Chapter Fourteen #2
Darcy was perfectly able to spend an evening at a ball or party in London, but it took a quiet night or two at home to recover.
Here at Netherfield, he had expended a great deal of effort to be sociable with precious little time to recuperate.
Georgiana had expected him to relax—ordered him, really—but that had been a fool’s errand.
Perhaps Miss Bingley might turn some of her interest to Richard when he arrived.
His cousin’s home was well-situated between Matlock and Pemberley.
Briarwood was something between the size of Longbourn and Netherfield, nestled snuggly into a craggy bit of land better for raising sheep than growing crops.
Still, Richard had hired an excellent steward, and the estate had taken in a tidy income between three and four thousand last year.
It was nothing to Pemberley, but then, he did have a titled family. That must count for something.
“Perhaps we should tell your sister that Fitzwilliam’s brother is a viscount,” he called to Bingley as they slowed the horses to a trot.
“Darcy,” Bingley said with a rueful shake of his head. “Do you think she does not already know?”
Poor Richard, he thought, and then reason reasserted itself. Better him than me.
Elizabeth slept soundly for a few hours before Molly woke her. She checked on Jane, who was still sleeping, and then descended the stairs with the letters she had completed the night before.
She had written to Uncle Gardiner, who had promised her pineapples (at least ten, he said) so long as they made the voyage without spoiling.
She had gently inquired whether the crew could store them still planted, instead.
It would take up a great deal of room and they would have to be tended, so she could not be certain it was possible.
Mr. Yeager had given up on the pineapple discussion altogether, writing only that he had found two additional men to hire.
Elizabeth had agreed to the wages and a starting date.
She had written John to apprise him of everything she had done in the first two letters, and then asked after Her Grace and the children.
She had written a funny letter describing Miss Bingley and her sister to Francis, who was sure to share it with Anna.
Finally, she had written to Aunt Olivia, alerting her to Jane’s illness, her own present residence at Netherfield, and thoroughly describing her inability to understand Mr. Darcy.
I cannot make him out, Aunt Olivia. He is at once welcoming and forbidding, approving and disapproving, humorous and severe.
Elizabeth reached the landing just as one of the younger footmen entered the hallway below. He turned his head to the left and the right before looking up. “Miss Bennet,” he said, “there is a man from Longbourn in the kitchen waiting for your post.”
She nodded. “Thank you…”
The footman, no more than a boy despite his height, blushed. “Fisk, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Fisk,” she said kindly. “I shall be down momentarily.” He turned away politely, and she stepped lightly down the staircase, halting at the bottom to check that she had all the missives she had penned.
She hated even to think it, but she must. It would not do for Miss Bingley or one of that lady’s maids to happen upon a misplaced letter. The seal alone would give her away.
As she gazed at the Gracechurch Street directions, she decided she would need to have Uncle and Aunt Gardiner for dinner soon after she arrived in town. They adored Aunt Olivia and were wonderful conversationalists.
Elizabeth had decided not to lease the Kensington house for the season this year; it was a gift from Uncle Phillip and she wanted, at last, to live in it.
Aunt Olivia had agreed to remove with her; she loved the Gardiners too, and would be happy to have them visit there.
Elizabeth longed for the quiet of her own home—St. James’s Square was always very busy.
Fisk turned again, waiting for her to look at him before relating his message. “Mrs. Nicholls says that we can see to your post, if you prefer.”
“Thank you, Fisk,” Elizabeth replied, “but we have a particular system in place at Longbourn, and I do not wish to cause you all more trouble.” It was true, if not the entire truth.
“Very good, Miss Elizabeth,” Fisk responded and let her lead the way.
“Darcy!” cried Richard as he nearly leapt from his carriage. “How are you, man?” He slapped Darcy on the shoulder and gave Bingley a nod and a crooked grin. “Your servant, sir.”
“Fitzwilliam,” Darcy replied drily. He nodded to his cousin. “Fortunately for you, Bingley has decided not to throw you out on your ear for presuming to invite yourself.”
Bingley rolled his eyes. “You know you must treat Netherfield as quite your own, Fitzwilliam. Never mind your cousin. It is my sister you must watch.”
“She cannot be worse than the mater just now, Bingley,” Richard grinned, as Darcy muttered something about Richard treating Bingley’s brandy as quite his own. “And I thank you for the gallant welcome.” He turned to Darcy. “Unlike my cousin’s.”
