Chapter Six
Upon the dawn of the dreary third day of Elizabeth’s sojourn at a quite desirable house for a daughter’s husband, Mrs. Bennet came to inspect the progress of that daughter’s recovery.
She also came to impose Sarah upon the Netherfield establishment, so that Elizabeth would have her own lady’s maid to ensure that she always looked her best.
Mrs. Bennet found her excessively independent daughter hopping about, able to place a little weight on her foot, covered in bruises down one whole side, and quite ready to go home with her—though Elizabeth did like the time she spent with Emily and Georgiana.
Mr. Darcy fascinated her.
His behaviour in his domestic circle was much changed from that in general company.
Elizabeth had to remind herself frequently of how he had insulted Charlotte, for she was prone to forget; the adorable manner in which he played with his daughter, and the admirable manner in which he tolerated her fits with both kindness and firmness, forced her to think well of him.
It would be very easy to think too much of him.
Mrs. Bennet was not satisfied with how Elizabeth had managed her non-existent romance with Mr. Bingley.
Thus, when that gentleman enquired as to whether she found Elizabeth to be much improved, Mrs. Bennet declared, “No! She is much worse. I had hoped to take her home today, but that will be impossible. She is in far more pain than I expected.”
“Oh,” Mr. Bingley said, appearing rather nonplussed since Elizabeth was visibly improving. But he was not a man likely to disagree with a woman in his drawing room—or anywhere else.
“She must stay longer,” Mrs. Bennet insisted. “I can see that you are as concerned for my Elizabeth as I am.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Mr. Bingley replied. “Miss Elizabeth can stay as long as she wishes to.”
He then smiled at Jane, who had come with their mother.
Even though Jane could not see Mr. Bingley’s smile directed at her, she still praised and thanked him on Elizabeth’s behalf. “Lizzy so seldom takes a chance to rest. I do fear that she would not care for herself were she at home. She is always running about helping me and fetching things for me.”
“You deserve it,” Mr. Bingley said.
“No, but you must take care of Lizzy for us.”
“I swear that I shall, Miss Bennet,” was the gentleman’s response.
“Jane is the one who is deserving. I merely fell off my horse because I am a poor rider.” Elizabeth did in fact have a little anxiety on the matter of how well Jane was being cared for while she was recovering at Netherfield.
But she knew that Jane would not complain about her treatment, even if it was quite abominable, and it was impossible amongst so much company to pointedly question her on the matter.
The notion also crossed Elizabeth’s mind that if only Jane had not been made blind by that awful illness, she and Mr. Bingley may have been a good match.
After that, it was established that Elizabeth would remain several more days, to the delight of Georgiana and Emily and the mild annoyance of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. Before she left, Mrs. Bennet begged a chance to speak in privacy to her daughter.
Mr. Darcy rose and gestured everyone else towards the door, picking up Emily and promising her that they would play with swords using sticks in the garden while Miss Lizzy spoke to her mother. “We shall give you the peace you wish.”
Elizabeth waited for the rest of the company to leave, except for Jane, who sat, head tilted, listening to the footsteps of the departing party.
“Well, Mama?”
“You have made no progress with Mr. Bingley.”
“On the contrary,” Elizabeth replied, “I know that while he likes a ragout, it is of far less importance to him than to Mr. Hurst. He pretends that he does not like to play high with cards, but I am sure that is a pretence for my sake. Mr. Darcy did not realise, I think. And Mr. Darcy does not like cards in any case.”
“What has Mr. Darcy to do with anything? That man means to force Mr. Bingley to marry his sister, but you—”
“I am confident that he has no intentions of forcing either to do anything.”
“Elizabeth!” Mrs. Bennet roared. “Your papa is old. You must marry. You must marry well. You will never have a better opportunity than Mr. Bingley.”
“We do not suit. I have said as much repeatedly,” Elizabeth replied.
“Do not suit? Lord! Oh, my nerves. I shall go distracted with such daughters. Think about Jane. Look at Jane. Look at how helpless Jane is. Jane will be miserable after you have defied me in this. Imagine how sad you will feel when it is too late for you to find any match at all. Oh! If only it had been you whom the smallpox had struck down instead of my Jane. I always thought that she could not be so pretty for nothing.”
