Page 5 of The Happiness of a Most Beloved Sister (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

CHAPTER FOUR

S wallowing the sound of frustration that threatened to erupt from her mouth, Elizabeth lowered her mother’s note and worked to gather her patience.

After Mr Jones had assured her it was safe for Jane to travel, and seeing her sister’s improved health with her own eyes, she longed to return home and away from the difficult inhabitants of Netherfield.

Mr Bingley was as amiable as ever, but the rest… well.

Alas, Mrs Bennet was not of the same opinion as her second daughter and had denied them use of the carriage.

‘The horses are needed on the farm’, she declared in her note; though why they could not be spared from their usual duties for an hour or two was beyond Elizabeth’s comprehension.

Their service was never required whenever the mistress wished to visit her sister in Meryton and the weather did not suit her preferences. Then they were always at easy disposal.

Of course, she knew very well that her mother’s refusal had little to do with the horses and everything to do with keeping Jane near Mr Bingley.

By Mrs Bennet’s reasoning, she had already gone to the trouble of arranging her eldest’s stay at Netherfield—not that she could have anticipated Jane falling ill—and they ought to reap the benefits of her machinations.

Never mind that it was impolite to overstay one’s welcome or burden a neighbour’s household, Mrs Bennet would not be satisfied unless Jane returned home an engaged woman.

How she expects to achieve this end when Jane is confined to her sick room, I do not know.

She has not considered this very thoroughly.

“What does Mama say?”

Elizabeth turned to Jane, who was breakfasting from a tray in her bed. “She says that the horses cannot possibly be spared till Tuesday, and we must remain at Netherfield until then. She truly does not see her own poor behaviour, does she?”

Jane chewed thoughtfully before offering a reply. “It cannot be helped, I suppose. If we are to stay a full week complete, then we must make the most of it.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, there is nothing terribly onerous about spending time with one’s friends, is there? Now that I am better, I shall be able to join the company for dinner and other activities.”

“If you are so well recovered, ought we not to press more diligently to be taken home? It is inconsiderate to trespass unnecessarily upon someone’s kindness,” Elizabeth countered, nibbling on her thumbnail.

She quit upon witnessing the scolding look her sister cast her, hastily tucking her hand beneath her thigh.

Jane huffed. “Really, Lizzy, you make it sound as if we are unwelcome here. I daresay Mr Bingley and his sisters do not mind our presence at all. They were most convivial last evening.”

Only in your presence. They are quite ready to see the back of me , I am sure. “What about Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth leapt to say. “He is not so keen to have us here.”

“I have no great liking for him either, but he is not master here. He is a guest the same as we are and has no say in whom Mr Bingley chooses to host.”

“Perhaps I ought to ask Mr Bingley for the use of his carriage to transport us home.”

“No!”

Startled by Jane’s vehement objection, Elizabeth sat up straighter, blinking rapidly.

More calmly, Jane said, “That is, why should we pester Mr Bingley about the loan of his carriage when our own is meant to collect us in a few more days? He might be affronted that we are so eager to leave.”

Elizabeth considered this but could not agree. “I think it would show an admirable intention not to take advantage of his hospitality.”

“I truly believe we ought to wait till Tuesday rather than bother Mr Bingley, but do as you like.” So saying, Jane dropped her gaze to her plate and continued eating in silence.

Elizabeth suspected her sister was put out with her, making her further inclined to partake of her awful habit.

With effort, she kept her hands hidden away where she would not be unduly tempted by them while she considered what to do.

They could either remain until Tuesday and thus complete their week, as Mrs Bennet and Jane suggested, or she could ask Mr Bingley for the loan of his carriage.

There was only one proper choice, though she loathed the necessity of asking their host for yet another favour and displeasing her dearest sister.

Regardless, it must be done, and so she would seek out Mr Bingley during the course of the day.

Having eaten with Jane, Elizabeth avoided the breakfast room on her way to the library in search of a fresh volume.

She had finished her third and hoped that Mr Bingley might have a decent replacement, even though the last had been mediocre at best. If I am incredibly lucky, Mr Darcy will have left one of his own books unattended and I can borrow that.

I shall be sure to return it with him none the wiser.

