Chapter 8
T he following morning, Jane’s fever had still not broken. Elizabeth sent a note to her mother to request her presence at Netherfield to see Jane, though whether her true motive was to get give Jane the care of her mother, or to force her mother to witness the consequences of her scheming was unknown to even Elizabeth herself.
Thus summoned, Mrs. Bennet descended upon the grand estate like a hurricane, her bonnet slightly askew from the brisk carriage ride and her expression painted with dramatic concern. Mary, Kitty, and Lydia flocked into the house behind her and dutifully followed their mother up the stairs.
“Oh, my poor, dear Jane!” Mrs. Bennet cried at the sight of her daughter. She rushed to her bedside. “Oh, look at you, pale as a ghost! I knew the rain would do you harm, but of course, you insisted on going, didn’t you?”
Elizabeth suppressed the urge to remind her mother whose idea it had been for Jane to ride on horseback in the rain. Instead, she stepped forward. “Mama, please keep your voice down. Jane is resting.”
Mrs. Bennet ignored her, fussing over Jane with exaggerated gestures. “My poor girl. To think of you here, all alone, without your family! But what wonderful care you must be receiving at Netherfield. Such kind and generous hosts!”
Elizabeth sighed softly. “Jane has been well attended to, Mama. Mr. Jones saw her yesterday and advised that she remain here until she is stronger.”
Mrs. Bennet’s face immediately brightened. “Oh, yes, of course. She must stay! It would be unthinkable to move her now. How fortunate we are to have such generous hosts as the Bingleys. They must be utterly devoted to ensuring Jane’s comfort.”
Elizabeth’s stomach tightened as Mrs. Bennet’s voice grew louder, clearly meant to be overheard by anyone passing in the hall. “Mama, I think we should leave Jane to rest.”
After no small amount of urging, Mrs. Bennet eventually left Jane’s room and made her way back down the stairs. To Elizabeth’s horror, however, instead of going out to the carriage, Mrs. Bennet asked a footman to direct her to Mr. Bingley.
Mrs. Bennet ushered her four daughters into the drawing room and Elizabeth groaned internally. Mr. Bingley was seated near the fireplace, conversing politely with Caroline and Louisa. His good-natured expression shifted slightly when Mrs. Bennet entered the room, her presence filling it immediately with bustling energy.
“Ah, Mr. Bingley!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, her voice bright with forced cheerfulness. “How kind it is of you to host my dear Jane during her illness. I must say, it gives me such comfort to know she is under such excellent care.”
Mr. Bingley, ever the gentleman, rose to greet her. “It is no trouble at all, Mrs. Bennet. Miss Bennet is a delightful guest, and we are happy to provide whatever she needs to recover fully.”
Mrs. Bennet’s face lit with satisfaction, and she clasped her hands together as if his words were the highest compliment. “Well, of course, Jane is the sweetest, most obliging creature one could ever meet! Everyone who knows her agrees. And so beautiful, too! Why, I often say that there is no one in all of Hertfordshire who can match her grace and loveliness.”
Caroline Bingley, seated primly on a settee, exchanged a significant glance with her sister. Mr. Bingley smiled faintly as Mrs. Bennet continued her effusive praise and answered amicably. “Miss Bennet is certainly a very fine lady.”
Lydia and Kitty, tired of their mother’s monologue, began to fidget. Lydia, always the boldest, stepped forward. “Mr. Bingley, please tell me you will keep your promise to host a ball here at Netherfield. It would be such fun, don’t you think?”
“Yes, a ball!” Kitty chimed in, her eyes bright. “The ballroom must be wonderful. Have you danced here yet, Mr. Bingley?”
Mr. Bingley laughed, though he looked a bit caught off guard. “I have not had the pleasure yet. I confess, I have been rather preoccupied since arriving. However, a gentleman always keeps his word, and as soon as your sister has recovered, I shall allow you to name the day of the ball.”
Mrs. Bennet clasped her hands to her bosom, her expression eager. “Oh, what a splendid idea! A ball would be delightful—just the thing to raise everyone’s spirits.”
