Whoooaaahhh—Short
Mary and Elizabeth spent several minutes doing their best to clean their faces, focused chiefly on keeping mud from their eyes and mouths with their handkerchiefs and wraps.
The wraps were already drenched in front, but the backs remained barely clean enough to serve as towels until they resorted to their petticoats.
The mud differed from what they knew, for not a single coachman in Hertfordshire would operate so carelessly—or at least, he would not do so twice.
They received a double portion. The wheels went through a large puddle at great speed, drenching them with muddy water, and throwing mud and small pebbles directly into their faces.
They could only have been more disagreeably muddy had the horses run them down and stamped them into the road: their likely fate absent Elizabeth’s quick action.
When they could speak again without eating mud, Mary asked, “Lizzy, did you see inside that coach?”
“I fear not.”
“There are two things of note,” Mary declared vehemently. “I only had a moment to see, but that sufficed.”
“Do tell!”
“The first is that the coach held Miss Bingley and the Hursts. I suspect they decided to escape this savage society the moment their brother turned his back for 5 minutes.”
Elizabeth sighed for at least the dozenth time. “That seems a reasonable surmise.”
“The second is even more disturbing. When I had to close my eyes, Miss Bingley was looking straight at us and laughing!”
Elizabeth sputtered. “I never! Well… I… I… knew she was a disagreeable hoyden, but this… this—”
Propriety paralysed them. They had to balance the conflicting desires to say what they truly thought, against the habit of acting like ladies who did not say such things.
They both tried to work out the proper response when a loud call settled the matter.
“Whoooaaahhh, there!”
The ladies looked up from their labours to see a coach approaching at a much more reasonable pace.
Since it approached at a careful walk, there was no danger of a repetition of the previous incident, as the coachman watched the road most attentively and manoeuvred the horses around the puddles at a crawl.
Another minute brought the coach to a stop, and Elizabeth was surprised to find nobody at all visible through the window. The footman jumped from the back and opened the door, which resolved the mystery.
Inside sat none other than Mr Darcy. A travelling rug lay on the floor, still covering his boots, where it had plainly just slipped from his lap, and he was on his knees opening a compartment beneath the facing seat.
He reached in for another rug, then seized both and jumped out before the poor footman even had a chance to put down the step.
He landed in the mud, fortunately missing the puddle by a foot, so he did not splash them all over again, which would not have been well received in their present moods.
Elizabeth had not known the gentleman had brought his coach to Netherfield, but in the few seconds required for his exit, she had time enough to reflect that simple deduction could easily account for its presence.
Mr Darcy was at Netherfield—as was Miss Bingley.
Any sensible man would ensure he could separate those two facts with little warning—therefore any reasonable man sharing a house with would keep a carriage, a curricle, a set of fast horses, a reserve horse, and another spare besides.
It was only common sense, with a dash of deductive reasoning.
Mr Darcy gave a slight bow. “Miss Elizabeth. Miss Mary.”
Without waiting for acknowledgement, and without another word, he handed one rug to the footman, walked behind Lizzy, and placed the other over her shoulders, while the footman did the same for Mary.
“I hope these help a little, ladies. Pray muddy them as much as necessary—that is what they are for.”
Elizabeth, though perplexed by the offer, wrapped the rug tightly around herself. The warmth was an improvement.
“Thank you, Mr Darcy,” she said, which she had to admit was probably the nicest thing she had ever said to him; but then, she had never required his travel rugs before.
“Thomas, there is a stream about thirty yards that way,” Darcy said, pointing behind the ladies.
“Right, sir,” replied the footman, apparently Thomas. He walked behind the coach, reached down to a compartment below his perch, pulled out a lacquered bucket, and ran towards the stream.
Elizabeth, without thinking, yelled after his retreating back, “Pray, slow down, young man. There is a very slippery patch before you arrive, and it would not help matters if Mary and I had to drag you from the stream.”
Much to her surprise, the footman let out a big laugh, “Right you are, Miss Elizabeth,” he called, before slowing to a more reasonable trot.
Mr Darcy, meanwhile, rummaged in the coach’s hidden compartment, pulled out a few small towels, and handed them to the ladies.
The coachman had set the brake carefully, tied off the reins, and hopped down to stand in front of Darcy.
