8. Chapter Eight
Darcy stepped into Netherfield’s breakfast room and only years of training and existing in the fishbowl called the Bon Ton had him continue as though nothing untoward happened. Before him sat Elizabeth, calmly sipping a cup of tea. Across from her was Hurst, who sported the widest grin Darcy had ever seen. He was also sober. A large footman wearing a Longbourn livery stood quietly in the corner.
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said in a cheerful voice.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he replied with a polite nod of the head.
“Do you not mean, Lady Elizabeth?” Hurst teased.
“What joke is this?” he countered back and could not help but look at Elizabeth, hoping she did not think he was the one to spill her secret.
“Be at ease, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said. “Mr. Hurst knows who Jane and I are.”
“He does?”
She smiled at his astonishment.
“His youngest brother, Gilbert, is friends with our brother. It took Mr. Hurst some time to piece together that the Earl of Tiverton is also Trenton Hamilton.” Elizabeth’s smile stretched into an impish grin. “Mr. Hurst has offered to keep our secret for the time being.”
From his peripheral vision, Darcy noted that Hurst smirked when Elizabeth said he offered to keep their secret. More than likely, he would remain awake and sober for the remainder of their visit to watch his wife and her sister make complete fools of themselves.
“You are too kind, Lady Elizabeth… Miss Elizabeth,” Hurst amended when she frowned and darted a glance toward the half-open door. “My wife and her sister think too highly of themselves and need to have a cold dose of reality poured on their insufferable pride.” He dabbed his mouth with a linen napkin. “By the by, how is your sister? I was told that not only did she react to one of the cakes she ate, but also hit her head quite hard on the floor when she collapsed.”
“She is much better this morning, although the incident has left her feeling exhausted. Thank you for asking.”
“Miss Hamilton took ill?” Darcy asked.
“It was our sister Mary who took ill. She experienced a reaction to the crab in one of the cakes and unfortunately, when she collapsed, she hit her head hard enough to render her unconscious.”
“I am going to assume a doctor was summoned?”
“Mr. Jones, who is our extremely capable apothecary attended her, and has proclaimed she may return home to Longbourn as early as this afternoon, or tomorrow if her headache has not abated to his satisfaction when he checks on her later this morning.”
“Please tell Miss Bennet I wish for her a speedy recovery.” At Elizabeth’s raised brow, Darcy hurried to explain. “Not to see you vacate our presence, but only for the sake of her health and wellbeing.”
He filled his plate and sat next to her minutes before Ashton and Bingley joined them.
“Miss Elizabeth!” Bingley exclaimed. “Good morning. What a delightful surprise to see you here. Did your eldest sister attend with you?”
He looked around with a hopeful glance.
“Good morning to you, Mr. Bingley. And you, Lord Ashton.” Elizabeth waited until both men were seated. “I am here because Mary took ill yesterday during our tea. Nothing serious,” she hastened to explain. “Hopefully we can return to Longbourn this afternoon, tomorrow at the very latest.”
“Is Miss Hamilton upstairs with Miss Bennet?” Bingley asked, clearly eager for the beautiful woman to be close at hand.
“She is not. We all thought it best if I stayed and cared for Mary.”
Bingley looked as though he was about to speak again when Miss Bingley entered the room. He and his brother Hurst remained seated, but both Darcy and Ash rose to give her a proper greeting. For once, she did not simper or flutter her eyelashes. Instead, she glared at Elizabeth.
“Are you not worried about your reputation, Miss Eliza? Alone in a room with four gentlemen, three of them unmarried?”
“I am not,” Elizabeth said with a nod toward the far corner. “My father’s man is here with me.”
Miss Bingley’s gaze flew to the footman and with an inelegant sniff, took her seat at the table. Darcy reassessed the man he’d summarily dismissed as a servant, noting the watchful countenance and lean, muscular build. Now that he thought of it further, the man looked familiar and he recalled that when the Hamilton sisters were out and about, they were usually accompanied by a pair of footmen.
“I am uncertain why you have servants trailing around behind you. It is not as though you are a person of great importance.”
