Page 22 of Moments Frozen in Time (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
DARCY
A fter delivering Miss Elizabeth safely to Netherfield, I spent a few quiet minutes in the stable with Mithras, speaking to him as though he could understand every word. We were alone—the stable hands had long since learnt that I preferred to tend to my own horse after our morning rides.
I praised him gently, brushing down his coat as I spoke.
“Well done, old friend,” I murmured. “Not since Georgiana was a child has a lady ridden you, and you behaved admirably with her on your back. Not even her fluttering skirts unsettled you.” He snorted softly, as if in response, and I allowed myself a rare smile.
Then, I confessed to him my hopes that the young lady would soon be my wife.
Once I had changed out of my riding clothes and consulted briefly with Morris—who, as always, had ensured that everything was in order—I made my way to the library to address several letters that had been awaiting my attention.
In truth, the room scarcely deserved the name; the collection was paltry and poorly arranged.
Still, it offered me solitude, and I had claimed it as my own during my stay.
The chill in the room, owing to the absence of a fire at my request, kept Miss Bingley from lingering—a benefit I valued more than warmth.
I left the door open and stationed my own footman just outside, under the pretence of needing swift delivery of my correspondence.
From my seat, I had a clear view of the main stairs.
Telling myself it was a practical arrangement so I could hear anyone who may approach, in truth, I hoped for a glimpse of Miss Elizabeth.
Had she not come down before tea, I was resolved to go upstairs and request her company myself; as it was, I was upon the point of doing so when she left her room and met me in the passageway.
I had not directed my friend to ask Miss Elizabeth to stay, merely suggested it by explaining that Miss Bennet would likely be more comfortable with her sister nursing her. Bingley had proclaimed the idea a splendid one before searching out his sister and asking her to make the invitation.
Regrettably, I was not spared the altercation between Bingley and his sister, whose raised voices carried readily from the room to where I sat.
“You cannot seriously expect me to invite another Bennet to stay at Netherfield!” she cried, her voice rising in indignation.
“Was it not bad enough that their dreadful mother sent Miss Bennet here on horseback? I suspect she did so deliberately so she would be forced to remain here for a night or two. And then falling ill practically on our doorstep? It is all too much!”
She turned on her brother, her eyes flashing in anger.
“And you stand there not only excusing their behaviour but encouraging it? You would welcome yet another Bennet into our home? Eliza Bennet, of all people! She is the worst of the lot, and I cannot bear how she has ensnared Mr. Darcy with her false charm and country manners.”
Miss Bingley had clearly not been aware of how far her voice travelled, but the argument continued for some time.
Fortunately for me, Mrs. Hurst entered the room a few minutes later and shut the door firmly behind her, mostly containing the argument.
What that lady and my friend said after that, I do not know, but Bingley popped by the library an hour later and informed me that Miss Elizabeth would be invited to stay.
I thanked him for doing so, and if he found it odd that I did so, he said nothing.
Returning to my correspondence, I worked for nearly half an hour before I was interrupted yet again, this time by Miss Bingley coming to complain to me about her brother’s urging that she invite Miss Elizabeth to stay at Netherfield.
“It is nearly scandalous,” Miss Bingley declared, her voice tight with her indignation.
“That both sisters are now to remain under this roof—uninvited and unwelcome—is beyond reason. They have imposed themselves where they are clearly not wanted, and I cannot believe my brother insists on accommodating them both. Longbourn is hardly so distant that Miss Bennet could not be returned home by carriage. I refuse to believe that such a short journey would truly hinder her recovery.”
“Mr. Jones has said Miss Bennet cannot be moved, and it is your Christian duty to care for her, Miss Bingley,” I said, my voice clipped and cool with disapproval.
“Miss Elizabeth’s presence is a kindness—not an imposition—and one that should benefit you, as it spares your household and your servants some of the burden of caring for Miss Bennet. ”
She opened her mouth, but I continued as though I had not seen her, my tone growing colder.
