Chapter 8
Monday Morning
It was a gray and gloomy sort of day, clouds heavy and leaden in the sky, a frigid sort of nip to the air and the light thin and milky.
Darcy found himself grateful for the hot brick at his feet and the rug across his lap inside his friend’s well-sprung carriage.
He had originally planned to ride Phoenix to Town today, but Bingley had mentioned at dinner the previous evening that he also intended to travel to London this morning and suggested traveling together.
Darcy was especially glad now that he had agreed; it would be far more pleasant to sit in a warm carriage on comfortable seats than to brave the raw day on horseback.
Behind the carriage, Phoenix was blowing and stamping, weary of being tied in one place and ready to start moving.
Darcy had decided to take his horse notwithstanding so that he might ride while in Town.
Phoenix, he knew, would be unbothered by the cold, but the young stallion was restive being forced to wait.
He looked over as the carriage door opened and Bingley stepped up inside, worming his way under the rug. The younger man reached up to rap his cane on the roof, and with a slight jolt, they were away.
Darcy watched through the window as Netherfield Hall sank away from them.
He was pleased to have a chance to talk to his friend without being overheard.
He had hoped, at breakfast the previous day, to have such a chance to converse without either of Bingley’s sisters interrupting them, but scarcely had they finished eating than the party, apart from the injured Miss Bingley, set out for the small rustic church in Meryton.
Any peace Darcy had gained from the sermon fled swiftly upon their return to Netherfield.
Miss Bingley had been carried downstairs to the sitting room while they were at church, and her shrill voice penetrated the rooms of the main floor.
Bingley, of course, had escaped to Longbourn directly, leaving Louisa Hurst, her husband, and Darcy to deal with the petulant Miss Bingley.
Darcy had soon abandoned the Hursts and Miss Bingley to repair to the library.
He had no wish to subject himself to Miss Bingley’s incessant complaints and critique of her current locale.
As sympathetic as he was to the pain of her injured ankle, his compassion did not extend to listening to her withering tongue as she turned it against each and every one of their local acquaintances.
His reluctance to listen stemmed partly from the pricking of his own conscience.
In his pride, he had initially encouraged Miss Bingley’s disdain for her country company by looking down upon the locals.
The seeds of his arrogance had taken firm root in the fertile soil of Miss Bingley’s conceit.
Once again, Darcy found himself grateful for Charles Bingley’s endlessly amiable manner, a welcome contrast to his younger sister, and that in spite of the truth that Bingley, as son and heir, was far wealthier than his sisters.
As his mind returned to his present surroundings, Darcy looked over at his friend, whose eyes were unfocused, whose lips were curved up in a joyful smile, and asked, “Have you decided on a date for your wedding?”
“We have!” Bingley replied, turning toward him. “We will marry on the twentieth of December. The sooner we are wed, the sooner Caroline will stop complaining.”
This was not actually a surprise, given that the banns had been read for the first time the previous day, but Darcy was still taken aback.
Bingley, who had been his closest friend for two years, would soon be married.
Given that Bingley genuinely loved his fiancée, Darcy’s friendship with Bingley would never be quite the same.
He was happy for his friend, of course he was, but he had never particularly enjoyed change, and it was no surprise that he felt a trifle downhearted.
“I know that is soon,” Bingley continued cheerfully, “but I will be honest with you – I was hoping to marry the Monday after the third Sunday of the banns. But Jane wished to wait until later that week so that her Uncle Gardiner and his family will be able to attend. He is a tradesman from London, and his business will keep him busy until at least the sixteenth of the month.”
Darcy’s stomach twisted again at this reminder of Jane Bennet’s poor connections, but he merely said, “I hope that the next weeks will pass quickly for you.”
“I doubt that!” Bingley replied with a rueful chuckle.
“What do your sisters think of the upcoming wedding?”
“Well, to be entirely truthful, I have not told them of the date yet. I informed Louisa that it would be soon, but she has been so busy running around at Caroline’s beck and call that I did not speak to her after we solidified the date.”
Darcy gazed at him with concern and said, “I pray that they are courteous to Miss Bennet when they hear the truth.”