Mr. Bingley, now thoroughly flustered, opened his mouth to respond, but Caroline interjected smoothly, her tone icy. “A ball is quite an undertaking, Mrs. Bennet. And with Miss Bennet’s health still uncertain, perhaps such plans would be premature.”
Mrs. Bennet waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, nonsense, Miss Bingley. Jane will recover quickly, I am sure of it. A young lady in love always does, does she not?”
Elizabeth, who had just entered the room to observe the unfolding scene, felt her cheeks burn. She met Bingley’s embarrassed gaze from across the room and offered him a small, apologetic smile.
Mary, sensing the visit would last for some time, found a chair by the window, sighed and opened her book, muttering something about the frivolity of balls. Her voice was lost amid Lydia’s continued pleas and Kitty’s giggles, already imagining themselves at the center of the festivities.
As Mrs. Bennet carried on, oblivious to the tension she was creating, Elizabeth sank into a chair near the back of the room, wishing, not for the first time, that her family’s exuberance could be tempered. Still, she couldn’t help but admire Bingley’s patience as he navigated the chaos with surprising grace, what with Mrs. Bennet taking every opportunity to further extol Jane’s virtues and beauty.
After a tea and half an hour of exclamations and giggles, Mrs. Bennet gathered her daughters to leave. The drawing room seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. Elizabeth was only grateful that Miss Darcy and her brother were not present to witness the spectacle.
Elizabeth pressed her fingers to her temple, silently vowing to herself to speak with Jane about their mother’s conduct once her sister was well enough to laugh about it. She could only hope that her mother’s enthusiasm hadn’t entirely worn out the Bingleys’ goodwill.
∞∞∞
The day passed much as it had before, only Georgiana spent a fair amount of time sitting with Jane and Elizabeth. Caroline and Mrs. Hurst visited for a bit as well, causing no small amount of consternation for Elizabeth. Fortunately, they soon became weary of the sickroom and left to discover other sources of entertainment.
As Jane slept, Elizabeth and Georgiana remained by the bedside, falling into silence without the monologues of Caroline and Mrs. Hurst vying for dominance. The two remaining ladies were quiet for a few moments, with Georgiana’s hands folded neatly in her lap.
Elizabeth watched her for a moment, taking in the younger woman’s quiet demeanor.
“You must find this all terribly dull,” Elizabeth said, breaking the silence.
Georgiana looked up, startled by the address. “Oh, no,” she said quickly, her cheeks coloring. “I only wish to be of help.”
Elizabeth smiled warmly. “You are helping, Miss Darcy. Your presence is most welcome. But surely there are more pleasant ways for you to spend your day?”
Georgiana hesitated, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I do not mind,” she said. “Your sister seems… very kind. I imagine she would do the same for me.”
Elizabeth’s heart softened at the quiet sincerity in Georgiana’s voice. “She would,” Elizabeth agreed. “Jane is the kindest soul I know. But I suspect you are much the same.”
Georgiana’s blush deepened. “I—I am not so certain of that.”
“Then I shall be certain for you,” Elizabeth said, her tone teasing but kind. She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice as though sharing a great secret. “You are quite unlike your brother, you know.”
Georgiana’s eyes widened in alarm. “Do you not like him?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Elizabeth laughed softly, waving a hand to dismiss the worry. “Oh, I like him well enough—though I confess, I did not at first. But he is… formidable, isn’t he? You, on the other hand, are much more approachable.”
Georgiana’s lips curved into a tentative smile. “He is very protective,” she said quietly. “Of me, and of Andrew.”
“I can see that,” Elizabeth replied. “And I imagine it must be a comfort to you, having someone so steadfast.”
Georgiana nodded slowly. “It is, Miss Elizabeth,” she admitted.
Elizabeth tilted her head, her smile widening. “You must call me Elizabeth. After all, we are practically comrades now, having survived a visit from the Bingley sisters.”
A faint laugh escaped Georgiana, though she quickly pressed her lips together, as if afraid she had overstepped.
“Ah, there it is,” Elizabeth teased gently. “A smile suits you far better than that serious expression you’ve been wearing all day.”
Georgiana looked down at her hands, her blush deepening. “I suppose I am not used to… to conversing so freely.”
