Jane had been unable to choke down a sob, and with the knowledge that Elizabeth was alive, all the stress and tension of the past three days fled from her body, leaving her weak and unable to support herself. Suddenly, she was being cradled in strong arms, her head leaning on a firm shoulder. Endeavoring to recover herself, she returned the embrace as her legs regained their strength. Never had she felt so sheltered. Never had she felt such protection. Whoever it was who had just saved her from falling was endeared to her forever. Allowing herself to relax for just an instant in his arms, she slowly pushed away from him.
“Miss Bennet,” said the fair-haired man, “allow me to help you.”
Her color returned with the heat of confusion as he placed his arm around her waist and nearly carried her to a sofa.
“There,” he declared, as he sat her down.
“I shall call for some water,” said the other man.
As her vision cleared, she turned her eyes to the first voice and beheld the most handsome face she had ever seen.
“I . . . thank you . . . sir.”
The dark-haired man returned with a glass of water, but before she could reach for it, the other man took it from him and handed it to her.
“Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Charles Bingley, lately of Netherfield Park, and this is my good friend, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
Chapter 3
BINGLEY CONTINUED. “YOU MUST FORGIVE us for not coming sooner, but we had no idea who the lady in our care was so that we could inform her family of her whereabouts and condition.”
Jane’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. She looked directly into his clear blue eyes and felt an immediate connection to him. She barely knew his name, yet she sensed his kindness.
The other man was tall with dark hair and penetrating eyes that seemed to look right through her. He moved very deliberately and seemed nervous in her presence.
“Please, tell me everything,” she begged Mr. Bingley, who looked hesitantly at his friend. He answered with the briefest nod, and Mr. Bingley then began to speak.
“Three days ago, Darcy and I were riding towards Netherfield when we found a young woman lying on the side of the horse trail we were following. Her foot was tangled in a root, and it appeared to us that she had fallen and struck her head on a rock. She was unconscious, but alive.”
Jane raised her hands to her horror-stricken face.
“Darcy stayed with her while I went for a carriage to carry her to Netherfield where we installed her in a bedchamber. We summoned Mr. Manning, our family doctor from London, not knowing whom else to call. He told us that she was well and had no significant injury other than a blow to the head. Mr. Manning said she suffered from a concussion and was certain that she would wake up, but could not say when.”
“Thank you!” cried Jane. “Thank you for finding Elizabeth and caring for her. You cannot understand the . . . We had thought the worst. We had assumed she had . . . Please, wait here while I share the news with all my family.” She rose and quickly left the room.
Darcy had expected to see someone similar in appearance to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, but Jane did not resemble her sister at all. She had light blonde hair, blue eyes and was taller. During his and Bingley’s investigation in Meryton, he learned that Jane was the eldest of five daughters and was in possession of the Longbourn estate after the death of her father.
Bingley never in his life had beheld such beauty as had been present before him in the form of Miss Jane Bennet. Her movements were graceful and pleasing. Besides her outward beauty, Bingley could sense an inner strength. It was apparent that the nightmare of her missing sister had weighed heavily upon her and that it was likely she bore the burden of her whole family. If her father had left the estate to her, he must have acknowledged her — not her mother — as the source of strength in her family. Miss Bennet was confident and was not afraid to look him in the eye. The set of her chin told him that she received him into her home as an equal. She obviously cared for her sister very much. It grieved him that their acquaintance had to be made under such awful circumstances, and he hoped it would not ruin his chances of getting to know her. She was an irresistible combination of beauty and virtue. Before he knew it, Bingley was in love. Miss Bennet had captured his heart.
As there was no doubt in his mind that Miss Bennet would wish to see her sister immediately, Darcy took the liberty of ordering her carriage.
Darcy’s memory returned to that awful moment when he discovered Miss Elizabeth on the trail. He remembered holding her, trying to comfort and warm her. Had he known her name then, he would have gently repeated it to her, hoping that she would recognize the sound and wake up. Now, at last, he had her name.
“Elizabeth,” he murmured.
