Chapter 2
Jane’s Guest Bedchamber
Netherfield Park
An Hour Later
“My poor Lizzy,” Jane murmured drowsily, “are you very wet?”
“I am well enough,” Elizabeth responded. “Do not worry, dear sister. Indeed, you must sleep as much as possible so you can improve.”
Jane nodded and turned over on her side. “I am so cold…”
Elizabeth grimaced. Her sister was flushed with fever, but illnesses were funny things, and she knew that Jane often had chills when sick.
She stood up and walked over to the fire, threw in a log, and stirred it.
The resulting increase in heat was most welcome.
She had only held the thoroughly drenched Maxwell for a few minutes, but after she removed her pelisse and handed it off to one of the Netherfield maids to be cleaned and dried, she discovered her dress was also quite wet.
Standing here in front of the fire was pleasant indeed.
When Elizabeth, after drying herself most of the way, returned to her sister’s side, it was to discover that Jane had fallen into a light sleep. She settled herself into a comfortable chair and prepared to keep silent watch.
There were, regrettably, no books at hand, but after a moment’s thought, she decided she had enough to think about to while away at least the next hour.
She needed to think about Mr. Darcy.
She had first laid eyes on the gentleman a month previously, and their initial interaction had been inauspicious.
They had both attended the monthly ball at the Hall in Meryton, and Darcy had spent most of the evening wandering around the edges of the room, refusing to be introduced to the local gentry and only making an occasional remark to members of his own party.
He had crowned this marvelous exhibition of arrogance by stating, sufficiently loud for Elizabeth to overhear him, that she was ‘not handsome enough to dance with’.
Elizabeth had decided, with a mixture of humor and annoyance, that Mr. Darcy was quite the most irritating man she had ever met in her entire life.
In the weeks since that first unfortunate interaction, her opinion had not changed a whit. The great and wealthy master of Pemberley remained stiff in company and had shown, in his continued tendency to glare at Elizabeth, his complete disdain for her person and character.
She did not mind his disapprobation, not in the least, and had been content to spend the rest of her days despising the man.
Now, she found her views, if not entirely upended, well, certainly they were profoundly disturbed. Mr. Darcy had set aside, if not his life, at least his comfort in rescuing Maxwell the spaniel.
He had waded into freezing waters to save the small, shivering beast, and even when the way out of the stream seemed impossible, he had refused to abandon the creature to its fate.
She was forced to confess to herself that her views of the gentleman required a small adjustment. He was proud and arrogant and haughty … but perhaps less so than she had imagined. He was kind enough to save a dog in dire need, and she could appreciate that.
***
Darcy’s Sitting Room
An Hour Later
Darcy was not much in the habit of lounging, but occasionally in private, he indulged in a less upright posture.
He was lounging now, comfortable in a well-padded armchair drawn up close before a roaring fire.
Percy, horrified and dismayed at his master's sodden condition and incessant shivering, had removed Darcy's clothes at record speed and thrown another two logs onto the fire.
A hot bath had been brought up to the room with admirable promptitude, and the valet had fussed around laying out clean dry clothes while Darcy soaked luxuriantly in the steaming water.
He was, admittedly, far more comfortable in a warm, dry shirt and woolen coat and breeches.
Percy's spate of imperiousness arose only, Darcy knew, from a great concern for his master.
It was pleasant here in front of the fire, with only himself for company.
An ordeal awaited him when he went downstairs, and Darcy did not relish the prospect.
It would be embarrassing enough to have to contend with Bingley's anxiety and gratitude and care for his dog and his friend, but Darcy could deal with that.
It was Miss Bingley's reaction he dreaded.
She cared nothing for Maxwell, or it seemed for anyone who did not fit into her machinations, but she would flutter ceaselessly around Darcy and twitter her fears for his health.
Such spurious solicitude would be insupportable, and though Darcy would always behave as a gentleman, the thought of having to face such a tedious display was as repugnant to him as it must be to any red-blooded man.
