Chapter Thirteen #2
Elizabeth did not answer. She knew from her letters that Jane saw things clearly even when she would not openly acknowledge it.
They had not really spoken about Miss Bingley, and she had been concerned that Jane would allow her preference for Mr. Bingley to affect her ability to see what his sisters were about.
She need not have worried about that. As always, Jane had things well in hand. As long as she stays out of rainstorms.
Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst came to sit with them directly following breakfast, and it was another hour still before Mr. Jones arrived to pronounce that Miss Bennet was suffering from a severe cold and that they must get the better of it.
He warned she must not be moved, prepared several draughts, and instructed Miss Elizabeth and the maid how to administer them.
Elizabeth was relieved that the politeness Miss Bingley had demonstrated earlier endured; she and Mrs. Hurst were evidently capable of telling witty, entertaining stories about their lives in town.
After a time, the stories turned to the families with whom they spent time.
Elizabeth did not recognize any of the names, but then, her own plans for a season had been aborted rather precipitously.
Most of her acquaintances had been made through the Russell family, and as large as that family was, it had been society enough.
As Mrs. Hurst began to speak of a prominent family friend, yet another name she did not know, Elizabeth contemplated the families she would meet again in London.
At Longbourn, she was a part of a single family.
In contrast, the Russell family in London was large and still growing.
Olivia had made her memorize the family connections, titled and untitled.
She checked Jane and saw that her eyes were closed but she was not sleeping. The maid brought more tea, and she had Jane sip some.
All the while, Mrs. Hurst continued to speak.
When Elizabeth sat back, her ministrations complete, she allowed her mind to touch on the Russells.
Her cousin John was the current Duke of Bedford.
Elizabeth recalled the family tree Aunt Olivia had drawn, with Uncle Phillip and John’s father near the top, while she half-listened to the list of Mrs. Hurst’s very important connections.
When he was still Lord John Russell, the duke had married the Honorable Miss Georgiana Byng, daughter of the Viscount of Torrington.
That was his first marriage. The couple had three sons before her death—Francis was the eldest and the one Elizabeth knew best and cared for most. He was now the Marquess of Tavistock.
John now had four more children with his second wife who was also named Georgiana.
She had been Lady Georgiana Gordon, daughter of the Duke of Gordon.
Elizabeth, who had been seventeen the last time she was in town, always felt like a rather small fish in the Russells’ very large pond.
She was comfortable with them because they had all loved Uncle Phillip, still loved Aunt Olivia, and she believed were at least genuinely fond of her.
John had led the way, offering more than mere civility when they met.
“My mother’s name was Elizabeth,” he had told her gently, with a deep, warm voice as
he bowed over her hand. Elizabeth had been very impressed.
She had later been amazed to learn that Uncle Phillip had felt sorry for John, really, truly sorry for him.
He had been very grateful, he had told Elizabeth, not to be titled.
Too much work, Uncle Phillip had said. Too many rules to follow and appearances to maintain.
He and John had been good friends long before John’s elevation; they did a great deal of business together.
Although they argued politics with fervor, particularly over Napoleon and the war, it always ended with laughter and a drink.
When the clock in the hall chimed three, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst stopped speaking.
Elizabeth rose reluctantly to depart, but Jane held out her hand and begged her sister to stay.
Elizabeth knew Jane would need her, for Miss Bingley’s attentions were unlikely to continue once the men returned.
There was nothing for their hostess to do but convert the offer of the coach to an invitation for Elizabeth to remain.
She thanked Miss Bingley very correctly, and when she heard that James had arrived, penned a note for him to take to Longbourn, listing the things that they would need.
As Elizabeth had predicted, once the men had returned from their shooting, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst wasted little time vacating Jane’s chambers. Elizabeth was glad to see them go, as Jane had fought to remain awake through the visit.
James was prompt; before it was time to dress for dinner, they had everything she had requested.
Once Jane had been changed into her own nightrail, Elizabeth was at last able to give her sister a draught and tuck her in for the night.
