I Met Mr Darcy Via Luton

by Fredrica Edward

  Mr Darcy faced a dilemma. He didn't want to snub Miss Elizabeth again, but he did not wish to encourage her pretensions. Perhaps he should offer to get her refreshments instead?

  Into the breech stepped Dr Gregory: "Miss Elizabeth, would you care to take a turn on the dance floor?"

  Elizabeth acquiesced with a smile and was led away.

  Darcy, unreasonably, felt a pang of jealousy. He was beginning to quite hate that fellow.

  Chapter 9: Nodding at Netherfield

  Breakfast at Netherfield was a desultory affair. Caroline toyed with the crumbs of a muffin as she stirred her tea.

  "Charles, I'm so bored. When can we go up to town?"

  "Caroline, we've only just got here," replied her brother reasonably.

  "There is nothing to do!" she expostulated.

  "There is plenty to do. You must merely accustom yourself to country amusements. You could do some stitchery, or gather flowers, or go for walks. You could even pay calls on some of our neighbours."

  "They are so unrefined, Charles."

  "Suit yourself. But if you wish to be part of the landed gentry, you will need to adapt your lifestyle accordingly. Darcy and I have been invited to dine at the officers' mess. Why not invite some ladies over in our absence?"

  Caroline pondered: Jane Bennet isn't too bad–she isn't impertinent like her sister Elizabeth or boring like that parvenu Charlotte Lucas. And if Charles is going out, I won't have to worry about him fawning over Miss Bennet like an enthusiastic puppy…

  "Very well," she smiled, but it did not reach her eyes; "I will write a letter of invitation, dear brother."

  Half an hour later, a Netherfield footman arrived at Longbourn with a note for Miss Bennet. Mrs Bennet could hardly contain her excitement.

  "Well, Jane, who is it from? What is it about? What does he say? Well, Jane, make haste and tell us; make haste, my love."

  "It is from Miss Bingley," said Jane, "I have been invited to dine."

  "Excellent! An opportunity to further your relationship with Mr Bingley and his family; it could not be better!"

  "The gentlemen will not be there–they are to dine with the officers."

  "What? Give me the note!" Mrs Bennet demanded. She read it through in consternation but then smiled. "Nothing could be simpler, my dear, you will go on horseback because it seems likely to rain; and then you must stay all night."

  "Mama!" remonstrated Lizzy, "surely they will wonder why we did not send the carriage."

  "Nonsense. The carriage is being inspected for further defects!"

  Behind The Morning Post, Mr Bennet rolled his eyes.

  Mrs Bennet could not be dissuaded from her course of action. The waiting footman was sent back with the acceptance, and Jane followed soon after.

  Her mother's hopes were answered; Jane had not been gone long before it bucketed down. Her sisters were uneasy for her, but her mother was delighted. The rain continued the whole evening without intermission. Jane certainly could not come back.

  "This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!" said Mrs Bennet more than once, as if the credit of making it rain were all her own. 'Til the next morning, however, she was not aware of all the felicity of her contrivance. Breakfast was scarcely over when a servant from Netherfield brought the following note for Elizabeth:

  MY DEAREST LIZZY,

  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 'til I am better. They insist on calling Dr Gregory. Therefore do not be alarmed if you should hear of his having been to see me; excepting a sore throat and headache, there is not much the matter with me.—Yours, etc.

  "Well, my dear," said Mr Bennet, when Elizabeth had read the note aloud, "if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness—if she should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of Mr Bingley, and under your orders."

  "Oh! I am not afraid of her dying," retorted Mrs Bennet. "People do not die of little trifling colds!"

  Indeed, when Dr Gregory visited the patient during his morning rounds, he did not think the case serious, but he did advise caution. Some barley water was prescribed for the fever, and he promised to return the following day.

  It had become Lizzy's habit to spend two hours at the infirmary every day. She usually arrived at ten, by which time Dr Gregory had generally finished his morning calls. Her duties had originally been quite light. When he tended patients, she held bowls and passed instruments, which she later washed. She spent her free time reading texts from his library, preferably in the garden, when the weather permitted. She had lately been reading a treatise on bloodletting and had been surprised to find the business so complicated. It seemed to be a panacea for so many ills. Should the blood be taken from the site of the illness or from far away? Dr Gregory firmly believed that the appropriate site depended on the illness.

