Page 55

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Excerpt from The Briar Bargain

By breakfast, Elizabeth had already rehearsed her farewell speech, re-packed her trunk, and imagined Miss Bingley's delighted expression no fewer than five times.

Mr. Bingley’s carriage was scheduled to be ready by noon, the sun had finally returned to the sky, and Jane was sitting up in bed having breakfast, her complexion restored to something recognisably healthy. All signs pointed toward escape.

All that remained was to endure one final breakfast with the Netherfield party without flinging herself—or anyone else—through a window.

No matter how sorely she was tempted.

As she made her way toward the breakfast room, a distant rumble of thunder caught her attention. Glancing back at the window, she saw dark clouds gathering on the horizon. Hopefully she and Jane would already be home before they arrived.

Miss Bingley looked up from her tea as Elizabeth entered the room.

"Miss Bennet," she said sweetly, "how lovely to see you joining us so early. I confess I expected you to linger upstairs a bit longer. I understand it takes time to collect oneself after a week of such devoted bedside duty."

Never had “devoted duty” sounded so much like an accusation.

In fact, Elizabeth was exhausted, but she would never allow it to show. "Indeed. Though as welcoming as you have been, Miss Bingley, I shall be pleased to return home."

Mr. Bingley looked up from his toast."Are you certain the carriage will be able to make it over the bridge?"

Elizabeth nodded. Mrs. Nicholls had spoken to the coachman that morning and relayed the news. "Evidently the river has risen, but not high enough to impede our passage."

"Splendid," Mr. Bingley beamed. "Though I shall be very sorry to lose your company, of course."

"You are too kind, sir."

At the far end of the table, Mr. Hurst grunted his acknowledgment of Elizabeth's arrival without bothering to look up from his heaping plate of eggs and ham.

He shovelled another forkful into his mouth, chewing with such concentrated effort one might think he was engaged in labour rather than leisure.

Mrs. Hurst idly adjusted the lace at her wrist. "I must say, Miss Eliza, your fortitude in the face of such trying circumstances has been remarkable. Not many young ladies would venture out in such dirty weather, much less remain for days on end to tend a sick relation."

"When one's sister is ill, Mrs.Hurst, my own comfort becomes a secondary concern," Elizabeth replied pleasantly. “I am sure it is the same for you and Miss Bingley.”

"Yes, of course," Mrs. Hurst said with a wave of her hand. "Family devotion is everything admirable.Though I confess I would have dispatched a servant rather than risk my health and appearance."

Mr. Hurst mumbled something unintelligible as he reached for more toast, a spot of jam falling onto his waistcoat. No one else seemed to notice.

Miss Bingley buttered her toast with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. "I do hope your sister has recovered enough to endure such a journey. But then, I suppose country girls are accustomed to such inconveniences."

"Jane is much improved, and she has never been inclined to complaint." If Elizabeth leaned on the word“she” just a tiny bit more than was usual, she could not be blamed for it.

"That is just what I would have suspected of her," Mr. Bingley said.

Miss Bingley's nostrils flared slightly, reminding Elizabeth of a horse. "Indeed."

There was a rustle at the far end of the table as Mr. Darcy shook out his newspaper, the quick view of his expression before the paper rose to hide it proving him to be as unreadable as ever. His posture even at the breakfast table was almost painfully correct.

Elizabeth tried not to stare at him.It was a habit she had acquired accidentally because he always seemed to be staring at her, and she always wanted to catch him at it. She rarely did,though, and had tried to remind herself that she should watch the man only out of the corner of her eye.

Mr. Darcy's presence at Netherfield had been a constant source of discomfort. Not because he was unpleasant,precisely. It was only that one moment he seemed almost approachable, the next he was as distant as a cat—unmovable, inscrutable, judgemental.

"Mr. Darcy," Miss Bingley said, turning her attention to him with a bright smile. "Have you heard from your sister of late? I long to know how dear Georgiana progresses with that delightful new sonata."

He turned the page of his paper without looking up. "She writes that she practices daily."

"How very devoted she is. I always say there is nothing so elegant as a lady who is accomplished in both music and manners. Soothing, familiar airs, played by accomplished hands are such a comfort."

Mr. Darcy made a sound that might have been agreement. It might also have been a sneeze he was too disciplined to permit. Elizabeth could not tell.