As she passed the open door where the house’s other inhabitants were partaking of the morning meal, the cadence of their voices drifted out into the corridor.

She initially paid their conversation no mind, knowing it was unconscionably rude to eavesdrop, but the invocation of her own name—or Miss Bingley’s approximation of it, rather—arrested her attention.

“…and Miss Eliza Bennet is so coarse and brown! She is reputed to be a local beauty, but I cannot fathom why.”

“She is nothing to her sister, that is for certain,” replied the voice of Mrs Hurst, disembodied while the lady herself remained out of sight beyond the door. “It is a wonder that dear Jane is not already married.”

“With her vulgar family and low connexions, it is not so mysterious. She is a sweet girl, quite pretty, but she will never make a splendid match with the Bennets as a millstone about her neck.”

“Too true, too true, although Charles seems not to mind as he ought. If we are not careful, he might just do something foolish over her.”

A sharp gasp. “Bite your tongue, Louisa!”

“Refusing to acknowledge the possibility does not make it less likely. We ought to be on our guard.”

“He has only known the girl a month. Surely he has not lost all reason in that time.”

“Charles is impulsive, as you well know. He owns it himself.”

“I shall not deny it, but this quality is as much to our advantage as it is to our detriment. The moment we return to town, he will find himself another ‘angel’ and forget all about the one he discovered here. There are delicate blondes aplenty in London, and I daresay he has fallen in love with each of them at least once.”

This declaration was met with a giggle from Mrs Hurst. “You are right, of course. The only real danger is in allowing our brother to speak before we leave the neighbourhood, and I hope he is not so impetuous as to do so in the few short weeks we have remaining. Just in case, I believe it prudent to express our wish to spend Christmastide in London.”

“Yes, I heartily agree. Do you think Miss Pendleton will be in town for the winter?”

As the ladies within began discussing their plans for yuletide, Elizabeth staggered backwards and away from the room, gnawing on her thumb.

She had known that the Superior Sisters were false friends to Jane, but she had not expected them to be actively working against her.

More alarming was their contention that their brother was often in love and hardly discriminating in his tastes; it sounded as if any pretty blonde would do, if his sisters were correct. What am I to tell Jane ?

Elizabeth had not taken more than a couple of steps before colliding with something warm and solid. She stumbled but did not fall thanks to the pair of hands which quickly rose to steady her about the waist. With a gasp, she turned. “Mr Darcy!”

It was indeed Mr Darcy, and he was gazing down upon her from his great height, his brow furrowed and his keen eyes probing. At such close proximity, she could see that the silver was ringed in deepest cobalt. “Are you well, Miss Elizabeth? You look rather pale.”

“I…” she swallowed against the tightness in her throat, the sting of tears in her eyes and nose. “Yes, I am very well. I thank you.”

Disengaging herself from the gentleman’s light hold, she scampered away, heedless of direction.

Darcy watched Elizabeth flee from him with a disagreeable sensation in the pit of his stomach.

She had seemed troubled, which in turn troubled him.

It ought not to be so, but there it was; something about Elizabeth Bennet, some indefinable quality, made him long to comfort and protect her in a way that no other lady had ever inspired.

Perhaps his sister, but that was quite different. With Elizabeth it was more like…

“Stop it, Darcy,” he scolded himself, shaking his head as if to clear it. “She is not for you.”

Renewed in his determination to set Elizabeth and her intriguing singularities aside, he devoted his morning to indulging in various distractions.

First, he went galloping about the countryside, but such only reminded him of how alluring Elizabeth had looked after walking three miles to attend her sick sister.

Then, he had sat down to finish his letter to Georgiana, an endeavour he had abandoned due to Miss Bingley’s interference two evenings prior.

He was forced to abandon it yet again, and toss it in the fire besides, when he discovered that a passing mention of Elizabeth had somehow transformed into half a page of her merits.

He could not even escape thoughts of her in the billiards room, which she had mistakenly wandered into once whilst he and Bingley had been in the midst of a game.

He kept picturing her there, framed in the doorway with her saucy smile and sweet apologies for interrupting their play. It was maddening.

