Page 5

Netherfield - Outside Mr Darcy’s Rooms - Darcy

F or a moment, the corridor outside Darcy’s rooms seemed frozen in a tableau of social impropriety that would have given Lady Catherine de Bourgh apoplexy.

Jane Bennet in her nightclothes, supported by a mud-splattered Bingley.

Darcy himself half-dressed and arguing with servants.

Caroline hovering like a disapproving Greek chorus.

And through the partially open door, the sound of Elizabeth’s fevered breathing.

Mrs Nicholls recovered first. “Miss Bennet, you should not be out of bed in your condition.” She moved to take Jane’s other arm from Bingley, but Jane resisted with uncharacteristic firmness.

“Please, I must see my sister.” Jane’s voice trembled, but her chin lifted with determination. “Mr Darcy, sir, if you would permit…”

Darcy found himself caught in an impossible position. Every rule of propriety demanded he remove himself immediately from this situation. And yet… He glanced at the partially open door to his rooms, where Elizabeth lay vulnerable and fevered.

“Perhaps,” he said carefully, “we might all benefit from a moment of… reflection. Miss Bennet clearly needs to see her sister, but first-”

“She should not be paraded through the house in such a state.” Caroline interjected sharply. “Really, Charles - it’s the height of impropriety.”

“No one is parading anyone,” Bingley replied with unusual firmness. “Miss Bennet is naturally concerned for her sister, and given the circumstances-”

“Miss Bennet,” Mrs Nicholls interrupted with gentle authority, “let us at least wrap you in a proper shawl. Martha,” she called through the partially open door, “bring one of the warm blankets for Miss Bennet.”

The maid appeared quickly with a thick woollen blanket, which Mrs Nicholls deftly arranged around Jane’s shoulders. Jane submitted to this with barely concealed impatience, her eyes fixed on the door to Darcy’s rooms.

“Now then,” Mrs Nicholls continued, “Mr Darcy, might you give us a moment?” She gestured meaningfully toward the blue guest room where Fletcher waited. “And Mr Bingley, perhaps you might see to changing out of those wet things while Miss Bingley assists Miss Bennet with her sister.”

Darcy hesitated, his expression troubled. “Miss Elizabeth’s condition-”

“Is being well attended to,” Mrs Nicholls assured him firmly. “Martha is with her, and Mr Jones has been sent for. Though in this weather…” She glanced toward the nearest window where rain still lashed against the glass.

* * *

Netherfield - Outside Mr Darcy’s Rooms - Bingley

“Come, Darcy,” Bingley said quietly, though he seemed equally reluctant to release Jane’s arm. “Let the ladies tend to Miss Elizabeth. We can check on her progress once we’re more… presentable.”

Caroline watched with satisfaction as Darcy finally yielded to propriety and stepped back. But before she could assert control of the situation, Jane spoke again.

“Mr Darcy,” her voice was soft but clear, “thank you for helping my sister. I cannot express…” She swayed slightly, and Bingley’s arm tightened instinctively around her waist.

“Please, Miss Bennet,” Darcy replied stiffly, though his eyes betrayed his concern as they darted between the door to his rooms and Jane’s pale face.

“No thanks are necessary. I only wish…” He broke off, apparently remembering himself.

With a sharp bow, he turned and strode toward the blue guest room, his bearing rigid with suppressed emotion.

Caroline moved quickly to take her brother’s place at Jane’s side. “Come, Jane dear, let us see to Eliza. Though really, you should be in bed yourself-”

“I will rest once I have seen my sister,” Jane replied with uncharacteristic firmness. She allowed Caroline to guide her toward the door but paused on the threshold. “Charles-Mr Bingley-might someone be sent to Longbourn? Our parents will be so worried…”

“Straight away,” Bingley assured her quickly. “I will see to it immediately. Though perhaps we might wait until we have more… definite news to report?” He glanced meaningfully at the storm still raging outside.

Jane nodded gratefully, then finally allowed Caroline to lead her into the room where her sister lay .

The door closed behind them with a quiet but definitive click, leaving the gentlemen standing awkwardly in the corridor.

“Well,” Bingley said after a moment, running a hand through his wet hair, “I suppose we should make ourselves presentable. Though Darcy, you might want to…” He gestured vaguely at his friend’s state of undress.

Darcy glanced down at his partially unbuttoned shirt and missing cravat as if noticing them for the first time. Without a word, he turned and strode toward the blue guest room where Fletcher waited with barely concealed impatience.

Bingley watched him go, a thoughtful expression on his usually cheerful face.

