The Very Best of Friends (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

Chapter 1 An Incident at Netherfield

CHAPTER ONE

AN INCIDENT AT NETHERFIELD

“Thank you ever so much for your help, Miss Elizabeth,” Mrs Nicholls, the Netherfield housekeeper, said.

Elizabeth had known Mrs Nicholls since she was a child; she and Jane had often accompanied their grandmother when she visited the estate’s previous owners.

At that time, Mrs Nicholls had been one of the maids, but her sister had a similar position at Longbourn where the Bennets lived.

“You are welcome, Mrs Nicholls. I still think she needs to be seen by the apothecary, but I have tended to the injury as best I can,” Elizabeth replied.

She had encountered the injured maid as she descended the back staircase a short time ago.

Since no one had responded to her call for more cold water for her sister Jane, she had gone to fetch it herself.

If not for her sister’s illness, Elizabeth would not have been at Netherfield as she had no affinity for most of Netherfield’s residents.

In the last month, she had encountered the Netherfield party more than a dozen times.

Each occasion only confirmed her first impression of the party.

Mr Bingley, the present master, was amiable and open; Miss Bingley and her sister, Mrs Hurst, felt themselves above their company; Mr Hurst, the husband of the elder sister, was concerned only with food and drink.

Mr Darcy proved the most enigmatic of the party.

From the first, Elizabeth had thought him haughty and cold—an impression fixed when he dismissed her as tolerable at the Meryton assembly.

Since then, little in his behaviour had served to alter that opinion.

At gatherings, he was seen most often on the fringes, moving with aloof reserve, rarely condescending to speak with anyone outside his own party.

However, Elizabeth had noticed his tendency to appear to be listening to her conversations of late.

She could not understand why, particularly since he found her not handsome enough to tempt him, a stinging description she had been unable to forget.

Granted, he had asked her to dance at Lucas Lodge a se’nnight before, but that was only because Sir William Lucas had urged him to do so.

Still, his manner had confused her since she was unable to identify his purpose for always listening to her instead of participating in conversations.

“Miss Bingley refused to allow me to call for Mr Jones,” Mrs Nicholls said, returning Elizabeth to the present.

Elizabeth pursed her lips. “No doubt she wished to keep others from knowing she caused such an injury to a maid. The girl will need the evening off, likely the morning as well, and she must be careful with that hand for some time. If she develops a fever or red streaks appear around the wound, it will indicate an infection, and Mr Jones will certainly need to see her then. I know the cook has a good poultice that will help, but still…”

“I will do what I can. Perhaps if I approach the master instead…” Mrs Nicholls trailed off as she heard the floor creak outside the library where they were treating the maid.

The library was little used by the current occupants of the house since Mr Bingley was not a reader and Mr Darcy had found the selection lacking, preferring to read the books he had brought instead.

“Pardon me,” came the deep, solemn voice of Mr Darcy.

He looked between the three women and noted the bandages around the maid’s wrist and the evidence that Elizabeth had been helping to care for her.

“Is the apothecary needed? I can send a footman to town if necessary. One of my servants would not mind going if Netherfield cannot spare one.”

“Miss Bingley refused to send for one,” Elizabeth said tartly, her anger evident in her tone at the girl’s treatment..

Darcy frowned upon hearing that. “What happened?” he asked, his brow furrowed in concern as he looked between the three.

“Apparently….” The startled glances from the maid and Mrs Nicholls caused Elizabeth to stop and leave out what they obviously did not wish to be heard.

She frowned, recalling how difficult it had been to get the whole story from the maid in the first place, but chose to abide by their obvious wishes.

“Never mind that,” she continued, waving away what she would have said as if it were an idle thought.

“She had shards of porcelain embedded in her wrist. I helped Mrs Nicholls remove the pieces, then cleaned and bandaged her arm. I believe she may need a stitch or two, but I am not equipped to do that, and Miss Bingley refused the request to have the apothecary called. I did what I could, but I worry it will not be enough.”

His frown deepened. “Did the shards come from some objet d’art thrown by Miss Bingley in a fit of temper? Honestly, that woman…,” he trailed off as his cheeks reddened, and Elizabeth wondered if he had recognised the rashness of his words.

