Lizzy looked at Jane, who gave an imperceptible nod. "Thank you, sir. If you could draw the curtains before you go, it would be much appreciated."
This was done, and the gentlemen exited to the hall, closing the door behind them.
No candles were lit in the hall–the only illumination was provided by a fanlight at the end of the corridor. As the gentlemen's eyes adjusted to the darkness, the ladies' voices drifted from the library.
"Lean forward, Jane. I cannot reach the bottom of your stays… Oh dear, you are wet right down to your chemise! I suppose it was because Mr Bingley was carrying you the way he was. It really would have been better if he had slung you over his shoulder. At least that way only your bottom would be wet!"
There was some giggling.
Outside Bingley bit his fist to prevent himself from laughing. He looked up at his friend, who, scowling disapprovingly, stuck his hand into the back of Bingley's cravat and dragged him off down the hall.
"There is no harm in listening," Bingley protested in a whisper. "It is not as if I was looking through the keyhole!"
"You could not have done so even if you wished it: the key was still in the lock on the other side," replied Darcy.
"Ha!" yelled Bingley triumphantly, "you thought of it too!"
"Certainly not!" said Darcy, flushing deeply. "And since when have you been an expert in foot injuries?"
Bingley grinned.
After a short silence, Darcy continued, "You should have let me help you carry her. She could have sat upright if we had made a seat of our arms."
"No way!" scoffed Bingley, "Dibs!"
"Hold your horses, Bingley! We have only just met them!"
"I believe Miss Jane Bennet is one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen! She smells divine and felt like heaven."
"Bingley, they are only the daughters of a local squire," said Darcy as he shifted uncomfortably in his wet clothes. "If you had studied the map Mr Morris showed you, you would have noticed that Longbourn is a small estate to the southwest of Meryton. You can have no serious design on them–their portions are undoubtedly small. I know you are too much the gentleman to trifle with them in anyway."
Bingley made a face as Darcy wriggled his toes in his boots.
At least, Darcy thought, my stockings seem still to be dry. Shrugging out of his wet tailcoat, he discovered his shirt was only damp. He wished he'd had the presence of mind to draw on his greatcoat before heading outside.
"Bingley, let me help you out of your tailcoat. It will not do to stand about in it wet."
After Darcy performed this office for Bingley, the gentlemen stood patiently in their damp shirtsleeves and waistcoats until Miss Elizabeth opened the door to bid them come back inside.
She was arranging the ladies' wet dresses over the backs of some Hepplewhite chairs when they re-entered the library.
Jane looked at the gentlemen askance. "Surely, Mr Bingley, you should change from your wet clothes also?"
"I'm afraid our clothes are still at The Red Lion, Miss Bennet, although our valets should arrive with them this afternoon. We were really only intending to stay for a few days to inspect Netherfield before moving in at Michaelmas. But Mrs Fletcher assures us she can make us more comfortable here."
Lizzy could well imagine this would be so. Although The Red Lion was the best hostelry that Meryton boasted, it was too close to London to be a major coaching stop, and its accommodations were unlikely to suit the tastes of a fastidious gentleman.
"Let me at least arrange your coats before the fire," offered Lizzy, spying another chair in a corner.
"It would be poor recompense for your heroism, Mr Bingley," said Miss Bennet, "if you were to catch your death from your wet clothes. Lizzy, surely we have an extra shawl or two in our trunk?"
"Oh, Miss Bennet," smiled Bingley. "Men are not so delicate as females. Remember, we are made of frogs and snails and puppy dogs' tails."
"Speak for yourself, Bingley," said Darcy. "My grandfather died after catching a chill when trout fishing in the Wye."
Bingley hardly thought this was in the same category, but it did not seem polite to demur.
After surveying the contents of the trunk, Lizzy held out two dressing gowns. "I'm afraid these are all I can offer."
The gowns were actually voluminous cloaks, one powder blue and the other pastel pink. Bingley quickly snabbled the blue one. Darcy scowled at him.
"The blue goes better with my fair hair," smiled Bingley. "The pink one will suit your dark looks admirably!"
Lizzy laughed. "Indeed, you have correctly described their respective owners."