After Mrs. Thomas had brought the news to the gentlemen at Netherfield, Darcy had immediately gone to Miss Elizabeth’s room to tell both her and Anne that Miss Elizabeth’s family had been discovered. Anne had been delighted. Miss Elizabeth was still unconscious, but he had spoken to her anyway, assuring her that he would bring them to her that very day.
Darcy did not understand his feelings for Miss Elizabeth. He felt a great need to protect and cherish her. It was inconceivable that he was falling in love with someone he did not know, who could not possibly return his love, and who might not be his equal in social standing or temperament, but somehow none of that mattered. Her beauty and perceived innocence had touched his heart. Perhaps, when her family came to Netherfield, she would recognize their voices and wake up. His heart leapt at the prospect.
* * * * *
JANE’S CARRIAGE ARRIVED AT NETHERFIELD with Bingley and Darcy, who came on horseback. Mr. Bingley handed her out of the carriage and escorted her into the house where Mrs. Thomas awaited them.
“Miss Bennet, this is my housekeeper, Mrs. Thomas.
“I am pleased to meet you, Miss Bennet, and am so grateful that you could come to visit your sister. Please call on me for anything you might need. I have directed a footman to wait outside your sister’s room. Should you need anything, please dispatch him with your request.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Thomas. You are very kind.”
“This way, Miss Bennet.” Bingley ushered her down the hall and to the staircase. Darcy followed them up the stairs.
Bingley knocked on Elizabeth’s door; Anne opened it and stepped back to allow them room to enter. Jane’s eyes filled with tears as she ran to the bed where Elizabeth lay. She knelt on the floor next to her, holding Elizabeth’s hands against her cheek, and quietly cried.
“Lizzy, it is Jane. Thank goodness you are alive and safe. Oh, Lizzy, I thought I had lost you forever!” Jane could not stifle a sob and wept for joy and relief.
“Please, Lizzy, it is time for you to wake up, dearest.” Jane wiped her tears away. “I have been so worried. We have all been so worried. I imagined the worst — that I would never see you again — and here you are! You look so well. Oh, please, wake up and tell me that you are all right!”
Bingley and Darcy left the room to allow the sisters some privacy, retiring to the library for brandy and conversation.
* * * * *
“SO, WHAT DO YOU THINK of her?” Bingley asked as he pulled the stopper from a bottle and poured out the liquid.
Darcy took the glass he offered. “She is beautiful. I wish she would wake up. I am very concerned about her. I only hope that hearing her sister’s voice will make a difference.”
Bingley laughed. “I was talking about Miss Jane Bennet.”
It never occurred to Darcy that Bingley would be speaking of anyone other than Miss Elizabeth.
“Oh! Yes, well,” said Darcy, confused at his mistake, “she is very pretty, too. She seems to be under enormous stress right now.” To hide his embarrassment, he quickly added, “Still, I was a little surprised at her display of emotion.”
“Well, I forgive her for it. I like her very much. I feel close to her already, and I am looking forward to g
etting to know her better.”
“Be on your guard, Bingley,” counseled Darcy. “These are not the best of circumstances for developing an attachment.”
“I suppose I could give you the same warning,” smiled Bingley. “Be on your guard.”
* * * * *
JANE SPENT THE AFTERNOON WITH Elizabeth, speaking quietly to her, holding her hand, weeping over her, praying over her, and begging her to wake up.
From time to time, Bingley came to the room to see if he could be of any assistance to Miss Bennet. In every instance, he was taken by her beauty and grace. Each movement of her hand or turn of her head when she looked at him endeared her to him. He marveled at the wisps of hair that trailed against the nape of her neck and the curls that framed her face. He strained to hear the sound of her voice as she spoke soft words to Miss Elizabeth. Bingley knew he was in danger of falling in love with her, but it was a danger he welcomed.
On one of these visits, Bingley announced himself with a light tap on the door.
“Miss Bennet, I have come to offer you some refreshment. Would you care for tea?” If she accepted, Bingley would be able to sit with her for a few minutes.
