12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
November 12, 1811 Longbourn, Hertfordshire Elizabeth
E lizabeth returned to Longbourn after her morning walk to an empty breakfast parlor. Papa would be in his study, but the rest of the household usually came down by that time of the morning. Shrugging, she selected food from the sideboard and seated herself in her usual spot.
Mary joined her soon thereafter, and they ate in companionable silence. Their solitude ended when Kitty and Lydia descended, followed closely by Jane and Mrs. Bennet.
Within moments of sitting down, Hill came in. “A note for you, Miss Younge.”
Jane frowned but took the missive with no complaint. The faithful housekeeper had never called anyone but Elizabeth “Miss Bennet.” Mary wondered once if Hill did it purposely to infuriate Mrs. Bennet. If she did, her ploys worked every time.
“For the last time, Hill, it is Miss Bennet, ” the lady hissed. “Get it right.”
Hill did not reply. She simply turned and left the room.
Elizabeth and Mary exchanged glances but said nothing.
“It is from Miss Bingley,” Jane said, scanning the note. “She has invited me to dine with her and Louisa this afternoon.”
“And you will see Mr. Bingley, of course!” Mrs. Bennet clapped her hands gleefully.
“The gentlemen are to dine with the officers,” Jane said, her smile dimming.
“Well, that is unfortunate.”
Mr. Bennet shuffled in and took his seat. He opened his newspaper and began to read, casting Elizabeth a knowing glance over the top of the London Times. She smiled gratefully, pleased to see that his resolve to be more in company remained strong.
“May I take the carriage, Father?” Jane asked.
“No, no, not the carriage!” Mrs. Bennet cried. “No, you must go on horseback.”
“It looks like rain, Mrs. Bennet,” Papa said without moving his paper. “The horses can be spared for an hour or two.”
“I insist that they cannot. Jane, you will ride Nellie. The weather will keep you at Netherfield overnight. Then you will see Mr. Bingley.”
“Cannot Miss Bingley call for their carriage to see Jane home?” Elizabeth asked innocently.
Jane glared at her. “Nellie will do fine,” she said firmly, turning to her mother. “I shall make ready. Mary, be a dear and send word to the stables that Nellie be saddled at noon.”
“See to it yourself, Jane. I have need of Mary and Elizabeth.” Papa stood and beckoned to his daughters. “I do hope you do not get caught in the rain. I would hate for you to catch a cold and die before you secure Mr. Bingley.”
“People do not die of trifling colds, Mr. Bennet,” Mrs. Bennet said caustically. “Go, now, Jane, and prepare. Put on your blue riding habit. It sets your eyes off nicely.”
Elizabeth shook her head but followed her father and sister from the room. When they were in the study with the door closed, he turned to them.
“I have word from Mavery,” he announced. “They wish to visit for Christmas this year. I have already instructed Hill to prepare the guest chambers.”
Mary clapped her hands. “Will James and Susan be here, too?” she asked. Elizabeth noted a slight blush on her sister’s cheeks and ascribed it to the warm room.
“Yes, your cousins will be here, as well. It is very good that Mr. Bingley will distract Jane, else your stepmother would push her at the viscount.”
“If you recall, Papa, she tried that once. Uncle Mavery put an end to that nonsense. And Jane was not a willing participant at that time.” Elizabeth grinned cheekily.
“That was then,” Mary muttered. “Who is to say what she would do now?”
Elizabeth looked at her sister curiously, but Mary would not meet her gaze. There were twin spots of red growing larger on her cheeks, and Elizabeth began to doubt that the warm room was the cause.
“They will be here a week before Christmas,” Papa related, holding the letter up for them to see. “We must do our best to make the visit comfortable.”
“What about Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner?” Elizabeth asked. “The Gardiners usually come for the holidays.”
“The guest wing has enough rooms, and the empty nursery can accommodate the children,” Papa replied. “It will be snug, but we will have a wonderful time.”
“Uncle Mavery has met Mr. Gardiner, has he not?” Elizabeth liked her stepmother’s brother and his wife, and they treated her and Mary as part of their family.