“Forgive me. I should not criticise my hostess. Please send for the apothecary, and I will pay for the girl’s care. I will also cover her wages if Miss Bingley objects; she will likely need several days to recover from her injury, and someone will need to be certain she does not take a fever.”

Elizabeth looked at him, her mouth agape for a moment.

He quirked a brow at her, which helped her recover her wits.

“I was only saying that Mr Jones should be called. We used alcohol to clean the injury, but Mr Jones may wish to do so again if he determines that stitches are necessary. At least one cut was rather deep, and I am not certain we did enough. If she develops a fever or the wound becomes infected, she will need to be seen again.”

“Mrs Nicholls, please inform me if the apothecary needs to visit again or if Miss Bingley gives you any trouble over the matter,” Darcy stated firmly.

“Of course, sir,” Mrs Nicholls said, her eyes warm with gratitude as she dipped into a slight curtsy.

“And—Mr Smith asked me to thank you for the assistance you arranged for him and his wife. They are growing older, and with no master truly invested in the manor for some time…” She faltered, her words drying on her tongue when Mr Darcy’s jaw tightened and a shadow crossed his features.

To Elizabeth, it looked very like displeasure, and she wondered at its cause.

“It was nothing,” Darcy replied, waving off her praise.

“Bingley is the master here although he knows little about how to care for the tenants yet.

I merely stepped in to assist when I was made aware of the problem.

On the whole, the tenants here appear to have been cared for well; do you typically oversee such matters? "

“No, sir; it is mostly Miss Elizabeth,” Mrs Nicholls replied. “I think Miss Jane and Miss Mary help as well, but ever since the Pattinsons closed the house five years ago, Miss Elizabeth has tended to the tenants as she does at Longbourn.”

This time, it was Elizabeth’s cheeks that flamed. “Mrs Nicholls, you know I do very little. It is simple to do the same for Netherfield’s tenants as my family does for ours at Longbourn.”

Darcy gave her a searching look at that comment but did not say anything. Mrs Nicholls finished gathering the supplies, and she and the maid both curtsied at the pair as they left the library, leaving the door slightly open behind them.

“Why am I not surprised to learn that you visit not only your own tenants but those on the neighbouring estate as well?” Darcy asked after a moment.

Elizabeth tilted her head, her eyes fixed on him.

She let the silence stretch, measuring the man before her.

The weight of her regard seemed to press upon him; his shoulders drew straighter, his jaw tightened, and he stood unnaturally still as though determined not to shift beneath her scrutiny.

She wondered fleetingly what thoughts stirred behind that proud countenance, but his face revealed nothing more than restrained composure.

At last, she broke the silence. “You are an enigma, sir.”

Her tone was thoughtful rather than teasing.

When he inclined his head towards the chairs in silent invitation, she chose the one nearest the fire.

She did not look away, studying him as one might study a puzzle whose pieces did not quite fit.

When he finally took the seat opposite, she continued to watch him, weighing the difference between what she thought she knew about him and what she had begun to suspect.

Only once he was settled did she lift her eyes to his in a slow, deliberate movement. When he arched his brow at her, Elizabeth allowed her lips to tilt up into a slow grin.

“And what, pray, does that mean?” he asked.

“Since arriving here at Netherfield, Mrs Nicholls has spoken to me several times,” Elizabeth said, her voice steady though she cleared her throat with a small, deliberate pause, “of how you have assisted Mr Bingley as he learns to manage the estate.” She lifted her chin slightly, studying the gentleman.

“It seems you are both helpful and attentive to the estate’s needs even though it is not your own.

From what I have gathered, ensuring Molly receives proper care is entirely consistent with your character. ”

Darcy’s mouth lifted up at one corner, a hint of curiosity lighting his eyes. “Why do I hear a ‘but’ in there, Miss Elizabeth?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line before she spoke, the faintest scowl tugging at her brow.

“You show great care for the tenants and servants of an estate your friend has merely leased, yet you withhold that same regard from the gentry who live here. You are at ease with those who serve, but nearly every family in the neighbourhood has felt the sharpness of your disdain.”

He stiffened, a flicker of shock crossing his face. “Disdain? In what way have I shown such behaviour?”