Chapter 3
Dining Room
Netherfield
Later
The door closed behind Elizabeth, and Miss Bingley, who had been holding her tongue with difficulty, burst into speech.
“It is, of course, convenient that Miss Eliza was available to assist Mr. Darcy with your foolish spaniel, Brother, but I think we can all agree that it was quite absurd of her to be scampering about the countryside entirely alone, merely because her sister has a trifling cold. I am certain that you agree, Mr. Darcy!”
Darcy, who had been more quiet than usual over dinner, set his wine glass down and turned toward his hostess. “Yesterday, I probably would have agreed with you, but given that I owe my comfort and perhaps even my life to Miss Elizabeth, I will hardly be so churlish as to criticize her actions.”
Miss Bingley flushed red at these words, and Mrs. Hurst said, “Surely you exaggerate! You do not owe Miss Elizabeth your life!”
Darcy wrinkled his nose and said, “I was rather in trouble in that creek. I could not imagine abandoning Maxwell, but trying to wade through a strong current and then climb a steep, muddy bank would not have been easy. Perhaps I would have succeeded, but I was genuinely worried that I would slip and fall.”
“Brother,” Miss Bingley said, turning an outraged expression on Bingley, “do you see what your stupid dog has done? He nearly killed Mr. Darcy.”
Bingley turned an apologetic look on his friend and said, “I am sorry, Darcy.”
“Nonsense. The entire affair was a series of unlikely circumstances. I am well enough, and Maxwell is too. I am merely explaining to everyone here that I have no intention of criticizing Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Given that Miss Elizabeth marched here to succor her sister, I believe that she deserves praise, not criticism,” Bingley replied, staring directly at his younger sister.
Miss Bingley huffed but did not respond.
Watching her, Darcy found himself contemplating the similarities and differences between the two ladies.
Miss Bingley and Miss Elizabeth were both beautiful women with charming figures.
Both were blessed with well-modulated voices and the ability to speak with ease.
But their differences were far more in evidence than their similarities. Miss Bingley was haughty and insulting to those she considered beneath her. Miss Elizabeth spoke kindly to everyone, including the servants.
Miss Bingley pretended to be a great reader, but she only spoke of books which she thought Darcy liked.
She showed no genuine interest in the written word.
For her, books and plays were for showing off her intellect or, more importantly, for looking down on those who had less access to libraries and bookstores and theaters than she did.
Darcy did not pretend to know Miss Elizabeth very well, but one evening at Lucas Lodge, he had overheard her speaking with Miss Charlotte Lucas about Shakespeare’s King Lear. He had been startled and, yes, charmed at Miss Elizabeth’s scathing dissection of not only Lear himself, but the playwright.
“Such a stupid man, King Lear,” she had declared. “He is so stupid, in fact, that I quite loathe the play. It seems so improbable that I cannot take the subsequent tragedy seriously.”
“I am certain,” Miss Lucas had returned lightly, “that Shakespeare would have been disappointed at your censure.”
Miss Elizabeth had laughed at this moment, and Darcy had been overwhelmed at the cheer and liveliness in that expression…
“Darcy?”
He looked up in surprise to discover that Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst had left the room, leaving the gentlemen behind.
“I am sorry,” he said. “I was woolgathering.”
Bingley passed him a bottle of Madeira and said, “I wished to say that I am sorry that my dog put you in danger today. I would never have forgiven myself if something had happened to you.”
“I daresay I would have figured something out,” Darcy said, pouring himself a glass of wine. “I was merely … that is, I did not appreciate Miss Bingley’s criticism of Miss Elizabeth.”
“Nor did I, I assure you,” Bingley returned, his brow lowering. “I do not know what is wrong with Caroline. She likes Miss Bennet very much but dislikes Miss Elizabeth.”
Darcy grimaced and then lifted his cup again to hide his expression.
He suspected that he was partly at fault for Miss Bingley’s antagonism.
At that same party at Lucas Lodge, where Darcy had overheard the discussion about King Lear, Darcy had made the mistake of telling Miss Bingley that he admired Miss Elizabeth’s fine eyes.
Given that Miss Bingley’s greatest ambition in life was to become Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley, that had been a substantial error on his part.
“Caroline is jealous of Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Hurst said.
Both Bingley and Darcy turned surprised looks on the portly gentleman, and the former said, “Jealous? Why would she be jealous?”
Hurst took the decanter of Scotch sitting near him, poured himself a glass, drank liberally, and only then said, “Caroline is, of course, handsome, well-dressed, reasonably wealthy, and well-educated. Miss Elizabeth is, comparatively speaking, poor, and I understand she and her sisters were educated at home. However, it is obvious that Miss Elizabeth has more charm and liveliness in her little finger than Caroline has in her entire body.”
He drank down the rest of the Scotch and sat back, silent once again, and Darcy found himself nodding. Hurst might be closer to a drunkard than not, but he was not stupid, and in this case at least, he was right. Miss Elizabeth was charming, in a way that was neither self-conscious nor false.
He really did admire her very much.
***
Netherfield Hall
Morning
Wednesday, 13th November 1811
The house was quiet, despite the advanced hour, as Elizabeth slipped out a side door into the garden.