  Sometimes she ground compounds for Mr Jones. Because Lizzy had promised Jane she would never serve in the dispensary, she usually did this in the surgery; or if that was occupied, in the store cupboard under the stairs. Later Dr Gregory found Lizzy could do ledgers, and she assumed this onerous task to allow him more time to deal with his correspondence. This chiefly consisted of letters to prominent persons requesting patronage for the projected hospital.

  Elizabeth always arrived back at Longbourn for lunch, and her parents continued to believe she visited Charlotte each day.

  On the morning of Jane's illness, Lizzy had declared her intention to visit her at Netherfield and set off initially to Meryton, where she left a note for Dr Gregory, excusing herself for the day, before continuing cross-country to Netherfield.

  The ground was still heavy from the previous day's rain, and despite tying up her overskirt and holding up the hem of her petticoat, the latter was well spattered with mud by the time she reached Netherfield, a fact that the thin overskirt could not entirely conceal when she lowered it again after crossing the stile.

  She encountered Mr Darcy in the grounds with his dog on her way to the house. The hound ran straight for her and jumped up to lick her face. Fortunately Miss Elizabeth was ready for him and grabbed his paws before he could soil her dress any further.

  "Down, Argos!" commanded Darcy belatedly. "I beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth. You seem to inspire him to bad behaviour!"

  She raised her eyebrows at this.

  "Good morning, Mr Darcy. I've come to tend my sister," she said rather stiffly.

  Darcy blushed.

  "Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth. I merely meant he seems to forget himself in your presence. He is generally a well-behaved dog."

  He offered her his handkerchief to clean her hands.

  "Do not trouble yourself, Mr Darcy. I will go in through the kitchens and wash my hands in the scullery. Excuse me," she curtseyed and headed off towards the house.

  Darcy scowled at Argos, who wagged his tail in reply.

  Mr Bingley and his sisters were still at breakfast when Lizzy was ushered into the morning room. Mr Hurst was not in evidence, and she assumed he had gone out riding.

  "Good morning, Miss Elizabeth," greeted Mr Bingley. "Will you sit down to some tea?"

  "No thank you, Mr Bingley, I've come to check on Jane. Has Dr Gregory seen her this morning?"

  "Yes, indeed, and he believes it is not serious."

  He glanced at his sisters, who were intently studying the paper. "Would you like me to take you up?"

  "Thank you, sir. I'm in your debt."

  Upon reaching Jane, Lizzy found her propped on pillows in her bed, wearing a very fetching lace gown, which Lizzy presumed had been loaned by one of the sisters. Mr Bingley hesitated on the threshold, but seeing his entry challenged by no one, he stepped into the room.

  Lizzy sat down on the counterpane, and upon stretching her hand to Jane's forehead, watched her sister open heavy eyelids.

  "Oh Lizzy!" Jane croaked, "Thank you for coming. I feel so wretched and did not sle
ep well last night."

  "Then you must try to sleep now that I am here," Lizzy said as she glanced at the side table. "Is this barley water? Will you take some?"

  Jane sipped from the glass, and it was returned to the side-table.

  Mr Bingley stepped forward. "If there is anything else that we can get for your sister's comfort, Miss Elizabeth, please tell me."

  Jane jumped, as she had not realised that Mr Bingley had entered the room. She pulled the sheets up higher over the flimsy gown.

  "Thank you for the thought," replied Miss Elizabeth. "If you could send a maid occasionally to wait on us, it would be much appreciated."

  "It shall be done every hour," said Mr Bingley and bowing, he withdrew.

  Lizzy found a novel that had been left by the Bingley sisters. It was a dusty and mottled copy of Fanny Burney's Cecilia, which had likely come from the Netherfield library. She knew the novel well, and turning to the first chapter, sat down by the bed and began to read aloud. Jane drifted off to sleep after the second page, and Lizzy settled down into the sunny window seat to continue reading.

