by P. O. Dixon
Abandoning her sewing, the elder sister hurried across the room to where Jane stood. Her voice filled with concern, she asked, “Was there some mishap with your carriage? Were you forced to travel the rest of the way by foot?”
Caroline had also come to Jane’s side, but at a less urgent pace.
Jane shook her head. “No—” Covering her mouth with her gloved hand, she began sneezing. “I—” She sneezed again. “I came here on horseback,” she explained before giving in to an unavoidable bout of sneezes.
“Horseback!” Louisa and Caroline cried in unison.
“What were you thinking?” Caroline asked.
“What does it matter at this point?” Louisa asked. “Come, Miss Bennet, we must see that you remove your wet clothing before you catch your death of cold.”
The three ladies were quickly on their way up the stairs, the elder clearly concerned for the guest’s well-being, and the younger, no doubt, puzzled by the guest’s sensibility.
“Horseback,” she silently mouthed for her sister’s benefit alone, “are these people too poor to afford a carriage?” Both sisters merely shrugged.
The Bingley sisters were considerate enough to remain by Jane’s side until she was settled comfortably in a nice, warm bed in one of the guest apartments.
Concerned about a gradual turn toward the worse in Jane’s condition as the evening progressed, the decision was made to have Mr. Jones, the local apothecary from Meryton, come and examine Jane early the next morning.
The gentleman’s prognosis upon examining the sick lady was met with a mixture of relief and trepidation on the part of the two sisters: relief that Jane suffered a cold and nothing graver, and trepidation because Jane was commanded to remain in bed at Netherfield for several days so as not to risk a worsening of her condition.
“Several days!” cried Caroline to Louisa once Mr. Jones was gone and the ladies were at liberty to speak in private. “I dare say Netherfield will be overrun by Bennets before we know. How on earth are we to endure?”
Chapter 6
Sight to Behold
Desperation accompanied Elizabeth on her solitary journey that morning. Earlier, she had received a letter from her sister Jane, who had fallen ill while visiting her friends at Netherfield Park.
The words in Jane’s letter, though meant to be reassuring, had failed miserably in easing Elizabeth’s distress upon reading them.
“My dearest Lizzy,” the letter had begun, “I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be imputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My kind friends will not hear of my returning till I am better. They also insisted on my seeing Mr. Jones. Therefore, I implore you, do not be alarmed if you should hear of his having been to me. I believe it a bit much, for excepting a sore throat and headache, there is not much the matter with me. — Yours, etc.”
Elizabeth knew her sister too well not to be concerned. Jane is too good to complain about anything, even her own health. My sister needs me.
Elizabeth’s steps grew even more impatient. What was my mother thinking in insisting that Jane travel from Longbourn to Netherfield on horseback when the skies above threatened a torrential downpour?
Of course, Elizabeth knew precisely what her mother was thinking. She had meant to play matchmaker between Jane and Mr. Bingley knowing full well that Jane would be forced to stay the night should the weather prognostication hold true.
Having navigated any number of hills and stiles successfully, Elizabeth underestimated the width of a puddle in her path. She jumped. But she did not jump far enough, and instead of landing on her feet, she found herself lying flat on her back—her bonnet, her spencer, her gown, her everything covered in mud. What a wretched sight to behold.
How shall I possibly arrive at Netherfield looking like this? Even Jane might find my appearance objectionable, and Jane never thinks badly of anyone.
The sound of approaching horse hooves caught her wholly unaware, and before she knew what she was about, Elizabeth was staring up into the eyes of the last person she wished to see.
Giving no mind to what his own appearance would be, the gentleman quickly dismounted and extended his gloved hand. “Miss Elizabeth,” he said, “are you quite all right?”
Before Elizabeth could reply, he said, “Take my hand.”
Without hesitation, she did exactly as she was told, although she did not like finding herself in such a position one bit. After all, she was not one of those helpless females she often read about in romance novels. She was quite sure that she could manage quite well on her own had he not come along when he did. Once she was standing upright, albeit drenched in mud, she told him as much.
“That may very well be, but I am here, and thus I am obliged to see that you arrive at your intended destination safely. I presume you are on your way to Netherfield to attend your ailing sister.”
She nodded. “I am.”
“Pray you will not misunderstand what I am about to say, but—”
“Mr. Darcy, if you really feel it necessary to couch whatever you intend to say in such terms as that, perhaps you ought not to say it at all.”
“Oh, but I feel I must.”
“Pray allow me to guess. You find the idea of my arriving at your friend’s home in such a dreadful state as this completely intolerable.”
“Actually, what I was about to say is you must allow me to carry you there on horseback in order to hasten your safe arrival, so that you may quickly remove your wet clothing. There is no need for two Bennet daughters to convalesce at Netherfield.”
Elizabeth wrapped her arms about her shoulders to ward off a slight chill. “Should I accept your offer of assistance, I am not certain which would be the greater scandal: my arrival in such a state of disarray or my arriving on horseback with you.”
