Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst had just broached the subject of their guest’s tardiness when the knock came at the door. Darcy and Charles stood to greet Miss Bennet.
Poor Jane Bennet had been caught in the deluge; she was soaked through.
“Why Miss Bennet!” cried Miss Bingley. “Did you walk all this way?”
“N-No, Miss Bingley. But our carriage was indisposed and I was obliged to come on horseback. I’m afraid the rain caught me almost as soon as I set out.”
“You poor dear. Stevens!” Miss Bingley called for the servant to return. “Fetch Miss Bennet some towels.”
“You are v-very kind,” said Miss Bennet, shivering. Her eyes turned then to Mr. Bingley. Darcy perceived that each warmed to the meeting, but nothing more.
“Miss Bennet, I hope you are well. Please, allow me to introduce my friend, Mr. Darcy of Derbyshire.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir,” said Miss Bennet.
Darcy bowed. “Miss Bennet.”
The servant returned then, bearing the towels Miss Bingley had requested.
“Not here, Stevens!” Miss Bingley scolded him. “Miss Bennet, if you would care to follow me?”
“Yes, please,” said Miss Bennet. She excused herself most politely and followed Miss Bingley from the room to tend to her dress elsewhere.
“Good Lord,” said Mrs. Hurst. “She must have been half drowned by the time she got here. What on earth could have possessed her to come on horseback with such a storm in view?”
“I think it shows a considerable amount of spirit,” said Charles.
“Or poor judgement,” said Darcy, without heat.
“Nonsense,” said Charles. “Who could have predicted such a storm?”
Darcy declined to speculate further, and in short order Miss Bennet returned to the company. He was in agreement with Charles on one point – Miss Bennet was indeed quite pretty. Undeterred from his goal, Darcy observed Miss Bennet’s conduct closely as they sat to dinner.
As the meal had commenced, so too did the conversation.
“I do hope your family are well, Miss Bennet” said Charles.
“They are well, thank you, sir,” said Jane Bennet.
“Miss Bennet is quite the elder sister, Louisa,” interjected Miss Bingley. “Did you see how thoughtfully she attended to poor Miss Eliza at the assembly?”
“I did,” said Mrs. Hurst. “Your sister – Miss Eliza – was so very charming, and yet somehow unable to keep a partner.”
“There were few enough men present,” said Miss Bingley. “That’s certain. Though I expect the dearth was nothing out of the ordinary for a village such as Meryton. Is not that right, Miss Bennet?”
Miss Bennet murmured but made no real reply and so Miss Bingley continued in that vein. She enumerated the rarity of the shops, the small selection of ribbons, the lack of variety in general. Charles spent no little time defending Meryton, giving his sisters a delightful amount with which to tease him. Considering the short duration of their stay in the neighborhood so far, Darcy presumed Charles was merely being courteous to the stoic Miss Bennet on the subject. Their guest herself showed no particular reaction, no matter which lacking element Miss Bingley chose to discourse.
In truth, Darcy thought Miss Bennet looked peaked, but as she made no attempt to excuse herself he held his tongue and attended Mr. Hurst’s questions about the new staff at Pemberley, Darcy’s own estate in Derbyshire.
As the meal progressed, it became obvious to all that Miss Bennet was unwell. She began to sigh, her face going quite pale.
“Miss Bennet, are you quite alright?” asked Mrs. Hurst, her concern authentic for the first time that evening.
“I am not—that is, I—”
Charles stood to ring the bell, but did not wait for a response. He proceeded directly to the door.
“Fetch Mrs. Nicholls,” Charles told the servant just outside the door to the hall. When she arrived the housekeeper was promptly instructed to ready a room, for as Miss Bingley succinctly stated, “Miss Bennet was in no condition to be riding home on horseback.”
Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst supervised Miss Bennet’s removal to the guest quarters, making such fuss over their friend that their expressions of heartfelt sympathy could be heard in the main hall until someone upstairs closed the guest room door. Darcy returned to the dining room where Mr. Hurst sat finishing his meal. He’d just resumed his seat when Charles returned.
“I’ve summoned the apothecary from Meryton,” said Charles, his eyes shifting nervously. “Jones, I think is his name. Told him to get here post haste.”
“Is that really necessary, Charles? It’s entirely possible that Miss Bennet is simply overtired.”
Mr. Hurst grunted his agreement, which Darcy perceived as the utmost concern Miss Bennet would likely receive from that quarter; Mr. Hurst did not often bestir himself for anyone.
Charles, by contrast, was pacing the length of the room.
