Page 15

Chapter Fourteen

November 13, 1811 Longbourn Elizabeth

“M y dear, it seems Jane has fallen ill.”

Mr. Bennet’s words froze everyone seated at the table, throwing them into turmoil. Cries for more information created a cacophony, and he raised his hand to settle everyone.

“It is not dire. She seems to have ingested something that disagrees with her. Mr. Bingley writes she is abed, and a maid attends her.” He held up the note and read it aloud.

Your daughter, sir, is very ill, indeed. She cannot keep anything other than tea down, or so her maid reports. Miss Bennet is welcome to stay at Netherfield until she is well enough to travel. May I suggest that one of her sisters comes to aid her in her recovery? Miss Bennet will rest more easily with someone from her family nearby.

He closed the letter and set it aside. “She will not die, Mrs. Bennet.”

“I shall go to Jane, Papa,” Elizabeth said at once. “I can leave in an hour.”

Mrs. Bennet nodded. “You have always been the best in the sick room, Lizzy. You are the sensible choice to go and tend to her. Oh, I am very glad Jane took the carriage yesterday. Imagine how much worse it would have been if the rain had drenched her, too!”

The carriage was readied to transport Elizabeth to Netherfield. She packed a small valise with her necessities, tucking a few books inside at the last minute. Perhaps she could discuss them with Mr. Darcy. The thought of being able to spend more time in his exclusive company excited her. She liked him very much and anticipated the intellectual stimulation his company always seemed to provide.

She left the house before ten o’clock, eager to be with Jane and to ascertain her sister’s condition for herself. The carriage went slowly, ruts and mud in the road hindering their speed. Impatiently, she watched the scenery outside the window, wondering if there would ever be a more convenient method of travel. It seemed ridiculous that a little weather could completely halt their means of transportation.

The carriage turned onto Netherfield’s drive, and she sent up a prayer of gratitude. Her anxiety for Jane’s health had mounted the closer they had approached, and she eagerly pushed the carriage door open as soon as the conveyance came to a stop. A footman appeared and assisted her down, after which she hurried up the steps.

The butler, Mr. Griggs, welcomed her and took her outerwear. Mrs. Nicholls appeared and led her down the hall to the breakfast room. “The household dines late this morning,” she said. “Mrs. Hurst keeps to town hours.”

And as she is the hostess, she has likely ordered the house to her liking. Elizabeth mentally rolled her eyes. She ought not to judge the lady—after all, they had exchanged but a few words when she called at Longbourn with her brother. Perhaps she was not as high and mighty as it seemed upon their first meeting.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, sir.” Mrs. Nicholls stepped aside, and Elizabeth entered the room. The gentlemen, save for Mr. Hurst, all stood as she entered. Mr. Darcy smiled broadly and bowed. Mr. Bingley’s greeting, whilst more subdued, did not seem to hold the same perplexity and scrutiny as before.

“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth,” he said. “I am pleased that you made haste. Miss Bennet rests upstairs.”

“May I see her?” she asked.

“Of course. A room has been prepared for you. It connects to your sister’s chamber. Wilson, will you show her the way?” Mr. Bingley signaled a footman waiting by the door. The man stepped forward and bowed. Elizabeth recognized him as theson of one of Netherfield’s tenants.

“May I inquire where I might find you once I have assessed my sister?” she asked politely.

“I believe we will be in the drawing room. Wilson will show you the way.”

She nodded, curtsied, and followed the footman from the room. They climbed the marble staircase and walked the length of the guest hall until they stopped at a door.

“This is Miss Bennet’s room,” Wilson said. “Yours is to the left.”

“Thank you.” Elizabeth smiled warmly. “Have my things been brought up?”

“Yes, madam.” He bowed and stepped aside, positioning himself to the side of the door.

Elizabeth tapped lightly before pushing the door open and closing it behind her. The curtains were open, and a fire crackled in the fireplace. Jane lay on the large bed, curled on her side and unmoving.

“Dearest?” Elizabeth hurried forward and crouched next to the bed. “Pray, speak to me so I might know how you fare.”

“Oh, Lizzy. I have never been so sick in all my life.” Jane groaned. “It must have been the fish—it tasted off, and I only had a few bites.”

“Did anyone else consume it?” Strange that only Jane had fallen ill.