Darcy threw off his greatcoat and wrapped it about Elizabeth’s shoulders. Once again Elizabeth found herself peering into his dark, brooding eyes. And they were standing so close. Fortunately for her or not so fortunately, an untidy strand of hair fell down her face. Removing his glove, Darcy brushed the errand lock aside.
Her reaction to his nearness was as puzzling as it had been upon first meeting him at the assembly.
What is it about this man that baffles me so?
Whatever it was, she had spent the past weeks whenever in company with him trying her best not to find out. Not that the gentleman meant to make it easy. Rarely did Elizabeth accidentally glance Mr. Darcy’s way and not find him looking at her. Indeed, in much the same way as he was looking at her that very moment.
He is proud and above his company, Elizabeth reminded herself in one breath. He is the most handsome man my eyes have ever beheld, she silently considered in the next.
“I shall accompany you into the manor house completely undetected by the rest of the party, and once you have donned fresh clothing, you may visit your sister.”
Elizabeth swallowed. “Your plan lacks one critical element, sir.”
“If you are speaking of attire, I am thinking you can dispatch a note to Longbourn to have a change of clothing sent to you at Netherfield. What say you to the scheme, Miss Elizabeth? Mind you, I have no intention of leaving you stranded in your present state. Either I shall accompany you to Netherfield or I shall accompany you to Longbourn. The choice is entirely up to you.”
Elizabeth was bound and determined to visit her sister. A return to Longbourn might very well delay her for hours perhaps an entire day. There really was only one thing to do. “I shall place myself in your hands, Mr. Darcy.”
True to his word, Mr. Darcy aided Elizabeth in entering the manor house undetected by any of the Bingleys.
When they arrived at the top of the stairs, Elizabeth said, “If you will tell me which room my sister is in, I believe I shall no longer be in need of your assistance, Mr. Darcy.”
“Your sister’s apartment is just down the hallway—directly across from mine, in fact. We are almost there. Come.”
“No!” Elizabeth cried with more urgency than she had intended. She had almost forgotten she was still draped by the gentleman’s coat. Savoring the fresh masculine scent of this man who was very much a stranger, she slowly removed the coat and handed it over to him. “That is to say, you have done more than enough, sir. I am in your debt.”
Her clothes were no more presentable now than when he had aided her to her feet when they were on the lane.
“What of your plan to send for a change of clothing from Longbourn?” Mr. Darcy inquired, referring to their conversation while she rode atop his stead and he walked along, guiding the horse’s reins. “Shall I show you to an unoccupied apartment, so you might address those matters first?”
“No!” Elizabeth cried once more. “I believe I may attend to all that once I am inside my sister’s room.” Here, she felt the color spread all over her body. She was sure he was not judging her—not after having attended her so diligently in escorting her there. However, there was something about the way he looked at her that gave her pause.
His look was not unlike the look he bestowed when they were introduced at the assembly—a look that caused her to suffer such sentiments she was sure she would never forget.
By now they had resumed walking down the long hallway, their footsteps muted by the rich carpeting beneath their feet, past any number of closed doors and walls of exquisite tapestry. Each step made her more and more aware of her appearance. Her companion, by comparison, looked as though he had stepped from a painting.
At length, she asked, “How much farther, sir?”
He stopped. “We are here. Your sister’s apartment,” he said, his hand gesturing accordingly.
Against her will, Elizabeth threw a quick glance to the opposite side of the hallway.
“My apartment,” he said, nodding ever so slightly. “Pray you will let me know if I can be of further service, Miss Elizabeth.”
Their eyes met—both holding each other’s gaze for a moment or two. Her whole body trembled under the weight of his stare, or perhaps her damp clothes were the cause. More likely, a little of both.
“I shall,” Elizabeth said, tentatively. Turning, she placed her hand on the doorknob of Jane’s apartment. She tapped lightly with her other hand before opening the door and slipping inside. Before shutting the door completely, Elizabeth looked back.
Mr. Darcy was still standing there. Looking into his eyes once more, almost searching them, Elizabeth smiled a little. And then, she closed the door.
Chapter 7
Consideration in the World
Not very long after that, Elizabeth sat beside her sister and pressed a moist towel against Jane’s forehead. Jane slowly awakened. “Dearest Lizzy, thank you for coming to see me.”
“There is nothing on this earth that would have prevented my being here.”
“Have I been asleep for very long? How long have you been here?”
“Pray, dearest Jane, do not worry yourself with any of that. I am here now, and I will remain here with you for so long as it takes.”
At that moment, the Bingley sisters crept into the room. “Why, Miss Eliza,” the younger woman cried, “When in heavens did you arrive?”
Elizabeth said, “It is very nice to see you too, Miss Bingley ... Mrs. Hurst. Allow me to thank you for taking such prodigious care of my sister.”
“Oh, but it is the least we can do. Miss Bennet is such a favorite of ours.” Turning to her older sister, Miss Bingley said, “Is she not, dearest Louisa?”
Twisting a strand of pearls draped around her neck, the other lady nodded. “She is indeed. It is our pleasure to have her. It is a shame the circumstances for her being here are such as they are, but we are determined to make the best of things.” She walked closer to Jane’s bedside. “How are you feeling, my dear?”
