it, that Mr. Bennet required a substantial amount of intimate care now.
“Are you well, Lizzy?” Jane asked, hooking her arm in her sister’s as they made their way down the hallway, which led to the west wing.
“I am well enough, I suppose, though sad,” Elizabeth replied with a sigh and then shook herself.
“But I do not wish to complain. Father is alive, and he is able to talk more now, while he could not for several days after his apoplexy. Now, if you do not mind, I would like to write a letter to the Gardiners and tell them how we are all doing.”
“Certainly, I do not mind,” Jane said. “I will see you at dinner.”
Elizabeth made her hurried way to her bedchamber, closed the door, and walked over to the desk, where several sheets of foolscap awaited her.
When she sat down, however, she found herself staring out the window, which was currently white thanks to a snowstorm the previous night.
It was not a great deal of snow, perhaps two inches, but it made the formerly gray lawn appear cheerful and clean, and the sunlight was reflecting nicely, filling her room with light.
She drank her fill of the beauty of nature and then turned toward the paper. With her father ill, and her mother mostly confined to her bedchamber, it fell to the three eldest Bennet daughters to manage the house and estate, which was proving quite a bit of work.
Longbourn
16 th November, 1811
Dear Uncle and Aunt Gardiner,
Let me start by saying that my father still lives, and is, if anything, a trifle better than he was a week ago. That is the good news.
The bad news is that he is, as I said, only a trifle better.
He is able to speak sufficiently well that he can be understood much of the time, but his words are not clear.
He has a little movement on his left side, but cannot walk.
Sadly, he is not able to read because his vision has been affected, so we take turns reading to him.
He enjoys watching Jane and me play chess, which makes me hope that inside his damaged body, his mind still works well. Or do I wish for that? I do not know. If he is entirely cognizant of his situation, it must be a bitter experience, to be trapped in a body that does not work at all properly.
Now, to other matters. We are most grateful that you sent Mr. Collins away, Uncle, as the house is far quieter without his constant importuning of Mary for her hand.
My mother is in a rather wretched state, worried about Father while also distressed at possibly losing her home.
She is also indignant that Mary and I both refused Mr. Collins.
I am grateful indeed that she does not know that Jane and I also both refused eligible marriage offers a week ago from Mr. Bingley and Sir Quinton, respectively!
Mamma stays in her bedchamber most of the time, which is frankly a relief, though she requires someone to attend to her when she is awake, which is tiring. However, we will be hiring a maid or two in the next few days, which will help.
We are not, of course, in mourning, but our neighbors more or less treat us as if we are.
We have few visitors, which is a great boon, truly.
Jane and Mary and I are extremely busy managing the estate, and Miss Fairchild is devoting her time to Lydia and Kitty, who is proving herself quite adept at many things.
The Netherfield party has diminished substantially in the last week, with three of the gentlemen leaving for London. Mr. and Miss Bingley, and the Hursts, and Sir Quinton, still remain. The latter is courting my friend, Charlotte Lucas, and I hope they will make a match of it.
Once again, I must thank you for your kindness in assisting us through this great trial, dear uncle.
With much love,
Elizabeth
Elizabeth read over the letter, sanded, closed, and waxed it, and set it aside to be mailed.
She then rose and wandered over to the window. Three cloaked figures appeared near the window, and she watched as Miss Fairchild, Kitty, and Lydia marched rapidly down the graveled driveway.
She had been entirely truthful in writing that Miss Fairchild was an enormous gift.
Her two younger sisters, and Kitty in particular, had been unsettled and distressed by Mr. Bennet’s collapse, but the lure of handsome officers had proven sufficiently strong to draw both young ladies to Meryton almost every day of the week.
Miss Fairchild always went with them, and watched over them, and kept them safe.
It was a great relief to know that, when the three elder daughters of the house were so busy managing their mother, their father, the house, and the estate.
Elizabeth leaned her forehead against the window and sighed deeply. She was tired, not just physically, but emotionally and mentally, with their father severely disabled and their mother behaving impossibly.
She allowed herself a full minute to feel sorry for herself and then straightened and turned to make her way downstairs. At least she had Jane and Mary, and Miss Fairchild, and the devoted servants to assist during this difficult time.
***
Drawing Room
Netherfield Park
Charles Bingley frowned down at the blank piece of foolscap, considered, and then dipped his pen into the ink.
22nd November, 1811
Darcy,
I hope this message finds you well. It has been strangely quiet here at Netherfield since you and your cousins departed. Sir Quinton is still in residence, but he only spends a few hours a day here, preferring to spend his daylight hours at Lucas Lodge courting Miss Lucas.
While I miss your presence and friendship, it is undoubtedly true that if you and your cousins were here, the situation at Netherfield would be far more uncomfortable. I have had my hands full dealing with my sister, but I will say no more on that score.
The circumstances at Longbourn have, perhaps, stabilized somewhat, as Mr. Bennet has survived his apoplexy for some weeks, though he is physically diminished.
A most difficult situation, and my heart goes out to them.
I am still greatly attracted to Miss Bennet, but recognize that for this season, I must turn my strength and attention to my own house.
I hope that you and Miss Darcy are well.
God bless,
Bingley
P.S. I am certain you are startled that this letter is so legible. I actually wrote it first in my usual messy style and then copied it. I hope you are impressed!
The door to the drawing room opened, and Caroline Bingley, dressed in silk with an elegant woolen shawl, wandered in and said, “Good morning, Charles. What are you doing?”
Bingley, who was finding his younger sister thoroughly exhausting, was tempted not to reply. He knew perfectly well that if he told Caroline that he had written to Darcy, his sister would wish to add to the letter.
“It is a letter to Darcy,” he said and began folding it.
“Oh, pray do not fold it yet! I have something I wish for you to tell him, please!”
Charles paused and then went back to folding. “I have finished my letter and will not add more.”
Caroline Bingley dropped onto a nearby chair with a pout and cried, “I do not know why you are being so disagreeable, Brother! Must you argue with me about everything?”
Charles took a deep breath, then another, and then forced his body to relax.
“Caroline,” he said evenly, turning to face his sister, “I am well aware that for the last five years, I have more or less permitted you to manage my life, which has not been good for either of us. I have decided that from now on, I will refuse your requests unless I truly feel like doing what you want me to do. That may be an overreaction, but I do not particularly care.”
Caroline’s countenance had been growing increasingly red throughout this speech, and she now exclaimed, “I do not know why you are being so cruel to me, indeed I do not! And unfair as well! I merely want what is best for the entire family, after all, and it would be most advantageous if Mr. and Miss Darcy came to Netherfield for the Christmas Season!”
Bingley wrinkled his brow in confusion. “Miss Darcy? Why?”
“Why? I should not have to answer that, Brother! Just think how beneficial it would be if you married Miss Darcy. She is wealthy and incredibly well-connected, and…”
“And sixteen years old!” Bingley interrupted irritably. “You must be mad, Caroline! Even if I did wish to wed Miss Darcy, which I do not, her brother would never permit her to do so!”
“Why on earth not?” Caroline demanded. “You are his closest friend, and…”
The lady continued to whine and pester him, and Charles leaned back and thought deeply.
It had been two weeks since the house party had broken up, and Caroline was, if anything, growing more shrill by the day.
It seemed that his determination to hold the line was not altering his sister’s behavior in the least.
Perhaps something else needed to be done.