Chapter Twelve #2
“Indeed, I do not,” Elizabeth shot back, her volume beginning to increase. “Nor would I wish to. Papa, cannot Jane have the carriage?”
“I should prefer to take the coach, Mama,” Jane said firmly.
Mr. Bennet winced, “I am afraid I do need the horses on the farm today, Jane. Perhaps you should write back and decline. You can invite them here another day.”
Mrs. Bennet stood, her expression smug. “She will do no such thing. You will do very well on Homer, Jane.” She left the room with a swish of her skirts, humming.
Mr. Bennet, with another glance outside, stood and tossed his napkin on the table.
“You need not go, Jane,” he told her before he followed his wife.
“You should stay home, Jane,” Elizabeth said. “Mama does not see the damage such an attempt can do.”
“I do so wish to go,” Jane replied. She took Elizabeth’s hand. “I can make it to Netherfield before it rains, and Miss Bingley is sure to send me home in their carriage.”
Kitty walked to the window. “You had better hurry, then,” she said plainly. “There are dark clouds on the horizon.”
Nobody saw Mary go, but they heard the door close behind her. Elizabeth bit her lip and turned to Jane. “At least take Kensington,” she said. “She will get you to Netherfield a great deal faster than Homer.” And you will not look like a match girl atop her.
Jane smiled brilliantly. “Thank you, Lizzy!” she exclaimed.
Elizabeth frowned. “I still think you should stay, but as Kitty says, if you are going, you had best hurry.”
Jane rose immediately and rushed from the room. “I shall, Lizzy. Thank you,” she called out over her shoulder and disappeared to her room to change.
“Do you think Mary is lying in wait for Jane upstairs, Lizzy?” Kitty asked.
“I hope so,” Elizabeth replied. She frowned at the weather outside. “Perhaps it will only threaten rain, as it did yesterday.”
They removed upstairs to hear Mary arguing with Jane, but their normally sensible sister was too excited to be held back; Jane was off to Netherfield the moment she had changed, a long, thick cloak wrapped around her.
Her sisters trailed back to the drawing room where they could just see Jane and Kensington leaving the grounds.
Jane had not been gone from the house above a quarter of an hour when the heavens opened up. No mere sprinkling, this, Elizabeth thought grimly, staring out the window with her other sisters. This was a deluge.
“Jane is never so stubborn,” Mary said in a defeated voice. “Whatever has come over her?”
“She loves him,” Kitty said with a wistful sigh.
“Well, now he will see her appear as a drowned rat,” Mary retorted. “I pray his love for her goes deeper than a pretty face.”
“Mary,” Elizabeth said, admonishing her sister.
“Do not think I have forgotten about Lucas Lodge, Lizzy,” Mary responded almost angrily. “You none of you think really well of me. Jane ignores my advice, and you believe I would wilt were my playing compared to yours.”
Elizabeth could see Kitty and Lydia watching silently. “It was poorly done of me, Mary, I admit as much,” she acknowledged. “I will not do it again. I just…”
“I know what you just, Lizzy,” Mary interrupted her, her expression tight with frustration.
“Honestly, can you think of any gentlewoman less delicate than me? I do not need to be protected from life. Not by you or Jane or anyone else!” She turned sharply from the window and left the room.
They could hear her heavy tread on the stairs.
That went well, Elizabeth thought, massaging her temples. Her head was beginning to throb.
“Lizzy,” Kitty said shyly, “do not make yourself uncomfortable. I believe Mary is more upset about Jane not listening to her than she is about the playing. Though,” she added, “you ought not have done it. Mary was embarrassed.”
Elizabeth nodded. She had never meant to cause Mary any discomfort--in fact, she had been trying to avoid it. She had quickly recognized her own conceit, but Mary had not spoken of it until now.
“Jane always at least listens to Mary, though they do not always agree,” Lydia chimed in.
“Ever since Mr. Bingley has come, Jane spends much of her time at Netherfield,” Kitty said. “Even when Mary goes with her, Jane is always on the lookout for him.”
“It had to happen eventually,” Elizabeth replied, remembering Mary’s words on Oakham Mount and feeling sorry for her.
