Chapter Eight
The invitation from Netherfield arrived three mornings after the assembly, addressed to Jane in an elegant hand. By then, Mrs Bennet had already begun discussing the wedding breakfast, though Mr Bingley had done nothing more decisive than dance with Jane twice.
Jane read the note with a growing smile before passing it to Elizabeth, while Mrs Bennet clucked impatiently and demanded to see it for herself.
Miss Bingley had invited them both to dine, explaining that the gentlemen were to eat with the officers in Meryton and that she and Mrs Hurst would be glad of their company.
The invitation was perfectly civil and rather warmer than Elizabeth might have expected after their first meeting.
Her own name appeared twice, once underlined in a firm hand, which seemed to rule out the possibility that she had been included through politeness or error.
"She particularly wishes you to come," Jane said, leaning closer as Elizabeth read the final lines again.
"So it would appear." Elizabeth could not quite hide her surprise.
Miss Bingley had shown little desire to improve their acquaintance at the assembly.
Truth be told, Elizabeth had suspected that she paraded her before Mr Darcy only so that he might observe for himself how unsuitable the society of Meryton truly was.
Jane smiled. "I thought she liked you."
Elizabeth looked up from the note. "She called me Miss Eliza in the most condescending tone I have heard and inspected my gown like I was dressed in rags. If that proves a desire to deepen our acquaintance, I should be reluctant to discover how she treats someone she dislikes."
Her mother had run out of patience, and bustled around the table snatching the note out of Jane’s hand. Mrs Bennet read it with visible pleasure, although a squeal of displeasure escaped her when she reached the section about the gentlemen.
"What a foolish arrangement. Why should Mr Bingley dine with the officers when he has ladies coming to his house?"
"He may not know that we are coming," Jane said.
"Then his sister must tell him," Mrs Bennet replied at once. "Really, what is the use of having a sister if she cannot manage a simple thing like that? I am sure Mr Bingley would alter his plans the moment he heard."
Elizabeth lifted her cup before her smile became too obvious. Her mother had spoken of little but Netherfield since the assembly and plainly regarded two dances as a formality only slightly less binding than an engagement.
"You must go, Jane," Mrs Bennet continued. "It is exactly what I hoped would happen. Miss Bingley is a very fashionable young woman and her friendship may be of great use to you."
"Elizabeth has been invited as well," Jane reminded her.
Mrs Bennet glanced across the table at Elizabeth. "There is no need for Lizzy to go. You will manage perfectly well without her."
Elizabeth was torn between relief and concern.
She had little desire to spend any more time beneath Miss Bingley’s critical eye, but she liked even less the thought of Jane going alone.
Miss Bingley did not strike her as a woman who did anything without a purpose, and Elizabeth still had no notion what that purpose might be.
Before she could protest, however, her mother had already begun telling Jane which gown she ought to wear and insisting that she must ride to Netherfield rather than take the carriage.
This she could not let pass without an argument.
"She cannot ride in this weather, Mama." Elizabeth glanced towards the windows, where dark clouds lay like a bruise across the horizon and the wind was beginning to shake the last leaves from the trees.
"It is sure to rain, and Jane has always been susceptible to the cold. "
Mrs Bennet waved away the concern with her elaborate lace handkerchief. "A little rain will do her no harm, and Netherfield is scarcely three miles away. She will be there before the worst of it begins."
"Papa," Elizabeth said with growing exasperation.
Her father had been present for the entire conversation, though he remained firmly ensconced behind his newspaper and had so far offered no sign that any of it concerned him. At Elizabeth’s appeal, he lowered the paper just far enough to look across the table.
"I believe your mother has already settled the matter."
"She has settled that Jane should be soaked through in the hope that Mr Bingley will be obliged to keep her overnight. Please let her go in the carriage."
Mrs Bennet gave a cry of outrage. "Elizabeth Rose Bennet! What a thing to say! I cannot command the weather."
