Chapter 9
“Shall you come for a ride, Lizzy?” asked Kitty.
“I believe I shall. Allow me to change and I will join you at the stables.”
In short order, Jane, Kitty, and Elizabeth were atop their favorite horses and riding towards Longbourn’s border.
“Where are we headed?” asked Elizabeth.
“I thought I might call in on Miss Bingley. But we need not if you would prefer not to,” answered Jane.
“Would you be terribly cross with me if I did not wish to? I would much rather see Charlotte.”
“Of course. I have not seen Charlotte in some time.”
Kitty took off first, being the best horsewoman in the family, and Jane was close behind her on Andromeda.
Elizabeth brought up the rear on the family’s faithful old mare.
Nelly would need to be put out to pasture next year, but for now she was Elizabeth’s favorite mount as she was not as spirited as Jane’s mare or as strong as Hercules, their gelding and Kitty’s favorite.
Unbeknownst to the Bennets, Fate was agitated that day.
She was frustrated with all the silly humans and all their ridiculous behavior, the way they took perfectly good chances she had practically gift wrapped for them and squandered them, and in a fit of pique, she sent a sudden rainstorm down to Hertfordshire.
One minute the sky was blue and clear, and the next it was filled with dark clouds and spitting rain.
“Hurry! Under that tree!” called Jane.
The ladies all led their mounts to a large tree just off the road that would offer them shelter until the worst of the rain had passed.
“What should we do?” asked Kitty.
Jane looked at their surroundings. The road to Netherfield was just to their right and as Mr. Bingley’s soulmate, she could arrive wet and request a room to refresh themselves, but it was not ideal.
A quarter mile up was the turn to Lucas Lodge, and they had known the Lucas family their entire lives.
Showing up wet at the home of an old family friend was a much more palatable idea.
They could continue on to Meryton to their Aunt Phillips, but that would require delivering their horses to the stable in town and listening to their aunt cluck over them getting wet for an hour.
“We could continue on to Lucas Lodge. It is closer than returning to Longbourn,” suggested Jane.
“I agree. I do not want to go into Meryton,” said Kitty.
Before Elizabeth could voice her agreement, they heard a great shout.
“Ho there, Miss Bennet!”
It was Mr. Bingley, riding alongside Mr. Darcy, both drenched and turning towards Netherfield.
“Ladies, come and dry off at Netherfield! You mustn’t stay out in this rain,” shouted Mr. Bingley over the storm.
Jane lit up when she saw him and before either of her sisters could say a thing, she was leading her horse to gallop alongside Bingley’s.
Kitty looked at Elizabeth and shrugged, then took off after her sister. Elizabeth shook her head and joined them.
“Do you not approve of continuing on to Netherfield, Miss Elizabeth?” called Mr. Darcy in his deep voice.
He really should not be so appealing when he was wet. It was unfair. Elizabeth knew he was unmarked, and therefore, off limits. The least he could do was be as unattractive as possible.
“I do not mind at all, Mr. Darcy. I do not wish to be wet through, though, so let us continue.”
He nodded and gestured for her to go ahead of him, and she galloped off behind her sister.
Elizabeth had gotten into a conversation on soul marks with Miss Bingley the last time they had called at Netherfield.
Miss Bingley had told her that most members of the ton did not receive a mark—a fact Elizabeth already knew—and that her brother had only taken one because he was a romantic at heart and they had had a rather charming governess who made marks sound exciting and ideal.
Before anyone knew what was happening, he had made the impulsive decision to be marked and announced it to the church at his ceremony, without any discussion with his parents or sisters.
Their father was more than a little put out—he was afraid Bingley would match into the merchant class they were trying to remove themselves from or worse, with a servant.
“How lucky then that he matched with a gentlewoman from a landed family of longstanding,” Elizabeth had said.
Miss Bingley had smiled tightly. “None of his friends were so foolish. Take the Darcys, for example. They have not received a mark in sixty years.”
Elizabeth’s brows rose. She did not know why Miss Bingley was baiting her, but she would play along and see what she was up to. “Not a single one? That is odd.”
“Not particularly odd. Families such as the Darcys value more important things. Connections, accomplishments. You understand, surely.” She lifted her chin and looked down her nose at Elizabeth, and suddenly everything was clear.
Miss Bingley wished to wed Mr. Darcy—everyone already knew that—but for some reason, which was less clear to Elizabeth, she viewed the Bennets, and Elizabeth in particular, as a threat to that goal.