“Do sit down, Charles,” said Darcy. “The man won’t get here any faster by your willing it so, nor will tiring yourself in this manner aid Miss Bennet in the slightest.”
Bingley sat. It was sometime later that the apothic arrived. He spent several minutes evaluating the patient and did not present good news when he met with Mr. Bingley a short while later.
“She is quite ill,” said Jones. “Too ill to be moved, I’m afraid.”
“Of course she shan’t be moved!” cried Miss Bingley, who had seized her opportunity to escape the sickroom with Mr. Jones on the pretext of discussing household arrangements with her brother. “We’ll send a note to Longbourn for her things directly.”
“Yes,” said Bingley with feeling. He was most distressed that Jane Bennet should have fallen ill in his own home and eager to take whatever care he could of her. “Where is Martin? He’s the fastest runner we’ve got; have him run the message.”
“I don’t think it’s stopped raining yet,” observed Darcy.
“Then he’d best take his coat,” said Bingley, rather abruptly.
Darcy held up a hand to stay him. “I merely observed the rain has not abated. It would not surprise me if Mr. and Mrs. Bennet expect their daughter to remain here through the night, considering the weather. You may well find that her clothes have already been dispatched.”
As it happened, Darcy was right. A young man from that estate appeared not half an hour later with a small trunk of Miss Bennet’s things.
The rest of the evening was passed in peace. Bingley’s sisters attended Miss Bennet in her sickroom until she fell asleep at last. Darcy and Bingley discussed work yet to be done at Netherfield. Mr. Hurst found repose in his chair a few moments upon finding out there was to be no entertainment that evening.
On waking the next morning, Miss Bennet sent a message to her family at Longbourn. The messenger returned quickly, with the reply that Miss Elizabeth Bennet would be joining them at Netherfield to tend to her sister.
“I don’t see why she should come all this way,” complained Miss Bingley at breakfast. “Jane is perfectly comfortable here with us.”
“Miss Bennet’s request is not unreasonable,” said Mrs. Hurst.
“Certainly not, but now we shall have to deal with the family,” replied Miss Bingley. As Miss Bennet was still abed upstairs, Miss Bingley took no pains to disguise her feelings.
“I think it speaks well of Miss Elizabeth’s character, to want to care for her sister” said Bingley, abandoning any pretense of eating his breakfast.
“I expect you are right, Charles,” said Miss Bingley. “But even you cannot deny it’s an inconvenience, for you’ve only just arrived at Netherfield yourself. You’d hardly have guests of your own, let alone new people.”
“And what of me?” said Darcy, amused.
“You’re hardly a formal guest Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Bingley, her tone turning coy. Before she could continue, a knock sounded at the breakfast-room door and Miss Elizabeth Bennet was announced.
Darcy noticed her eyes first.
Set in a prettyish face, her eyes seemed to him so bright, he caught his breath. Due to the exercise no doubt, he thought, but the observation did not diminish his appreciation. Elizabeth Bennet seemed to take the measure of everyone in the room at once.
“Miss Bennet,” began Bingley. “Won’t you join us?”
“I thank you Mr. Bingley, but no,” she replied, clasping her hands before her.
“Please allow me to introduce my friend, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.”
Miss Elizabeth Bennet made curtsy and said, “Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.”
Darcy inclined his head and did not speak. Nor did Bingley’s sisters endeavor to draw Miss Bennet into any conversation. When the silence dragged on, Miss Bennet said finally, “I’m sorry, but where is my sister?”
“Of course, yes,” said Bingley. “Allow me to show you.” They quit the room.
“Good Lord,” said Miss Bingley. “What can she mean by arriving in such a state?”
“I trust you saw her petticoat,” said Mrs. Hurst, nodding her agreement. “Six inches deep in mud, I am sure it was.”
“And her hair!” Miss Bingley said. The sisters laughed. “To have walked so far, and alone. What say you, Mr. Darcy? You have only just been introduced but I assure you, the picture we’ve just had of Miss Eliza Bennet is an accurate one.” Darcy did not point out that Miss Bingley’s acquaintance with the woman in question was scarcely any greater than his own.
“I agree that the circumstances hardly necessitate her walking so far alone,” Darcy conceded. “I appreciate it demonstrates honest concern for her sister, but one must wonder at her judgement for it.”
Miss Bingley accepted this contribution to the thread of conversation with exuberance, and it occupied herself and Mrs. Hurst for the remainder of their breakfast.
Darcy remained silent, waiting for Bingley to return so they might get about their day. There was work to be done. Now that Miss Jane Bennet had family to attend her Darcy put both young women out of his mind, except for a stray moment or two when he found himself reflecting on a certain pair of fine eyes.