There was no great beauty to be found in brown beds covered over in mulch for the winter or in dry dead stems sticking up out of dark soil.
It was just as well that Elizabeth was not in search of beauty, but of exercise.
After many hours indoors, she needed a walk and did not much care about the scenery.
To her profound relief, Jane was improved this morning from the previous night.
For hours, Elizabeth had slept fitfully with her back to the furnace of her sister's feverish form, rousing when Jane did to ease the suffering of the patient with sips of water, logs in the fire, or the removal of blankets. At dawn, to her relief, Jane’s fever had broken.
Elizabeth was glad that she would not have to send for Mrs. Bennet.
Her mother had more experience with illness, and she had wondered, while Jane tossed and turned, whether Mrs. Bennet’s knowledge was necessary.
Elizabeth was painfully aware of her mother's tendency towards vulgarity and knew that Mrs. Bennet could not be trusted to behave herself with gentility or to keep her conversation well-bred.
Elizabeth was relieved that with the dawn such concerns had been laid to rest.
A sympathetic maid had crept in early to clean the fireplace and re-lay the fire and see if tea was desired.
Tea had indeed been most welcome, and Elizabeth had coaxed half a cup of heavily honeyed tea into her sister before Jane murmured her intention to go to sleep.
By the time Elizabeth had devoured two muffins and washed her face and hands and tidied her hair, Jane was sleeping soundly enough that Elizabeth felt that she could safely slip outside for a time.
She was very glad now to have done so. The hedges were of dark evergreen needles, somber against the grayness of the garden. The sun was pleasant, if not quite warm enough to offset the bite in the air, and a few intrepid birds were tweeting their songs to the cloudless sky.
She walked to and fro along the various paths until she unexpectedly came across Mr. Darcy, whose own path intersected her own.
The pair froze in surprise at encountering one another, and then Elizabeth curtsied and Mr. Darcy bowed.
“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said. “How is your sister?”
She was a trifle surprised at this courteous question, but also pleased.
“Her sleep was disturbed, and I am confident that she is improving. Thank you,” she replied. “She drank some tea and is now asleep, so I thought I would take this opportunity to go for a quick walk. How are you this morning?”
He nodded and said, “I am well, thank you. I am going to visit Maxwell in the kennels, as I wish to be certain that he has recovered from his swim.”
She smiled and said, “That is kind of you.”
“Would you care to join me?” Darcy asked.
She lifted a surprised eyebrow but said, “I would like that, thank you.”
He held out his arm, and she took it, and the pair made their brisk way to the lane which led to the stables.
Elizabeth was conscious of two things as she walked. One, Mr. Darcy, even when he was not drenched and carrying a sopping wet dog, walked quickly. She liked that.
Secondly, Mr. Darcy’s arm, through his sleeve, was obviously very strong.
She also liked that, and the warm feeling it gave her.
It was odd, she mused, how much that interaction yesterday had changed her views about Mr. Darcy. He was arrogant, and he had insulted her at the assembly, but she would never forget that he had sacrificed comfort and safety for a little dog.
***
Kennel
Netherfield Hall
The kennel at Netherfield Hall shared a wall with the south end of the stables, and a door between the two permitted servants to travel freely back and forth between their equine and canine charges.
Elizabeth and Darcy found Maxwell in a pen farthest from the outside door. It was sufficiently large for the dog to move around with ease, though Maxwell was currently lying in a comfortable pile of straw, snoring away.
“He seems well enough, sir and miss,” Jimmy, one of the stable boys, said. “We rubbed him dry yesterday and have been keeping a close eye on him. He shows no signs of pneumonia or anything of the sort.”
“I am glad,” Elizabeth said simply.
“May we go in and see him?” Darcy asked.
“Of course,” Jimmy replied and unlatched the door and pulled it open. Elizabeth stepped within, followed by Darcy, and Maxwell opened two eyes slightly, yawned, and then rose regally to his feet.
Darcy bent down to stroke his floppy golden ears. Maxwell submitted to this attention with good humor, though he did not seem particularly impressed either.
“Well,” Elizabeth said, smiling down at the dog, “you might show at least a little gratitude to your savior, Maxwell.”
Again, the half-grown puppy yawned, and both Darcy and Elizabeth laughed.
The lady leaned over to pat one furry flank and said, “He is a handsome boy.”
“Yes, he is,” the master of Pemberley remarked, stepping back out of the enclosure. Elizabeth followed him, and Jimmy fastened it behind them.
“Do you have many dogs at Pemberley?” Elizabeth asked, taking his arm again.
Darcy guided them both out of the kennel and back toward the shrubbery. “Yes. We do quite a bit of hunting in Derbyshire, and we also have working dogs. What of Longbourn?”
“We have a few retrievers and cattle dogs,” Elizabeth remarked. She noted, with some surprise, that the sun was reasonably high in the sky. She consulted her watch and discovered that it was closing in on eleven.
“Do you need to attend to your sister, Miss Elizabeth?”
She looked up and said gratefully, “Yes, I should check on her. Thank you.”
“Please allow me to escort you inside, then.”