Chapter 1
Elizabeth
Elizabeth Bennet had done as much repair as she could to her appearance.
She had thoroughly wiped the mud off her half-boots with a handful of grass.
It had been impossible to clean all the mud off the skirt of her walking dress and the petticoat beneath, but she had removed all that she could by scrubbing it with sand and a sprinkle of water from the nearby stream.
Then, of course, she had scrubbed her hands as well.
They felt chilled and stiff as she pulled her gloves back on.
She flexed her fingers several times to restore their feeling.
The morning had been very breezy, so it had been difficult to completely tame her hair, but she had taken off her bonnet, re-pinned the errant curls that had blown out of her original hairstyle, and put her bonnet on again, tying the bow carefully.
She breathed in deeply, slowly releasing the air through her nose. She felt ready for anything.
Except, maybe, Miss Bingley.
Elizabeth knocked on the door of the manor at Netherfield Park.
The butler, Stanford, opened it and recognised her immediately.
Still, she complied with polite formalities, saying, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, here to see my ailing sister, Miss Bennet. If Miss Bingley is at home, I would like to apply to her for permission to visit my sister and see how she fares.”
She gave Stanford credit for not looking pointedly at her mud-stained skirts. He promptly showed her into Netherfield’s entry and then, at the door to the morning room, he announced, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Caroline Bingley’s strident voice had been complaining that the morning’s preparation of eggs were not as she had ordered, but when Stanford announced Elizabeth, Miss Bingley stopped talking, and Elizabeth heard the susurration of fabric as several people stood up.
She sighed just a bit at the realisation that she was likely to have all the Netherfield residents witness her muddy incursion.
She raised her chin fractionally and entered the room. As she had expected, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, Mr. and Miss Bingley, and Mr. Darcy were scattered around the room, their cups and saucers and plates of food near to hand. The men stood, although Mr. Hurst seemed to do so quite reluctantly.
Miss Bingley, acting as hostess of her brother’s home, crossed the room to offer her hand and lightly squeeze Elizabeth’s. All the men bowed; Elizabeth curtseyed. Then the real fun ensued.
“Miss Eliza!” Miss Bingley said in her most condescending manner. “How remarkable it is to see you here, so early in the morning.”
It was, of course, too early for polite calling hours.
She kept her eyes locked onto Miss Bingley, who was busy looking down her nose at Elizabeth.
Actually, Miss Bingley was almost a foot taller than Elizabeth, so “looking down” was mandatory.
Still, her facial expression and her voice gave the proper context: she believed the Bennets to be decidedly beneath the Bingleys.
Lifting her chin up just the tiniest bit more, Elizabeth replied, “I have come to see my sister, hoping to help nurse her back to health.”
Miss Bingley raised her eyebrows, deliberately swept her gaze down to the evidence of mud, and asked, “Did you… walk?”
“As you see.”
“It must be three miles from Longbourn to Netherfield!”
“It is actually closer to two and a half, because I crossed the fallow fields.”
Miss Bingley made no reply to that, but Elizabeth felt that she could see the words “Hence all the mud!” forming in her brain.
“Could someone please show me to my sister?” Elizabeth asked.
“Of course.” Miss Bingley’s tone seemed to be that of royalty addressing a lowly servant, but Elizabeth, the daughter of a gentleman, actually outranked Miss Bingley, the daughter of a tradesman.
Still, Miss Bingley was very rich, the proud owner of a substantial dowry; Elizabeth, on the other hand, had enjoyed a pleasant upbringing on her father’s estate, but had a very paltry portion herself and was almost surely heading towards a life of genteel poverty.
Miss Bingley rang for a servant.
Despite Miss Bingley’s arrogance, Elizabeth continued to hold her head up, dignified, even proud. She was relieved that a maid appeared almost immediately, and she was grateful to escape the room on the heels of the servant as they went up the stairs and down a hall.
Elizabeth was interested to see that Netherfield’s upstairs looked almost unchanged from all those years ago, when the Bennet sisters had been friends with the owner’s daughter.
The carpet and wall coverings had been kept up and were scrupulously clean, but they were more than a decade out of style.
Since Miss Bingley constantly talked about fashion and bon ton, Elizabeth wondered if her fingers itched to update the furnishings.
Of course, the Bingleys were merely renting Netherfield. They were not yet landowners.