“They had better be,” Bingley replied, his brow lowering, and then he relaxed and said, “Elizabeth will be with Jane all the time, and she is a warrior when sufficiently aroused. She will look after my bride to be. But enough of that, Darcy, we have not had a chance to discuss Mr. Wickham. Have you given further thought to that menace?”
“I have indeed,” Darcy said, and smiled dangerously. “I have indeed.”
***
Miss Bingley’s Bedchamber
Netherfield Hall
Noon
A large fire crackled in the grate, filling the room with welcome heat and light.
In the chair closest to the hearth sat Miss Bingley, her skirt lifted slightly and demurely to reveal her injured ankle, which was propped on a luxuriously cushioned footstool.
Doctor Davis knelt before her, carefully examining the injured limb.
He was a small spare man, thin-faced, dark-haired, bespectacled, neat as a pin and with a coat cut as fine as any gentleman’s.
He had ridden out from London that morning at Bingley’s behest, and for a hefty fee, to examine Miss Bingley’s injury.
The doctor sat back and Caroline relaxed back against the upright back of her chair, jaw unclenching and shoulders dropping as the pain ceased. Nearby Louisa stood wringing her hands, face drawn; the presence of injuries and pain always left her uncertain and stressed.
“Well, Doctor?” Miss Bingley demanded, straightening her back. “It is merely sprained, is it not?”
Doctor Davis regarded the lady’s bruised ankle and shook his head.
“I fear that I concur with the local apothecary’s opinion.
I believe that you have broken at least one bone in either your ankle or your foot.
I say that based on the level of pain, and the bruising, both of which are obviously substantial. ”
Miss Bingley moaned, and the physician lifted a staying hand.
“In truth, it little matters whether it is broken or sprained. Even if it is merely a sprain, it is a very serious one. Regardless, the foot requires complete rest. I will bandage it, and I urge you to put no weight on it for at least another two weeks, whereupon I will return from Town and assess the situation.”
“Two weeks?” the lady cried out in distress. “Two weeks?”
“I fear so. I suggest that you obtain crutches, which will give you some freedom of movement.”
Caroline held back tears at the thought of being carried up and down the stairs daily and of hobbling around with a crutch.
She knew herself to be a beautiful woman, and her clothing was nearly the best that money could buy, but she would look ridiculous if she was forced to hop around, or stump around, or be carried by footmen wherever she went.
“I would also advise that, if at all possible, a chamber be prepared on the main floor for you, Miss Bingley,” the doctor continued, heedless of his patient’s thoughts. “The less jostling you experience, the sooner you will heal.”
Caroline could only agree and turned an anxious look on her sister, who said, “We have many sitting rooms and parlors which could be set aside for your use, dear sister.”
Caroline felt herself relax a little. “That is an excellent idea, Doctor. Thank you.”
***
Housekeeper’s Office
Netherfield Hall
The housekeeper’s office was a cozy little nook, lined with shelves and cubbyholes.
Piles of neat ledgers sat upon spotless shelves, organized by date, alongside rolled paper lists, empty notebooks, pens, simple pen boxes, and bundles of tallow candles.
More lists sat neatly placed across the surface of the plain oak desk, including the week’s meal plans and the shopping list. Mrs. Nicholls pulled one of the papers closer to review it.
The maids’ schedules for the next several days would need to be revised, with Maggie out seeing to her ailing mother.
She had just begun this task when a tap at the door caught her attention, and she looked up as it opened and the butler entered, with Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth at his heels.
The two ladies were dressed in severely practical clothing, a dove gray for Miss Bennet that made her eyes look bluer than ever, and a dark earth brown dress for Miss Elizabeth.
Both ladies had pulled their hair up into serviceable buns.
The housekeeper stood quickly, nervously swiping her hands down her apron. A moment later she mentally chastised herself, what if she had just smeared ink on herself?
“Mrs. Nicholls,” Jane said, “I apologize for intruding…”
“It is nothing at all, Miss Bennet. Please do come in, both of you, and sit down. May I say how very happy I am that you are engaged to the master?”
Jane smiled gloriously. “Thank you! I am overjoyed as well. Now I hope you have time to speak with us, as Elizabeth and I wished to discuss the needs of the servants of Netherfield. Mr. Bingley has asked us to arrange for boxes for the servants and tenants for Boxing Day.”