8. 13 November 1811
ELIZABETH
Elizabeth was feeling very relieved that her hosts—or, likely, one of her hosts—had thought to invite her to stay the night and had offered to send a carriage with word to her parents and also to pick up trunks for both Jane and herself.
She had wished to request precisely these favours, but to have them offered without having to ask was…very thoughtful.
“Your Mr Bingley is a very thoughtful man,” she informed Jane.
Jane blushed and protested, “He is not my Mr Bingley.” But then her gentle smile made her look quite dreamy as she said, “But, yes, I am happy to see that he is so thoughtful.”
When their trunks arrived, carried in by a pair of footmen, Mrs Nicholls accompanied them. She said, “Miss Elizabeth, I know that the family would wish you to dine with them, if it suits you. Dinner will be at six, and everyone meets in the blue drawing room.”
“Thank you so much, Mrs Nicholls. And thank Mr Bingley for sending for our things.”
“Actually, it was Mr Darcy who suggested you be invited to stay over and that I should send for your clothes at the same time that I let your parents know.”
“Mr Darcy?” For some reason, Elizabeth still had the idea that the man was even richer than Mr Bingley, and that therefore he must be less kind, less tolerant, less courteous….
“Yes. Mr Darcy is training Mr Bingley in all aspects of estate management, including hospitality and tenant relations. Mr Darcy…is the most impressive man of my acquaintance.”
Elizabeth tried to squelch the desire to laugh and managed to hold her laughter down to a rather quiet giggle. Is Mrs Nicholls infatuated with Mr Darcy? she wondered, but it was such an improper question, she blushed, thankful that nobody could know of her thought.
“Well,” she said, “if that is the case, perhaps you should just thank the gentlemen in general for their consideration.”
“Very well. Should I send Becky up when it is time to change for dinner?”
“Yes, please. Jane and I thank you sincerely for your excellent care.”
Mrs Nicholls bustled away, and Jane rasped out a comment: “Well, it turned out that it is not my Mr Bingley who is thoughtful, but rather your Mr Darcy.”
“Oh, my, I definitely would not characterise Mr Darcy as mine! I hardly know the man, and I believe my vague picture of him, formed before I even met him, was quite mistaken.”
“Oh!” Jane laid there, still and silent, her expression indicating that she was deep in thought.
Elizabeth began to read some poetry aloud, although she felt that her efforts to entertain her sister were wasted; Jane still looked to be absorbed in her own private thoughts.
After some time, Jane asked for water. After drinking several sips, Jane began to speak with less grit in her voice: “You are very clever, Lizzy, and often, when you tease, only Papa seems to understand the joke.” Taking another sip of water, she said, “You said earlier today that you made a jesting remark and Mr Darcy laughed. Perhaps Mr Darcy is another who appreciates your sense of humour, and if so, perhaps he is destined to be your Mr Darcy.”
“Oh, Jane, whatever can you possibly mean?” Elizabeth laughed.
At that moment Becky knocked on the door with a bowl of broth and a fruit compote on a tray.
“I am to help you dress for dinner first, Miss Elizabeth,” Becky said, “and then I will help Miss Bennet with her meal.”
“Thank you, Becky.”
A quarter hour later, Elizabeth neared the door of the blue drawing room. Unfortunately, before she even stepped into the room, she heard Miss Bingley apparently insulting everyone Elizabeth knew and loved, in one fell swoop.
That would not do! She squared her shoulders and marched in.