13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
November 13, 1811 Netherfield Park, Hertfordshire Elizabeth
J ane reacted predictably to the news that Elizabeth had been invited to stay. They were alone in the room, thankfully, so no one else witnessed the lady’s petulant scowl and protestations.
Elizabeth waited until just before the evening meal before informing the invalid that she would be remaining at Netherfield until Jane was well enough to travel. Surprisingly—or perhaps not so surprisingly—she seemed ready to call for a maid to help her dress for dinner when Elizabeth stepped into the room.
Jane sat on the end of the bed, with the blue evening gown she had requested draped over the back of a chair. Her braid undone, she ran a brush through her locks.
“What are you doing?” Elizabeth asked curiously.
Jane jumped. “What are you doing here?” she snapped.
“Mr. Bingley asked that I remain whilst you are ailing.” She grimaced. “It seems you are more improved than he knew. I shall call for the carriage so that we might trespass no longer on the Bingleys’ hospitality.”
“You will do no such thing!” Jane set the brush aside and rose from the bed. She picked up her evening gown and moved to the wardrobe, hanging it there. “I simply wished to air out my gown. After I fix my braid, I shall be back in bed. Really, Eliza, there is no need for you to be here. Go home.”
“I shall be up to check on you after the meal.” Elizabeth turned to leave.
“That is not fair! You must not dine with Mr. Bingley!”
She paused and turned to face her sister. “Why ever not?” she asked curiously.
“Because you will turn his head with your coy manner and flirtatious behavior.”
Laughing, Elizabeth shook her head. “When have I ever behaved in that fashion? You describe Lydia—and lately yourself—more than you describe me.” She directed her feet toward the door again. As she grasped the handle, she paused. “Your Mr. Bingley is safe from me, Jane. If he is indeed your Mr. Bingley.”
“That is only because you deem him beneath you. Niece of an earl . Are you dangling after Mr. Darcy, then? Recall that he has declared you merely tolerable.”
Elizabeth scoffed in disgust. “You think that if it brings you comfort.” With that, she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Jane is hardly ill, she thought. When did common sense depart? Her sister’s behavior reflected her mother’s desires, and Elizabeth found she did not much like this version of Jane.
Dinner was a tortuous affair. Miss Bingley had taken the mistress’s spot at one end of the table. Elizabeth wondered briefly why Mrs. Hurst had not been given the honor, but since it was none of her concern, she turned her attention to sketching the characters that surrounded her.
Mr. Bingley was an affable host. His good cheer lightened the mood around the table considerably and countered his sisters’ mean gossip. Elizabeth quite liked him, though he seemed a little too flippant and unconcerned for her tastes. The old Jane might have made a good foil for his less serious side, but the new Jane did not suit him at all.
Mr. Hurst was also easy to understand. He liked his food and drink, his sport and his sleep, and he spoke little, so intent was he to shovel as much food in his mouth as possible. He had second and third helpings of every course, and Elizabeth wondered where he put all that food.
His wife, Mrs. Hurst, mirrored everything her sister said. Does she have a personality of her own? Elizabeth did not think so. The relationship reminded her very much of Kitty and Lydia. The elder sister followed closely in the younger sister’s footsteps, agreeing with anything that Miss Bingley said, at least in public,no matter how ridiculous.
It was the last member of the party who truly perplexed Elizabeth. Mr. Darcy remained mostly silent throughout the meal, responding only when spoken to. He sat to the right of Miss Bingley and was her captive audience. That lady required no answer or response beyond a nod and the occasional noncommittal noise. She seemed entirely oblivious to her audience’s lack of interest. It will disappoint her when he marries elsewhere, Elizabeth mused.
“How is your dear sister, Miss Eliza?” Miss Bingley asked during the final course. “My maid says she is recovering apace.”
“Jane is the ultimate authority on her health, ma’am,” came the reply. "That said, I hope that she will be well enough to return to Longbourn tomorrow."
“Yes, one always rests easier in one’s own bed.” Miss Bingley smirked. “It was very shocking when she fainted at the table yesterday. I wondered if our fare was too fine—to rich for her delicate palate. She seemed to enjoy the meal.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips to maintain her neutral expression. She learned several things from Miss Bingley’s words. First, that Jane had possessed a hardy appetite the day before, and second, that her hostess did not like her. “Jane spends summers in London with relatives,” she said. “Her palate is likely more refined than mine.”