On the other side of the table, Mr.Hurst emitted a soft huff. Elizabeth was not certain what it was meant to convey.

His wife, on the other hand, seemed to take offence, nudging him sharply with her elbow and causing him to jerk a little to one side with a confused grunt. "Do attend to your breakfast,Mr. Hurst."

He blinked at her owlishly before resuming his methodical consumption, this time with a slightly aggrieved expression.

Miss Bingley, who had been stirring her tea with unnecessary elegance, tilted her head toward Elizabeth with a smile that never reached her eyes. “Your sister is a lovely girl,” she said smoothly. “It is always charming to see such unaffected sweetness, especially in one so eager to please.”

It was clear to Elizabeth, though the men at the table seemed not to notice, that Miss Bingley thought Jane rather too eager to please.

Elizabeth was weary, she was in no mood to play this pernicious woman’s games.

“Yes,” she replied lightly. “Those who are truly sincere rarely trouble themselves over how that sincerity is perceived. It is a quiet strength, and, I think you will agree,” She met Miss Bingley’s gaze, “a rare one.”

Miss Bingley frowned and set down her spoon with exaggerated care. Her eyes never left Elizabeth’s. "Charles,you really must speak to Mrs. Nicholls about the tea. It is too strong this morning. Too . . . bold."

Elizabeth had not noticed Miss Bingley take a single sip.

Mrs. Hurst's fan appeared from nowhere, fluttering before her face as though to dispel an unpleasant odour.

"Tastes fine to me," Mr.Hurst muttered into his cup, his first intelligible words of the morning.

"You would think pond water was fine if it had enough sugar in it," his wife replied.

After this, Elizabeth was allowed to eat in what passed for peace. She had nearly finished when the door opened and a footman entered, his boots damp to the ankle and a furrow in his brow.

"Begging your pardon, sir,"he addressed Bingley, "but the coachman has just checked the bridge to Longbourn and it is entirely flooded over."

A collective stillness fell across the room.

Elizabeth blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"The river's breached its banks, miss. The driver said it were rising still. He feared the horses would founder."

Miss Bingley gasped, her hand held to her heart in a perfect picture of theatrical horror. "Flooded? Are we trapped?"

Mr. Hurst paused mid-bite, a rare look of concern crossing his features as he glanced toward the brandy decanter on the sideboard, as if calculating whether the house's supply would last through a prolonged confinement.

“This is precisely why we must keep a house in London, Charles.” Mrs. Hurst waved her fan twice as quickly as before. “The Thames is always properly managed, not left to the whims of nature like these rural waterways."

Elizabeth nearly laughed but stopped herself in time.

Who would consider themselves trapped by an overflowing river a mile and a half away when residing in a house as large and well situated as Netherfield?

Both Longbourn and Netherfield were built on higher ground for this very reason.

She expected that even now the tenants nearest the river at Longbourn would be seeking shelter with other families.

Though her father had moved the cottages that had been dangerously close to the water when he inherited the estate, with the river rising this high, a few farmers might still be at risk.

They would certainly be moving the women, children, and any valuables out of the potential flood plain.

If the situation worsened, the displaced families would be taken in at Longbourn.

Mamma had managed such a crisis before and done well, but that had been nearly fifteen years ago.

It was frustrating to be stuck here when she and Jane ought to be home, helping.

Mr. Bingley stood. "Darcy, you saw the river yesterday—was it rising then?"

"It was not nearly so high,"Mr. Darcy said grimly, folding his paper and setting it down on the table."But with this much rain it would not take long."

"Dear heavens," Miss Bingley breathed. "How unfortunate that this should happen today, just when the house was beginning to recover from the strain of illness."

Mr. Darcy stood and placed his napkin beside his plate before moving to the window.

Mr. Bingley did the same. "It seems your departure shall be delayed, Miss Elizabeth," he said. He was the only one in the room did not sound in the least distressed by this fact.

Well, Mr. Hurst might not mind. If he even noticed.

Miss Bingley's eyes flashed with indignation. "How very unexpected."

For heaven’s sake, did the woman expect her to control the weather? Not even the miraculous Mr. Darcy had that sort of power. Elizabeth inclined her head. "I fear we must trespass upon your good will a little longer."

"How long does it generally take for such waters to recede?" Mrs. Hurst asked sharply.