“Thank you, sir. I would be grateful.”
Bingley went to the door and spoke to the footman, and then took a seat across the room from the two sisters and spoke with Anne while trying not to stare at Miss Bennet.
In a short time, a maid entered with the tea service. Bingley took it from her and set it on a small table. Jane walked over to pour the tea, but Bingley was there before her. She watched him fill a cup for her.
“Miss Bennet,” he said gently, handing it to her.
“Thank you.”
Jane sipped the cup and looked up at him, returning his smile. He was an attractive man and very attentive. He made her feel comfortable and welcome, not like an intruder. Jane knew Mr. Bingley was looking at her, perhaps longer than propriety allowed, but she was pleased by his attention. She remembered the strength of his arms when he held her for that brief moment at Longbourn. She knew she could trust him. Elizabeth was in safe hands.
Jane set her tea down and returned to her sister. “Oh, Elizabeth, please wake up. I have so much to tell you,” she whispered. Elizabeth was the one person in whom she could confide all the feelings of her heart.
Jane had now been alone with Elizabeth for some time, for Mr. Bingley had withdrawn shortly after tea, claiming to have estate business.
“It is growing late,” commented Jane to Anne. “I must return home. I am sure we will meet again soon.” Jane combed Elizabeth’s hair back with her fingers. “Anne, thank you so much for looking after Elizabeth. The care you have taken in making my sister both comfortable and beautiful is very much appreciated.”
“Thank you, Miss Bennet. I am doing my best for her.”
Jane left the room, and the footman escorted her down the stairs and to the drawing room where the gentlemen were sitting. They rose at her entrance.
“Miss Bennet, I hope you are satisfied with your sister’s treatment,” said Mr. Bingley, pleased that she had sought him out before leaving Netherfield.
“Thank you very much for caring for her, sir. You cannot know how much it means to my family and me. We despaired for her life, but you have saved her. You cannot imagine the relief I feel. I love her so much. I could not have lived without her. I could not . . . ” Jane turned away with tears in her eyes.
“Miss Bennet,” he said softly, “it is our pleasure to help your sister.” Then looking away, he made her an offer that he hoped she would accept.
“I would like to invite you to stay at Netherfield with us until your sister is well.”
Jane paused for a moment to reflect on his invitation. She would like nothing better, but she knew her mother would make accepting such an offer impossible.
“Thank you. You are very kind, but I must decline. I must return to Longbourn. My mother must be informed of Elizabeth’s condition. She is beside herself with worry.”
“Then please come to Netherfield as often as you like. Will we see you tomorrow?”
“Yes, I would like that very much.”
With that, Bingley escorted Jane to her waiting carriage, handed her in, closed the door and watched the coach until it was out of sight. With a sigh, he returned to the house.
* * * * *
BINGLEY WALKED INTO THE DRAWING room where he found Darcy at a window, seemingly lost in thought. During that brief moment when Darcy was unaware of his presence, Bingley summoned up his courage to make a confession he had been longing to make.
“Darcy, I like her,” he blurted out. This drew Darcy’s attention away from the window and towards his friend. Bingley continued, “I like her very much.”
“Miss Bennet, you mean?” Darcy knew full well whom he meant.
Bingley sat in the chair opposite Darcy, wondering if it were truly possible that he could be so dense as to not know of whom he was speaking. With a shake of his head, he enlightened his friend.
“Miss Jane Bennet, of course! Is she not the most beautiful creature you ever beheld?”
Bingley rose and began to pace back and forth in front of Darcy, unable to contain the happiness he felt whenever he thought or spoke of her.
“She is very pretty, I grant you.”
Bingley stopped pacing and stared at Darcy with an expression of incredulity.
“Pretty? You grant me? Come, man! You have never seen a woman more attractive than she.”
Darcy chuckled as he returned his attention to the window. Although the prospect was pleasing, his eyes would not focus on it, for his mind was concerned not with scenery but with a certain lady. He absentmindedly pulled out the purple ribbon from his pocket and wrapped it around his fingers.