Mr Bingley was now doubly gratified in his choice. He wound the gown around his shoulders like a shawl and could indeed smell Miss Bennet's perfume on it.
Darcy reluctantly put the pink gown around his shoulders. It did take the chill from the air.
Shortly after, a knock was heard and Mrs Fletcher entered.
"Ah, Mrs Fletcher you're back from town!" said Bingley. "As you see, we have some unexpected guests."
Mrs Fletcher curtsied. "Indeed, sir," she said, taking in her employer's strange attire without a blink. "I saw the Bennet carriage by the front gate. I hope no one is hurt."
"Miss Bennet has injured her foot, but we hope it is not grievous. Would it be too much to ask for a cup of tea?"
"The fire is not yet lit in the kitchen, sir, but I'll see what I can do."
After retrieving some coals from the fireplace in a scuttle, she retreated.
"I hope your accident has not interrupted your plans too greatly, Miss Bennet?" said Bingley. "We have a chaise and four at the Red Lion and expect it to arrive with our valets sometime this afternoon."
He looked significantly at Darcy, before finishing: "It is completely at your service."
Darcy's cheek twitched. In fact, the chaise and four were his own.
"Thank you, sir," said Miss Bennet. "We were on our way to Luton to visit our aunt and uncle, but our trip will have to be abandoned. Our father will no doubt arrive soon in the gig and decide what is best."
"It will be a squash in the gig, Jane; and your foot would be best elevated on the trip home," suggested Elizabeth.
"Indeed," said Bingley, "so you must avail yourself of my offer!"
"You are too kind, sir," murmured Jane.
They lapsed into silence, and Mr Darcy's eyes returned again to the volume of Plato and the chess set which still lay on the floor.
"Are you Greeks bearing gifts?" he asked with a hint of a smile.
Miss Elizabeth was not sure how to take this. "Are you implying that we gained admittance to your house by subterfuge, Mr Darcy?" she said boldly.
Mr Darcy blushed hotly. "I beg your pardon, Miss Bennet, but that was not my intention." Or was it? Sometimes the thoughts he sought to hide floated unbidden to his mouth. "I merely wondered if the volume of Plato and the chess set were gifts for your uncle? But my wits seem to have abandoned me. Forgive me for being too forward."
Miss Elizabeth was highly amused by a picture of her uncle, the attorney, reading Plato. "These things are for my own amusement, sir."
"You play chess?" blurted Darcy incredulously.
"Yes, sir," said Elizabeth. "Are you perhaps interested in a game?"
Darcy nodded mutely. They sat down at a card table, and Elizabeth arranged the pieces. Darcy had been a reasonably good player at Cambridge, who had won most of the matches he played against his friends. He wondered how long this game would last.
They had made not a dozen moves before Darcy saw he was in real danger from Miss Elizabeth and devoted more attention to his strategy.
For her part, Lizzy noted that Mr Darcy had definitely taken a turn for the better. Now that he was concentrating on the game, his scowl had disappeared and his countenance had become more serene. He looked rather cute in her pink dressing gown with disordered hair. He occasionally ran his fingers through his wet locks as he pondered his next move, and each time, the black cur
ls sprang up in slightly wilder disarray. It was a stark contrast to his earlier immaculate and formidable appearance.
She began to amuse herself, while waiting for her turn, by thinking of a name for his hairstyle. It went somewhat beyond The Windswept. Caught in a Downpour? Three Sheets to the Wind?
As he made his next move, Elizabeth noted his large hands with their long tapering fingers and heavy gold signet ring: that, despite his wild appearance, still proclaimed the aristocrat.
Darcy, on the other hand, was beginning to become a little distressed. He didn't feel in control of this game and, despite the presence of Miss Elizabeth's lace tucker, he was distracted by her décolletage every time she leaned over the board to move a piece.
He was relieved from his misery when Mrs Fletcher re-entered, bearing tea, with Mr Bennet in tow.
"Papa!" said Lizzy, jumping up and running to give him a hug.
"Dear me!" said Mr Bennet, surveying Jane, who had been quietly discoursing with Bingley near the fireplace. "I cannot leave you two monkeys alone for a minute without your getting into mischief!"
Secretly he was highly relieved that his two elder daughters were not badly injured. He had been quite appalled when he saw the carriage.
