Page 15 of The Talented Daughters of Longbourn
Longbourn
Late Afternoon
“Oh Jane, it is lovely!” Elizabeth exclaimed, gazing raptly at the elephant statue.
The beast was standing with its head cocked to one side, both ears extended as if flapping, with the tusks jutting out proudly, with the ropey tail curved along one fleshy flank.
The porcelain skin was crisscrossed with fine lines to demonstrate the creature’s tough hide.
“Thank you,” Jane said, her rosy lips curved up with pleasure. “I think it is quite my best work yet, Lizzy. And of course I could never have done it without you – your sketches were absolutely critical.”
Elizabeth wrapped an arm around her sister and pulled her a little closer, as both ladies stared down at the sculpture.
It always felt so good to see a project to its completion, and while Jane did the actual sculpting, Elizabeth knew she was a vital part of the process, which was why she did not feel guilty for taking one quarter of the profits.
“Will you be sending it to Uncle Gardiner soon?” Elizabeth asked .
Jane tilted her head and released a soft sigh. “Yes,” she said, “though it will be a little hard to send it away. I worked so hard on the elephant. But yes, the sooner it reaches London, the sooner our uncle can find a buyer, and the sooner we will be paid.”
“Surely there is no great hurry to sell it?” Elizabeth asked, staring uneasily at her sister.
Jane hesitated and tightened her embrace. “Lizzy, Father is not well, you know that, and if the worst should come to pass…”
Elizabeth opened her mouth in protest and then, at the tender expression on Jane’s face, closed it.
“You think he is declining?” she asked. “He seems a little plumper now.”
“He is,” Jane agreed, “but Anderson says he is growing steadily weaker.”
Elizabeth clenched her jaw and lowered her head. Her father’s valet would definitely know.
“I am sorry, darling,” Jane said.
Elizabeth gulped and closed her eyes, struggling not to fall into hysterical weeping. A few tears escaped from her closed lids and fell down her cheeks. “We will miss him so much,” she said huskily.
“We will. ”
The door opened at this juncture, and Elizabeth hastily applied her handkerchief to her wet face as Jane took a step toward the door and demanded, “Lydia? What is wrong?”
This caused Elizabeth to spin around, and she frowned in concern. Lydia was standing at the door, still wearing her pelisse, and she did look quite distressed.
“Kitty is sick,” the girl explained. “We had a pleasant tea, and then several ladies took turns playing on the pianoforte. Poor Kitty started feeling dreadful some four hours ago, with a terrible headache, and she is feverish. Mary sent me back from Netherfield and stayed with Kitty. We did not really know what to do, but it seemed she was too sick to come home, especially with the roads wet and slippery.”
“It is quite all right, Lyddy,” Elizabeth said, hurrying forward. “Poor Kitty! Is Mary feeling well?”
“Yes,” Lydia said, sounding harassed, “but she refused to leave Kitty behind. I wondered if I ought to stay too, but I am not good with sick people; you know that!”
“You did the right thing,” Jane said soothingly as Elizabeth hurried over to the window to peer outside.
“I see it is still raining and growing dark,” she said unhappily. “I could try to take the carriage back to Netherfield tonight, but if the roads are bad… ”
“They are altogether slippery,” Lydia said immediately. “Indeed, Lizzy, pray do not go out now, in the dark. Coachman Jack was rather uneasy with the return trip, and it was lighter then.”
Elizabeth wrinkled her nose and nodded reluctantly. “Very well. I am certain that Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst will make sure that Kitty and Mary are well cared for, but I will go tomorrow morning as early as possible.”
“Ought I to go?” Jane asked. “I am the eldest.”
Elizabeth hesitated and then shook her head. “Thank you, but I think I should go. You need to wrap the elephant to have it sent to Town, and write a letter to accompany it, and besides, you know that I am more at ease with...”
She trailed away and Jane paled a little. For all that Miss Bennet was a strong and determined lady, she did not fare well when exposed to blood, sweat, and tears.
“You are quite right,” the eldest Miss Bennet agreed. “Likewise, I must work on the horse now that the elephant is finished.”
“Indeed you do,” Elizabeth said.
/
On the Road to Netherfield
The Next Morning
The carriage wheels creaked outside the box where Elizabeth sat, the valise on the floor nudging against her legs with each sway of the conveyance.
The valise was not large, with just enough for clothes for herself and Kitty for two days, should Kitty be too ill to be moved and Elizabeth was invited to stay to nurse her.
She dearly hoped that Kitty was feeling better, but either way, she would be sending Mary home to Longbourn.
She leaned forward to look out the window.
The view was not prepossessing; the harvested fields were soggy and drab.
The clouds had cleared away at last to leave pale blue-washed skies, but puddles dotted the road and lined the ditches, and Elizabeth was glad she had not ventured out last night in the dark and the rain.
Elizabeth admired the facade of Netherfield as the carriage approached. The early sun slanting down across the damp red bricks deepened their hue almost to ruby. The slate of the roof and the clinging needles of the evergreens had been likewise washed clean and glowed in the faded sun.
/
Netherfield
Elizabeth found the inhabitants of Netherfield in the breakfast parlor, and they looked startled to see her. It was early, she supposed, but given her concern over Kitty, she did not think it too early.
