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Chapter Fifteen

November 14, 1811 Netherfield Park Elizabeth

J ane showed little by way of improvement after the first day of her illness. Elizabeth tended to her elder sister diligently, ensuring that she partook of broth and tea regularly. Jane managed to keep liquids down, but could tolerate nothing more.

Whilst Jane rested, Elizabeth spent some of her time in solitary pursuits and some with the others in residence. The gentlemen were kind enough, though Mr. Hurst did little more to contribute than eat or sleep. When he was awake, he spoke of cards, sport, and diversions. He always seemed to be in want of distraction, and never content to simply sit and enjoy company.

His wife showed little interest in those around her. She flattered Darcy, scolded and cajoled her brother, and ignored her husband entirely. Mrs. Hurst carried herself as though merely enduring her time in Hertfordshire, clearly wishing herself elsewhere. Elizabeth knew she would find no friend in that quarter.

Friday morning dawned bright and clear. The rain two days past had left the ground damp, but it was not wet enough to prevent Elizabeth from walking out. She wished for fresh air after being confined indoors for so long—not that she resented staying by Jane’s side, but she needed her morning constitutional.

Dressing in a gown she could put on herself, Elizabeth peeked into Jane’s chamber to see if her sister stirred. Satisfied that she was still sleeping, Elizabeth closed the door adjoining their chambers and made her way out into the hall.

She nearly collided with Mr. Darcy, and he reached out to steady her by placing his hands on her shoulders.

“I thank you, sir. And I apologize. I was not attending.” She smiled and stepped back as he released her.

“There is no harm done,” he assured her. “Are you walking out?”

Elizabeth nodded. “The morning beckons. I shall keep close to the house so that I may be called if Jane needs me.”

“May I join you?”

Pleased, she nodded. “Shall we?”

They proceeded down the stairs and, after donning their outerwear, left the house through a side door to the gardens. They walked in silence for a time, content to enjoy the brisk air. Their boots crunched against the gravel drive, breaking the morning's silence.

“Netherfield’s gardens are lovely in the spring and summer,” she ventured to say after they had walked some distance without conversation. “The previous tenant had a daughter my age, and I called here often with my mother and sister.”

“When did they give up the lease?”

“Let me see…” she paused, concentrating as she counted. “That would be around four years ago. I was not yet out, but Mama allowed me to come with her when she called here so that Coraline—that was her name—and I could spend time together. Lady Lucas brings Mariah to Longbourn in the same manner so she can visit with Kitty and Lydia.”

“What an odd coincidence that Bingley’s sister is Caroline! I wonder what you will make of her.” Darcy looked speculative as he regarded her, hands clasped behind his back as they strolled.

“I understand she will be here in December and brings her betrothed.” She had not known Miss Bingley’s given name. Hearing Darcy say it sent an inexplicable shiver up her spine.

“Sir James is a good man. He will make her a fine, caring husband. They are very fond of each other.”

She made a noncommittal noise and fell silent. The hush that settled between them did not feel oppressive, but was companionable and easy.

“Mrs. Hurst differs greatly from her brother,” she observed after a time. “She does not seem pleased to be here.”

“Mr. Hurst wished to come; his wife wanted to stay in town. Mrs. Hurst has lived most of her life in London and dislikes being away from the diversions found there.” Darcy frowned. “It is rather ironic. She married an estate owner who spends the summer at his estate. Though I do not know how active Hurst is as a landlord.”

Elizabeth chuckled. “He is very attentive to some privileges of owning property,” she said teasingly. He laughed along with her, and she felt a thrill at having made him laugh.

“Will you tell me more of your sister?” she asked. “I am aware she loves to ride, and that her favorite Christmas tradition is to exchange gifts. What else interests her?”

Darcy seemed to be considering her question carefully. “She loves music,” he said. “She plays the pianoforte very well, though not as well as Miss Mary. In three years, when she is your sister’s age, she will have more experience.”

“Not many can match Mary in dedication. My sister is zealous when she sets out to accomplish something. Sir William would call her the most accomplished lady in the county, and I shall eagerly second his sentiments.”

