4. Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Netherfield
E lizabeth watched with a frown as Jane left Longbourn. Miss Bingley had sent an invitation to dine, and instead of sending Jane in a carriage like a civilized lady, Mrs. Bennet had sent her on horseback in the hopes that the impending rain would cause Jane to spend the night, and she would then be able to see Mr. Bingley in the morning. Elizabeth shook her head. It was utterly humiliating! What kind of gentlewoman arrived on horseback for a dinner engagement? At this time of year! It was not as if Jane was joining the hunt or had stopped by for tea while out on her daily ride. She shook her head. Jane felt the indecorousness of it, but such was her desire to forward her relationship with Mr. Bingley that she complied with the ridiculous plan. Elizabeth could only hope Jane would arrive before the rain and avoid a drenching.
Jane did not. By the time she arrived at Netherfield, she was nearly wet through. She made it through the first course of dinner, but it did not take long for her new friends to comment on her flushed cheeks and her glassy eyes. Jane had not changed her clothes when she arrived, not wanting to trouble her hostess, and had been sitting in wet garments for some time before she grew feverish.
Miss Bingley had no choice but to have a room prepared for Jane to rest and send a maid to tend to her. She would have sent her home, but her brother had the carriage, and she could hardly send Jane off on horseback in the pouring rain—though the idea had crossed her mind.
It was a nuisance having an ill guest, but what was a hostess to do?
Elizabeth received a note from Jane the following morning. Her sister had a sore throat, a fever, and a headache, but she was otherwise well. Elizabeth nearly groaned in frustration. This was her mother’s doing.
She quickly finished her breakfast and set out for Netherfield. Mrs. Bennet might protest, but she could not leave Jane on her own in such a house. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst did not strike her as familiar with the sickroom.
She found Jane more ill than her sister had admitted to and set to tending her immediately. When it came time for her to leave, Miss Bingley grudgingly offered to allow Elizabeth to stay and nurse Jane. Elizabeth knew she had only made the offer because her sister had protested so pathetically when Elizabeth was telling her goodbye. She also supposed Miss Bingley would be happy to relinquish the responsibility of Jane’s care to someone else. Elizabeth accepted the offer, sent a note to Longbourn requesting a trunk of clothes, and settled into the room next to Jane’s.
Elizabeth was heading down the corridor to request more water and cloths when she heard a whimper. She stopped and looked about but saw no one. Did one of the ladies keep a pug? The sound could have come from an animal.
She continued on her way and heard the sound again but louder this time. She finally realized it came from just behind a door to her left. She pressed her ear to the door and heard what sounded like a child crying. “Is anyone there?” she asked. Were there children on staff? Some houses employed them, though she had not seen any at Netherfield yet.
The crying intensified and Elizabeth leaned down to speak through the keyhole. “Are you all right in there?”
The child wailed and said something that sounded like Nana though she could not be sure.
“Is anyone with you?” She did not want to open the door and find it was Mr. Hurst’s room, but neither did she wish to leave a child crying on its own. She rapped on the door rather loudly, but there was no response besides more crying. Sighing, she said, “Would you like to come out of there?”
There was a sniffle and a strained, “Yes.”
Elizabeth looked down the corridor and saw no one she could turn to for assistance. She reached for the doorknob, took a deep breath, and turned it. She had to give it an extra shove as the child seemed to be sitting against the door. She looked down and saw a boy of about two years or perhaps a little older with a splotchy face and tears tracking down his cheeks. A quick look told her he was alone in the room.
She immediately knelt down to his level and took out her handkerchief. As she dried his tears and wiped his nose, she asked, “Were you not able to open the door?”
The boy shook his head woefully. Netherfield was an old house, and the doorknobs were all at the height Elizabeth’s ribs. No wonder he had not been able to reach it!
“Is your mother here?”
He looked at her oddly.
“Do you have a nurse?”
He seemed slightly more interested at that word, but still said nothing.
“Do you have a room in this house?”
He nodded.
“Do you know where it is?”
He shook his head.
Elizabeth sighed. She could not leave him on his own, but neither did she wish to carry him downstairs and ask Miss Bingley who he belonged to. If he was a family member of one of the servants, she may not even know. Mrs. Hill’s nephew had lived with them for a few years when he was little, and Mrs. Bennet would not have even recognized the boy even though he had spent five years under her roof.
Elizabeth stood and held out her hand. She would find a maid and ask her where the boy belonged, and he would simply have to accompany her while she did so. “Come with me, dear. We shall find your room.” He took his time standing and put a grubby hand in hers. She turned to leave the doorway and spun directly into a broad chest.
“May I ask what you are doing in my room, Miss Bennet?”
She looked up into the stern face of Mr. Darcy and swallowed. “I was not in your room, sir. I only opened the door to let the little boy out. He somehow got trapped inside and could not reach the doorknob.” She raised her chin, daring him to argue with her.