“Yes, once. Mavery has never been one to hold another’s birth against them. Besides, though Mr. Gardiner is in trade, his father was a gentleman. He knows how to behave in the presence of a peer.”
“Why then does his sister lack that knowledge?” Elizabeth quipped.
“That is unkind.” Mary tried to scold whilst smothering a giggle.
Papa chuckled aloud. “That is a mystery I have never solved. Now, let us commence with planning the menu. Though Mrs. Bennet sets a fine table, we will need to elevate the meals as befitting an earl.”
“You know my aunt and uncle never hold to such pretensions,” Elizabeth chided.
“No, but your stepmother does. We must make the plans so that she does not ruin the meals with unnecessary extravagance. We must anticipate any problems before they occur."
They laughed good-naturedly and settled into the chairs surrounding the desk. Mary took up pen and paper as scribe and the three soon created a lovely menu befitting a man of the earl’s rank. Additional plans were added to the list, and the sisters spent a pleasurable morning in that attitude.
Thunder rumbled outside a few hours later and Elizabeth looked up from their holiday plans, noting for the first time that the room had dimmed considerably. She hastened to light a candle so that they could better see. Moments later, raindrops began to fall, pattering against the windowpanes.
“I do hope Jane made it to Netherfield Park before the heavens let loose this deluge,” Mary murmured. She worried her lip between her teeth, shook her head, and returned her attention to the menu.
“The carriage was offered and refused,” Mr. Bennet said. “Her fate is her own.”
Elizabeth frowned at her father’s lack of concern but reasoned that he had always dismissed Jane’s welfare. She was not his child, but she had lived under his roof for most of her life. He ought to be more attentive to her needs.
Jane did not return that evening. A rider came from Netherfield Park to retrieve a satchel with a few belongings. He brought with him a note from Miss Bingley, reporting that because of the rain and the muddied roads, 'Miss Bennet' had been invited to stay the night.
“There, you see? She is not ill and will not die of a cold.” Mrs. Bennet smirked at her husband. “Now she will enjoy supper with Mr. Bingley and his sisters before returning to Longbourn.”
The next morning brought another letter from Jane.
My dear Mama,
I awoke this morning with a sore throat and an aching head. Be not alarmed, for there is nothing much wrong with me that rest and hot broth will not cure. Miss Bingley has summoned Mr. Jones, and I await his good advice regarding my care.
Mr. Bingley insists that I not be moved until I am well enough to travel. Pray, send some of my things along with a footman. Please see to it that my blue evening gown is amongst the attire in the trunk.
I shall be well soon,
Jane
Elizabeth frowned at her breakfast but did not look up. What possible use could Jane have for her evening gown if she is to be confined to bed with a cold? Suspicions raised, she resolved to walk to Netherfield Park and see how her stepsister fared. She would tell her father where she planned to go but would keep her destination from Mrs. Bennet. This entire situation felt like some sort of deception, and she resolved to discover what game was afoot.
Dressed in her warmest gown, pelisse, and cloak, and wearing her sturdiest walking boots, Elizabeth put on her bonnet and gloves and slipped out a side door whilst her stepmother spoke with Hill about the evening menu. Papa waved at her from his study window. Mary stood beside him, a sober look on her lovely face.
Three miles was an easy distance, especially across the fields. The crisp autumn air awakened something in Elizabeth’s senses, and she breathed deeply, relishing the sting of cold on her cheeks.
She crossed stiles and puddles, taking as much care as she could to keep her hems from being muddied. Her limited success became apparent as she neared Netherfield and examined her skirts.
“Six inches deep in mud,” she muttered. “Well, I am not here to see anyone other than Jane, and she is accustomed to my disheveled appearance after a long walk.”
As she neared the house, a figure came out of the gardens. He had his hands behind his back, and his head bowed as if deep in concentration. She stepped on a stick and his head snapped up.
Mr. Darcy, she groaned inwardly. Pasting a smile on her face, she turned her steps in his direction. He had seen her now; there was no escaping their meeting.
“Miss Bennet,” he said. His gaze bore into her. She raised an eyebrow as she noted his quick assessment of her appearance. Yet, he said nothing.