“Your dedication to your sister does you credit,” he said admiringly. “I hope I inspire similar devotion in mine. Georgiana has recently become a mystery to me, however. When she returned home from school in the early spring, she seemed to be an entirely different creature. Her moods shifted wildly—one moment she laughed and sang and then she would descend into tears.”

“She is sixteen?” At his nod, she continued. “She is at the most trying age. Her humors are unbalanced—a common occurrence young ladies experience at this time of their life.”

“Georgiana is the same in essentials, I suppose.” He frowned in concentration. “She seems happier at home studying with the masters rather than at school.”

“I am afraid I cannot comment on schooling. As you know, I never had more than a governess. My father oversaw my education and does the same for my youngest sisters now.”

“And I know from our past debates that he taught you far more than the typical young lady learns in her life.”

Something incomprehensible in his expression perplexed her. “Do you disapprove?”

He turned sharply and looked at her in surprise. “Not at all!” he cried. “Why would you think so?”

“I find it difficult to decipher your thoughts when I have only your countenance to use for a basis. I cannot tell what you are thinking much of the time.”

“Habit, I suppose.” He shrugged. “If one is too easy to read, one becomes a target for unsavory people. I keep my own counsel and protect those I love. If people know what I love, then they know how to hurt me.”

She shook her head. “That is a rather depressing way to look at the world.”

“It has proven necessary. I inherited at a very young age—only two-and-twenty. Many considered me an easy mark, someone they could fleece due to inexperience. I was approached by at least four gentlemen in the first months following my father’s death, each with absurd investment opportunities. My request to thoroughly research each project before investing surprised them.”

“Your father prepared you well, then. That is good.”

“He was the best of men. I miss him very much.” Darcy appeared downcast and fell silent.

They rounded a bend and arrived at a walled garden. “Roses cover this entire space in the warmer months,” Elizabeth said, pushing open an iron gate and walking inside. “The gardeners arrange trellises so the roses may climb and arch above the paths. It is quite lovely.”

“It is similar to what my mother did at Pemberley.” He spent the next ten minutes detailing every aspect of Lady Anne Darcy’s favorite garden. Descriptions of climbing roses in a rainbow of colors entranced her, as did the account of the Italianate fountain she had commissioned for the center, its soft trickle audible above the rustle of blooms. With each word, she could picture a veritable haven, and longed to see it.

As they walked back to the house some time later, Elizabeth knew that if she did not guard her heart, she would soon be in love with Mr. Darcy. He is not for me, she told herself. Even if he were to propose, he would rescind his offer the moment he knew the truth. And I would never start a life with him based on a lie.

After they had refreshed themselves following their walk, breakfast awaited them in the formal dining room. Elizabeth wondered at the change—they had dined in the breakfast parlor when she first arrived.

“Good morning!” Mr. Bingley stood, grinning from ear to ear. “Come, join me. I have informed Mrs. Nicholls that I wish breakfast to be ready earlier than Louisa prefers. I cannot abide being a slug-a-bed. She can call for a tray when she wakes. We shall return to the breakfast room tomorrow.”

Elizabeth thought that a rather sensible solution. She had dreaded being forced to wait until late morning to dine and had already contemplated ordering a tray so that she could maintain her usual country hours.

She and Darcy filled plates from the sideboard and took a seat next to Mr. Bingley.

“I have a letter from Caroline, finalizing her visit.” Mr. Bingley produced a sheet of paper and opened it, reading aloud.

Dear Charlie,

We are in a rush to depart, and so I shall be as brief as possible whilst I pen this note. James and I shall leave for London today. We both have business in town that we wish to conclude before coming to you in Hertfordshire. I am very much looking forward to Christmas in the country! Town is so dreary and gray this time of year.

Bingley paused. “I shall just skip over this next bit,” he said, his ears turning red. “She just teases me.” He cleared his throat and continued.

We shall arrive on the first of December. Pray, tell me if you need anything from London and I shall see that we acquire it before we journey thither. I look forward to making the acquaintance of your new friends and neighbors.

