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Netherfield, Blue Room - Darcy

T he grey light of dawn was just beginning to seep through the curtains when Darcy finally gave up any pretence of sleep.

He had spent the night alternating between staring at the unfamiliar ceiling and straining to hear any movement in the hallway that might indicate a change in Elizabeth’s condition.

The house was already stirring - he could hear the distant sounds of servants moving about, water being carried, fires being lit.

Soon the whole household would be awake, and he would have to face the consequences of his actions with proper composure.

Miss Bingley’s pointed observations about appropriate accommodations would be the least of his concerns…

His night’s vigil had given him ample time to examine his actions, each one revealing more than he cared to acknowledge.

The urgency that had driven him into the storm, the need to ensure her safety himself - none of it could be explained away by mere gentlemanly concern.

He had tried, repeatedly throughout the night, to convince himself that his behaviour stemmed from simple duty.

But duty would have been satisfied by sending servants to search, by having others tend to her care.

Years of overheard conversations about the great catch of Pemberley had taught him to keep his distance from eligible young ladies, his natural reserve strengthened by the knowledge of their mercenary intentions.

Yet Elizabeth had never simpered, never sought his attention.

Indeed, she seemed more inclined to challenge him than court him.

The proper course would be to leave Netherfield.

Return to London, immerse himself in business matters until whatever this…

feeling might be had passed. Yet even as he formed this resolution, he knew with crushing certainty that distance would not serve.

Elizabeth Bennet had somehow become essential to his peace of mind.

The sound of Fletcher approaching with hot water interrupted his thoughts.

Darcy rose, knowing he would need every advantage of proper dress and comportment to face what lay ahead.

Yet even as he prepared to meet the day with his usual dignity, he knew something fundamental had shifted.

No amount of proper behaviour - or proper distance - could undo the reality of Elizabeth Bennet’s importance to him.

As he approached the breakfast room, Caroline’s voice carried clearly through the partially open door. “Really, Morris, I cannot see why we must alter our usual schedule merely because-”

“I believe, sister,” Charles interrupted with unusual firmness, “that given the circumstances, some flexibility in our arrangements is warranted.”

Darcy entered to find Miss Bingley examining the breakfast arrangement with evident displeasure. She turned at his entrance, her expression immediately shifting to one of calculated concern. “Mr Darcy! I trust you were able to find some rest in your… temporary accommodations?”

“Quite adequately, Miss Bingley,” he replied, taking his seat. He had barely touched his coffee when Morris appeared at his elbow.

“Sir, Mrs Nicholls asked me to inform you that Miss Elizabeth’s fever broke in the early hours. She continues to sleep peacefully.”

Darcy managed to keep his expression neutral, though he was acutely aware of Miss Bingley watching him closely. “Thank you, Morris. And Thomas?”

“Mr Jones will return this morning to check on both patients, sir.”

“Both patients?” Miss Bingley interjected. “Surely there’s no need for Mr Jones to examine Miss Eliza again. Now that her fever has broken, she can be moved to more… appropriate quarters.”

“I believe Mr Jones was quite clear on that point last night,” Bingley said firmly, not looking up from his newspaper. “Miss Elizabeth is not to be moved until he determines it safe to do so.”

“But Charles-”

“More coffee, Miss Bingley?” Morris intervened smoothly, though Darcy noticed the butler’s usually impeccable timing seemed particularly precise this morning.

He forced himself to focus on his breakfast, though his thoughts kept straying upstairs. Elizabeth’s fever had broken. She was sleeping peacefully. The relief he felt at this news was far greater than mere neighbourly concern could justify, especially given his night’s revelations.

* * *

Longbourn, Library - Mr Bennet

“The carriage is ready, Mama!” Lydia’s voice carried through the house. “Kitty is taking forever with her bonnet!”

“Oh! You girls will be the death of me with your dawdling! Mr Bennet! Are you certain you will not come to Netherfield? Our poor Lizzy-”

“My dear,” he replied, not looking up from his book, “I have every confidence in your ability to manage the situation without me. Do give my regards to Mr Bingley. And Mr Darcy,” he added with private amusement, remembering the younger man’s discomfort from their midnight encounter.

“Well! If you choose to abandon your daughter in her hour of need…” Mrs Bennet’s voice faded as she hurried toward the door. “Lydia! Kitty! The carriage! My salts!”

