Chapter Four #3
Once she had refreshed herself with the tea, the maid insisted that Elizabeth let her unpin her hair and wash it, as there was mud caked into the curls.
“So long as you can manage without my undressing once more,” Elizabeth said, “I am willing to sit still for however long is necessary.”
With some pain, Elizabeth was moved from her perch on the bed to the seat before Georgiana’s table, her hair unpinned and a towel placed around her neck so that she would not get wet as the maid cleaned the mud out of her hair with flannels and a brush.
The next hour was pleasant, though the conversation with Georgiana necessarily related to topics that Emily found of interest. The girl’s nurse came in several times and offered to take the child away, but Elizabeth insisted that she liked having her there.
She did.
The girl’s cheerfulness distracted her from the pain of her bruising, and small children were delightful. Since the youngest Mr. Lucas had grown into a stout man of eleven, she had not spent any great amount of time around small children.
When Elizabeth wished to remove herself to another seat, she found it impossible to place the slightest weight on her ankle.
Also, pulling on a stocking to cover the injured foot promised such pain that though it would be unfashionable to leave it bare, Elizabeth could not force herself to the task.
Even though it was lowering for her dignity, a footman was called, and he huffed and puffed as he carried Elizabeth from Georgiana’s room to the sofa in the drawing room.
Elizabeth then stretched out her bare foot on a cushion, draping a blanket over it and feeling very much like the peasant woman who must go everywhere without proper stockings.
The fineness of the silk of Georgiana’s gown made the notion as nonsensical as Marie Antoinette’s pretentions of being a shepherdess.
Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley exclaimed about how shocking it had been to see her, their horror of mud and wet, and that she had looked not much more than half alive.
Miss Bingley said she very much hoped that Elizabeth was not terribly injured and that she would not become ill from the soaking.
They both dreadfully hated being ill. No one could dislike being ill more than they did.
The two women then tittered and asked Elizabeth why she had decided to ride in such weather. Elizabeth still lacked an answer she was willing to own for that question.
Emily answered for Elizabeth by explaining that she had decided to go on horseback because she was bad at riding.
“Would that not,” Miss Bingley said, “be a reason to rather avoid a ride on such a day?”
“No,” Emily replied. “For practice creates mastery.”
The ugly weather continued. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed. The rain came down in great sheets.
Georgiana had sent a messenger to find Mr. Jones after seeing that Elizabeth could not make the walk to the drawing room on her own, and only an hour later, he came out to the house to examine her.
She was, to confess the fact, feeling a little miserable despite the kindness of her friend.
Unfortunately, the examination provided no beneficial knowledge.
He proclaimed what Elizabeth knew perfectly well: there were no broken bones, but the bruising was significant.
She would not be able to move about on her own for several days.
And he prescribed poultices to press against the ankle and elbow, and a tea for Elizabeth to drink that would encourage healing.
Mr. Jones also suggested laudanum, but Elizabeth was not in so much pain as to take the liquid.
“Well, even if the weather was fine,” Elizabeth said at hearing her fate, “I could not ride home today.”
“Oh no! Do not think of that at all. We shall send you back in the carriage when Mr. Bingley and my brother come home,” Georgiana replied.
“But Mr. Jones, would it not be better if Miss Elizabeth delays returning for some days? It could not be good for her to be shoved into a carriage so soon after her fall. And she might take a cold from walking here in the rain.”
Mr. Jones concurred that it would be better for Miss Elizabeth to stay at Netherfield for three or four days more.
At this Georgiana seemed to remember that she was not in her own house, with the unlimited right of extending invitations, and she applied to Miss Bingley, asking whether she minded inviting Elizabeth to remain until she was wholly healed.
Politeness meant there could be only one answer to such a request, but whatever the affection that Miss Bingley held for Miss Darcy, Elizabeth suspected that the lady would have far preferred for Elizabeth to not be her guest.
There was a suspicion in Miss Bingley’s manner, and Elizabeth thought she could nearly guess the source.
The only question in her mind was whether Miss Bingley’s feelings came from a concern that Elizabeth meant to catch her brother, and thus provide her with an unsuitable connection, or if she believed that Elizabeth meant to have Mr. Darcy and thus ruin Miss Bingley’s own hopes for such a union.