“I understand, Miss Bingley. Some people value fortune and position more than love and happiness. And some will do anything to achieve that which others are naturally born to.”
Miss Bingley bristled.
“Good afternoon.” She had walked away and said nothing further about it, but now, riding in the rain with Mr. Darcy, she wondered if Miss Bingley was more perceptive than she had given her credit for.
Was Mr. Darcy attracted to her? That would certainly be unexpected.
Netherfield was warm, and most importantly, dry.
The ladies were sent to a guest room to change and Louisa kindly offered to send gowns for Elizabeth and Kitty, who were similar to her in height, and Caroline loaned one to Jane, as she was taller.
They may have been of a similar height, but Caroline had a rather small bosom, unlike Jane.
The gown was almost indecent on Jane’s fuller figure.
“I need a fichu. I cannot leave the room like this!” cried Jane, staring at herself in the mirror in horror.
Kitty could not help laughing at her sister’s predicament. Perfect Jane, who never had a hair out of place or an unkind word to say, was nearly spluttering with shock. She was practically falling out of the gown, less than half of her bosom covered by fabric.
“Do not worry, Jane. I asked the maid for a fichu. She shall be back any minute,” said Elizbeth.
Jane sighed. “Thank you, Lizzy. I do not know why I am so worried. It is not as if the Bingleys will not soon be family.”
“But you would rather not look ridiculous in front of your new sisters?” added Elizabeth.
“Exactly.”
“And Mr. Darcy will not be family,” threw in Kitty. “The scowl that man has! I would not want him to look at me like that in my best dress, let alone in an ill-fitting gown I borrowed from my soulmate’s harpy sister.”
“Kitty!” cried Jane. “You mustn’t refer to Miss Bingley that way.”
Kitty shrugged. “It is true, Jane, and you know it. And it is only us here. I would not say so in public.”
Jane could hardly argue with that and turned her attention to drying her hair in front of the fire.
Elizabeth was doing the same, but where Jane’s hair dried golden and shiny, Elizabeth’s curled up into ringlets with fuzzy edges.
She focused her attention on twirling each curl about her finger and smoothing it out before moving on to the next.
It was a painstaking process, but it was also the only thing that kept her from looking like a newborn duckling, covered in fluff.
The maid returned with a selection of fichus borrowed from Mrs. Hurst and Jane ended up using two, so low was the neck of the gown. She tucked the more opaque one into the bodice first—though it was not nearly as modest as what she usually wore—and added a thin lace one atop that.
“How does this look?” she asked her sisters.
“Well enough,” said Kitty.
“It looks very well, Jane. I cannot see anything indecent,” said Elizabeth.
Jane sighed in relief. “Thank heavens! Are we ready to go down?”
They assented and made their way to the drawing room where Miss Bingley was serving tea to the recently arrived gentlemen.
“Miss Bennet!” cried Mr. Bingley. His eyes were drawn to her lower than usual neckline, but being the gentleman he was, he quickly snapped his eyes back to her face, though his cheeks were a little flushed. “I hope you have been made comfortable?”
“Perfectly so, Mr. Bingley, thank you. Your sisters were kind enough to loan us their gowns.”
Bingley finally noticed Kitty and Elizabeth standing next to Jane.
“Of course. I am glad to hear it.” He led Jane to a chair near the fire and they quickly fell into conversation.
Kitty shot Elizabeth a look—the one that said they were on their own now that Jane had been scooped up by Mr. Bingley—and the two of them made their way to a sofa across from Miss Bingley’s chair.
“Tea?” Clearly, Miss Bingley was not in the mood for company.
Elizabeth and Kitty each requested a cup with milk and they drank in silence. The Hursts were absent and Mr. Darcy was standing at the far window, giving no indication he had even heard them enter the room.
“You have a lovely instrument,” Kitty finally said, looking toward the pianoforte in the corner.
“Thank you. Music is such a delight. Though I suppose you do not have as much opportunity in the country to hear the great works.”
“We do not, but we often go to concerts when we are in Town,” answered Kitty.
“In Town?” repeated Caroline, as if she could not believe these country bumpkins ever left their village.
“Yes. Our father is particularly fond of the theater, so we often go when we visit,” added Elizabeth.
“Does your father keep a house in London?” asked Caroline, a sneer tickling at her lip.
“No. Our father does not enjoy Town enough to keep a house there. We usually stay with our Uncle or cousins, or with other friends.”
“And where is your uncle’s house?”