So he would enjoy his time alone, and he had more than enough to occupy his thoughts. He could hardly help from dwelling on one particular aspect of today’s ordeal, his unexpected interaction with Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Her arrival on the scene had been Providential, and her level head and clear thought no less so.
She had appeared a very angel, standing suddenly on the bank, her fine dark eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushed with cold and with exercise.
No time wasted in vapors and hysterics, not she!
She had assimilated the situation at a glance and leapt into decisive action.
Without hesitation, she had sacrificed her scarf to pull the foolish little dog safely to the bank.
Nor had that sufficed for her; having pulled Maxwell back onto dry land, she had proceeded to give up her shawl to the animal and hold the sodden little wretch in her arms.
Darcy could only admire the magnificently generous spirit that inspired such care.
Ladies might bestow such anxious tenderness on their own lapdogs, small and overfed and affectionate to their mistresses, but no woman of his acquaintance would be so worried about a mere hunting dog.
It spoke to a kindness and strength of character that quite set Miss Elizabeth apart.
Darcy heaved a sigh as he gazed into the fire.
How lovely she was! How remarkable! His thoughts dwelt on her pleasing figure and pretty face and arresting eyes.
It was a pity that more ladies were not like her.
It was a pity that her relations shared none of her decorum.
Her mother was vulgar, her two youngest sisters were unrestrained hoydens, and Mr. Bennet, while clever enough, did not bother to rein in his wife and children.
It was unfortunate. Had the Bennets been a little more genteel, Darcy would perhaps have pursued his attraction to this woman. No use repining over what could never be, however. Miss Elizabeth was no fit bride for a Darcy of Pemberley.
***
Drawing Room
Netherfield Hall
Half Past Six O’clock in the Evening
Elizabeth took a breath, stepped into the drawing room, and looked around. The drawing room was filled by Bingley and his relations, but there was no sign of Mr. Darcy.
Mr. Bingley rose as she entered, Mr. Hurst bobbed an indifferent head, Mrs. Hurst smiled mechanically, and Miss Bingley said in a syrupy voice, "Miss Eliza, do come sit down."
"Thank you," Elizabeth said politely, taking a seat moderately near the fire.
She had warmed up considerably, assisted in no small part by a dry evening gown and a woolen shawl.
A few hours earlier, Mr. Bingley had extended an invitation to her to stay the night, and Elizabeth, desirous of remaining with her sick sister, had accepted gratefully.
Within an hour, a Netherfield footman had brought up a valise fetched from Longbourn.
Elizabeth's gown was nowhere near as fine as the velvets of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, but she did not mind.
“My dear Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Bingley cried out, advancing on his guest with an anxious expression on his handsome face, “How are you? And how is your sister feeling?”
Elizabeth said, “I am well and thankful to be in dry clothing, but I fear Jane is not much better. At least she is getting plenty of rest today. I must thank you for allowing me to spend the night with her.”
“Oh, but of course,” Mr. Bingley returned earnestly.
“Indeed, given that you were thoroughly wetted while rescuing my absurd dog earlier today, I would not be at all comfortable with sending you home either. I must thank you for your kindness. I fear that Mr. Darcy and Maxwell were in rather dire straits when you arrived so fortuitously.”
She smiled and said, “It was my pleasure, of course, but Mr. Darcy deserves the majority of your thanks. How is Maxwell doing?”
“He seems to be entirely recovered from his ordeal,” Bingley said with a grin, “but he is quite in my stable master’s black books. Such a foolish beast, to push his way through an unlocked door to escape into the wild outdoors during a rainstorm!”
“Really, Brother,” Miss Bingley said in an irritated tone, “I cannot imagine why you are speaking of the dog instead of Mr. Darcy. He is the one who was nearly drowned saving your stupid animal!”
“I did not nearly drown, Miss Bingley,” Mr. Darcy said, and Elizabeth looked up to observe the master of Pemberley standing just inside the door to the room. “Moreover, I can only be thankful that I was nearby when the spaniel fell into the creek, or he would have been lost for certain.”
