Page 18 of Moments Frozen in Time (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
“Less than an hour,” he said. “Mrs Nicholls arrived only a few minutes ago, bringing fresh water and broth.”
I nodded my thanks. “Go and get some rest, Jack. But before you do, go out to the stables and send Samuel to Meryton on my horse to fetch the apothecary. The weather may be unfavourable, but I think it best we do not delay.”
The lad quickly moved to do as I bid, and I waited in the passageway, listening for any sign of movement. After a few moments, the door opened, and Mrs. Nicholls stepped out. She startled at the sight of me.
“Oh! Mr. Darcy,” she exclaimed, her hand briefly flying to her chest. “I did not expect?—”
“How is Miss Bennet?” I asked quietly, cutting off her surprise before it could fully form.
She blinked once or twice, then gathered herself to reply.
“She is feverish and did not sleep well. I believe she needs the apothecary—the remedies I tried have done little good. Mr. Jones may have a tonic that will help, but Miss Bingley instructed me last night not to disturb her or the master until morning.”
“I have already sent Samuel for the apothecary,” I assured her. “There is a maid with Miss Bennet now. Is there someone else who might fetch and carry? I had my footman deliver the message and then sent him to rest.”
“The maid with Miss Bennet is exhausted, poor girl, but Miss Bingley left no instructions. I would send another to relieve her, but I do not know how the mistress would take it. If you have another footman who might assist until the rest of the house is awake, I would be grateful,” the housekeeper replied.
I nodded. “I shall see to it. Is Miss Bennet alert?”
“To a degree,” she replied. “She fades in and out. ”
“Do you believe she is well enough to write a note to her family?”
Mrs. Nicholls considered it, then nodded. “With help, yes.”
“Then if you would assist her in doing so,” I said, “I will ensure the message reaches Longbourn this morning.”
I had only taken a few steps when Mrs. Nicholls called after me. I paused and turned back. “Yes?”
She hesitated, then asked, “Why are you doing this, sir?” Her cheeks flushed as soon as the words left her mouth. “I only ask because… well, the gossip in Meryton is that it is Mr. Bingley who has taken an interest in Miss Bennet, not you.”
Her tone was cautious, almost apologetic. Although housekeepers often knew every word whispered within a household, it was rare they gave voice to such matters—especially not to a guest of the master.
“It is the right thing to do,” I said slowly as I considered the matter.
“I am aware of my friend’s interest in Miss Bennet, and I am not interested in her myself.
However, Miss Elizabeth is my friend, and I would not wish her to worry unduly.
It is my hope that she will come to Netherfield as soon as she receives the note.
Once she arrives, I will do what I can to persuade Miss Bingley to invite her to stay and tend to her sister. ”
I paused, then added, “It would be presumptuous of me to instruct you to prepare a room for her, but…” I let the sentence trail off, allowing Mrs. Nicholls to draw her own conclusion about my words.
For a moment, she did not respond, merely stared at me. Finally, she nodded, just before she turned and entered the room she had just exited.
Returning to my room, I found Morris already laying out my riding coat.
My valet for more than a decade, Morris was a man of quiet precision and remarkable intuition.
He had served me through Cambridge, my early years at Pemberley, and every season in town.
Few men knew me better. Although he rarely spoke more than a handful of words, he had an uncanny ability to glean the substance of any situation—and convey just as much—through the subtlest of gestures or expressions.
He heard more than most, spoke less than nearly anyone, and always knew what to do.
Without needing to be prompted, he looked up as I entered and gave a slight nod, his way of acknowledging that something had occurred.
“Miss Bennet is very ill,” I said simply. “Her sister will need to be informed, and I have had one of my servants go for the apothecary.”
“I will see to it that the note reaches Longbourn, sir,” he replied with equal simplicity, already moving to retrieve the letter I had set aside.
“Thank you. And no, I will not ride this morning—but I will dress for it nonetheless.”
He paused briefly, a question in his eyes.
“I intend to walk towards Longbourn and meet Miss Elizabeth on the road, if I can,” I explained. “Were it not for the inevitable gossip it would cause, I would send a carriage for her. It is too far for her to walk alone.”
Morris gave no reply, only a slight inclination of his head as he resumed his task.
I did not expect more. If Elizabeth had ever teased me for my reserved nature, she would be doubly amused by my valet.
Morris spoke only when necessary, and I had long since learnt to respect—and rely on—his silences.