Chapter Four
Elizabeth had a pounding headache. She had been home at Longbourn for two days, and it had shown no sign of improving.
This was particularly irritating because she had been looking forward to coming home for weeks.
During her final days at Netherfield, she had thought often of Longbourn and all its comforts.
She had thought of her father's library, of Hill's cooking, of the familiar noise of Lydia and Kitty running through the house giggling.
Now she had all these things around her again and discovered that they brought her surprisingly little comfort.
The trouble was that every time she began to relax, she remembered the library.
Nothing had happened in the library. Nothing had happened in the library.
She repeated this line over and over in her mind until it seemed to lose all meaning.
She remembered the disapproving look on Mr Jones’ face as she had rushed past and Polly’s shocked squeal.
And then irritatingly she would return over and over to the gentle touch of Mr Darcy’s hand on her arm and the undecipherable look in his dark eyes.
It was ridiculous and unfair. But it was entirely possible that by now half the servants in Hertfordshire believed she was the worst sort of woman.
And if that gossip made its way out to the population of Meryton, she would be utterly disgraced.
What would that mean for her future? For the future of her sisters?
Elizabeth buried her face in her hands and groaned.
"Are you unwell, dearest? You don’t look at all yourself."
She looked up to find Jane standing in the doorway and attempted a smile. "I am very well. Very well indeed, just a little tired."
Jane eyed her suspiciously. "You look like you have been crying."
"I am only annoyed."
Jane came into the room carrying a basket of mending and settled beside the window. She gave a small sigh. "What have Lydia and Kitty done now? Or has mama said something to vex you?"
Elizabeth considered how to respond, and instead buried her face in her hands once again and began to weep softly.
Jane jumped up in alarm, the mending spilling onto the floor. "Dearest!" she cried, going at once to Elizabeth and embracing her.
Jane was the gentlest person she had ever known.
She was also remarkably difficult to deceive.There, in her sister’s arms, she shared the whole sorry tale.
From the strange looks and frustrating conversations to the strange scene in the library that left her terrified that she had ruined her reputation and that of her family.
When the story was complete, Elizabeth flopped backwards onto the bed and stared up at the canopy. "I should like never to hear the name Darcy again."
When she finished, Jane was silent for several moments.
Then she said, "That does not sound very scandalous.
And although Mr Darcy did not behave exactly well, nothing happened.
In fact, it sounds as if he may have been upset that you have not been on friendly terms during your stay and he was trying—albeit clumsily—to put it right. "
"Jane," said Elizabeth. "Do you have to see the best in everything and everyone?"
"I do not know what that has to do with anything."
"It has everything to do with everything. If a man were discovered climbing out of a barn window carrying a stolen pig, you would assume he was taking it for a short holiday. For its health."
Jane tried and failed to suppress a smile. "Very well. Mr Jones and Polly may have misunderstood, but I doubt they will say anything. Polly is a sweet girl."
"Yes, she is," sighed Elizabeth. "But she is also young and still a little foolish and one wrong word and…"
"I am sure it will be forgotten," said Jane, patting her hand.
Elizabeth wanted to believe her.
???
By dinner that evening Elizabeth had come to a decision.
As she listened to Mrs Bennet describing, at considerable length, the sufferings she had endured during Jane's illness and to Kitty complaining that Lydia had stolen her favourite shoe roses, she felt she could not breathe.
The chaos of Longbourn normally felt comfortable and familiar, but currently it felt suffocating.
She noticed her father staring at her as she pushed peas around her plate, only contributing to the conversation when it was absolutely necessary.
"Are you well, Lizzy? I do hope you are not coming down with whatever ailed Jane at Netherfield. I do not think your mother’s nerves could manage it."
"I should like to visit Aunt and Uncle Gardiner in London."
The table hushed around her.
"Oh, I should like to go to London ever so much!" Lydia squawked.
Mr Bennet put up a hand to silence her. "And is there a particular reason for this jaunt?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.
Elizabeth set down her fork. "Aunt Gardiner is expecting again, is she not?
Jane mentioned in one of her letters that she has been rather tired of late.
I thought perhaps I might be of some use for a few weeks.
Three children are enough to exhaust anybody and I cannot imagine a fourth will improve matters. "
Jane immediately nodded. "She did seem very tired when we last visited. I am sure she would be glad of the company."
Mrs Bennet looked unconvinced and huffed,"Your aunt has servants."
"Yes, Mama, but she also has three children under ten."
Mrs Bennet considered this. "That is true," she admitted. "Though I never found children particularly tiring."
At this, every one of her daughters looked at her. Mrs Bennet had not been a particularly invested mother and had handed off the care of her young children to a formidable woman named Nanny Brown.
Mr Bennet turned his attention back to Elizabeth. "And how long would you remain in London?"
"A few weeks or perhaps a month complete."
"Hm."
He took a sip of wine and regarded her thoughtfully. Elizabeth had the uncomfortable feeling that he could read her mind and knew perfectly well there was more behind her sudden desire to leave Hertfordshire than concern for her aunt's comfort.
"As it happens," he said at last, "I have given Frost leave to take the carriage to London tomorrow along with his wife."
"The coachman?" asked Kitty.
"The very same. Despite years of loyal service, he has not yet been promoted to Archbishop of Canterbury."
Kitty looked confused.
"Mrs Frost's mother has taken ill," he continued. "They intend to leave first thing in the morning and spend a few days in town. He will also collect a few things I need while he is there. If your aunt is willing to receive you, I see no reason why you should not accompany them."
"I shall send an express," said Elizabeth, feeling an immediate rush of relief. "That way it should arrive before I do. Thank you, Papa."
Mr Bennet looked at her over the rim of his glass. "You are very welcome. Though I confess myself curious. Most young ladies require a stronger inducement than childcare before volunteering for such an expedition."
"I am merely trying to be useful."
"Then your relations are fortunate indeed."
He returned to his dinner and the conversation drifted elsewhere, but Elizabeth scarcely heard it.
For the first time in two days she felt as though she could breathe properly.
In less than twenty-four hours she would be on the road to London.
A little distance from Netherfield, from gossip and one infuriating gentleman would do her a world of good.
At least, she very much hoped so.