Elizabeth leaned back slightly, her tone encouraging. “And why is that, I wonder? Surely you have many acquaintances in London who are eager to engage you in conversation.”
Georgiana hesitated, her fingers fidgeting. “I—I am not very good with strangers,” she confessed. “I often find it difficult to know what to say.”
Elizabeth’s heart softened at the girl’s vulnerability. “I understand,” she said. “But you need not worry about that with me. I promise I won’t bite.”
This earned another small laugh from Georgiana, and Elizabeth seized the opportunity to shift the conversation to more neutral ground.
“Tell me, what do you enjoy, Miss Darcy? Do you share your brother’s love of reading, perhaps?”
Georgiana nodded, her expression brightening slightly. “Oh, yes. I enjoy novels and poetry especially. And music—I adore playing my pianoforte.”
Elizabeth’s eyes lit up. “Music! That is something we share. Jane is the more accomplished singer, but I do enjoy playing.”
Georgiana’s gaze lifted slightly, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “Do you play often?”
“Not as often as I would like,” Elizabeth admitted. “Our piano is not the best, and it is difficult to find time with so many distractions at home. But I am certain you must play beautifully, with access to the finest instruments and teachers.”
Georgiana’s blush returned, but this time there was a spark of pride in her modest response. “I… I do enjoy it very much,” she said. “It helps me feel calm.”
Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. “It is a wonderful escape, isn’t it? Music has a way of expressing what words cannot.”
Georgiana’s smile was shy but genuine. “Yes, exactly.”
Encouraged, Elizabeth leaned forward slightly. “What about other pursuits? Do you ride or draw, perhaps?”
“I do ride,” Georgiana said, her voice gaining confidence. “Though I prefer quiet rides in the countryside. Large gatherings or hunts are not quite to my taste. Sometimes, I wish I could be… stronger on my own. Like you are.” Her face flushed a deep red at this admission, and she looked as if she had not quite meant to voice her thoughts aloud.
Elizabeth tilted her head, studying the girl with a mixture of affection and curiosity. “You think me strong?”
“Oh, yes,” Georgiana said earnestly. “To care for your sister as you do, and to speak so easily with everyone. My brother told me how popular you were the other night at a neighbor’s home. I could never…” She trailed off, her shyness reasserting itself.
Elizabeth reached out, resting a hand on Georgiana’s arm. “Strength comes in many forms, Miss Darcy,” she encouraged. “I suspect you have more of it than you realize. After all, it takes courage to sit here with a stranger, doesn’t it, even when the hostess has left?”
Georgiana looked thoughtful. “I suppose it does,” she said at last.
“Indeed, it does,” Elizabeth replied with a smile. “And the more you practice, the easier it becomes. Before you know it, you’ll be engaging in lively debates and charming everyone you meet.”
Georgiana laughed softly, the sound delicate but genuine. “I’m not sure I shall ever manage that,” she said, though there was a hint of hope in her voice.
“You will,” Elizabeth assured her. “And until then, you have a friend in me. That is, if you’ll allow it.”
Georgiana’s eyes met Elizabeth’s, her expression brightening. “I should like that very much,” she said softly.
As their conversation continued, Elizabeth found herself charmed by the girl’s quiet intelligence and gentle nature. She spoke sparingly, but when she did, her words were thoughtful and earnest. By the time the afternoon light began to wane, Georgiana had even asked Elizabeth a question or two, her curiosity slowly overtaking her shyness.
The dinner bell gonged, and Georgiana rose. “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” she said quietly as she opened the door to leave. “I… I have enjoyed speaking with you.”
Elizabeth smiled warmly. “As have I, Miss Darcy. You are always welcome to join me, whether Jane is awake or not.”
Georgiana’s lips curved in a small, genuine smile, and she dipped her head in farewell before slipping quietly from the room.
Elizabeth watched her go, her thoughts lingering on the girl’s shy but kindhearted demeanor. So much like Jane , she mused with a pang of fondness. She hoped Georgiana would continue to open up in the days to come, for there was clearly a bright and thoughtful mind behind her reserved exterior.