Which made it even more ludicrous that Miss Bingley presumed to lord it over the Bennets, who had been landowners for two centuries.
Finally, almost all the way down the hall, the maid reached a particular door and knocked crisply on it. Another maid opened the door and stepped back to allow Elizabeth to enter.
“Miss Elizabeth is here to see her sister,” the first maid said.
“Lizzy! You came!”
Jane’s voice sounded croaky but did not have the deep and whispery quality she sometimes got when a cold had gone down into her lungs.
Elizabeth felt almost immediate relief of her greatest worry; Jane was more frequently sick than any of the Bennets, other than Kitty, and she had a tendency towards high-fevered colds affecting her lungs.
Elizabeth swept her eyes over her sister’s face and immediately checked her temperature with her wrist held to Jane’s forehead and then cheek. She seemed normal. Another flood of relief washed over Elizabeth.
“Jane, how have you been feeling? Did you run a fever last night? Have you been coughing?”
“I am so glad you have come, Lizzy, but it is just a cold. I have been sneezing and coughing a fair amount—” and Jane stopped to cough a few times, as if her body desired to prove the point “—but I do not have the bad throat pain nor the horrible deep cough that I sometimes get.”
Elizabeth turned to the maid who had been tending to her sister.
“Good morning,” she said. She always spoke kindly to servants, but she felt especially grateful to this young girl.
The room was tidy, and the dirty handkerchiefs were neatly placed in a bowl positioned next to a stack of fresh handkerchiefs.
It was obvious from the water pitcher, glass, and teacup that the servant had helped Jane drink fluids with some frequency,
“Have you been here all night with my sister?” she asked the maid.
“Oh, no, miss,” she replied. “I replaced Molly at seven o’clock this morning. My name is Susan, and Molly and I have been taking turns caring for Miss Bennet ever since she took ill yesterday afternoon.”
“Thank you, Susan. What can you tell me about my sister’s condition?”
“Molly said as she slept poorly, ‘cuz of the coughing, but she never ran a fever.”
“Thank you. I wonder if you might refill the pitcher and bring another glass?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Susan bobbed a curtsey and scurried from the room.
Elizabeth hugged Jane tightly, scolded her briefly for catching a cold while away from home, and smiled at her encouragingly. “I will stay with you and make sure that you get well very quickly. Have you eaten anything? Might I order willow bark tea for you?”
Both sisters were smiling, happy to be together after a restive night apart, one uncomfortably coughing and the other worriedly tossing and turning.
Jane reported that she had eaten a small breakfast and had drunk some willow bark tea just before Lizzy arrived.
“Actually, I think I will need a nap soon.
After I go to sleep, I wonder if you might go down to the library to get some books for yourself and one to read to me, when I wake up? "
At that point, Susan returned with a tray carrying a pitcher almost full of water, two fresh glasses, and a stack of clean handkerchiefs.
Once she had emptied the tray, she put the used glasses and dirty handkerchiefs onto the tray, and she asked Elizabeth if she required anything else. “Food or tea?” she offered.
“Not now, thank you,” Elizabeth replied, checking with Jane one more time. “We will ring for you if we need something more.”
Susan left, and Elizabeth sank down onto the bed so she could put her ear to Jane’s chest, listening for the telltale signs of an assault on the lungs. She was relieved to hear none of the troubling noises she had heard in the past.
She moved to the water and the clean glasses Susan had brought; thirsty from her walk, she drank an entire glass of water.
Then she poured some water into the other glass and took it over to Jane.
Her sister only took small sips at a time, but Elizabeth coaxed her to drink the equivalent of two tablespoons.
Sitting on the bed again, Elizabeth lovingly stroked Jane’s hair back from her brow. The pillows looked nice and fluffy as Jane nestled down into them. She seemed to be ready for that nap.
Elizabeth talked softly about the doings at home.
Kitty had complained that her green ribbon was missing, and Papa had teased her about being green with envy over Mary’s green ribbon.
Mama had planned a dinner for the Lucas family but then decided to cancel because Jane would not be there to keep the peace between Maria Lucas and Lydia.
Mary was finally starting to lose patience with Fordyce’s Sermons to Young Women, and Mama was starting to lose patience with Mozart’s Sonata in A major, so Mary had decided to learn to draw.
“She is determined to be accomplished, our Mary,” Elizabeth whispered. Jane had fallen asleep.