Knowing she would return to Jane’s room after dinner, she set up her portable writing desk.
Along with her clothing, James had brought her post.
Mrs. Nicholls sent Molly to help Elizabeth change and arrange her hair.
It had been some time since she had dressed so formally for dinner, but as Molly closed the clasp on the chain of her gold locket, she lightly traced the etching of a lion and stared into the glass, feeling more like herself than she had in some time.
At half past six, she was summoned to dinner.
She entered Jane’s room to confirm she was still sleeping, had a few words with the maid, and finally went downstairs.
Elizabeth was seated next to Mr. Hurst, of course, as far from Mr. Darcy as the unnecessarily long table would allow.
Mr. Hurst was quite serious about his food, and when he asked Elizabeth’s opinion on the ragout and found that she generally preferred her dishes plainer, he had not spoken to her again.
Elizabeth was still worried about Jane, but the illness, while rendering her sister wretched, did not appear dangerous.
The relief she felt had left her giddy, and rather than being offended, she found Mr. Hurst rather comic.
She looked at her plate, trying not to laugh.
When she glanced up, she noticed that Mr. Darcy’s eyes were on her.
Are we to play this game again, Mr. Darcy?
“I do so despise being ill,” Mrs. Hurst simpered, touching her napkin daintily to her lips. “There is nothing worse than a cold.”
Elizabeth scarcely had time to consider a response to so ridiculous a statement when Miss Bingley added, “It is shocking, indeed.”
She attempted to make sensible answers, but the ladies made it difficult.
“Caroline,” Mrs. Hurst asked as the footmen cleared the third remove, “Have you decided whether you will attend the Grantley’s party this season?” She turned to Elizabeth. “Oh, my apologies, Miss Elizabeth. You will not know the Grantleys. Miss Grantley is Caroline’s particular friend.”
“No,” Elizabeth agreed pleasantly, “I do not know Miss Grantley or her family.” This line of conversation had grown stale, ladies.
Miss Bingley was clearly pleased. “My sister and I travel in very different circles than you, I imagine, Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth smiled and touched her locket. “Yes, Miss Bingley,” she agreed, “I imagine that we do.”
Mr. Darcy listened carefully to the exchange.
Caroline Bingley was declaring herself socially superior, but Miss Elizabeth only seemed amused.
Her subtle smile was lost on Miss Bingley and her sister, who clearly felt they had established some sort of victory.
Then Miss Elizabeth had touched the oval locket that hung on a delicate gold chain around her slender neck.
There was an etching on the front, but he was seated too far away to see it clearly.
What he could see was that Miss Elizabeth was wearing a lovely gown--quite a difference from her appearance at breakfast. He had no knowledge of women’s dress beyond what Georgiana had tried to explain to him, but he thought the blush color of the bodice and overskirt picked up the healthy pink in her cheeks and was very becoming.
He had noticed that the Bennet women dressed very well, each with an eye to the colors and styles that best became them.
Even Mrs. Bennet was handsomely dressed, though with perhaps too much lace.
Their dress was classic, rather than fashionable.
With four daughters out at once, that choice was likely due to their father’s limited income, but he could not disparage the results.
The gowns were simple but entirely elegant.
He believed that even fashion-obsessed Georgiana would approve.
In fact, he wished his sister to have such models.
The girl could run through an astonishing amount of money at the modiste and she was not yet out.
He shuddered to think of the damage she and his Aunt Matlock might do when she turned eighteen.
“Is the room too cold, Mr. Darcy?” Miss Bingley asked pleasantly. “I will call to have the fire built up.”
“Not at all, Miss Bingley,” he said, applying himself to the food on his plate.
Once dinner had concluded, Miss Elizabeth excused herself and returned directly to her sister. Darcy braced himself for what he suspected was coming, and come it did. No sooner had Miss Elizabeth left the room than Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst began to abuse her.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet has no manners, no grace, no poise,” Mrs. Hurst said sadly, shaking her head.