“Pardon my sister’s behavior,” Bingley rushed to say when Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak. “I give you my word she will treat you and your sister with respect during your stay here at Netherfield Park.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bingley. You are most gracious,” Elizabeth said with a smile.
“Well, you are a gentleman’s daughter?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! Her father was nothing but Longbourn’s rector. It is not as if he was a duke!” Miss Bingley exclaimed, clearly upset her brother dared chastise her in front of a perceived enemy.
“Her father may not have been a duke,” Ashton interjected in a firm voice while Hurst choked on his tea. “But the daughter of a rector is still higher on the social ring than a tradesman’s daughter.”
Miss Bingley, her cheeks red with anger – or embarrassment, Elizabeth could not be sure of which – began to cut her meat, her lips pressed tightly together.
“I apologize for my sister, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Bingley began.
“You need not apologize, Mr. Bingley.” Elizabeth felt a tug of compassion. The poor man’s face was nearly as red as his sister’s. “When your sister has calmed and remembers the lessons she was taught at her seminary, I know she will form her apology. Until then, I shall keep my distance until Mary and I can return home to Longbourn.”
“Speaking of Longbourn,” the viscount said as he reached into the inside pocket of his waistcoat and brought out a folded note, which he extended toward Elizabeth. “I offered to play the messenger for Miss Hamilton after seeing her this morning.”
“Thank you, Mercury,” Elizabeth teased, referencing the mischievous god of eloquence and communication.
“You have been to Longbourn?” Bingley asked the viscount.
“I have, indeed.”
Darcy watched Bingley’s expression turn from surprise to anger. Ash had drawn a line in the sand, daring the younger man to cross into his territory.
Later that evening…
“Are you worried?”
Darcy was seated across from Elizabeth while the others played cards across the room.
“About what?”
“Your connections to our family inadvertently coming to light before you are ready. They have been a closely held secret for many years.”
“Not necessarily a secret. Father’s elevation to earl was obscured by the fact he died within a day of inheriting the title and left behind a young widow with three children, two of whom were infants.”
“I see,” was all he said.
“I do not think you do. Mamma struck her head upon learning of my father’s death and nearly died. Because of her injuries, she never lived at the earl’s ancestral seat of Twelve Oaks, nor was she introduced into society as Countess Tiverton. When she came out of mourning, she and Papa married and she happily became Mrs. Bennet.”
“Is there a plan as to when you and Lady Jane assume your rightful place?”
Elizabeth took a deep breath and released it slowly, marshaling her thoughts.
“Along with Mamma’s brother and sister, Sir William and his family are the only ones in Meryton who know our full history. At first, no one spoke of it to protect my mother. I am told she was quite fragile the first year or two. Afterward, Papa did not wish for Jane and I to become a target for fortune hunters. As it is, all will be revealed when Trenton comes home for the Yuletide season. It is only proper he is introduced by his rank and title.”
About to add that she and Jane would be traveling with him to Twelve Oaks in the new year, they were interrupted when her father”s man entered the room and came to her side.
“My lady,” he began in a low voice that would not carry. “Miss Danvers has arrived from Longbourn. She brought a trunk with some essentials for you and Miss Bennet.”
“Thank you, Matthews. Tell Danvers I shall be up shortly. I must bid goodnight to my hosts.”
“Very well, my lady.”
Matthews gave a polite half-bow and withdrew from the room. Darcy bid Elizabeth goodnight and took this opportunity to move to a small desk whereupon he brought out writing supplies and began crafting letters. Elizabeth wandered over to the card table and waited for the foursome to finish their current hand. From what she gathered, Mr. Hurst and Miss Bingley were winning.
“I see your hulk of a footman came with some news. All good, I hope?” Miss Bingley said while Hurst shuffled the cards.
“Yes, my family sent a change of clothes for Mary and me. May I request a bed for my lady’s maid? We will likely not stay longer than one night.”
“Of course,” Miss Bingley replied. “As I am occupied for the moment, I give you leave to make your request directly to Mrs. Nickers.”
“Nicholls, Caroline,” Mrs. Hurst admonished, again. “The housekeeper’s name is Mrs. Nicholls.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Miss Bingley huffed out and began to sort her cards by suit.