“I am here to see my sister,” she said when he concluded his examination. “Please, will you take me to her?”
“Indeed. Perhaps you would like to greet the others in the house before you go up?” He posed it as a question, but Elizabeth felt the rebuke at her lack of manners. Heaven forbid that she go directly to her sister’s side!
“I am hardly presentable,” she said. “I am here only to ascertain Jane’s wellbeing. After, I shall return home.”
There. A flicker of something in his eyes. Did he suspect as she did? “Miss Bennet is abed still,” he replied. “Miss Bingley’s maid sat with her all night. She reports your sister slept well.”
“That is good news. Perhaps her illness is not so dire.” They turned and moved toward the house. He led her to a side door, opening it and stepping aside. The passage was narrow, and her skirts brushed against his boots as she passed. She continued down the passageway, feeling his gaze boring into her back the entire way. At the end, the hall opened into a larger room. Cloaks hung neatly along the walls and a boot scraper sat by the door.
“This is a servants’ entrance,” he said. “The stairs to the guest chambers are just past that door. We can make ourselves presentable here and then you might greet your host before going to your sister.”
She bristled. How dare he, she thought. I have made my sentiments clear, and yet he seeks to circumvent them. Despite his officiousness, she knew in her heart that his way was the right way. She ought to greet Mr. Bingley and the others before making her way to Jane’s bedside. Swallowing her pride, she nodded.
Seemingly out of nowhere, one of Netherfield Park’s maids appeared with a brush. She knelt down and did her best to mitigate the damage to Elizabeth’s hems. Put to rights as much as was possible, Elizabeth followed Mr. Darcy out of the room and to the breakfast parlor.
The occupants of the room looked up as they entered. “Mr. Darcy!” cried Miss Bingley. “I thought you were out walking.” Her tone was accusatory, and she shot an irritated look in Elizabeth’s direction.
“I encountered Miss Elizabeth whilst taking my morning constitutional,” the man replied, his tone as grave as his expression.
“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Bingley said, standing from his chair. “How do you do?”
“I am well, sir,” Elizabeth replied. “Please, I am here to see my sister. Might someone direct me to her?”
“I shall take you there myself.” Her host set his serviette on his plate and strode toward them. “Darcy, make yourself a plate. You look done in.” He slapped his friend’s shoulder as he passed. “This way, Miss Elizabeth.”
She turned and followed Mr. Bingley out the door, feeling the poisonous looks from Miss Bingley driving into her back.
They climbed the stairs and turned left toward the guest wing. Three doors down, Mr. Bingley stopped. “She is in here,” he said. “Please, do not leave before telling me how she fares.”
Elizabeth nodded and opened the door. The curtains were open, and Jane sat up in bed. Her long blond hair had been braided and hung down over her shoulder. She held a book in her hand and was focused intently on it. She did not even acknowledge that someone had entered the room.
“You look rather well for someone who has succumbed to a cold and sore throat.”
Jane jumped and slammed the book shut before slumping into the pillows. She coughed weakly. “I do have a sore throat,” she rasped unconvincingly. “And I had a most dreadful night.”
“Indeed. Has Mr. Jones come?” Elizabeth tapped her foot against the rug in agitation.
“Not yet. I wished to wait until after I broke my fast.” She glanced at the empty tray on the bedside table. “Toast and tea, Lizzy,” she said testily when Elizabeth turned an incredulous look on her.
“Really, Jane, these games are beneath you!” Elizabeth moved to a chair by the bed and sat down heavily, shaking her head. “Mr. Bingley will love you as you are, or he is not worth the effort.”
“You are a fine one to talk! You and Mary will go to London after Christmas. Your wealthy relations will sponsor you, introduce you to their friends, and then you will be married in a trice. I have not your advantages, and so I must use the one thing God gave me: my beauty. And paired with my passable intelligence, I think I stand a fighting chance of winning a wealthy man’s regard.”
“But must you be… not yourself to do so?” Elizabeth asked desperately. “You are behaving more like Lydia and…” she trailed off.