While Mr Bennet acquainted himself with the nature of his daughter's injury, Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy hastily discarded the dressing gowns. After being introduced to the gentlemen and hearing of Mr Bingley's heroism, Mr Bennet sat down to share a cup of tea and welcome Mr Bingley to the neighbourhood.
During the course of this conversation, Elizabeth's father surreptitiously surveyed the chessboard. Mr Bennet had been a chess champion at Oxford, and his elder daughters had played several thousand games with him.
He realised Elizabeth was one move from check. No, checkmate! Well, well, Mr Darcy… saved by paternal intervention!
Chapter 3: Sweet medicine
After tea, Mr Bennet surveyed the Netherfield library in a desultory fashion and remarked that Mr Yardley had not been a great reader.
"Which," he said, "was a pity because the Netherfield library is a much grander room than its equivalent at Longbourn. I hope you can do it justice, Mr Bingley."
Darcy bit his lip.
Mr Bennet continued on this theme with a series of reminiscences about the Yardleys, who had inhabited Netherfield for many generations before finally quitting the countryside for London almost ten years ago. Lizzy and Jane had known the Yardley children and played at Netherfield as youngsters.
"I must admit," said Mr Bennet, "that I did not expect to see you here before Michaelmas, Mr Bingley."
"Darcy and I had hoped to do some shooting before returning to London, but after viewing the gunroom, Darcy refused to touch anything until it had been inspected by a gunsmith.
"Very wise," said Mr Bennet. "Mr Flint in Meryton will do a good job. May I address the deficiency by inviting you to come to Longbourn tomorrow morning to shoot? I have several fowling pieces in good order."
"Thank you, sir," replied Mr Bingley. "It would be greatly appreciated."
"Stay to lunch. My wife, Frances, is always keen for company."
"Gladly, sir, although I fear we impose too much for a first visit."
"Certainly not," replied Mr Bennet. "The boot is quite on the other foot." Then looking at Jane's foot before glancing mischievously at Lizzy, he added, "no pun intended."
The Bennets stayed at Netherfield until Darcy's chaise and four arrived at noon. Mr Bingley transported Jane tenderly out to the carriage, and the trunk was loaded onto the back. The carriage was a handsome equipage in black with a small crest on the door, drawn by four spirited matched chestnuts. The two servants on the box were not dressed in fancy livery as might have been expected, but instead wore dark blue coats without adornment; nor were they wearing wigs–their long hair was tied neatly at the back of their necks with a black ribbon. Taking this all in at a glance, Mr Bennet climbed in next to Lizzy, having sent John off in the gig to the wheelwright.
The ladies departed with cheery waves as they headed back to Longbourn via Meryton, where they hoped to obtain the services of the apothecary, Mr Jones.
The Bennets' injured carthorse, Nelly, imposed upon the tenant of Netherfield slightly longer. She grazed in Netherfield's front paddock for two weeks, during which time John the coachman appeared every day to foment her hock until she was deemed good to go.
Arriving at Longbourn, the steps to the chaise were let down, and the trunk unlashed. Mr Bennet, eschewing the help of the Netherfield servants, piggybacked his daughter to the front steps, a mode of transport somewhat less elegant than being carried around by Mr Bingley. Despite the short distance, the journey somewhat taxed the old gentleman, who deemed himself too old for such hijinks.
After being set upon the steps, Jane managed to hop the remaining distance to the parlour. As Mr Jones had not been at home in Meryton when they had called, Jane's foot was not yet bound, but his wife had promised an afternoon visit.
Mrs Bennet's complaints and laments regarding the abandoned trip to Luton were loud and long lasting; but upon hearing her daughters had made the acquaintance of the tenant of Netherfield and his friend, she became more reconciled to the event. By the evening, she was deeming the carriage accident a great stroke of luck.
Mr Jones arrived around two, apologising for his inability to wait upon them directly and bringing with him another gentleman, whom he introduced as the new local physician, Dr Gregory, recently graduated from Edinburgh Medical School.
The gentlemen were led directly to the patient. Mr Bennet extracted himself from the library, where he had been studying Debrett's peerage, to hear Mr Jones' opinion. However, it was Dr Gregory who deigned to provide the diagnosis, gratis, as an introduction to one of the esteemed families of the neighbourhood.