With love,

Caroline

Elizabeth scarcely registered the majority of the letter, so distracted she was by the salutation. Charlie, she thought. Oh, how she wished she could simply ask Mr. Bingley questions! It was impossible, though, because if she did it would reveal her greatest secret: that she was not a Bennet and had no rights to their name or position. To do so would spell disaster, she felt certain. But the curiosity burned. I only wish to know who I am, she reassured herself. But why am I so insistent? I have a family.

“Miss Elizabeth?” A footman appeared at the door. “Miss Bennet is asking for you.”

“Please excuse me, gentlemen.” She pushed away from the table, abandoning her partially consumed breakfast so that she could hurry to Jane’s side.

Her sister sat in her bed, propped up against a mound of pillows.

“How are you feeling this morning, dearest?” Elizabeth sat next to her, brushing Jane’s hair from her pale face.

“A bit better.” Jane grimaced. “I would like to try a bit of toast, but I fear the consequences.”

“We can attempt it.” Elizabeth nodded to the waiting maid, who bobbed a quick curtsey and left to secure a tray. “And if you keep it down, we can try something more later.”

Jane nodded. She looked exhausted, despite having slept deeply the night before. Her pale countenance bore witness to her illness, yet rather than detracting from her beauty, it rendered her ethereally lovely.

“Have you had enough to occupy your time?” Jane asked quietly.

“Yes. I went on a walk this morning before breakfast.”

“I am pleased to hear it. What of the company? Have you tired of the gentlemen yet?” Jane smiled weakly.

“Never! They have lavished me with flattery and compliments. Why, even Mr. Hurst declared me to be singular!” The remark had come in passing during dinner the previous evening, and if Elizabeth was any judge, it had not been intended as a compliment.

“I am very happy to hear that. What of Mrs. Hurst? Is she agreeable?”

Elizabeth frowned. “We are of very different temperaments,” she confessed. “I believe she dislikes being at Netherfield, and I am a reminder that she is to stay here through the winter.”

“Before I fell ill, she mentioned she prefers life and society in London. Oh, Lizzy, I do want her to like me! What if she does not and tells Mr. Bingley that I am not suitable? I may love him, you see, and it would break my heart if he decided I could be nothing more to him than a mere acquaintance.”

“I do not believe you have anything to fear, dearest.” Elizabeth smiled. “I have it on good authority that Mr. Bingley never listens to his elder sister, and his affection for you is plain for anyone to see. I shall be very surprised if he does not propose before the end of November. Charlotte agrees with me; we spoke of it the day you fell ill.”

“I would not refuse him if he did propose to me. Mr. Bingley is everything a gentleman ought to be. Handsome, amiable, considerate—”

“Do not forget rich. A gentleman ought to have a fortune if he can manage it.” Elizabeth gave her sister a wink, and Jane swatted her weakly.

“You know that I do not care for his money,” she said. “I have never wished for elaborate clothing or expensive jewels. If he loves me and we have enough for our needs, I shall be satisfied.”

“We have always had remarkably similar opinions about marital bliss. I am in agreement. If a man could love me with so modest a dowry, I should be very pleased.”

“Ten thousand pounds is hardly a modest sum, Lizzy.” Jane shook her head weakly. “It is a respectable dowry, and rather impressive considering our father has five daughters to dower.”

“Yes, that is quite a daunting task. Thank goodness our parents were of a similar mind and resolved to do everything they could to save for our futures. Can you imagine if Longbourn did not have an heir?” Elizabeth shuddered.

Jane chuckled. “Mama has ever had an excitable temperament. It would be quite something to see her less settled than she is at present. I imagine her fondness for her nerves would be indulged to such a degree as to astonish us all.”

Elizabeth laughed heartily, then tilted her head in consideration. “How would that affect Papa, do you think?”

“I hardly know. Our father is a reasonable man who loves his wife. I have to believe he would make every effort to do what he could to see to his family’s comfort. I cannot picture him dismissing our mother’s concerns.”

The maid finally returned with a light repast for Jane, who proceeded to consume a piece of toast, albeit very slowly. She sighed when she had finished and the maid had collected the tray. “I believe I shall rest now,” she told her sister.

Elizabeth stood and kissed Jane’s head. “Call for me if you need anything,” she said firmly. “I shall be in my chamber.” She had no desire to venture far from Jane’s side. There was still the question of whether the toast would sit well with her or not.