That was a bit of a stretch. Though the Gardiners ate like people of fashion, the earl’s table was set with finer delicacies.
“Your uncle lives in Cheapside, does he not?” Miss Bingley’s catlike smile widened.
“Mr. Gardiner leaves near Cheapside.” He is not my uncle. Yet, she loved Mr. Gardiner as much as she loved her Uncle Mavery. Though she did not spend summers with them as Jane did, Elizabeth wrote to Mrs. Gardiner regularly. Whenever the couple came to Longbourn, they treated Mrs. Bennet's stepdaughters as blood relations.
“Ah, yes. Brother to your mother?”
Suddenly, Elizabeth realized that though Miss Bingley thought herself informed, she had no notion that the Bennet household had once had another mistress. Do any of these people know that Jane is not truly a Bennet? How would that affect her chances of winning Mr. Bingley’s heart? If Caroline Bingley disapproved of Jane now, she would be positively against the match should she learn that Jane had no gently born relatives left living.
Oh, dear. She cleared her throat. “Mr. Gardiner is Mrs. Bennet’s brother, yes.” No need to give them any more information than necessary.
Miss Bingley shared a superior look with her sister before going on. “Does your father have any family?”
“I am afraid my father’s parents passed long before I was born,” she replied, taking a bite of her meal. “He had no brothers and sisters. There is a distant cousin, I believe, who is to inherit the estate when my father dies.”
“Oh, is Longbourn entailed away from the female line?” Miss Bingley’s pretend surprise made Elizabeth chuckle internally.
“It is,” she said, keeping her replies as short and as succinct and possible.
“You and your sisters must be very concerned for your welfare, then.”
She is pressing me for information. Did Jane undergo a similar interrogation?
Elizabeth smiled. “I find dreading the future only ruins the present. Life has a way of sorting itself out, and I do not doubt that my family will be well no matter what happens.”
“Brava, Miss Elizabeth!” Mr. Bingley raised his glass and saluted her. “I am of the same mind. Best not dwell on that which we cannot change. Live life to the fullest and enjoy every minute.”
“Sorrow and disappointment are a part of the mortal existence, Bingley,” Mr. Darcy chimed in.
“One need not be ruled by the sad things,” Elizabeth countered. “If a person looks for things to be displeased about, they will surely find dissatisfaction in every aspect of their existence.”
“And what do you do to counter ill-tidings?” Mr. Darcy regarded her steadily, an unfathomable expression on his face.
“I seek for joy in every day.” She returned his gaze with equal solemnity. “Trouble will find me whether or not I seek it, so it is best if I do not dwell overly long on unhappy things that I cannot control.”
“Like losing your home when your father dies?” Miss Bingley’s caustic input made Elizabeth stiffen, but she turned a smile on her hostess.
“Yes, Miss Bingley, exactly. I am pleased that you see my point.”
“I do not,” the lady countered. “If you choose to willfully ignore your coming state of poverty, then you will not be prepared for it when it comes. How will you manage to keep six women in comfort if no provisions have been laid aside?”
“Choosing to dwell on the future but not acting is very different from considering options from a logical, reasonable perspective.” She took a drink from her glass. "For example, if a man knew his south field flooded every year and did nothing, and instead complained every time it rained that his crops would once again be ruined, then trouble will continue to find him. If he instead fixes the field so that it drained properly, taking time to consider the problem and find a solution, then he is not merely bemoaning his fate."
She took a deep breath and continued. "I focus on the positive because it is much better than being miserable all the time." Elizabeth took another bite and surreptitiously watched the superior sisters' attempts to puzzle out her meaning. She did not feel that she explained herself entirely well, but hopefully, her ramblings had distracted them from their attempts at drawing information.
“You are happy as a rule, then?” Mr. Darcy asked.
“I am. Are you not?” She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.
He frowned, but did not answer. Some unnamable emotion crossed his face before vanishing behind his sober mask. How can a man with everything the world has to offer seem so discontented with life?
The drawing room was scarcely more hospitable than the dining room had been. Elizabeth took up a book and attempted to read, refusing Mr. Hurst’s invitation to play cards. When she declined, Miss Bingley mockingly claimed that ‘Miss Eliza abhorred cards,’ calling her a great reader who despised all other activities.
Elizabeth parried the lady’s attacks with ease and wondered what she had done to earn such scorn and derision.
Later, she went upstairs to check on Jane. Her sister truly slept, and she left for her own chambers immediately, exhausted from the social fencing she had undertaken that evening.
