Chapter 4 #2
It was also noted, to general surprise, that he alone of the Netherfield party attended services each Sunday without fail.
“So regular with his attendance!” the rector’s wife exclaimed.
“My husband claims he never once consults his watch during the services, even when it did go a bit long the other week.” Mrs Philips, who sat two pews behind, declared she had seen him join in every hymn with a pleasant singing voice.
Even Mary Bennet, who had the advantage of being able to see into the Netherfield pew, reported that he brought a prayer book of his own and turned the pages with the confidence of long habit.
Elizabeth found these accounts unexpectedly pleasing—more consistent with the man she had met in conversation than with the haughty figure she had judged at the assembly.
A gentleman proud in bearing yet steadfast in duty was, she thought, a contradiction worth understanding.
Although she could not explain why he interested her so much, she was determined to see what she could discover about him.
More than a month after the Netherfield party had taken up residence, the Bennet family, assembled at breakfast one morning, was surprised by the arrival of a letter from Netherfield for Jane.
“It is from Miss Bingley,” Jane said after taking a moment to look at it.
My dear friend,
If you are not so compassionate as to dine to-day with Louisa and me, we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives; for a whole day’s tête-à-tête between two women can never end without a quarrel.
Come as soon as you can on the receipt of this.
My brother and the gentlemen are to dine with the officers.
Yours ever, Caroline Bingley.
When Mrs Bennet lamented that the gentlemen would be absent from Netherfield, thereby depriving Jane of an opportunity to encounter Mr Bingley, she soon contrived a remedy. The sky was already heavy with clouds, a circumstance which appeared only to strengthen her resolution.
A ride on horseback, she declared, would do Jane good—and if the threatened rain should fall, it would be most convenient for her eldest to remain the night at Netherfield.
Elizabeth could not help smiling at her mother’s satisfaction in the contrivance, for the scheme was so very transparent that even Jane looked half-ashamed to submit to it.
It came as no surprise to Elizabeth when the promised rain began to fall within half an hour of Jane’s departure, nor was she astonished when Jane did not return home that evening.
Mrs Bennet’s satisfaction was so evident that Elizabeth could scarcely resent her success; the plan had worked precisely as intended.
The next morning brought fresh intelligence.
A letter arrived at Longbourn just as the family sat down to breakfast, interrupting the meal for the second day in succession.
It was addressed to Elizabeth in Jane’s hand and explained that she had been caught in the rain and had taken a cold.
Mr Jones, the apothecary, had been called.
Jane had not expressly asked Elizabeth to come, but the gentle appeal lay clearly between the lines.
“I intend to go to Netherfield to see how Jane does,” Elizabeth announced after reading the note aloud to the family.
“Whatever for?” cried Mrs Bennet. “Jane will be quite well soon, and since she will be there for several more days, she will have every opportunity to spend time with Mr Bingley.”
Elizabeth struggled to maintain her composure. “Mr Bingley can hardly see her if she is confined to her bed.”
“But she will be forced to remain there,” Mrs Bennet insisted, quite pleased with her own reasoning. “It is the very thing I hoped for! A few days’ confinement and she will be as good as engaged.”
“Still, I mean to go,” Elizabeth replied, her tone firmer now. “I shall not be easy until I see her myself.”
Mr Bennet looked up from his paper with a faint smile. “Would you like the carriage, Lizzy?”
“No, thank you,” she said. “The day is clear and bright enough, and I will ride Oberon. It is too muddy for walking after yesterday’s rain, and my poor gelding has been too long idle.”
“As you wish,” he said, returning to his reading.
Mrs Bennet gave an indignant huff but said no more. Elizabeth knew she was displeased—not so much by her decision as by the fear that her interference might thwart her schemes.
Arriving at Netherfield more than an hour later, Elizabeth was shown into the dining room, where the household had just sat down to breakfast. The warmth of the fire was most welcome after her brisk ride, yet she scarcely had time to enjoy it before all eyes turned towards her.
