Chapter 11
“What is this? Someone must be dead!” Mrs Bennet said, clutching Jane’s hand.
The knocking at the door, coming as it had long after all the family had retired for the night, had given everyone a fright.
Hill had retired, and her room was to the back of the house, so it was unlikely she had heard the knocking.
Mr Bennet, wrapped in his nightcoat and wearing a nightcap, raised his eyebrows at his wife’s pronouncement, but they all knew that good news rarely came in such a way.
He proceeded down the stairs; a lamp raised above his head to light his way.
Elizabeth ran back to her room and peeked around the curtains of her window.
Her room, situated at the front of the house, had a fine view of the entrance.
She was most surprised at the sight, for it was Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley.
She could not help noticing how Mr Darcy’s clothing clung to his form; the rain had soaked him right through.
Elizabeth felt a most disconcerting sensation and felt a blush suffuse her entire body.
She moved back from the window and fanned her face.
She did not think to question why she had had such a reaction to Mr Darcy and had completely failed to notice that Mr Bingley was in a similar state.
She shook her head and went back out to the upper hallway, joining her mother and eldest sister.
The gentlemen were now entering Longbourn, invited to do so by Mr Bennet, and Elizabeth was desirous of hearing what was being said.
“Help me dress, Jane,” her mother instructed, and Jane followed her into her bedchamber to do as requested.
Elizabeth remained on the landing, “the stream between Netherfield and Meryton has burst its banks, and the bridge is down,” Elizabeth heard Mr Darcy explain.
“Come into the study,” Mr Bennet instructed.
“The fire has not completely died,” he said, and his voice grew fainter as he moved to the back of the house.
Elizabeth, realising there was nothing more to hear, joined Jane in her mother’s room.
Her mother was nearly dressed, and Elizabeth collected her brush and some pins.
She had never done her mother’s hair before; Hill always performed that service.
Hill was their housekeeper, not their mother’s lady’s maid, but the household could not afford for their mother to have a separate maid, so Hill often helped Mrs Bennet.
“I will do your hair, Mama,” Elizabeth said, and Jane looked relieved.
She was not good at doing hair, except her own, which was very fine.
Mrs Bennet had strong hair, and although fair like Jane’s, it had the same consistency as Elizabeth’s darker locks.
Elizabeth had it pinned in a tidy but not fashionable style, in no time.
Mrs Bennet took one look at her reflection and agreed it was good enough.
“You girls go on back to bed,” she instructed. “There is nothing you can do tonight. Your father and I will take care of the gentlemen.”
Elizabeth could not disagree with her mother, however much she wished to know all the details of the circumstances that had brought Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley to their door at such an hour.
They both did as they were told, but Elizabeth sat for some time at her window, not that she expected the gentleman to leave.
It seemed clear that they would need to stay the night at Longbourn, if not longer, dependent on the weather or when the flooded stream cleared.
While she remained there, she heard the Longbourn staff, who had been roused from their beds, begin readying the guest rooms. She heard her mother issuing instructions for John to get up to the attics and find any old clothing of Mr Bennet’s that might work for the gentlemen.
This made Elizabeth’s eyes go wide; she could not see how any of her father’s clothing would fit either man, but particularly Mr Darcy, who was a good deal taller than her father.
She heard her mother leading the men to their bedchambers.
And finally, she heard her father instruct John that he was to station himself in a chair at the intersection of the guest rooms and the rooms of the daughters of the house, and that he was not to leave his station until either he was relieved or the family arose.