“Good morning,” she said brightly. “I do apologize for my arrival before usual visiting hours, but I am concerned about my sister Kitty. How is she?”
“I fear she is not very well,” Miss Bingley said, rising to her feet with an expression of extravagant pity on her face. “The poor dear is quite feverish. We have sent for the apothecary – a Mr. Jones?”
“Yes, thank you very much,” Elizabeth said gratefully. “Perhaps a servant can take me to my sisters, and I will not interrupt you any longer.”
Miss Bingley gestured to a maid and said, “Take Miss Elizabeth upstairs.”
“Yes, Miss,” the girl replied, and opened the door and guided Elizabeth out of the dining parlor. Once the door was closed behind them, Elizabeth said to the girl, whom she recognized as the younger sister of one of the Longbourn servants, “Bridget, is it? Do you know how my sister is doing?”
“Bridget, yes, Miss,” the girl replied. “I am afraid Miss Kitty was quite ill last night, coughing and feverish. I helped Miss Mary care for her, and I am certain they will both be glad to see you.”
She guided Elizabeth up the impressive oak stairs and into the west wing, whereupon she opened a door and gestured for Elizabeth to enter.
Elizabeth did so and took in, at a glance, the pleasant guest room with its drawn back cream drapes, matching the ivory and gold-brocade upholstery.
A polished and unlit candelabra sat on the table over Mary’s shoulder, its illumination unnecessary in the room flooded with sunlight from one side and firelight from the other.
Just visible through the half-open bed curtains was a blanketed lump that could only be Kitty.
“Lizzy!” Mary murmured, rising from her seat near the fire. “Oh, I am so glad you have come!”
“How is she?” Elizabeth inquired softly.
Mary sighed and said, “She is quite ill; not dangerously, I suppose, but oh, she had a restless night!”
“Which meant you did as well,” Elizabeth said sympathetically, noting the dark circles under Mary’s eyes. “Well, I am here now, and Coachman Jack is waiting to take you home.”
“Oh,” Mary said, her expression a mixture of longing and guilt, “ought I to leave with Kitty doing so poorly?”
“I will stay. As you said yesterday, you need to prepare for your wedding, and I am quite at ease with sick persons.”
Mary wrinkled her nose at this and whispered, “She vomited once.”
“Oh, poor Kitty! But do not worry; if she does again, I will manage it.”
Mary blew out a long breath and said, “Very well. Thank you; I think I will go home and take a nap.”
“Please do. Can you also have a servant bring up the valise from the carriage?”
“Of course.”
/
Netherfield
Drawing Roo m
“The Bennets are an excitable group, are they not?” Miss Bingley commented, watching the Longbourn carriage pull away from the house. “They come, they go, they come, they go! I see no reason for Miss Elizabeth to install herself here at Netherfield merely because her sister has a trifling cold.”
“It shows a love for her sister, which is very pleasing,” Bingley said in a reproving tone.
A gig appeared in the driveway, and Mrs. Hurst said, “Ah, that is probably Mr. Jones; I will go speak to him.”
The lady disappeared promptly, and Miss Bingley sat down with a sigh and said, “I do hope that Jones is a sensible man. Given that all the Bennet ladies are seeking wealthy husbands, I imagine that Mrs. Bennet is desirous of keeping her daughters here as long as possible. I hope he is not the type of man to be convinced that Miss Kitty has typhoid or something of the sort!”
Georgiana looked at her hostess in wonder and then turned an inquiring look on her brother, who looked disapproving but did not speak.
“I do not think that the Bennets would go to such absurd lengths to intrude on you, Miss Bingley,” Richard Fitzwilliam said. His voice was calm, but there was an under core of steel, which caused Miss Bingley to flush a little.
“No, indeed they would not,” Bingley agreed enthusiastically. “Miss Bennet is far too charming a lady to act in such a conniving fashion, and I have no doubt that her sisters are similarly genuine.”
“They are a very pleasant family,” Georgiana piped up, and Darcy smiled at her approvingly and said, “Yes. Their connections are not the best, but they are welcoming and, by and large, well mannered.”
/
Kitty’s Bedchamber
“I believe it is a cold, but I fear it is a rather severe one,” Mr. Jones said. He had examined his patient and was now speaking softly to Elizabeth next to the fire.
“Can she return home?” Elizabeth asked and was not surprised when the apothecary promptly shook his head.
“I think not yet, Miss Elizabeth. You know that Miss Kitty is inclined to bronchial complaints, and it would not be good to expose her to the chilled air until she has recovered somewhat.”
Elizabeth sighed inwardly, but she nodded and said, “Thank you for your care, Mr. Jones.”
“It is my pleasure,” the man replied. “I know you to be an excellent nurse, and young Bridget is an eager and willing girl and can help care for Miss Kitty when you must leave.”
Elizabeth thought briefly of the ledgers back at Longbourn and her father’s physical weakness, and then resolutely put all that out of her mind. She was, as Mr. Jones said, the Bennet daughter most able to deal with illness in others, and there was nothing pressing regarding the estate.
“Thank you again,” she said.