As a final resort, Darcy retreated to Bingley’s sparse library, intending to avoid his hostess even if he could not elude his burgeoning attraction to his fellow guest. At least there he might allow himself to sink into reverie with greater privacy since he was evidently incapable of preventing it entirely.

Upon crossing the threshold, Darcy stopped short.

Was Elizabeth actually there before him, or did he merely imagine her spectre?

He blinked thrice, yet her delectable figure remained, back turned to him as she vacantly gazed out of the window across the room.

She did not appear to detect his presence, so perhaps he might?—

The squeak of a floorboard caused Darcy to flinch and Elizabeth to turn round. She hastily wiped at her cheek, inspiring his feet to reverse their trajectory and move him towards her rather than away. “Miss Elizabeth, are you well?”

“Quite well,” she replied, though her reddened eyes belied her prevarication.

Darcy withdrew the handkerchief from his coat pocket and presented it to her. “You appear as if you have been crying.”

“Oh no, I—truly, I am quite well.” So she said a second time, yet Darcy believed her no more than he had the first. What has her dratted sister done to upset her so?

There was no proof that Miss Bennet was at the root of Elizabeth’s distress, but he suspected it all the same.

Bingley called her an ‘angel’, but Darcy thought her more a devil.

In truth, either term was likely too strong for the bland lady in question.

He pressed the handkerchief into her hand. “You need not tell me your troubles if you do not wish to, but I swear to keep any confidences you might share. A burden shared is a burden halved, as they say.”

Elizabeth smiled at him, but it was an unsteady thing, not at all sweetened by the insouciance she generally displayed. A moment later she turned her face and began dabbing at it with his handkerchief. “That is most kind of you, but I assure you that this is nothing. I am?—”

“Quite well, I remember.”

She looked sharply at him, and Darcy was inclined to curse his wretched tongue for daring to tease her; what had he been thinking at such a moment? His self-castigation gave way to relief when she emitted a startled laugh. “I suppose I am not terribly convincing, am I?”

“I am afraid not, no.”

Inhaling deeply, she then released a heavy sigh and turned to resume her dull observation of the grounds without. “Truly, you need not concern yourself, sir, though I thank you for your kindness.”

“But I am concerned,” Darcy countered, sidling closer and bending his neck to better see her expression. It was lamentably sad, perhaps anxious. “I…if you are not co mfortable sharing your troubles, I understand, but I swear to you that you will receive no judgment from me.”

Did she just snort? She dabbed at her nose with his handkerchief, so perhaps it was a sneeze.

“Is it…” How to phrase this delicately? “Has your sister said something to injure your feelings?”

Elizabeth’s brow furrowed, and her mouth drew down at the corners. Whatever melancholy she was experiencing had obviously been chased away by affront. “Why would you ask me that? Jane is a dear, sweet creature who has never injured anyone in her life!”

Darcy’s incredulity was strong, but he masked it with effort. “I meant no slight to Miss Bennet, I assure you, it is only that I understand sisters occasionally quarrel and thought that might be at the heart of your distress.”

Her posture loosened, yet she still regarded him with a sceptical eye.

“I can see how some… others ”—she leant into the word with strong emphasis, leaving him in no doubt that she meant Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst—“might lead you to believe that sisters are always at odds with one another, and I cannot say that is not true in some cases, but Jane and I rarely suffer disputes. If I am upset by anything, it is my concern for her welfare, that is all.”

“So her health has grown worse?”

Oddly, a flush erupted across Elizabeth’s face, and her gaze dropped to her slippered feet. “Thankfully, she is well on her way to a complete recovery. It is her sensibilities that I speak of. You see, she…” She shook her head and began again. “May I ask you a question? About your friend?”

Darcy stiffened, the vertebrae of his spine locking into a rigid line. “What about him?”

Elizabeth’s keen gaze skewered him, calculating. What, precisely, she was thinking, Darcy could not say, but whatever it was inspired her to withdraw. She held out his handkerchief to him, which he accepted woodenly. “I thank you for your solicitude, sir, but I must return to Jane.”

So saying, she swept past him in an aromatic cloud that recalled flowers in springtime, though he could not exactly specify which. Scarce moments after she had left him, Darcy lifted his handkerchief to his nose and breathed deeply of it. Cherry blossoms .