"No," Mr Bennet said mildly, "though I believe your mother has already decided that it will serve her purposes. Do not fuss, child. It is unlikely to be more than a drizzle, if it arrives at all."
Mrs Bennet began protesting that nobody in the room understood her, while Elizabeth looked towards Jane in alarm, hoping she might at least object on her own behalf. Jane only smiled, a little embarrassed by the commotion she had caused, and said that she did not mind riding if the rain held off.
Jane glanced towards the windows. "It is not raining at present, Lizzy," she said in the soothing tone she used when she was trying to placate the frayed nerves and bickering that often filled the Bennet household.
"It will be before you reach Netherfield," Elizabeth snapped.
Mrs Bennet gave an impatient sigh. "Netherfield is scarcely three miles away, and Jane is not made of sugar.
Should the weather turn, Miss Bingley will insist that she stay the night which would be no bad thing.
All will be well." There was such satisfaction in her voice that the purpose of the horse became plain.
Jane coloured and looked down at her plate, while Kitty and Lydia began to laugh.
???
Later that afternoon, Elizabeth followed Jane into the hall and helped settle the collar of her riding habit, smoothing it firmly into place as if, by gathering it around her sister tightly enough, she could protect her from any meteorological event.
Beyond the open door, the air was cool and damp, though it had not yet developed into rain.
A fine mist hung over the drive and darkened the gravel, while the heavier clouds still appeared some distance away.
"You need not go," Elizabeth said quietly.
Jane smiled and pressed her hand. "Netherfield is not far, Lizzy. I shall be there long before the weather turns. Please don’t worry yourself."
The groom helped Jane mount, and Elizabeth remained beneath the portico as her sister crossed the drive and disappeared between the trees. Mrs Bennet watched her go with bright, eager attention, one hand pressed to her chest as though Jane were setting out upon some grand romantic adventure.
"She looked very pretty," she said, more to herself than Elizabeth. "And if the rain does begin, they will be obliged to keep her. Mr Bingley cannot fail to be struck by her. Nothing could be more fortunate."
For the next half-hour, the weather did little more than threaten.
Then the sky darkened to an angry purple and the rain began in earnest, beating against the windows and sweeping across the fields in dark sheets.
Mr Bennet came out of his study and peered out of the parlour window, concern beginning to darken his features.
Mrs Bennet remained in her chair beside the fire, humming softly as she bent over her embroidery, apparently quite content with the turn the weather had taken.
Elizabeth stood abruptly. Fear for Jane had been tightening in her chest since the first heavy drops struck the glass, and her mother’s cheerful unconcern was suddenly more than she could bear.
"I hope that when Jane dies of a fever, you will both be entirely satisfied with this nonsense.
" Her voice broke on the final word. Before either of them could answer, she rushed from the room.
???
The next morning found Elizabeth marching to Netherfield.
Her anger and urge to get to Jane had propelled her through the first mile.
But by the time Elizabeth reached the boundary of Longbourn, mud clung heavily to her boots and pulled at the hem of her gown.
Her feet were soaked and each step along the muddy path was frustrating and laborious.
A note had been delivered to Longbourn as the family sat at breakfast to say that Jane was unwell and suffering from a fever.
Mrs Bennet had started crying noisily, Mr Bennet had looked perturbed and said nothing, while Elizabeth simply stood up, collected her walking things and left the house without another word.
The message had been written by Miss Bingley rather than Jane herself.
That troubled Elizabeth more than she cared to admit.
Miss Bingley had explained that Jane was too weak and unwell to write comfortably, that everything possible was being done for her and that Elizabeth would be welcome at Netherfield whenever she chose to come.
The final line had been pressed hard enough into the paper to leave its shape upon the other side.
Please come. I believe she wants you.
As the house came into view beyond the wet fields, Elizabeth slowed.
Netherfield rose pale against the dark sky, its windows catching what little light had broken through the clouds.