It was immediately clear that Miss Bingley was not pleased by her arrival—her surprise stiffened into an expression that could scarcely be called a smile, a mere tightening of the lips offered in place of civility.
Elizabeth might have laughed at the pretence, had not both Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy risen at once to greet her, which caused even that pretence of civility to be dropped.
Nearly as soon as he stood, Mr Bingley exclaimed, “Miss Elizabeth! What a pleasure—pray, come in. Have you come to check on Miss Bennet’s health?”
“I have,” Elizabeth replied before greeting the rest of those gathered. “I wished to see for myself how she was this morning and to see if there was anything I might do for her.”
Miss Bingley’s voice followed at once, smooth with civility yet edged with something far less kind.
“I am astonished that you should venture out on horseback this morning, Miss Eliza. The roads must be dreadful after all that rain. But then,” she added with a slight, elegant shrug, “I suppose the Bennets are quite accustomed to riding about in such conditions.”
Elizabeth very nearly laughed; the barb was so transparent it scarcely merited the effort of defence. Instead, she inclined her head politely to the temporary mistress of the house.
“Would someone be so kind as to take me to Jane?” she asked, choosing civility over the satisfaction of a retort.
“Of course,” Mr Bingley said, turning to speak to the housekeeper, who had remained after announcing Elizabeth to the room.
With a nod of acknowledgement and a few words of thanks, Elizabeth followed Mrs Nicholls into the hall.
“How is Jane?” she asked as soon as they were alone and unable to be overheard.
“Miss Bennet was very chilled when she arrived yesterday and has since taken a rather violent cold,” Mrs Nicholls said, speaking with the easy familiarity of one long accustomed to her listener.
“I have kept a maid with her at all times, but I have been obliged to exercise a little ingenuity in seeing it done.”
Elizabeth thanked her and inquired further after Jane’s comfort, relieved at least to learn that she had not been left unattended.
“Miss Bingley was exceedingly distressed by Miss Bennet’s illness—less, I suspect, on her account than because it obliged her to extend her hospitality overnight. She will be even less pleased now that you have arrived to care for Miss Bennet.”
That nearly caused Elizabeth to chuckle, but the housekeeper continued.
“The house is, after all, only leased, and I ought not to speak so freely, but she has made little effort to disguise her dissatisfaction with both the situation of the house and the society it affords—nor her opinion of your family in particular.”
Mrs Nicholls glanced about the corridor and, after ensuring no one was near, lowered her voice further.
“She has also been heard to remark that Mr Darcy pays you far too much attention for her comfort and that she finds it exceedingly provoking. Her manner towards him shifts between marked coolness and excessive civility, and she is plainly discomposed that he appears indifferent to her. I cannot say what may have passed between them, and I know I ought to hold my tongue, but seeing that it is you…”
Elizabeth laid her hand upon the housekeeper’s arm with quiet familiarity, pausing her speech. “Tell me, is she treating the staff ill?”
“Not precisely,” Mrs Nicholls replied after a moment, clearly choosing her words with care.
“Though more than one item has been broken in moments of displeasure. Nothing of consequence, you understand, but quite enough to make the maids uneasy when she is crossed. She can be sharp when the mood takes her, and she does not trouble herself to learn the names of the lower servants. Both she and her sister are exacting, yet they expect everything to proceed without the smallest inconvenience to themselves. Thus, we have little cause for complaint—at least none that might be spoken aloud.”
Elizabeth smiled knowingly. “In other words, you endure them with the same patience you afford every guest who thinks a little too well of themselves. Are you keeping a record of what she has broken and sending it to the solicitor in charge of leasing the estate?”
Mrs Nicholls’s eyes twinkled. “Precisely, Miss Lizzy. It is not the first time we have entertained fine company who believed the servants both deaf and blind, and I doubt it will be the last. I shall be very glad when Lord Granfield returns and takes up residence here more permanently.”
“As shall I,” Elizabeth said, just as they reached Jane’s chamber.