  The maid arrived as promised an hour later, and after checking Jane, Lizzy used the opportunity to slip outside for some fresh air, promising to return within the half-hour.

  She had only gone a few steps outside the house when Mr Darcy's hound found her. He dropped a stick at her feet and then bounded off after she threw it. But instead of returning it to her, the dog sped off, and she perceived Mr Darcy returning from the stables. He received the stick from the hound, threw it off in another direction, and proceeded to stride towards her. She busied herself smelling the roses.

  Finally arriving in her vicinity, Mr Darcy greeted her with, "I would prefer that you do not play with the dog, Miss Elizabeth. He is a working dog and needs to pledge his allegiance to me."

  At this moment the dog returned and dropped not the stick, but a dead rabbit at Mr Darcy's feet. "I believe you already have his allegiance, Mr Darcy, as indicated by the rabbit offering," replied Lizzy.

  Frowning, Mr Darcy picked up the rabbit by its ears and handed it to a footman who was hovering nearby. "Farley, please take this rabbit to Cook."

  "Compliments of Argos, Farley," added Miss Elizabeth.

  The dog, recognising his name, licked her.

  Farley gave her a grin and took the victuals off.

  She then turned her attention back to Mr Darcy. "You are clearly the leader of the pack, Mr Darcy, or perhaps some ancient dog god. Mr Sirius Darcy? Mr Anubis Darcy?"

  "You are mocking me, Miss Elizabeth."

  "How could I mock such a serious man?" she replied, and curtseying, she re-entered the house to return to Jane.

  Chapter 10: Nursing Jane

  The Bingley sisters finally came to check on their guest around three. Elizabeth felt that she must return to Longbourn, and very unwillingly said so. Miss Bingley offered her the carriage, and she only wanted a little pressing to accept it, when Jane testified such concern in parting with her that Miss Bingley was obliged to convert the offer of the chaise to an invitation to remain at Netherfield for the present. Elizabeth most thankfully consented, and a servant was dispatched to Longbourn to acquaint the family with her stay and bring back a supply of clothes.

  It was accordingly arranged that Lizzy would dine with the Netherfield party at seven. Since the dinner hour at Longbourn was at the earlier hour of six, as is the general trend in the country, Lizzy's stomach was well and truly grumbling when she came downstairs to dinner at twenty minutes to the hour. She hesitated on the stairs when she heard the conversation drifting from the saloon.

  "Is not your love rather accident prone?" This was clearly Miss Bingley.

  "A sprained ankle and a cold hardly classify as accident prone," replied Mr Bingley.

  "It was injudicious to ride yesterday when it was clearly going to rain," said the deeper voice of Mr Darcy.

  "Perhaps the carriage needs further repairs," said Mr Bingley.

  "A carriage that has undergone such a major accident should be scrapped or sold." Again Mr Darcy.

  "And what about her sister?" That was the elder Bingley sister. "I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild."

  "She did, indeed, Louisa." Caroline. "I could hardly keep my countenance. Very nonsensical to come at all! Why must she be scampering about the country because her sister has a cold? Her hair, so untidy, so blowsy!"

  "Yes, and her petticoat," continued Louisa; "I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to hide it not doing its office."

  "Your picture may be very exact, Louisa," said Bingley; "but this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice."

  "You observed it, Mr Darcy, I am sure," said Miss Bingley; "and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see your sister make such an exhibition."

  "Certainly not."

  "To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, 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."

  "It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing," said Bingley.

  "You are quite right, Miss Bingley," said Mr Darcy. "Affection for her sister notwithstanding, she behaves like the veriest hoyden."

  Elizabeth flushed to the roots of her hair, more with anger than embarrassment. She crept back up to the top of the stairs and regulated her breathing. Then commanding herself to have courage, she clattered back down again and entered the saloon.

  For the entire dinner conversation, Caroline and Louisa directed a barrage of pointed questions towards Miss Elizabeth regarding relatives in Cheapside, attorneys, and country manners. Bingley's attempts to direct the conversation elsewhere were futile in the face of his sisters' more determined assaults. Mr Hurst's mouth was wholly occupied with his food, and Mr Darcy also said little. Elizabeth found him staring at her more often than not. His face was an expressionless mask, but she could not help the word "hoyden" from running through her head every time she happened to glance at him.