The quickest path crossed one final meadow before meeting the drive, but the rain had left a broad stretch of standing water between her and the stile.
She gathered her skirts higher and was considering the least disastrous route through it when the sound of a horse approaching made her turn.
Mr Darcy rode towards her along the edge of the field. He appeared not to recognise her at first beneath her damp bonnet, but then his posture altered sharply and he brought the horse to a halt several yards away. "Miss Elizabeth?"
There was so much surprise in his voice that Elizabeth looked down at herself.
Mud covered her boots and reached almost to her knees, while the wind had pulled several curls free and blown them across her face.
She pushed them back with one gloved hand and attempted an air of cool civility. "Good morning, Mr Darcy."
He dismounted at once. "Has something happened? Are you injured or unwell? Pray, are you unattended?" He looked around as if expecting to find a liveried footman trudging after her.
Elizabeth ignored his questions. "My sister is unwell. Miss Bingley sent word this morning that she had passed a difficult night. I am here to see her."
Concern replaced his surprise. "I knew Miss Bennet had taken cold, but I had not understood that she was so ill." His gaze travelled over Elizabeth's mud-spattered gown. "You have walked from Longbourn?"
"Mr Darcy, I would walk through fire or flood for my sister. A little mud will not deter me. Now, if you will excuse me, I must get to her."
She moved to pass him, but a shiver ran through her. As she stood still, the cold seemed to seep into her bones. Mr Darcy's hand closed lightly around her upper arm before she had taken more than a step. "You are cold."
The touch lasted only a moment, but the warmth of his palm seemed to pass through the wet fabric of her sleeve. Elizabeth looked down at his hand in surprise, and he released her at once, his expression tightening as though the contact had startled him as much as it had her.
"I am perfectly capable of reaching the house," she said, though her voice had lost some of its force.
His eyes moved once more over her dishevelled clothes and hair, but there was none of the disdain she had expected. If anything, he looked unsettled by the sight of her. "The ground is badly flooded near the stile," he said. "There is a firmer path along the hedge."
Elizabeth looked in the direction he indicated. It was not much of a path, but it appeared less likely to swallow her boots entirely. She made some effort to soften her tone. "Then I am fortunate you happened upon me before I attempted the direct route."
The faintest colour rose into his face. "Allow me."
He took hold of his horse's reins and led the animal along the hedge, keeping his pace slow enough for Elizabeth to follow. For several moments neither spoke. Their last conversation had ended with Elizabeth rebuking him before half the assembly, and the memory of it seemed to hang between them.
When they reached the stile, Mr Darcy opened the narrow field gate beside it and led his horse through. The ground beneath the gate had been churned into a deep mire, but a strip of firmer earth remained beside the stile. He closed the gate, secured the latch and crossed back towards her.
He climbed over first and turned to offer his hand. Elizabeth hesitated only briefly before placing hers in it. His grip was warm and steady as he helped her across, though he released her almost the moment both her feet touched the ground.
"Thank you, sir," she said quietly, smoothing her hands over her skirts and only succeeding in moving some mud around.
He inclined his head, his manner becoming formal again.
"Miss Bingley was concerned about your sister yesterday and remained with her for much of the evening, I understand.
When I left the house this morning, I believed Miss Bennet had passed a tolerable night.
I had not heard that she had worsened or that a message had been sent to Longbourn. "
Elizabeth looked towards the house, trying to reconcile this account with the woman she had met at the assembly. "Miss Bingley is something of a contradiction. She appears determined to make herself thoroughly disagreeable, and then behaves with more kindness than one would expect from her."
Mr Darcy looked towards the house. "It became apparent to me very recently that Miss Bingley is not always quite what she appears."
Elizabeth glanced at him. The remark was puzzling indeed, but she did not have time to wonder over Miss Bingley’s idiosyncrasies at present.
Darcy took up his horse’s reins and began walking beside her towards the drive, bowing as they reached the steps to the main door and disappearing towards the stables while shouting for a groom to attend him.