Poor Mary. First, I arrive to change her life and then just as my visit comes to an end, here is Jane preparing to leave.
“Whether it is Mr. Bingley or some other man, Jane will not remain at Longbourn forever.”
“I think Mary is just worried,” Lydia concluded.
They all turned to gaze out at the rain, which had not abated.
“We all are,” Elizabeth said.
The rain continued throughout the night, stopping only after midnight.
Even had Miss Bingley wished to send Jane home in the carriage, she could not have done so with the roads too wet for travel.
Elizabeth wondered whether the men had indeed gone to dine with the officers or had decided to remain at home.
In either case, Jane had likely been able to catch a glimpse of her Mr. Bingley.
“This was a very good idea of mine indeed,” Mrs. Bennet congratulated herself as she sat down to eat, as though she had the power to make it rain. Mr. Bennet’s mouth was set in a hard line, but he just reached for his newspaper.
Breakfast was scarcely over when a servant from Netherfield brought a note for Elizabeth.
Dear Lizzy,
I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be imputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My sisters warned me, but I would be foolish.
My kind friends will not hear of my leaving and have insisted on calling for Mr. Jones. Please do not be alarmed if you hear he has seen me, for other than a sore throat and headache, there is nothing much the matter with me.
Elizabeth held the note out to her father. He read it quickly.
“Shall I call for the carriage?” he asked.
She shook her head. “It will take too long to make it ready, Papa. I will walk.”
This sent Mama into a sputtering spiral of refusals. “You cannot appear at Netherfield uninvited and covered in mud!” She took the note from her husband and read it. “As long as she remains there, she shall be taken good care of. People do not die of little trifling colds.”
The blood rushed from her head and Elizabeth felt suddenly faint.
“Are you all right, Lizzy?” Mary asked. “You are so pale.”
Elizabeth shook her head and left the room, flying upstairs to pull on her boots and a walking dress.
She shoved her curls under a bonnet and tossed a thick wool cloak over her dress.
She hurried back from her room to the main staircase and began to descend.
Just as she reached the ground floor, Mary’s voice wafted down from the family wing.
“Lizzy, wait just a moment, please. Kitty and I will accompany you.”
As she waited impatiently, Papa emerged from the breakfast room, Mama red-faced and angry behind him. She took one look at Elizabeth and burst into tears, hiding her face and bustling away to her chambers.
Papa closed his eyes for a moment then opened them.
“Elizabeth,” he said with a small shake of his head, “please tell Jane I am sorry for not insisting she remain home yesterday. I was the only one who could make such a declaration, and instead I left the decision to a girl who is clearly besotted. Normally she would have written to decline straight away, but a girl in love for the first time should not be trusted to act rationally.” He let out a heavy breath and held out his hand.
Elizabeth took it and he covered her hand with his own.
“Please take care. Mary and Kitty will see you safely there and then return home. We do not wish you to get lost, and in these conditions, none of you should walk alone.”
“Thank you, Papa,” Elizabeth said, casting an anxious glance upstairs.
“Lizzy,” he said, all sympathy, “Jane is not your Uncle Phillip.”
She blinked back the tears that wanted to fall. “I will feel better when I see her, Papa.”
He nodded, kissing her hand before releasing it. “I will send James over later to see if you or Jane need anything.”
“Thank you, Papa,” she said again, truly grateful, but desperate to be on her way. As if the thought alone had conjured them up, Mary and Kitty appeared at the top of the stairs, pulling on their gloves.
Soon they were on their way. There was not much conversation, as Lizzy was walking rather quickly and the other girls struggled to keep up through the mud.
They crossed through fields, jumped over stiles, and moved deftly around mud puddles, arriving at their destination in less time than it would have taken to prepare the carriage at Longbourn.
“Give Jane our love,” Mary said, taking Elizabeth’s hands and kissing her on the cheek. “I know you are anxious to see her.” She met Lizzy’s eyes and did not look away. “Do send to Longbourn should you need me.”
“I know this should be your office, Mary,” Elizabeth began, haltingly, “but . . .”