“No. Mrs. Hurst had it prepared especially for me. I told her I enjoyed fish when she called last week.” Jane groaned again, blindly reaching for a chamber pot. Elizabeth retrieved it and offered it to her, holding her sister’s hair back as she retched.

“Have you been able to eat anything?” she asked, setting the container aside.

“Only a little tea and broth. I am not hungry, anyway. Please, tell me you will stay until I feel better.” Jane reached out and grasped Elizabeth’s hand tightly.

“I promise.” Elizabeth leaned forward and kissed her sister’s golden head affectionately. “I believe I shall send a note to Mr. Jones. He may have a suggestion that could ease your discomfort.”

“Hurry back.” Jane pulled the coverlet higher around her shoulders. “I shall try to rest whilst you go.”

Elizabeth nodded and stood. She left the room and closed the door quietly behind her. “Will you show me the way to the drawing room, Wilson?” she asked the waiting footman.

He obliged, and they took a very direct course to that room. Elizabeth felt she could easily remember the way back to Jane.

Mr. Bingley stood as she entered, as did Mr. Darcy. The Hursts did not even acknowledge Elizabeth’s presence.

“How is your sister?” Mr. Bingley’s anxiety was plain to see, and he looked eager for an answer.

“Jane is not well at all,” she replied. “I believe we ought to send for Mr. Jones. Whilst I know remedies that may help, as the apothecary, he is more likely to provide quicker relief.”

“I shall send a note at once.” He walked briskly away, seating himself at a little writing desk and penning the note. It was dispatched by a footman.

“Now we must wait.” Mr. Bingley said it with distaste.

“You have never been in the habit of waiting.” Mrs. Hurst finally spoke from her spot on the settee. “Ever impatient and never seeing the need to proceed with caution.”

“I am impulsive, I admit, but I do contemplate decisions before making them. It is hardly a defect of my character that I wish to accomplish things in an expeditious manner. Some might say it is a strength instead of a weakness.”

“Impulsivity can have good and bad consequences,” Mr. Darcy chimed in. “One could regret hasty decisions as easily as lauding them.”

“And which are you, sir?” Elizabeth asked curiously. “You do not strike me as the impulsive type. I would say you contemplate decisions heavily before coming to a conclusion.”

“You have taken my measure accurately.” Mr. Darcy smiled, his eyes twinkling. He had an air of satisfaction about him, as if Elizabeth’s accurate rendering of his character pleased him. “I admit there have been times when I acted in haste and had no cause to repine. But I learned at a young age that my decisions had consequences for more than just myself and have applied caution accordingly.”

“Responsibility for others can have that effect.” Elizabeth nodded approvingly.

“What of you, Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy looked at her inquiringly. “Where do you fall on the scale of rashness versus meditated choice?”

She cocked her head, frowning as she concentrated. “I must say, I have never given it much thought,” she admitted. “In the past, I have made hasty conclusions about people that I have lived to regret. In sketching characters, I believe I have reached a maturity that allows for nuance in behavior. I do not see only the best in everyone, nor do I see only the worst. I have come to the belief that everyone is not at their best all the time, and therefore regard caution as the wisest course when dealing with others.”

“But what of decisions?” Mr. Bingley sat forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “Do you rush into situations headlong, or pause to decide the best course of action?”

“That depends almost entirely on the situation. There is a place for rash action. I can assure you, sir, I would run headlong into the flames without a second thought if Longbourn were ablaze, hoping to save my family.”

Mr. Bingley chuckled. “I believe most of us would behave in the same manner if the life of a loved one was on the line.” Suddenly, his good humor faded, and a tortured look appeared briefly before vanishing. Clearing his throat, Mr. Bingley seemed to be attempting to mask his sudden distress with levity as he continued, “My sisters have ever despaired of my taking life seriously. Louisa would tell you I am just as likely to stay here in the country as to leave it. And she is correct. I could decide at a moment’s notice that I wish to be in town and might order the manor closed up on a whim.”

“That sort of impulsive behavior is a failing indeed,” Elizabeth teased, hoping Mr. Bingley could hear the mirth in her voice. “What a trial that will prove to your future wife! A lady does like a little notice in such situations.”