"Try to keep your weight off it," he pronounced, "and keep it bandaged until the swelling and bruising have disappeared completely. Is there a sitting room upstairs?"
This was confirmed.
"Then I would suggest that we carry you up there presently. Live on the upper floor, and do not attempt to negotiate the stairs until you can walk without pain. If you must come down, get two footmen to carry you on a chair. If it is indeed just a bad sprain, as I suspect, then it should take a week or two to heal. If it is broken, it will be longer."
Mrs Bennet invited the gentlemen to stay for afternoon tea, to meet the rest of the family. This indulgence had never been previously granted Mr Jones, who was in no doubt of its origin: Dr Gregory was a handsome young man of medium height with reddish hair and pale blue eyes. As a university-trained physician, he could command a much higher fee than Mr Jones, who had acquired his skills as an apothecary and surgeon through apprenticeship. It had not escaped Mrs Bennet that Dr Gregory wore no ring on his finger.
"Dr Gregory, I do not know how your arrival in Meryton could have escaped my notice until now," said Mrs Bennet.
Dr Gregory laughed. "I have only just arrived today, Mrs Bennet, and I've not yet found a place to sleep. I dropped my bag at the Red Lion this morning, but both their rooms were taken. I may yet find myself sleeping in the taproom tonight."
"So you have decided to set up a practice here in Meryton, Dr Gregory?" asked Mr Bennet.
"Indeed, Sir William Lucas encouraged me to set up an infirmary here. I hope to look at the shop fronts that are available for the purpose with him tomorrow."
"Meryton is only a small market town, Dr Gregory. Do you think it merits its own physician?" asked Mr Bennet. "Surely you would do better in London?"
"I must admit I have a grander ambition to set up a hospital for the care and treatment of the sickly and disabled, Mr Bennet. This will be a costly exercise, and I cannot afford to do it in London. However, Meryton is sufficiently close to London to enable relatives of patients to visit. I was fortunate to meet Sir William Lucas at St James, who offered to act as a patron for the enterprise."
Mr Bennet raised his eyebrows at this. "Well, I
wish you good luck then," he said, as he rose to take his leave. "You must excuse me–I have urgent business in my library."
Dr Gregory was disappointed at Mr Bennet's precipitate departure when the subject of patronage had been broached; but he consoled himself with Mrs Bennet's seed cake, several more cups of tea, and the very pleasant company of his five daughters.
Indeed, they were all exceptionally pretty girls: Jane, the eldest, was a beautiful blonde with a serene smile; Lizzy, next in age and beauty, had glossy chestnut tresses and glittering eyes; Lydia, the youngest, was well formed for her age and laughed merrily; while Kitty and Mary were also good looking, although he had forgotten which was which.
Upon taking their leave, Mr Jones promised to return each day to bandage and salve Miss Bennet's foot. For his part, Dr Gregory promised to return in a week to view the patient and gave an open invitation to the ladies to visit the new infirmary once its doors opened.
Over dinner, Mrs Bennet lauded the presence of a physician in Meryton, and an eligible gentleman, at that. "I'm sure Dr Gregory could do wonders for my nerves," said Mrs Bennet.
"Feel free to consult Dr Gregory as often as you wish, my dear," said Mr Bennet, "but his bills come out of your pin money. So what will it be: bonnets or nerves?"
Chapter 4: Pastorale
Shortly after breakfast on the following day, Lizzy was working on the ledgers in the Longbourn library while Mr Bennet sipped port and read a book nearby.
"Well, Lizzy, you may be interested to know that the chaise and four that delivered us home yesterday actually belongs to Mr Darcy, who owns a very large estate in Derbyshire."
"Really? I had thought it belonged to Mr Bingley?"
"One might have jumped to that conclusion on the basis of his offer of the conveyance, but he did in fact use the royal 'we'. You might also have noticed there was a small crest on the door."
"Yes, Papa."
"Can you remember the details of it?"
Lizzy flushed. They had been studying heraldry, and here, at the first chance to use her knowledge practically, she had failed.
I Met Mr Darcy Via Luton Page 2