Mary shook her head. “She sent the letter to you, Lizzy, because she knew you would be very worried.” She frowned. “I would go to her if you were not here, but truthfully, I am still angry with Jane for ignoring me and her own good sense. It is better for all of us if you go.”
Elizabeth kissed her sister’s cheek.
“You may wish to enter through the kitchen, Lizzy,” Kitty said, lifting one foot to display her muddy boot. “I think Mrs. Nicholls would be pleased to see you.” Left unsaid was that Miss Bingley would not be pleased at all.
“Excellent thought,” Elizabeth said. “At least Mrs. Nicholls will not be too terribly put out. She has known me since I was small.”
“And muddy?” Mary asked breezily.
Elizabeth had to laugh a little at that. “Yes. Muddier.”
Her sisters took their leave and she strode to the back entrance. Mrs. Nicholls had seen her approach and was ready for her.
“You should have gone to the front, Miss Russell,” Mrs. Nicholls said authoritatively. “The likes of you should not be haunting my kitchen.” She sat Elizabeth down and gingerly removed her boots. It was not something a housekeeper would normally do.
“I did not wish to mar your floors, Mrs. Nicholls,” Elizabeth replied, warmed by her welcome.
While she felt the freedom the Bennet name had provided, the closer she came to leaving for London, the more the sound of her name was a gift.
Mrs. Hill still called her by it from time to time.
“And my parents wish me to be Miss Bennet here.”
Mrs. Nicholls clucked her tongue and grabbed an old, clean towel to wipe down Elizabeth’s petticoats. “Foolishness, that.”
Elizabeth smiled. Mrs. Hill and Mrs. Nicholls were sisters. A great deal of information made its way from Longbourn to Netherfield. Fortunately, Mrs. Nicholls was the soul of discretion. “How is my sister?”
“She did not sleep well, poor lamb. I will say that Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst have been everything kind, but I do not expect it to last.”
“Mrs. Nicholls,” Elizabeth said warningly, and the woman stretched to her full height before her, arms crossed.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Bennet, but there’s not a servant here but knows that is the truest statement that ever was.” She tossed the now muddy towel and took an old dishrag to finish the job.
“I cannot say I disagree,” Elizabeth whispered, “but if I am to be allowed to see Jane, I must play the grateful guest, and you are not helping.”
Mrs. Nicholls snorted. “That Mr. Bingley—now, he is quite concerned, quite solicitous.” The housekeeper stood and motioned to a young boy who appeared to take Elizabeth’s boots for cleaning.
He hurried away, and Mrs. Nicholls gave Elizabeth a reproachful look when presented with a handful of pennies and a few shillings.
“For the boy and anyone taking special care of Jane,” Elizabeth said, abashed. “I know we are causing you all a good deal more work. Do not refuse the coins, please.”
The housekeeper took them reluctantly, smiling when Elizabeth then removed a pair of silk slippers from her reticule. “You have arrived more prepared than when you traversed the grounds searching for newts, Miss Russell.”
Elizabeth shook her head. She had forgotten Mrs. Nicholls liked to tease.
Mrs. Hill was always so stern. “I suppose I have learned a little something in that time.” She touched the older woman’s arm.
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Nicholls. I know I look a fright, but at least I shall not be trailing dirty water behind me.”
“There is not much we can do with your hair, I am afraid,” Mrs. Nicholls said bluntly.
“Just keep it in your bonnet and I will send up a maid to help you when one is free.” She glanced around the room.
“Martin can take you to the dining room.” She turned Elizabeth around and finished her work on the back of her petticoats.
She let down the skirt of Elizabeth’s dress.
It did not hide all the dirt, but it did cover much of it.
“Thank you, Mrs. Nicholls,” she said, impetuously giving the short, round woman a hug.
“Oh, there, now, get away from me with all that dirt,” Mrs. Nicholls said brusquely, but Elizabeth could see how pleased she was. “Martin!”
When Martin arrived, professionally stoic and spotlessly attired, Elizabeth felt her panic rising and ruthlessly shoved it down. Never mind, she thought. You are almost presentable, and they will not keep you in company long. She took a deep breath and followed the under-butler upstairs.