The Improvement of His Mind
Darcy thought that, aside from Miss Bennet’s suffering, things were working out better than he could have hoped.
He subtly hinted to Mr Jones that it might be better for a lady to recuperate in the home of a rich man than that of a middling one.
The apothecary had, in his own subtle way, suggested that as far as the mistress of the house was concerned, there was hardly any difference between Netherfield and Longbourn, so she may as well recuperate at Netherfield as not.
It had taken little effort to convince Miss Bingley that the onerous duty of care of a sick woman should by rights fall to her family, and not the mistress of the house who had not known her a month earlier.
Having Miss Elizabeth stay at Netherfield not only satisfied propriety, but also relieved her of a potentially annoying task, not to mention the chance of catching the cold herself.
Miss Bingley likely supposed that left her free to pursue him at her leisure, but her incorrect assumptions were not his problem.
It was therefore a matter of satisfaction when Miss Elizabeth came down to dinner at half-past six.
“Miss Elizabeth, how fares your sister?” Bingley asked anxiously.
“She is tolerable, sir. Her fever is slightly higher, but not alarming. It is as one would expect at this stage.”
“Is there aught I can do to improve her condition?”
Darcy thought his friend sounded a touch on the desperate side but supposed he might feel the same if Miss Elizabeth were the sick one.
“We have all we need. Your sisters had a lovely visit, and Jane is sleeping now. They very kindly assured me of any support I might require.”
Darcy did not want to spend the rest of the evening discussing Miss Bennet’s illness (not to mention the odds of the offer of support being genuine or not), so he asked, “Have you been able to take any rest?”
“I have, sir. Mrs Redgrave spelled me several times today.”
They both knew that she could perfectly well have gone back to Longbourn and Miss Bennet would have been fine under the housekeeper and Mrs Redgrave’s care, but where was the fun in that?
Dinner was served and Darcy offered his arm to Miss Elizabeth with alacrity before Miss Bingley could latch on.
He had not started being rude to the woman yet, but he strongly suspected the time to do so was not all that far away.
For the moment, he just wanted to extend the first relaxing house party of his life as long as he could before the inevitable disagreeableness began.
The party reached the dining room, and to exactly nobody’s surprise, Miss Elizabeth was relegated to the hinterlands next to Hurst, who would ask her whether she liked a plain dish or a ragout, and ignore her thereafter regardless of her answer.
The man was not exactly the pick of the litter conversationally, and that was the only gambit he still remembered from the days before his ill-advised marriage to Mrs Hurst.
Fortunately, such a problem was not much of a challenge for an Oxford man.
Darcy asked sneakily, “Hurst, I am certain you will not mind switching with me so I can finish my argument with Miss Elizabeth.”
The man looked like he might demur, given that he was being demoted from the desirable seat next to the pretty and agreeable Miss Elizabeth, to the disagreeable place next to his sister-in-law—but since Darcy’s other hand was placed over his billfold, Hurst read the signs well enough.
In a few glances the two negotiated a price and the deed was done, with Darcy thinking himself lucky to get off without parting with any of his best brandy.
Their capability for subtle discourse was hampered, but the arrangement was easily done due to Hurst’s terrible negotiating skills.
Having not noticed the interplay, or more likely just ignoring it, Bingley asked, “Argument! Pray, what kind of argument could you possibly be engaged in?”
Elizabeth was enjoying the whole exchange, so she turned her attention fully on Darcy to let him have his say.
“The details are rather complex, unless of course you have a good understanding of Greek and Roman literature.”
“Oh, spare us!” Miss Bingley said with an attempt to sound either flirtatious or at least fun-loving, but it mostly came out as peevish.
“I could boil it down to its essence, if you are interested,” Darcy offered.
“Pray do so,” Bingley asked as Darcy helped Miss Elizabeth to her chair.
Darcy sat in his own seat, and waited a moment as footmen placed soup on the table, then he took a few sips, mostly to annoy everyone.
“The argument,” Bingley reminded him a few minutes later when he just could not stand it.
“Oh yes. Well, the essence of it is easy enough to understand. Miss Elizabeth’s contention is that she is right, and I am wrong—whilst I naturally advocate the converse.”
Bingley burst into laughter joined by Elizabeth, while his sisters mostly looked peevishly at the pair.