Her voice rather weak, Jane said, “I am feeling so much better now that my sister is here.”
“Capital. And you need not worry one bit, for your sister is welcome to remain here for so long as necessary to be of comfort to you while you recover. Caroline and I will do all that is within our power to make certain Miss Elizabeth feels just as welcomed as you. Is that not correct, Caroline?”
“Oh, indeed. It really is a shame that all the Bennet daughters have not arrived at our doorstep. What a lively party we would be.”
At five o’clock the two ladies retired to dress for dinner. Elizabeth was summoned at half-past six to join them in the dining room. With some reluctance on her part, Elizabeth left her sister’s side and proceeded down the long hallway—her only consolation being the chance to be once again in Mr. Darcy’s company.
For the past few hours or so, any thoughts she had that did not center on her sister’s wellbeing dwelt solely on Mr. Darcy and how kind he had been to her earlier that day. She was beginning to suspect he was nothing at all as she had thought.
He is not haughty—indeed, I believe he is rather shy.
The ensuing moments belied her tender sentiments. As she descended the grand staircase, her presence went unnoticed, thus affording the chance for Elizabeth to hear a rather lively discussion unfolding between certain members of the Netherfield party as they proceeded to the dining room.
She might have cleared her throat or engaged in some other scheme to make her presence known, and she would have except for the fact that she was a very curious creature by nature and especially when she was at the center of what was being discussed.
“Her manners are appalling. Indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence; she has no conversation, no style, no beauty,” Louisa declared.
“She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker—that is if one is to be expected to believe she walked all the way here from her father’s estate—unchaperoned no less and in such dreadful weather as this,” added Caroline.
“One can only imagine how she must have looked upon her arrival.”
“No doubt wild-eyed with unkempt, blowsy hair and her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain. Is there any wonder she sent home for a change of attire before any of us were the wiser?”
“How very nonsensical to come at all! Why must she be scampering about the country because her sister has a cold?” Louisa asked.
“To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, and alone, quite alone! What could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum,” Caroline concluded.
“It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing,” said Bingley.
“A rather odd sort of affection, if you ask me. I have an excessive regard for Miss Jane Bennet, she is really a very sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with such a father and mother, and such low connections, I am afraid there is no chance of it,” said the younger woman.
“I think I have heard you say that their uncle is an attorney in Meryton.”
“Yes; and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside.”
“That is capital,” added her sister, and they both laughed heartily.
“If they had uncles enough to fill all of Cheapside,” cried Bingley, “it would not make them one jot less agreeable.”
“But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world,” replied Darcy.
Hearing this, Elizabeth could no longer help but be affected.
And this is his real opinion, she silently affirmed. This is who Mr. Darcy really is! This is what he thinks of people whom he perceives as lesser than himself in consequence.
At that moment, Miss Bingley threw a casual glance over her shoulder and saw Elizabeth was not very far behind their party. She stopped and waited for Netherfield’s newest guest, encouraging everyone else to do so as well.
“Why, Miss Eliza, I wonder that you did not make your presence known. We are such an intimate party, but that is no excuse for negl
ecting you.”
“On the contrary, Miss Bingley,” Elizabeth said, now standing directly beside the others. “I do not feel neglected in the least bit.” She then looked squarely at Mr. Darcy. “You must not give such thoughts any consideration in the world.”
Darcy knew he should have been more circumspect when speaking of the Bennet daughters’ marital prospects earlier that evening. Miss Bingley, with her acerbic wit, always knew precisely what to say to bring out the worst in people which was precisely the reason he did not like the idea of his younger sister being unduly influenced by her.
Were he to judge by Miss Elizabeth’s chilly reception toward him for the remainder of the evening, he was confident that she had heard him speak as he had. He would apologize to her if it were not for the fact that he had spoken nothing but the truth.
Admittedly, he knew nothing at all about the Bennet daughters of Longbourn—the size of their fortune or lack thereof, or even their connections. Their being so intimately connected with people in trade by way of their mother being a tradesman’s daughter and her two brothers, one a merchant in town who lived near his warehouses and the other a lawyer in the nearby town of Meryton was all he needed to know.
Miss Elizabeth’s situation in life did not, indeed could not, keep thoughts of her from accompanying him to sleep that night, however.
A most satisfying slumber had not been long in the making before Mr. Darcy knew everything a man of sense and education with knowledge of the world could ever wish to know about a woman: the touch of her lips pressed tenderly against his, the tantalizing taste of her, the feel of her in his arms, the warmth of her body next to his—her softness and his hardness as one.
What must have been hours later, he bolted up in bed and shook his head. He released a deep sigh of relief.
I was only dreaming. This realization drifted from relief to regret and just as quickly as that, to consolation, for so much as he realized it was wrong to think of an innocent young woman in such a manner—a young woman who could never mean anything to him owing to her station in life in comparison to his own, he could certainly enjoy her charming wit and bewitching dark eyes by day and dream of cherishing her with her oh so pleasing figure and tantalizing lips by night for so long as he remained in Hertfordshire.