∞∞∞
The evening at Netherfield unfolded in its usual manner after dinner, the drawing room warm with the glow of the fire and the hum of conversation. Darcy sat at a writing desk, focused intently on a letter. Caroline, having heard that Darcy did not enjoy cards, had rebuffed her brother-in-law’s request to play whist or loo. Instead, she hovered nearby, her eyes fixed on Darcy with calculated intent.
“Another letter to dear Colonel Fitzwilliam?” Caroline asked in a cloying manner. “You write to him so often. What must you discuss so regularly, Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy glanced up briefly, his expression impassive. “Family matters, Miss Bingley. And current events.”
Caroline leaned forward slightly, her gaze intent. “How thrilling it must be to have a cousin serving in the army. Do you find his letters... enlightening?”
Across the room, Elizabeth, seated beside Jane, caught the exchange and couldn’t help but interject. “Colonel Fitzwilliam serves in the Peninsular Campaign, does he not, Mr. Darcy?” she asked, her voice carrying just enough curiosity to draw his attention. “I believe that is what your sister mentioned earlier today.”
Darcy looked up, his expression softening slightly as he turned to her. “Indeed, Miss Elizabeth. He is with Wellington’s forces.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “The progress in the campaign has been notable. I read recently of the successful siege of Ciudad Rodrigo and Wellington’s clever use of supply lines to outmaneuver the French. Your cousin must be quite proud to serve under such leadership.”
Darcy’s gaze shifted to Elizabeth, surprise flickering in his eyes. “You are well-versed in military matters, Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Only as much as one can be through letters and newspapers, Mr. Darcy. My father often shares accounts of the campaigns, and I find them fascinating. The intricacies of strategy and the courage of the soldiers are remarkable.”
Caroline’s laughter was sharp and forced. “How... unusual for a lady to take such interest in such matters. I confess, I prefer to leave war and politics to the gentlemen.”
Elizabeth turned to Caroline, her smile undimmed. “Perhaps, Miss Bingley. I confess it is unusual, but I also find it broadens the mind more than a fashion magazine would.”
Caroline’s face turned a brilliant shade of red that clashed with her hair. Darcy returned his attention to his letter, though Elizabeth noticed the faintest upward twitch of his lips.
In an effort to redirect the conversations, Mrs. Hurst asked, “Would anyone like music?”
Caroline’s expression brightened. “Oh, Georgiana, you must play. Mr. Darcy, you will not object to indulging your sister’s talent, I am sure.”
The young girl looked towards her brother shyly. Darcy nodded, his expression softening as Georgiana took her place at the piano. The first notes filled the room, her delicate fingers gliding over the keys to produce a lively reel that drew murmurs of approval from the room.
Darcy, seated not far from the piano, rose unexpectedly and approached Elizabeth, who had been quietly enjoying the music from her chair.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, his voice formal but warm. “Would you honor me with this dance?”
Elizabeth looked up, startled but amused. She tilted her head, studying him with a twinkle in her eye. “A reel, Mr. Darcy? Here in the drawing room?”
“Why not?” he replied, his voice tinged with humor.
Elizabeth laughed, shaking her head. “I see what you’re doing, Mr. Darcy. You believe another dance will serve as an apology for the last time. Truly, there is no need. I accepted your apology weeks ago; you need not feel obligated to make amends at every opportunity.”
Darcy’s eyes glinted. “And yet, I find myself eager to prove I can be tolerable company.”
Elizabeth smiled but rose from her seat, shaking her head again. “I fear, sir, that my energy is spent this evening. You shall have to remain content with your other successes, for now.”
Darcy inclined his head with a faint smile. “Then I must remain patient—until another time.”
As Elizabeth excused herself from the room to check on Jane, Darcy’s gaze lingered for a moment. The lively exchange left him with an unfamiliar sense of ease. He turned back toward Georgiana, whose music filled the room with soft, measured notes, his appreciation for her quiet bravery mingling with his thoughts of Elizabeth.
The evening had unfolded in ways he had not anticipated, and as he watched his sister’s fingers glide over the keys, Darcy allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction. For once, the company—and the unexpected conversations—had been more than tolerable; they had been quietly extraordinary.