“You might as well say it,” Jane huffed. “Like my mother. At least I have one to model myself after.”
Elizabeth could not contain her shock. She stood up woodenly and affixed a placid look on her face. “I thought better of you,” she said. “Best of luck securing Mr. Bingley from a sickbed.” Turning sharply, she stalked to the door and left the room. Once she navigated the stairs and located the Bingleys and Hursts in the drawing room, she reported on Jane’s wellbeing.
“My sister should be well enough to travel by this afternoon,” she reported. “You may call Mr. Jones to verify my assessment.”
“Oh, but the cold air would certainly be bad for her recovery,” Mr. Bingley argued. “She must stay at least one more night.” His face brightened. “You might stay as well, Miss Elizabeth. Your sister would rest much better if you were here.”
“I thank you for the invitation, sir, but—”
“I insist,” he said, cutting her off. He signaled a footman. “Fetch someone to take a note to Longbourn. Miss Elizabeth, here is pen, ink, and paper. Pray, write a list of anything you need. My man will take it and return with your things.”
She looked around the room. Expressions ranged from disinterested to furious. She was not wanted here, but she had been placed in a position where she could not refuse. If she declined the invitation, they would consider her cruel and unfeeling. And if she accepted, Jane would have further reason to hate her.
It is not as if I care what they think, she told herself, gaze straying to Mr. Darcy. I do not have his good opinion, anyway. And if I am here, I can prevent Jane from forcing Mr. Bingley’s hand.
Never had she thought such a thing would be possible. Jane had always been the perfect example of ladylike behavior. Now Elizabeth had the need to prevent her stepsister from acting in a decidedly unladylike manner.
“Very well, sir,” she said finally. “I am grateful for your invitation and your care of my poor sister.” She smiled graciously and bowed her head in gratitude.
“Capital! Caroline, have Mrs. Nichols make another room ready. You will join us for dinner, will you not, Miss Elizabeth? Or perhaps you would rather dine with your sister.” Mr. Bingley grinned and clasped his hands behind his back, clearly pleased with his efforts to keep Jane under his roof.
Perhaps he genuinely cares for her, she thought. But does she feel the same for him?
“I believe dinner in company would be lovely,” she replied. “I shall just step upstairs to inform Jane.” In truth, she had no intention of doing so for another half an hour. Jane’s words still echoed in her mind, causing her heart to ache.
How often had she wondered if there had ever been a time, even in its smallest measurement, that Mrs. Bennet had loved her at all? And Mary? She craved a woman’s affection and had never found that in their evil stepmother.
Elizabeth chuckled internally. I make it sound very much like a fairy tale, she mused.
She and Mary had found motherly love in their aunt. Perhaps that was why they longed for Elm Grove. It was not the place that drew them, but the people. There, they were loved unconditionally. At Longbourn, they were second best. True, Papa had always loved them, and Mrs. Hill treated them as befitting the daughters of her master. Jane, too, had once joined the ranks of those Elizabeth and Mary could look to for love. But now, they were sadly outnumbered.
It is best that we are departing soon, Elizabeth reasoned. Her father may have once been their knight in shining armor, but fate had intervened and left him a broken man with just the barest will to live. She had no doubt that he would welcome death when it came, for it would reunite him with his love, and free him from the millstone that was the current Mrs. Bennet.
Such uncharitable thoughts. But she could not help it. Jane’s vitriol hurt her deeply. Those dreadful words had attacked Elizabeth where she was most vulnerable. Never one made for lasting sadness, she shook the cobwebs of sorrow from her mind and heart.
I will be well again, she told herself. I cannot turn Jane from her present course. It is only a matter of time before her foolhardy behavior leads to destruction.
Content to sit on a bench in the hall whilst her chambers were prepared, Elizabeth stared at nothing, dreaming of London and her family, anticipating returning to those who knew and loved her best.
Not much longer now. Susan will be ready to visit the shops as soon as we arrive. And James! He wanted to go to the museum for the new exhibition. We can go together.
Revived by her happier thoughts, Elizabeth retired to her chamber once the maids had departed. I shall see Jane later, she told herself. For now, I believe I shall read a book.