Mr Bennet turned another page, allowing himself a small smile. Between his wife and daughters’ arrival and Mr Darcy’s newly revealed interest in Elizabeth, the morning at Netherfield promised to be quite entertaining. He rather regretted missing it - but not enough to leave his library.

He rose and moved to the window, watching as his wife and youngest daughters were helped into the carriage.

The storm had passed, leaving behind a crisp autumn morning, the kind Elizabeth usually delighted in walking through.

No doubt Lydia and Kitty would transform last night’s accident into a romantic tale worthy of Mrs Radcliffe’s novels, complete with thunder and lightning.

Their version would probably improve with each telling, though he doubted they could embellish it more than the truth - Mr Darcy of Pemberley, carrying Elizabeth through the rain to his own rooms.

Mr Bennet watched the carriage disappear down the drive, anticipating the elaborate reports he would receive upon their return.

His wife would bemoan the state of her nerves, Kitty and Lydia would compete to describe every detail of Netherfield’s grandeur, and Mary would offer some profound observation about the moral implications of carriage accidents.

But it was Mr Darcy’s reaction to this invasion that truly intrigued him. The proud master of Pemberley, faced with Mrs Bennet’s effusions while trying to maintain his dignity… Yes, remaining in his library was definitely the wisest course.

He returned to his chair, though not yet to his book.

Elizabeth’s previous opinions of Mr Darcy had been far from favourable - “proud,” “disagreeable,” and several other choice observations she had shared during their evening discussions.

How interesting to see if her assessment might change after discovering the gentleman’s true nature in a crisis.

His Lizzy was too clever not to notice the implications of Mr Darcy’s actions, once she had recovered enough to consider them.

Mr Bennet picked up his book again, settling more comfortably in his chair. Yes, his next private conversation with Elizabeth promised to be most enlightening. Though he rather suspected Mr Darcy’s carefully maintained pride would suffer several more blows before this morning was through.

* * *

Netherfield, Breakfast Room - Darcy

The sound of an approaching carriage drew Darcy’s attention.

From his position at the breakfast table, he could see a familiar Longbourn vehicle making its way up the drive.

Through the window, he also saw Bingley’s men at work moving the damaged chaise-unfortunate timing that Mrs Bennet should arrive at precisely this moment.

“Oh! That must be Mrs Bennet,” Miss Bingley said, her tone suggesting the arrival of an invading army rather than a concerned mother.

Her next words were lost in the commotion from outside as Mrs Bennet’s shrill exclamations at seeing the wreckage carried clearly across the morning air.

“Really, Charles, there was no need to disrupt our entire morning. A note about Miss Eliza’s condition would have sufficed. ”

The sound of Mrs Bennet’s arrival filled the entrance hall.

“Oh! Mr Bingley! Such a terrible sight-that poor chaise being moved just now! To think of my dear Lizzy trapped in there! My poor nerves can scarce bear to think of it! When I saw them lifting it this morning-Oh! I declare I am quite overcome!”

Darcy set his coffee cup down with precise care. Maintaining proper civility while harbouring these newly acknowledged feelings for Elizabeth would require particular attention to his composure.

“I shall receive them in the morning room,” Caroline Bingley announced, rising with evident reluctance. “Charles, you will join me, of course. Mr Darcy…” She paused meaningfully, clearly expecting him to excuse himself.

The sensible course would be to withdraw. He had no obligation to subject himself to Mrs Bennet’s particular brand of maternal anxiety. Yet the thought of removing himself entirely from any news of Elizabeth’s condition was… unsatisfactory.

“I believe I shall finish my coffee,” he said with studied indifference, noting how Bingley’s newspaper twitched slightly, as though his friend were hiding a smile.

Through the thick walls of the breakfast room, only the muffled sounds of arrival reached them-doors opening and closing, the distant murmur of voices in the entrance hall. Morris appeared briefly to announce the visitors before withdrawing to manage their reception .

Darcy reached for Bingley’s abandoned newspaper, pretending to read while straining to hear any fragment of useful information. Some time later, the sound of another carriage announced Mr Jones’s arrival.

“That will be Mr Jones,” Bingley said, rising. “I should go and see him in.”