Elizabeth bid them all goodnight and escaped to the outer hall, whereupon she asked Matthews to advise the housekeeper that her maid required a bed for the night. She then spent the rest of the evening tending Mary, who was still a little drowsy from not only hitting her head but also from the reaction of her body to the shelled fish she had ingested.
The next morning, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hursts attended the sick room and spent a few hours with Mary, talking about music and their busy social lives in town, leaving only when they noticed she still suffered a slight headache. For the rest of the day, Elizabeth ensured her sister drank the requisite draughts and tinctures procured from Longbourn’s housekeeper until Mary declared she felt much better, expressing a desire to return home on the morrow.
“We do not need to rush back to Longbourn. I know it is only a distance of five miles, but I worry the jostling of the carriage will aggravate your head. After such a storm as we had last night, the roads are deplorable.”
“I truly wish to go home, Lizzy. I want to sleep in my bed, in my room, and I desperately need to hear the sounds of Longbourn. This house is much too quiet!”
“There is truth in that observation. I hope when Jane marries and takes over Netherfield, she quickly sets up her nursery. This draughty old place needs the sound of children’s laughter.”
“Whom do you think she will choose to help fill this nursery?” Mary asked, her eyes taking on an extra sparkle – something Elizabeth was glad to see.
“I am not certain. She enjoys the attention of both Viscount Ashton and Mr. Bingley and remains vexatiously tight-lipped about where her affections lean. Both men are handsome, intelligent, exceptional conversationalists…”
Her words trailed off as the image of another handsome gentleman intruded upon her thoughts. She and Mr. Darcy had enjoyed a few interesting conversations – more like debates if truth be told. Mary, quite oblivious to the direction her wandering mind had gone, blew out a soft sigh.
“I wonder what it is like?”
“What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked.
“To have more than one man coveting your attention.”
“I would not know,” Elizabeth said with a light laugh. “I have not had the pleasure of fending off admirers. I have not had even one!”
“You most assuredly have an admirer in Mr. Darcy.”
“Why would you say that?”
“He looks at you a lot.”
“If he does, I am certain it is only to find fault. No, he does not admire me. I am simply a familiar face in a sea of strangers.”
“Believe that if you must, but mark my words, he more than likes you. I think he is besotted.”
“Oh dear, that bump on your head has affected you more than I expected,” Elizabeth teased and lightly placed the back of her hand on Mary’s forehead. “It is making you see things that do not exist.”
Mary reached up and took Elizabeth’s hand in hers and squeezed.
“Do not run from this, Lizzy. I believe he is a good man and would make you a good husband.” She yawned and dropped her hand. “If my headache continues to recede, I would like to come downstairs for breakfast before we depart.”
“That would be lovely. I shall leave you to rest and check on you before I go to bed.”
Elizabeth leaned down and kissed Mary on the forehead, noting that her sister had already fallen asleep. She quit the room, quietly closing the door behind her, and joined the others in the drawing room whereupon she noticed Mr. Darcy had isolated himself at a small desk near the window, ostensibly to write a letter. Miss Bingley, seated as close as possible on a small settee, made several attempts to engage him in conversation. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at Piquet, and Mrs. Hurst dutifully observed their game.
Elizabeth, thinking she would make a detour to the library to find something to read, was delayed by the entrance of the viscount. He quickly dropped onto the seat next to her and began a friendly conversation about their mutual relatives. Their tête-à-tête paused at the absurdity of Miss Bingley’s pitiful attempts to capture their reticent cousin’s attention.
“You write uncommonly fast, Mr. Darcy.”
“You are mistaken. I write rather slowly.”
“Pray tell your sister that I long to see her.”
“I have already told her so once, by your desire.”
Elizabeth distinctly heard Viscount Ashton snort and without thought she elbowed him in the arm, similar to what she would have done with Lydia. However, the next volley of conversation from Miss Bingley had him choking back a laugh.
“I am afraid you do not like your pen. Let me mend it for you. I mend pens remarkably well.”
“Thank you, but I always mend my own.”
The viscount stood and held out his hand to Elizabeth.
“Miss Elizabeth, may I beg your company to take a turn about the room? I know you enjoy a good ramble and have not had the chance to engage in that particular exercise since your arrival yesterday.”