They all laughed and headed up the steps into the house.
“So, who is the latest lady of many accomplishments and good fortune my aunt has chosen as your future bride?” Darcy asked as they crossed into Bingley’s study.
Hurst was already there, reclining on the sofa nearest the fireplace, snoring. Richard glanced at Bingley who simply shook his head. “It is even worse than when you first met. He is now married to Louisa, and she is never parted from Caroline.”
Richard rubbed the back of his neck and turned his attention to Darcy.
“This one is the worst of all,” he complained, heading straight for the drink tray.
He held it up to show Bingley that the decanter was already half empty before pouring himself a glass of wine and taking a chair.
“Mother has settled on Georgiana’s little friend, Miss Russell.
Honestly, Darce, can you see me with someone Georgie’s age? ”
Bingley stretched out on one of the large leather armchairs. “You could teach her how to ride a pony,” he said with a grin.
“Offer her lessons on the pianoforte,” Hurst added from his reclining position.
“Not interested in a child bride,” Darcy replied as he settled in a chair. “Duly noted.”
“Not even one with a large dowry,” Richard agreed.
“Depends on whether she has large…” Hurst offered.
“Hurst,” Bingley said warningly as Darcy and Richard exchanged glances. “Go back to sleep.”
“At some point, you know,” Richard continued, as though he had not been interrupted, “we should have to speak, and whatever would we have to say to one another?”
The men sat quietly until Hurst’s snore resumed.
“Not that I would mind,” Richard said, nodding at Hurst’s position and twisting the stem of his glass between his thumb and forefinger.
“A fine figure is a definite recommendation, but that alone cannot please a man for a lifetime. She must have some wit, some sense.” He tossed his legs up on the ottoman. “And she must adore me.”
“Be blind to your many faults, you mean,” Darcy grunted, taking a seat himself.
Miss Russell had done them all a great service, and he would not allow the countess to repay her by making designs on the girl, not even for Richard.
She was a little older than Georgie, he knew, but if this was to be her first season, she deserved to enjoy it.
“Naturally,” Richard agreed before taking a long drink. “That is the dream of all gentlemen, is it not?”
Elizabeth sat on the side of Jane’s bed and helped her sister swallow some broth. “You really must, Jane,” she said, dipping the spoon into the steaming liquid. “Everything Mrs. Thistlewaite makes is delicious.”
Jane opened her mouth compliantly and eventually finished half of the soup. She shook her head when Elizabeth tried to continue.
“Very well,” Elizabeth said. “Nancy,” she called to the maid, “would you see that this is returned downstairs?” Nancy picked up the tray and headed for the door.
Elizabeth laid the back of her hand against Jane’s cheek and then her forehead.
Still warm, but cooler than before. She stood to mix the next draught, one that would help Jane sleep.
Then, when Nancy returned, she would dress for dinner.
She had heard through Molly that Mr. Fitzwilliam had arrived, and she was hopeful that she would be able to speak with either him or Mr. Darcy, if not tonight, then perhaps in the morning before the entire household was awake.
“Lizzy,” Jane asked hoarsely, tossing one arm over her head in a restless bid for a comfortable position, “what was it like growing up with our aunt and uncle?”
Elizabeth stopped short. Lydia had asked this question nearly as soon as she arrived at Longbourn, Kitty and Mary at different times over the summer.
Jane had never asked. She thought maybe all the letters had shown Jane how well her life as a Russell suited her.
Elizabeth suspected that what Jane really wanted to know was whether she had felt better off without her parents.
As much as Jane loved them, it was clear that they sometimes embarrassed her.
Mama certainly, but Papa too, at times. Elizabeth put down the folded paper containing the apothecary’s powder and eased herself back onto the bed.
“I was happy to go, Jane,” she said gently.
“Of course, I did not really understand then that I would not be coming back to Longbourn.” She lifted her sister’s hand to her lips and kissed it.
“I will admit that I was surprised when I was told. I missed you terribly.” She said nothing about her parents, and she was certain Jane noticed.
Jane turned her hand over to grasp Elizabeth’s. “I missed you, too.”
“Even so,” Elizabeth said brightly, “I loved living with Aunt and Uncle. I was happy to stay.”
Jane smiled. “I am glad,” she said, and Elizabeth stood to finish the draught.