"Darcy, what do you think?” Mr. Bingley inquired. “A day? Two?"

Elizabeth already knew. She closed her eyes. This could not be happening.

Mr. Darcy turned back toward the room,his expression stony. "With a storm of this magnitude? Possibly a week or more."

"A week!" Miss Bingley's voice reached a pitch that made even her brother wince.

Mrs. Hurst clutched at the pearl pendant on her necklace. "A week in this wilderness with no possibility of visiting or having visitors! Charles, this is intolerable. What shall we do? My nerves cannot endure such isolation."

Elizabeth refrained from reminding the ladies that they had a visitor in the room with them.

Mr. Hurst snorted, his attention on refilling his coffee. "Plenty of cards and billiards to be played. And the cellar is well-stocked," he remarked with surprising clarity, as if the prospect of enforced leisure with abundant refreshment was not entirely disagreeable to him.

Elizabeth sighed inwardly. Another seven days of Miss Bingley's barely concealed contempt. Seven more nights sleeping under the same roof as Mr. Darcy, whose presence she found oppressive.

Mr. Bingley gazed out the window where the rain was falling harder with every moment. “It certainly shows no sign of stopping.”

Elizabeth stared out at the storm as though it had personally affronted her. Could it not have held off until they had reached Longbourn? Was that so very much to ask?

Mr. Darcy met her eyes from his position near the window. There was something in his expression she could not quite name—something cool and uncertain. Disappointment, perhaps. Or even dread.

Whatever he was feeling, Elizabeth suspected it was not complimentary.

Mr. Hurst harrumphed, then belched quietly behind his napkin, earning a look of withering contempt from his wife.

It was enough. Elizabeth stood. “I must see to Jane,” she said by way of excusing herself from the room. Once in the hall, she allowed her composure to slip for just a moment. She leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, and released a quiet sigh.

"Miss Elizabeth?"

She straightened immediately, opening her eyes to find Mr. Bingley standing in the hallway, his expression concerned.

"Forgive me, Mr. Bingley."

"No need for apologies," he said kindly. "This is a dreadful inconvenience for you and Miss Bennet, I am afraid. You must consider yourself quite at home here with us.”

"Thank you," Elizabeth said,touched by his sincerity but knowing his sisters were not of his mind."You are very good."

"Not at all," he said,looking suddenly bashful. "I only hope . . . that is, I trust your sister will continue to improve. I was concerned that joining us last night might not have been wise."

It was a very poor attempt to be subtle, but it made Elizabeth like Mr. Bingley even more.

"She is very well today,"Elizabeth assured him. "She remained above stairs only so that she could arrange her packing."

He smiled. “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth.” Then he straightened, as though remembering himself. "Please let me know if there is anything at all that would make your stay more comfortable."

"A sturdy boat, perhaps?"Elizabeth suggested, unable to resist.

Bingley laughed. "I shall see what can be arranged. Good day, Miss Elizabeth."

As he walked away, Elizabeth felt her spirits lift ever so slightly. At least one member of the household seemed genuinely pleased by their presence.

She turned and headed for the stairs, intent on breaking the news to Jane. As she rounded the corner, she nearly collided with Mr. Darcy who was exiting the breakfast room from the second door.

"Oh, Mr. Darcy! I do beg your pardon."

He stepped back, his expression momentarily unguarded. There was surprise, followed by something that might have been pleasure, quickly masked by his usual reserve.

Watching him was dizzying.

"No apology necessary, Miss Elizabeth. I was not attending."

An awkward silence fell between them.

"I was heading upstairs to inform Jane of our extended visit," she said at last.

"Ah. Yes. Most unfortunate."

Her hands squeezed into fists at her side. She would not be impolite. She would not. "Indeed. Though I am confident we shall all survive the ordeal."

His brow furrowed slightly. "I hope you do not consider Netherfield's hospitality an ordeal, Miss Bennet."

"Not at all," she assured him, though she suspected he could hear the lack of conviction in her voice."I merely meant the circumstances are . . .” She paused to remind him of his own words. “Unfortunate."

"Yes. Quite." He hesitated,as though about to say more, then inclined his head and stepped aside to let her pass.

With a nod, she continued on her way,feeling strangely unsettled by the encounter. But the time she reached Jane’s chamber, she had pushed such thoughts aside. She had more important concerns than the mysterious moods of Mr. Darcy.