“Thank you, Lord Ashton. I will.”
She took his hand and, upon standing, dropped it to loop her arm around his. In perfect unison, they ambled around the perimeter of the drawingroom.
“I apologize, Elizabeth, for practically forcing you to walk with me. I was in grave danger of breaking out with laughter at a certain lady’s antics.”
“To give the lady credit, she is determined.”
Their attention was caught by the raised tone of Miss Bingley. It appeared she was becoming testy with Mr. Darcy’s stoic responses to her inane chatter.
“Tell your sister that I am quite enraptured with her beautiful little designs for a table.”
“Will you give me leave to defer your raptures?” Darcy’s tone was heavy with sarcasm. “At present, I have not room to do them justice.”
“Do you always write such charming long letters to your sister, Mr. Darcy?”
By this time, Ashton and Elizabeth had returned to their starting point and in unspoken agreement resumed their seat on the sofa. The viscount stretched out his legs and leaned back into the couch, his alert gaze resting on Miss Bingley.
“Darcy’s letters are always long,” Ash said, his tone one of teasing. “Whether they are charming or not, is up to the receiver’s determination.”
Miss Bingley opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again as though to speak, only to be stymied by Mr. Darcy engaging his cousin in a surprisingly teasing manner.
“My style of writing is very different from yours, Ashton.”
“Most assuredly. You labor over your letters, sifting through that great brain of yours for every four-syllable word you can squeeze onto the page.”
“Not true,” Darcy replied. “I have been known to slip in a few three-syllable words.”
He then shifted sideways and looked directly at Elizabeth, gifting her with a wink and a smile wide enough to display a set of dimples. Her breath caught in the back of her throat at his light flirtation, carefully shielded from the eagle eye of Miss Bingley. Whatever could he mean?
“Regardless, Miss Darcy will be thrilled to receive your letter,” that lady said in an attempt to regain control of the conversation. “She is everything proper and genteel.”
Unlike others you know, Elizabeth heard muttered under her breath.
“Excuse me, Miss Bingley,” Ashton called out in what Elizabeth thought was an overly loud voice. “I did not catch the last part of what you said. Something about others he might know.”
“I…” Miss Bingley flushed with embarrassment. “That is, I commented on the fact Darcy knows many ladies of good breeding.”
“Yes, I thought that was what you said and you have the proof of that fact before you in this very room.”
Miss Bingley visibly preened at what she thought was a compliment to herself and slid a coy look in the direction of her sister, who had remained completely silent throughout the whole of the evening. The viscount’s next statement deflated her bubble of pride.
“When Darcy and I first saw her, we both commented on how lovely Miss Elizabeth was. A veritable English rose,” Ashton added and grinned at the look of chagrin Elizabeth shot toward him.
“An English rose?” Miss Bingley scoffed. “Such a description aptly describes Miss Hamilton as her complexion is fair, like mine. Miss Eliza spends too much time outside?”
“Miss Elizabeth is like a hyacinth, and her loveliness charms me,” Darcy said, never removing his gaze from Elizabeth. “How was that for three-syllable words, Ash?”
The viscount remained silent and looked first at Darcy before glancing at Elizabeth. She prayed her cheeks were not bright red from embarrassment and wondered if her titled cousin was aware of the burgeoning trend of floriography, and the message Mr. Darcy had parlayed in his brief sentence.
With his letter now sealed and ready for posting, he applied to Miss Bingley for the indulgence of some music, who moved with alacrity to the pianoforte, entreating her sister to join her in song. While the Bingley siblings were thus employed, Elizabeth could not help observing, as she turned over some music books that lay on the instrument, how frequently Mr. Darcy’s eyes were fixed on her. It seemed Mary”s observation was not incorrect.
After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm by a lively Scotch air; and soon afterward Mr. Darcy, drawing near Elizabeth, said to her, “Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Elizabeth, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?”
“It would be my pleasure,” she replied and joined him in the area of the room best suited for dancing.
Ever the gentleman, Ashton made a polite request of Mrs. Hurst, who also assented and soon the four of them made a merry party, with Bingley clapping his hands in time to the music.