The next day, Jane stayed abed once more, reading and resting. Elizabeth received a note from Mary, warning that Mrs. Bennet planned to call upon Netherfield to ascertain Jane’s condition later that day.
I shall accompany her, and there is no doubt that our younger sisters will also come along.
“Bless you for the warning, Mary,” Elizabeth said aloud, folding the note and tucking it into her pocket. With any luck, she and Mary could work to convince Mrs. Bennet that Jane would rest better at home.
The visit could not have been any more of a disaster. Kitty and Lydia harangued Mr. Bingley into agreeing to have a ball at Netherfield Park, and he declared that as soon as Jane was well, she would name the day.
Mrs. Bennet liked that very well indeed and spent five minutes praising her eldest child and lauding her beauty and accomplishments.
“She spends the summer traveling every year, you know,” the lady said. “She goes to my brother and sister in town, first, and then her aunt and uncle take her with them on their yearly holiday. She is so diligent in learning all the skills a lady needs to manage a household. Why, she studied French with a native speaker!”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Unless Jane had a French maid or cook, mastering the language was hardly an accomplishment needed to manage a household.
“She is so very beautiful, Mr. Bingley. No other can compare!”
Elizabeth glanced around, her mortification making itself known on her cheeks. Her gaze fell on Mr. Darcy. The man’s jaw was clenched, and when he noted her looking at him, he turned away.
“Would you like to see Miss Bennet now, Mrs. Bennet?” Mr. Bingley asked kindly. Elizabeth wondered if her host was oblivious to the lady’s gauche behavior or if he ignored it for the sake of his lady love.
“Yes, I do believe that would be best. I am very worried for her. Jane is such a delicate creature. Not that she is often ill, but when she does catch a cold, it takes her several days of rest to recover.” Mrs. Bennet’s stream of words continued as she followed Mr. Bingley from the room. Kitty and Lydia trailed after like little ducklings, chattering and whispering as they went.
Mary took Elizabeth’s arm, and they followed. “How many more days will Mrs. Bennet insist Jane remain?” she asked quietly.
“I would say at least four,” Elizabeth replied. “I do not know if I can manage to convince Jane to go back to Longbourn. She does not like that I am here, and she is decidedly not ill. What say you, Mary? Should I remain? I believe our sister means to entrap Mr. Bingley, and I do not know if I should allow it or put a stop to her machinations.”
“Jane is truly so altered?” Mary turned to her sister, shock apparent on her face.
“I am sorry to say that it is so.” Elizabeth shook her head. They entered Jane’s room to Mrs. Bennet’s loud exclamations that Jane was far too ill to be moved. Mr. Bingley was nowhere to be found, and so Elizabeth shut the door.
“Would Jane not rest easier at Longbourn?” she asked. Four pairs of eyes with varying degrees of anger and irritation turned on her.
“Why would we remove Jane when Mr. Bingley so clearly wishes her to remain?” Mrs. Bennet demanded. “Are you so full of your own importance, so pleased with your fortune, that you would destroy another’s chance at the same pleasures in life? Spoiled, selfish child.”
“Jane is certainly well enough to go home,” Elizabeth protested.
“Enough.” Mrs. Bennet turned to her eldest child. “Jane, love, you will stay here as long as possible. Tomorrow you can claim you are well enough to dine with the others. And it will be quite impossible for you to return home on Sunday. Monday afternoon will do very well. And you.” She turned to Elizabeth. “Mr. Bingley wishes you to stay and so you will make yourself useful. Stay out of the way whilst they speak. Keep the others occupied to give Bingley and Jane greater privacy. With good fortune, he will make her an offer before you return home.”
Elizabeth frowned and said nothing. Disagreeing would spark another argument, and she had no intention of doing as her stepmother bid.
“Come, girls.” Mrs. Bennet swept from the room, nose in the air. Kitty and Lydia followed. Mary alone lingered, waiting for Elizabeth’s decision.
Her sister glanced at the bed. Jane studiously ignored them both, and so she went to the door and looped her arm through Mary’s. “We had best go down and mitigate any damage Mrs. Bennet inflicts.”
Mary left with the others, leaving Elizabeth alone in the large house. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley were nowhere to be found, and the gentlemen had gone shooting. Not at all against the silence and solitude, she sought the library and hid there until dinner.
The evening meal was as strenuous as the one before, and she took to her bed, thankfully, determined to see this disaster through as quickly as possible.