  When the ladies withdrew from the dining room, Elizabeth returned to check on her sister. The evening had brought on the expected heightening of her fever. Elizabeth bathed her sister's brow with a wet flannel that she exchanged regularly with another sitting in a bowl and encouraged her to take some more barley water. Jane thanked her sister for her solicitude but complained of a headache, whereupon Elizabeth rang for the maid and asked her to sit with her sister while she herself went down to the kitchens.

  The maid was keen to exchange roles, "Mrs Fletcher wouldn't like me sitting about, ma'am, while you do the work!"

  But upon Elizabeth explaining that she wished to supervise the making of a tisane herself, the maid relented and sat down.

  Opening her reticule, Elizabeth spied the treatise on bloodletting which, in her anxiety over Jane, she had forgotten she had brought with her. Setting this aside, she withdrew a piece of willow bark and set off to the kitchens, returning twenty minutes later with the tea. Half an hour after this had being administered, she had the comfort of seeing Jane fall asleep, and when it seemed to her rather right than pleasant that she should go downstairs herself, she summoned the maid once more to take her place and picked up her book.

  On entering the drawing room, she found the whole party at loo and was immediately invited to join them; but she declined and sat down to read.

  Mr Hurst looked at her with astonishment.

  "Do you prefer reading to cards?" said he; "that is rather singular."

  "Miss Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley, "despises cards. She is a great reader, and has no pleasure in anything else."

  "I deserve neither such praise nor such censure," cried Elizabeth; "I am not a great re
ader, and I have pleasure in many things."

  "In nursing your sister, I am sure you have pleasure," said Bingley; "and I hope it will be soon increased by seeing her quite well."

  Soon Mr Darcy seemed to bore of the game and quit the card table to sit in an armchair close to Miss Elizabeth's, picking up a book which had been lying on a side-table. It was the first volume of Southey's History of Nelson.

  "What are you reading, Miss Elizabeth?" he enquired quietly.

  Lizzy inwardly sighed. She handed the book on bloodletting to him silently rather than say the words aloud and thereby give Miss Bingley another opportunity to score points on her.

  He raised his eyebrows when he looked at the spine. Turning the book over to view the front pages, he flicked quickly through the remainder of the book as if shuffling a deck of cards; stopping occasionally to view woodcut illustrations. Upon finishing this perusal, he frowned; then returned the book, thankfully without comment.

  Elizabeth found her place and continued to read.

  After half an hour, she excused herself to check on Jane, and finding her awake again, sat down to continue reading Cecilia to her.

  When Mr Darcy retired to the guest wing after midnight, the door to Jane's room was open, as the maid had gone to refresh the ewer. Mr Darcy snuffed his candle and stood in the shadows to listen to Miss Elizabeth's reading until he heard the maid returning along the passage.

  Chapter 11: A headache

  Mr Darcy slept ill that night, disturbed by fugitive dreams. The last of these he vaguely remembered: he dreamt he was in a carriage accident with his parents, who were killed; but he survived and was lying injured abed afterwards.

  Indeed, his parents had been killed in a carriage accident returning to Pemberley during the winter, but he had been a boy of eight at the time. But his memory of this incident was confused and largely reconstructed by report. Their annual removal to Derbyshire had been delayed by the early arrival of Georgiana. As soon as his mother had been declared fit for travel, they had departed; and the tiny babe, who was not expected to live, had been left in the care of several nurses and a London physician. There had been a hard early frost, the carriage had slipped sideways coming down a hill and rolled down an embankment. The most vivid memory he had of the event was being hurled through the door, which had come open when the carriage tipped. Some passers-by had found them several hours later. Apparently he had been sitting in the wreckage holding his dead mother's hand, but he had no memory of this. Only he and the boy who had been sitting next to the coachman with the yard of tin survived the accident: the boy had a broken arm, but Darcy had come through with only a knock to his head. Both became deadly ill from the chill afterwards, and the boy had succumbed two weeks later.