This caused the gentleman to smile broadly. “I have hope that I shall marry a lady with great patience for my ways,” he said. “She certainly must, or we shall be miserable.”

Elizabeth cheered silently. He most certainly referred to Jane. Oh, her sister would be so happy! Their compatibility was evident, and Jane’s calm nature would perfectly complement Mr. Bingley’s impulsiveness.

A reply from Mr. Jones came soon thereafter. He stated he would be at Netherfield Park within the hour, and those in the drawing room waited impatiently for the announcement of his arrival.

“Show me the way, Miss Lizzy,” he said upon his arrival and after greetings were out of the way. “Miss Bennet has suffered long enough.”

Mr. Jones had been the apothecary for as long as Elizabeth could remember. He was a serious man with a large heart, always willing to help even the less fortunate who could not afford to pay him. He had a special place in his heart for the Bennet ladies. They reminded him of his daughter, who had married and moved to a far distant county some years before.

Elizabeth led the way upstairs to Jane’s chamber. She and a maid stood watch as Mr. Jones examined his patient.

“Tis likely food that caused this, as you suspected.” He put his tools back in his bag. “I am certain you already considered peppermint tea. Ginger, too, will help ease the nausea. I encourage rest and as much tea and broth as she can manage. Call for me if her condition declines, though I expect Miss Bennet will be much improved by morning.”

“How long must we remain?” Elizabeth did not mind staying, but she did not wish to do so beyond what was proper.

“At least two more days, I should think.” He closed his bag and stood, moving toward the door. “I shall speak to Mr. Bingley before I leave.”

She followed him back to the drawing room, leaving the maid by Jane’s side. Her sister wished to sleep again, and Elizabeth promised to look in on her after a few hours.

Mr. Bingley insisted Elizabeth stay at Netherfield until her sister felt well enough to travel. “I stand by my invitation from earlier, Miss Elizabeth,” he said seriously. “Miss Bennet will recover faster under the loving care of a relation, and you are most welcome to stay.”

“Thank you, sir,” she replied smoothly.

“Darcy and I have some business with the steward before tea. We shall leave you now.” The gentlemen departed, leaving Elizabeth and the Hursts alone in the drawing room.

“It is a shame your sister fell ill,” Mrs. Hurst said when the men were gone. “But how convenient that she will be here for three whole days! My brother is certainly pleased to have her here.”

“I am grateful for Mr. Bingley’s hospitality. Jane is very unwell, and it would be foolhardy to move her.” What did Mrs. Hurst mean by ‘convenient?’ Such an illness could only be called an inconvenience and a nuisance!

“She will rest very comfortably in her chambers. Netherfield Park is adequate in that way.” She sniffed disdainfully before changing the subject. “Dear Jane says that you have an aunt and uncle in town. They reside in Cheapside, I believe?”

“The Gardiners live on Gracechurch Street, near Cheapside. My uncle has done very well for himself.”

“What is his business?” She said the word like it tasted bitter.

“He works in imports and exports.”

Mrs. Hurst bristled. “It is a lucrative enterprise if one can make the right connections,” she admitted.

“I believe the Meryton matrons said your brother’s fortune came from the same?” Elizabeth watched the lady’s expression with amusement. She looked irritated at having been so reminded, but nodded.

“He sold his business. My brother intends to purchase an estate,” she said, changing the subject again. “It is uncertain where he means to settle for now. This estate is very close to town; it certainly has that in its favor. Though I would like him to find a house in a neighborhood with more fashionable company.”

Elizabeth bristled at the implied insult. “We are a small community,” she said aloud. “I do not mind the confined and unvarying society. The common citizens and the gentry alike are kind and courteous. I prefer genuine feeling over fashion. It is far more agreeable to be certain of someone’s feelings than to be constantly wondering at their motives, or unsure if their words are true or laced with poison.”

She raised an eyebrow, taking some pleasure in Mrs. Hurst’s squirming as she comprehended Elizabeth’s meaning.

“To each their own, I suppose,” the lady finally replied.

“I believe I ought to check on Jane.” Elizabeth stood. “Thank you for the enlightening conversation, Mrs. Hurst.”

Jane still slept, but Elizabeth stayed in her chambers until tea. The prospect of only having Mrs. Hurst as company did not excite her. She would prefer a book.