“Mama, please, please!” Jane interjected. “I shall do well enough. Lizzy, do not credit such things. Do not. I have thought about this—I can cope. So long as there is some food, I can manage. I am blind, not—let us not pretend that my deficiencies are of greater significance than they are.”
“Oh, my sweet Jane. You are always so self-sacrificing. Lizzy, listen to how good she is. She deserves that you care for her.”
“Unlike you,” Elizabeth replied.
“What do you mean?”
“You kept her from receiving the cowpox. And now that she is blind, you think nothing of her. Now that she cannot make a good marriage, she is worthless to you. But I—”
“Lizzy! Please.” Jane rose from the sofa and walked to Elizabeth. “Please!”
Elizabeth hissed in pain as Jane walked into her injured leg while trying to reach her, but she took her sister’s searching hands. “I apologise. I know that you hate it when we argue.”
“You must not fret so much about me.” Jane smiled at Elizabeth. “I do love you both dearly. Now let us argue no more.”
This plea was largely dismissed by their mother, but Elizabeth could not reply with proper spite while Jane was there to become upset, and after a while, Mrs. Bennet gave up the effort to convince her most difficult daughter and left with Jane.
Elizabeth was then filled with a sense of shame and disquiet.
She did not know why, but this time her mother’s speech struck Elizabeth more strongly than usual. Was she terribly selfish because she did not pursue Mr. Bingley?
Dull Mr. Bingley.
Elizabeth spoke little when the rest of the party returned, though when Emily demanded her attention, Elizabeth made every effort to attend to her.
When she read a story to the girl—the same story that Emily had already made her read five times during the three days that she had been at Netherfield—Elizabeth’s mouth mechanically said the words, but her mind was not there.
Should she really stay true to her principles and to her intention not to marry without affection?
Affection could be built after a marriage. She could pick a man with a decent character, seek to attach herself to him, and let everything else follow.
That evening, after Emily went to bed, Georgiana sat down to practise the pianoforte while Mr. Hurst, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Bingley’s sisters played cards at the table.
Mr. Darcy at first selected a book to read, but perhaps perceiving that Elizabeth paid no attention to her own book, he sat next to her.
“You have been in poor spirits since your mother visited.”
This startled Elizabeth. “I have been? You noticed?”
He did not reply.
“We quarrelled about—I shall not say what exactly the matter was. But I cannot help but wonder whether Mama is right.”
There was a long silence.
Then Mr. Darcy said cautiously, “I perceived that Miss Bennet was particularly distressed by the conversation.”
“Poor Jane. She hates it when anyone quarrels. It is worse for her when my mother insists on using her condition to press her argument, insisting any refusal on my part proves I do not care for my sister.” Elizabeth paused and frowned. “But Mama is right.”
“That you are uncaring of Miss Bennet?” Mr. Darcy asked. “Beyond any question that is not true.”
“No, no. She is right that we must determine how Jane will be cared for after Papa dies. That we cannot…” Elizabeth frowned. “But it was her fault. Jane hates to hear me say that, but it was Mama’s fault.”
“What was her fault?” When she did not immediately reply, he added, “You need not tell me, but I hope we might be friends. And this matter presses on your mind. Perhaps if you tell the story to one who knows little of the situation, I may be able to help you see it differently.”
To her own surprise, Elizabeth spoke. “When Jenner’s vaccine was first available in Meryton, Papa was delighted and decided to have the pus from the cow scratched into our arms. But Mama had heard that terrible things happened often to those who received the treatment and that it was deeply irreligious to receive it.
She threw a fit. I still remember ten years later how angry she was that day. ”
“And you did not receive Jenner’s inoculation?”
“All of us but Jane received it. Papa let Mama pick her favourite to ‘spare’ and took the rest of us to the doctor. I was quite jealous of Jane at the time because I was scared by the physician and how he scratched my arms, and afterwards the fever from the vaccine was unpleasant. But five years later smallpox came through Meryton and left my sister in her present state.”
Mr. Darcy watched her intently. Elizabeth had a sense of being fully listened to, as though this great gentleman had no other thought in his mind but her. “Mama always believed that Jane would be the saving of us—she was exceptionally lovely at sixteen. Before it happened. And—”
“She still is a beautiful woman.”
Elizabeth flushed; somehow Mr. Darcy praising her sister felt like a compliment to herself. It offset what he had said about Charlotte to some extent. “Yes, yes. But not in a way men can appreciate. She is scarred and blind.”