He had never seen his friend so… unsettled.

Not even during that terrible business with Miss Darcy last summer.

The way his friend had carried Miss Elizabeth through the rain, installed her in his own rooms without a thought for propriety…

Bingley shook himself from his reverie and headed downstairs, taking the steps two at a time.

They’d managed to secure the overturned chaise as best they could in the storm, but he needed to organise proper recovery once the weather cleared.

The entrance hall was a mess of muddy footprints and puddles, with servants hurrying back and forth carrying linens and hot water.

“Morris!” he called, spotting his butler directing traffic near the kitchen stairs. “A moment, if you please.”

The butler approached, his usual composure slightly ruffled. “Sir, I was just about to seek you out. There are several matters requiring your attention-”

“Yes, I imagine there are.” Bingley ran a hand through his still-damp hair. “How is Thomas being cared for?”

“He’s in the servant’s hall, sir. Mrs Winters is seeing to him until Mr Jones arrives. We have made him as comfortable as possible.”

“Good. And what of Miss Elizabeth? Has word been sent to Longbourn?”

“Mr Darcy had that seen to immediately, sir. James and Tom were sent out despite the weather.” Morris hesitated, then added with more urgency, “Though Mrs Nicholls is quite concerned about Miss Elizabeth’s condition.

She was nearly unconscious when Mr Darcy brought her in, and though the hot bath seems to have helped somewhat, she’s still very poorly. The fever…”

“Fever?” Bingley’s expression sharpened with concern. “I had thought she was merely cold and shaken from the accident. Though I confess I am puzzled as to how she came to be in Darcy’s rooms of all places…”

Morris shifted slightly, his usual composure wavering.

“Ah, yes sir. When Mr Darcy brought Miss Elizabeth in, he carried her directly to his own rooms. Betty had started preparing the blue guest room, but he said there was not time - Miss Elizabeth being so cold and feverish. His rooms already had a good fire…”

“Carried her himself?” Bingley’s eyebrows rose. “Without waiting for servants to assist?”

“Indeed, sir. He would not release her to anyone else. Most unlike Mr Darcy, if I may say so.” Morris paused delicately. “He was quite… determined about the matter.”

“I see.” Bingley ran a hand through his hair again. His friend, who normally maintained such rigid propriety… “And the household staff?”

“Mrs Nicholls has taken charge of Miss Elizabeth’s care, sir. Though perhaps…” Morris hesitated. “Given the unusual nature of the situation, some guidance about how matters should be discussed might be advisable.”

“Yes, quite right.” Bingley straightened his shoulders. “Thomas’s condition comes first, but…” He glanced up at the muddy footprints leading up the stairs. “And perhaps we should see to cleaning this mess be fore my sister notices.”

“Yes sir.” Morris’s expression suggested he was relieved by Bingley’s practical approach. “I will see to the cleaning immediately.”

“And sir,” Morris added carefully, “regarding the… delicate nature of the situation - Miss Bingley seemed rather concerned about the arrangement.”

“Yes, I imagine she did.” Bingley could not quite suppress a grimace.

“Well, we can hardly move Miss Elizabeth now, not in her condition. I will speak to Caroline myself about the… necessity of the situation.” He glanced down at his own sodden clothes and the trail of mud he’d been leaving.

“Though perhaps I should make myself presentable first. No sense in adding to the mess or catching a chill myself.”

“Indeed, sir. I believe your valet has a hot bath waiting. Shall I have Mrs Nicholls come to your study once you’re changed?”

“Yes, excellent thought.” Bingley nodded, already turning toward his rooms. “And Morris? Let’s get this hallway cleaned up before my sister comes down again. Oh, and send word the moment Mr Jones arrives.”

* * *

Netherfield – Blue Guest Room – Darcy

Darcy stood at the window of the blue guest room, his bearing rigid as he watched the rain lash against the glass.

Though Fletcher had managed to bathe and partially dress him, his cravat remained unfinished - a small but telling detail that would have shocked anyone who knew the fastidious master of Pemberley.

The sound of activity from his rooms had nearly drawn him from the room, but Mrs Nicholls’ firm denial of entry, followed by the appearance of Miss Bennet in her nightclothes, had forced him to maintain his position.

“Sir,” Fletcher said, appearing in the doorway with fresh linens, “if you would permit me to finish with your cravat-”

“In a moment, Fletcher.” Darcy’s voice was controlled, though his fingers pressed hard against the window frame. It was not the servant’s fault that he was trapped here, useless, while Elizabeth… He drew a steadying breath. “Has there been any word?”