Elizabeth rose one morning, a fortnight after Jane's wedding, to the quiet of a house still asleep. Her feet were cold and she pulled the quilt from the bed to wrap around herself.
She knelt and took the poker by the fireplace. There were embers left and she stirred them. The water in her basin was icy cold and she wished she had slept late enough for the maid to have brought warm water.
Instead of making her way downstairs, she returned to her bed to allow the room to warm a little. Elizabeth took a novel from her bedside table and tried to read. She missed Jane so terribly that the book could not hold her attention for long.
Rising again, she wandered to the window that looked out over the lane. A cold fog enveloped the road. She pulled her quilt tighter around her and moved to the side to peek out towards Netherfield hoping to see the chimney of the house.
She could not and it made her a bit sad. Elizabeth meant to look away but a movement caught her eye. A rider and horse moved across her limited view and she thought it must be someone from Netherfield.
Mr. Hurst would not rise so early, nor would either of Mr. Bingley's sisters. It must be Mr. Darcy then. She had seen him once again after the wedding when Miss Bingley had invited her family for dinner.
It was then Elizabeth discovered Mr. Bingley's sisters and friend would remain at Netherfield until he and Jane returned from their wedding trip.
Mr. Darcy had paid her much attention afterwards in the parlor as Miss Bingley attempted to capture his notice.
The man had studiously ignored his hostess and Elizabeth thought he must be tired of her attentions. She thought he might go mad with the woman’s constant presence before Mr. Bingley returned home. The thought had made her laugh and Mr. Darcy wished to know the cause of her amusement.
“I should not say for it is most impolite.”
He seemed all the more curious and begged her to elaborate. She relented.
“I do not think you will last until your friend has returned to Netherfield. Miss Bingley looks at you now as if you were more dear than any bauble she might own.”
Mr. Darcy had laughed with her until Miss Bingley ceased her efforts on the pianoforte.
Mrs. Bennet had stood and gone to the woman. “Please do not stop, Miss Bingley. You are quite talented. My Mary could only hope to become so proficient.”
Elizabeth smiled to think of her humorous moment with Mr. Darcy. She liked him more as she thought of it now. Feeling her room had warmed enough to wash and dress, Elizabeth went about her morning.
In the afternoon, Mrs. Bennet took Mary and Kitty to tea at Netherfield Park. Lydia claimed her head hurt too much to listen to Miss Bingley’s chatter.
Elizabeth had gone into the study with her father and read with him for nearly an hour. When she left him, he was snoring in his chair as she closed his door. Covering her own yawn, she made her way upstairs.
Knocking on the door to the room Lydia and Kitty shared, she called gently to her sister. If Lydia still suffered with her head, Elizabeth would send for tea and give the girl some herbal concoction.
There was no answer and so Elizabeth pushed open the door. Lydia was not lying across her bed nor was she sitting in either of the chairs beside the fireplace.
Elizabeth called her name again and looked out into the hallway. A piece of paper fluttered by her feet and she bent to retrieve it.
Papa would be livid to find his daughters so careless with a fine piece of stationary. Elizabeth was herself when she realized it had come from her writing desk. She opened it to smooth the surface and saw writing. It was Lydia's hand for she scrawled as if she were still a child.
Curious, Elizabeth read the errant note. Her eyes widened as the lines blurred and she stood yelling for her father until he came clambering up the stairs.
“Lizzy, Lizzy!” he yelled as he shook her.
Finally realizing her father had come, Elizabeth thrust the paper at him. “It is Lydia, Papa, she has done a terrible thing!”
Mr. Bennet read the note quickly and took Elizabeth's hands. “You must go to Netherfield and bring your mother and sisters home. Mind you speak not a word of this before the Bingley sisters. I will see what is to be done about Lydia. I will go into town and speak with Colonel Forster.”
Elizabeth hurried to do her father’s bidding and ran the entire way to Netherfield. When the butler admitted her to the parlor, she had just caught her breath.
Mrs. Bennet and the Bingley sisters looked up at her in shock when the butler announced her presence. Elizabeth attempted to smooth her skirts. Her cheeks were twin flames of red from the cold and her hair blowsy from running through the frozen fields.
“Mama, Papa has sent me to bring you home. There is urgent news we have learned.”
She bit her tongue for she did not wish for the Bingleys to know her sister had eloped with Lieutenant Wickham. There would be no saving her family reputation if that gossip was spread throughout Hertfordshire.
Mrs. Bennet did not wish to leave, but Elizabeth would not sit and pretend all was well. “We truly must go home Mama,” she said and pulled both Kitty and Mary to their feet.
Mr. Darcy had a seat in the far corner of the parlor and watched Elizabeth’s dramatic efforts to remove her family from Netherfield. He became quite concerned. He had never known her to behave erratically. When she had first come in, he had admired the wildness of her appearance but now he had begun to worry.
The Bennets had gone before he might learn more and so he called for the butler to have his horse brought round.