The coachman surprised her by asking, “Ladies, if I am not impertinent, might you tell me whether it was the Bingley coach that left you in this state?”
The question startled them into silence for a moment, and Mary nodded.
The coachman sighed resignedly. “I shall see to it, sir.”
“Thank you, Smithers,” Darcy said before returning his attention to the ladies.
Elizabeth’s curiosity overrode her common sense. “If I may be so bold as to ask, what does ‘seeing to it’ mean?”
The coachman looked at her and sheepishly said, “I would prefer not to say, Miss.”
“And yet, you are to take some action based on our testimony. We prefer to know what it is, if you do not mind.”
Darcy asked, “Would you prefer I answer?”
“No sir. Mr Smithers seems quite capable of speaking for himself.”
The coachman nodded. “We have a code of conduct in our profession. Mr Darcy has mentioned that you are very well educated, Miss Elizabeth. Do you wish details, or just the broad picture?”
Elizabeth really liked this Mr Smithers, so she smiled at him and replied, “Both Mary and I are well educated and less flighty than some. You have aroused my curiosity, sir.”
Smithers nodded and stepped to a spot half a dozen paces in front of the ladies. “Pray, examine these tracks.”
He pointed to their muddy footprints. “Based on the spacing of your steps, I surmise that Miss Elizabeth bodily dragged Miss Mary out of the way, at just about the last moment and the fastest pace you could manage.”
Surprised, both ladies nodded.
Smithers pointed to the hoofprints still visible in the mud. “From the spacing and pattern of those hoofmarks, I surmise the coach was going entirely too fast for this road. He could just as easily have killed you if you had not been so quick. I see no evidence of his trying to stop.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Simple logic suggests the only possible evidence would be the presence of said coach.”
“True, but even if he slowed down, decided you were fine, and continued, I could tell from these tracks. He did not slow a jot.”
Mary asked, “I imagine you can tell more than that?”
“Yes, ma’am. I shall not bore you with the details, but that man is a disgrace to his profession.”
Mary asked carefully, “What do you propose?”
Smithers looked at Darcy, who nodded. “I shall see to it that he either becomes less of a disgrace or leaves a profession he is not qualified for.”
Elizabeth and Mary gasped, but Smithers continued.
“Do not feel that any of this is on your heads. Think of it this way: you have given me evidence that may prevent him from hurting someone else. It is for another’s sake that I shall undertake his education.”
Elizabeth said, “Education, a curiously ambiguous word.”
“There will be lessons and exams, and you would probably rather not know too many details. I was a young hothead once and had to take my own lessons. The cuts and bruises heal in a month, but the lesson, I hope, lasts a lifetime.”
Elizabeth needed no more enlightenment on that business—and, by Mary’s look, neither did she—just as Thomas returned with the bucket of water.
Elizabeth and Mary gratefully accepted it, and all three men politely withdrew to the other side of the coach and faced away while the ladies did their best to clean away what mud and grime they could.
A few minutes later, they were as presentable as they were likely to get, so Mary said, “You may return, gentlemen.”
They returned and Darcy said, “Is there anything more I can do for your comfort.
I will of course take you wherever you need to go.
I presume you were to Meryton, but it seems more likely you would wish to return to Longbourn.
You can ride in the carriage, and I will ride with Smithers so there will be no impropriety.
Elizabeth said, “Mr Darcy, you know full well neither Mary nor I are intimidated by a little mud. We thank you for your help, but we are perfectly capable of walking either way.”
That ought to have ended the matter, but Mr Darcy continued, “Please, Miss Elizabeth. I know you are both well able to go wherever you need to, but I would consider it a privilege to assist you in whatever way I can. If not that, would you please at least allow my pride to remain under good regulation, by acting as a gentleman ought?”
Elizabeth giggled.
Mary was wondering what pride’s regulation had to do with anything, when the cry came again, though not quite so loud this time.
“Whoooaaahhh, there!”
They turned in surprise as a wagon pulled up behind the Darcy coach, heavily loaded with trunks and furniture.
It took but a moment to put 2 and 2 together and get a very disagreeable 4. The Netherfield party were running off like thieves in the night, mere hours after the Netherfield ball.