Bingley finally said, “And who is ahead at the moment?”
“I fear Miss Elizabeth may well be in the lead, but I remain hopeful, though without much cause. I am only a man, after all.”
Elizabeth laughed gaily and gave him a wink, while the rest of the table moved on to other topics less likely to confuse them.
Of course, since they were expected to have some sort of argument, they moved onto an actual dispute, though it was hard to put much vitriol into it since they shared the same view, requiring one of them to expound opinions not their own.
That was tedious so they swapped positions halfway.
~
After dinner, Elizabeth returned to Jane for a time until she saw her safely to sleep.
Mrs Redgrave was working upstairs so promised to look in on her each hour, so Elizabeth descended to the drawing room.
She was looking forward to getting to know two of the gentlemen better, while loathing the need to become better acquainted with the ladies.
They both seemed like supercilious upstarts, but she supposed it was possible that Jane was right, and they would eventually present themselves better than first impressions suggested (unlikely, but possible).
On entering she found the whole party at loo, and was immediately invited to join them; but suspecting them to be playing high she declined it, and making her sister the excuse, said she would amuse herself for the short time she could stay below, with a book.
Mr Hurst looked at her with astonishment. “Do you prefer reading to cards? That is rather singular.”
“Miss Eliza Bennet despises cards. She is a great reader, and has no pleasure in anything else.”
Elizabeth had a retort on the tip of her tongue, but alas, she was too slow, as Mr Darcy answered teasingly, “You must truly be enjoying Hertfordshire, Miss Bingley.”
Elizabeth smiled and settled back to enjoy the show.
“What can you mean?” Caroline replied tartly, unwilling to contradict him.
“You have been here less than a month, yet you have already gained permission to address Miss Elizabeth with a diminutive and have studied her preferences for entertainment sufficient to answer for her. I must therefore conclude that you enjoy the neighbourhood gossip exceedingly; since you seem to be practically a native!”
Elizabeth tried her best not to laugh her head off; and pulled it off credibly (just barely), while Miss Bingley seethed but seemed to lack any way to respond; Darcy just continued looking at his cards.
After Miss Bingley’s lack of response became slightly awkward, Elizabeth thought to throw the poor woman a bone, though it could well be a cast-iron one.
“I apologise that I may have forgotten the conversation where I gave consent. I am surprised at myself, as only the Lucases use Eliza, and that is a long-running joke. When Maria was a toddler, she could not quite manage either Elizabeth or Lizzy; but if you wish to call me that, I suppose it is acceptable.”
“I apologise if I was presumptuous, Miss Elizabeth. I meant no offence,” Caroline replied, though it sounded like she had to pull teeth to do it.
“Oh, I was not offended,” Elizabeth said happily while Darcy looked slightly smug. “You should validate your gossip better, though. I am not a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things.”
“In nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure,” said Bingley in an apparent bid to stop the disagreement before it got out of hand; “and I hope it will be soon increased by seeing her quite well.”
Elizabeth thanked him from her heart and then walked towards the table where a few books were lying. He immediately offered to fetch her others—all that his library afforded.
“Do you still not wish to play cards,” Hurst asked, unable to hold more than one thought at a time.
“No, I shall not be down all that long. I need to look in on Jane and would not wish to disturb your game when I leave,” she replied.
Darcy suspected she did not want to spend her time with the disagreeable sisters. She could avoid the game, but he was stuck for at least a few more hands—though he considered making a few terrible bets sufficient to empty his table stakes so he could quit.
Hurst called attention back to the game, and Elizabeth continued with a book she found on the table.
A quick look at the bookplate showed it was Mr Darcy’s.
It was a recently published volume, and she appreciated the fact that she could enjoy its contents, and he did not make a fuss over it.
When she glanced up at him, she could see he looked at her examination of the bookplate approvingly, and with a nod she sat down to read.
The Bingley sisters were at a loss for words, which Elizabeth took as a good sign. She was under no illusions it would last, but she would enjoy it while it did.
A half-hour later, she said, “I thank you for your company, but I must look in on Jane, and I shall retire afterward.”
“Feel free to take the book,” Mr Bingley said, not noticing it was not his to lend, but Mr Darcy verified his complaisance with a smile and a nod.
He really was the most accommodating man.