Bingley was watching Darcy with no small amount of curiosity. Staring out of windows with a far-away expression on his face and playing with ribbon was not typical behavior for his friend.
“What is that?” Bingley inquired with great interest as he moved closer to obtain a better view of what Darcy was holding.
Darcy’s face reddened. “It is nothing — just a piece of ribbon I found.”
Bingley decided to pursue the matter.
“And where did you find it?”
Darcy hesitated. Not wishing to own the truth but not knowing how to evade the question without resorting to a falsehood, he was forced to make a confession.
“It belongs to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I believe it came off her bonnet at the time we found her on the trail.”
The room was silent as Bingley reflected on this piece of information. He had already noted Darcy’s strange behavior ever since he had encountered Miss Elizabeth, behavior that might be explained if Darcy felt himself attracted to her. Bingley wondered at the power Miss Elizabeth might have over his friend when she finally awakened if she had this much influence while still asleep.
“Hmm . . . Perhaps you have seen someone more attractive than Miss Bennet.”
* * * * *
JANE JUMPED FROM THE CARRIAGE as soon as the door was open and ran upstairs to her mother’s room.
“Mama, I have seen Elizabeth!”
“How is she? Is she awake? What did she say?”
“She appears to be fine. She is unconscious, but she has good color, and they are taking very good care of her. I am going to return to her again tomorrow.”
“Did you see Mr. Bingley or Mr. Darcy? They are fine-looking gentlemen.” Mrs. Bennet’s motherly concern for the well-being of her second daughter waned. She had watched the gentlemen mount their horses and ride away from the house when Jane left in the carriage. It would do very well to have Elizabeth engaged before she came away from Netherfield. Either gentleman would suit that purpose. Perhaps the other would prefer Jane.
“I saw them both, Mama, and I thanked them with all my heart for their assistance. Both are so kind and well mannered. Indeed, everyone in Mr. Bingley’s household is a pleasure to be around. He has give
n Lizzy a maid who attends to her night and day.”
“Netherfield Park is such a beautiful old home. I am sure, with the proper attention, it could be fixed up nicely. I would like very much to see you or Lizzy settled there.”
“Mama! Please do not say such things! Both gentlemen are very kind and have been very good to Lizzy, but we hardly know anything of them. Besides, there is every reason to believe that they are not looking to form an attachment, or if they were, they certainly could make much more advantageous matches. We know them just as new acquaintances, so please do not consider the matter any further. You will only embarrass us.”
“My daughters are good enough for anybody!”
Mrs. Bennet, once again frustrated with Jane, sent her away and called for Mrs. Hill so she could complain about the ill-treatment she suffered at the hands of her eldest daughter, who first refused her the horses and now refused to marry either of the Netherfield gentlemen.
* * * * *
DARCY RETIRED EARLY THAT NIGHT, his head full of enchanting images of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. After an interminable period of tossing and turning, he finally slept. He was roused an hour later by a pounding on the door.
“Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy! Please wake up, sir!”
“What? Who is there?”
For a moment, all he could see was a shadow as his eyes focused on a candle. The light fell across the intruder’s face; Darcy recognized Anne, Miss Elizabeth’s maid, and he immediately became alarmed.
“I am sorry to have entered your room and to have disturbed you, sir. I have been knocking for quite some time, but you did not answer. It is Miss Elizabeth,” she cried. “She is very hot and feverish. I have tried all I know to bring down the fever, but it is no use. I do not know what else to do for her.”
As Darcy rallied his wits, all his faculties became engaged to one cause — Elizabeth’s welfare.
“I will come immediately. Go to her,” he commanded. Anne exited the room, and he jumped from his bed, dressing quickly. He ran to Elizabeth’s room, entered without knocking, and rushed to her side to feel her forehead and cheeks with the back of his hand. She was indeed very hot, appeared quite uncomfortable, and was making unintelligible noises. It was an unsettling sight to witness.
Rocks in the Stream Page 4