“I am glad too,” Bingley said, “but I feel I must apologize to you for such an ordeal. A stream in November is doubtless a most uncomfortable place to spend even a few minutes.”
“I do hope you are all right,” Miss Bingley said soulfully.
Elizabeth watched Darcy’s expression shift from reasonably genial to arctic, and the man said stiffly, “I am very well, thank you.”
Turning now toward her, he said in a warmer tone, “Miss Elizabeth, I hope that your sister is improving?”
Elizabeth sighed and said, “She is quite ill, but it is no more serious than a bad cold. Mr. Jones, the apothecary, checked her several hours ago and said that she needs warmth and rest, and I am most grateful to my host and hostess for their kindly hospitality.”
“Of course we will do all we can for your sister,” Mr. Bingley said, and she hoped that there was more than mere courtesy in those words. She liked Mr. Bingley very much and believed that he would be a good match for Jane.
“Yes, certainly,” Miss Bingley said, though far more dismissively. “Now, Mr. Darcy, would you care to sit by the fire? I am certain none of us wish to see you fall ill after your ordeal today.”
Mr. Darcy’s nostrils pinched at this statement, but the master of Pemberley merely made his way over to a comfortable wingbacked chair and sat down.
“Miss Elizabeth, pray sit down across from my friend,” Mr. Bingley said. “I realize you did not get quite as wet, but still, staying warm seems wise.”
Elizabeth was about to demur, but then she saw the flicker of outrage on Miss Bingley’s face and decided that a little courteous spitefulness was in order.
“Thank you,” she said, walking over to sink into the chair across from Mr. Darcy.
“I am, as I said, grateful that you were walking to Netherfield this morning,” Mr. Darcy said, “though I confess that I am a trifle confused as well. Surely you could have ridden Miss Bennet’s mare, which I understand was returned to Longbourn this morning?”
“I do not ride,” Elizabeth said concisely.
Miss Bingley, who had taken her place on a nearby settee, perked up at these words and said, “Oh, how very unfortunate. I am sorry you never had the opportunity to learn such a skill.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “It is more accurate to say that I had the opportunity, but I chose not to take it. I like walking around on two feet, and on those occasions when I need to travel longer distances, I can usually take the carriage.”
“And yet,” Mrs. Hurst said smoothly, “you did not this morning.”
“Which is a good thing,” Bingley said, “else poor Darcy might still be standing in that creek!”
“Quite,” Elizabeth said in good humor. “But to explain, we have only one pair of carriage horses, and they were not available yesterday or today because my father needed them for the Home Farm.”
Bingley’s two sisters exchanged disdainful looks, but Darcy said, “It is a wise man who takes care of farm work as winter approaches. There must be substantial hauling to be completed at this time of year.”
Elizabeth nodded and said, “Yes, exactly. The harvests are nearly complete, and it is vital that the potatoes and turnips be stored in dry, cool places for the upcoming cold.”
“It is marvelous that you are so well educated in such matters,” Miss Bingley said with a titter. “I fear that my sister and I know very little about such mundane matters, given that we left home for finishing school in London at a young age.”
Elizabeth rested a limpid gaze on her hostess and said, “I understand completely. I daresay that if you collect a few books and pamphlets, you will be able to learn much of what I have in only a few months’ time, if you apply yourself.”
Darcy made a strange choking sound at these words, and Miss Bingley turned red. Perhaps fortunately, the butler came into the room at this moment, and everyone rose to go in to dinner.
Elizabeth was startled when Mr. Bingley offered her his arm, but she took it, and when she entered the dining room, she found herself seated next to the master of the house and across from Mrs. Hurst, while Miss Bingley sat at the foot of the table beside Mr. Darcy.
She was pleased by her position next to the cheerful Mr. Bingley, and even more pleased that Jane’s illness meant that she would be able to leave the company promptly after dinner so that she could sit at her sister’s bedside.