“Tell me, if it were your own sister who had fallen ill in a stranger’s home, would you not wish to be near her?
I can assure you that if it were Georgiana who was unwell, there is nothing that would keep me from her side, whether or not I could be of any practical help. ”
Miss Bingley sniffed, drawing herself up with a look of disdain. “Nursing the sick is servants’ work, not the duty of a lady. It is hardly a task I aspire to. ”
I said nothing further, but my expression must have made my opinion plain. In that moment, I could hardly trust myself to speak without revealing the full extent of my contempt for her.
“It is cold in here,” she said then, attempting to change the topic to one more palatable. “Why have you not summoned the servants to light a fire?”
“I have no need of a fire, Miss Bingley,” I said, attempting to return to my business, hoping that she would take it as a sign that I did not wish to continue this conversation, “I am very comfortable in here, and since it is nearly time for tea, I wished to finish my work before I join the rest of the party in the drawing room.”
She sniffed again, and I hoped that she would withdraw. After making a few more inane comments that I did my best to ignore, my lack of response and the chill finally drove her from the room. I spent the next hour attempting to finish my work before I went upstairs to seek out Miss Elizabeth.
I found her just as she exited her sister’s room and escorted her into the drawing room, sitting next to her on the settee. Bingley issued the invitation for her to stay at Netherfield, glancing frustratedly at his sister when she failed to do as they had discussed.
After I fetched my travel desk for Miss Elizabeth, I listened as Miss Bingley prattled on about matters for which I cared not a whit. She had never seemed to grasp how little I cared to hear about the society events she attended or what was fashionable in ladies’ attire.
It surprised me when I saw her offer Miss Elizabeth a second cup of tea, and I noticed that she seemed to take longer preparing it than usual.
When she handed it to Miss Elizabeth, that lady appeared to grimace when she took a sip, and from that point on, she only pretended to drink it.
After some time, she set it to the side.
At a lull in the conversation, I quietly asked Miss Elizabeth what was wrong with the tea. Our exchange was brief and hushed, but not discreet enough to escape Miss Bingley’s notice. She turned sharply towards us, her smile tight as she offered Miss Elizabeth another cup.
Elizabeth declined with polite firmness, then rose and excused herself with a graceful urgency that allowed no room for protest. I watched her departure with growing disappointment. My gaze then shifted to our hostess, and I could not help but glare, my frustration all too clear.
Turning from her, I looked to the cup of tea Elizabeth had left behind.
I glanced once more toward Miss Bingley as I attempted to discreetly survey the tea table.
A bottle of laudanum—or any other medicinal tonic—would be out of place here, but I saw nothing suspicious.
For a fleeting moment, I wondered if Elizabeth had simply imagined the bitter taste, but I quickly cast the notion aside.
No, Miss Bingley must have done something to it.
Setting my own cup down beside Elizabeth’s, I engaged in the conversation for a few minutes. Then, as if by chance, I leaned forward and deliberately picked up her nearly full cup.
She had been right—it did taste bitter. But I suspected something other than laudanum.
As a child, I had once eaten a horse chestnut and become quite ill, confined to my room for days with a severe stomach ailment.
The taste had remained with me, and I recognised it instantly now.
I frowned and quickly set the cup back down.
Consuming a horse chestnut would not kill a person, but it would certainly make one violently ill for several days.
I could not be sure how Miss Bingley had managed it, but I supposed she had somehow obtained a few and steeped them in hot water to create a kind of tea.
It was a petty and malicious trick—one that lowered her further in my estimation.
I debated whether or not to tell Elizabeth precisely what had occurred.
I felt a protectiveness toward her not unlike what I felt for Georgiana.
It was not the same, of course—what I felt for Elizabeth was entirely different—but I still wished to shield her from harm, especially from the deliberate cruelty of others .
Although we did not yet have an understanding between us, we would be under the same roof for the next several days, and I intended to use the time wisely—if not to speak my heart outright, then at least to deepen the connexion between us.
I had not yet asked to court her, but I hoped the opportunity would soon arise.