Mr. Darcy’s gaze dropped to the boy standing beside her and his eyes widened. He crouched down to the boy’s level. “Master Peter, what are you doing out of the nursery?” His voice was softer and gentler than she had ever heard it. Something about it seemed familiar somehow, but she could not place it.
“Nanny sweep,” said the boy.
Darcy nodded and scooped the boy into his arms. Young Peter immediately rested his head on Darcy’s shoulder with his thumb in his mouth. “I shall take you back to the nursery and we will find Nanny, how does that sound?”
The boy nodded and seemed perfectly at home in Mr. Darcy’s arms. Elizabeth could only stare at them in amazement.
“Pardon me, Miss Bennet. Young Peter here is Bingley’s nephew. His nurse has been ill the last week and one of the maids was supposed to be tending to him.”
“Ah. So he is Mrs. Hurst’s son then?” She was more than a little surprised. In all her conversations with Louisa Hurst, the woman had never once mentioned she had a son. The boy did not even seem to know the word “mother.”
Darcy’s mouth set in a grim line. “Yes.”
“I suppose I should have thought of that before.” She mostly said it to be polite. The boy was obviously dirty and wearing simple clothing. She had no reason to believe he was the child of a gentleman, let alone the heir of one.
“Thank you for seeing to him. I will return him to the nursery.”
“Very well.” She curtsied. “It was nice to meet you, Master Peter. I hope your day improves.”
The boy gave her a wide smile and waved his hand over Mr. Darcy’s shoulder. “Bye,” he said sweetly.
She returned his smile and the wave. “Goodbye.”
Later that evening, Elizabeth was helping Jane to sit up in bed to take some soup when she told her sister about the encounter.
“Did you know Mrs. Hurst had a child?”
“I did not. It is odd she did not mention him, but perhaps the topic never came up.”
Elizabeth raised a brow. They had canvassed Jane quite thoroughly about every person she was related to from Cornwall to Scotland. There had been more than enough opportunity to speak of her own child.
“I see what you are thinking, Lizzy. Do not judge her harshly. Perhaps she is a private sort of person, or she may have thought I would not be interested in hearing of her son. Not everyone is, you know. We cannot know her reasons and therefore cannot judge.”
“Very well, Jane. I shall endeavor to see it your way, but I still maintain that it is odd at the very least.”
“It was kind of Mr. Darcy to tend to him. That is not typical of a gentleman of his station. You must at least see that.”
Elizabeth grudgingly admitted that Mr. Darcy had seemed at ease with the child and young Peter likewise comfortable with him, but she still could not like him. “One act of kindness does not make him agreeable.”
“Perhaps not, but it does prove there is more to him than you first suspected.”
Elizabeth huffed out a breath. “I suppose.”
“You enjoy studying characters and you cannot be well-entertained while I am in bed all day and asleep half the time. You could take this time at Netherfield to study him.”
Elizabeth nearly laughed aloud. “Study Mr. Darcy? What do you suppose I would find? A deeper well of hauteur beneath his arrogance?”
Jane sighed and looked heavenward. “You are so very determined to dislike him. Would studying him not be more entertaining? I never understood why you took against him as you did.”
Elizabeth had promised Mary she would not make Mr. Darcy’s insult to her public knowledge, but surely she could tell Jane? Their eldest sister was hardly one of the matronly gossips. She decided Jane might find it useful to know—especially if her relationship with Mr. Bingley progressed as Elizabeth thought it would—and quickly told Jane the story of Mr. Darcy’s insulting behavior at the assembly and Mary’s crying over it.
“I can hardly believe it!”
“I know. Such rudeness does not cross one’s path every day, but that is what Mary told me. You cannot deny it is true. Mary never lies, and we all saw how he behaved at the assembly. He sat next to Mrs. Long for nearly a half hour without uttering a single word to her! She was terribly offended.”
Jane scrunched her nose up in a thoughtful expression. “He must be a complicated man.”
Elizabeth snorted. “If you prefer to think of him as complicated, go ahead. But I will continue to think of him as one of the rudest men of my acquaintance.”
Jane swatted her sister’s hand as she tucked in her blankets. “I was not finished! I was going to say that the sort of man who helps a distressed child—a child who obviously knows him and is comfortable in his presence—is not the same sort of man who insults a lady in a ballroom.”
“And yet, he did both of those things!”
“Exactly!” said Jane with a triumphant look. “Complicated. Just think what an interesting character study he shall make.”
Elizabeth shot her a look. “Very well. I shall study him and report back to you, but only because the library is nearly empty, and the residents of Netherfield are duller than a Sunday sermon.”
“Lizzy!”
“What? I am doing as you requested.”
Jane rolled her eyes and Elizabeth smiled. “I must dress for dinner.”
“I will expect a full report on what you learn this evening!” Jane called as Elizabeth disappeared into the adjoining bedroom.