I Met Mr Darcy Via Luton

by Fredrica Edward

  Lizzy knew this was nebulous advice, but it had to be better than their mother's speech, and she hoped it would assuage Jane's fears.

  "Very well," whispered Jane. "Goodnight."

  "Goodnight," said Lizzy as they cuddled up and went to sleep.

  As the newlyweds prepared to depart, Lizzy stepped down from the portico at the front of the house where Mr Bingley's new carriage had drawn up and threaded her way through to her sister.

  Seeing Jane now, ready to depart for married life, Lizzy thought she could give better advice in the light of the new information she had just received from her aunt.

  Lizzy gave her sister a big hug and whispered in her ear, "Jane, just do what Mr Bingley says."

  Pulling away from her sister, Elizabeth held her hands and looked into her eyes. She could see that Jane was barely holding back tears, but her sister nodded mutely in response.

  After a final hand squeeze, Jane gave a tiny smile, then climbed into the luxurious carriage, looking as joyful as if it was a tumbril.

  With Mr Bingley, it was otherwise: he looked ecstatic. Tipping his hat to Mr Bennet, he smiled and waved at the well-wishers before joining his wife in the carriage.

  Then the married couple was off to Netherfield, to the cheers of the wedding guests and the catcalls of two village boys who had snuck in the front gates. These two made a hasty exit when Lydia dived off after them.

  Chapter 46: The hospital

  The day following the wedding, Elizabeth woke up thinking of the hospital. She realised that with Jane gone, she could use their bedchamber as she pleased and promptly decided to turn the extra space into a study.

  At breakfast, it occurred to Lizzy that her interior decoration plans were a little premature. Of the two usable bedchambers in the south wing of Longbourn, Jane and Elizabeth occupied one, and Kitty and Lydia occupied the other. Mary used a room between these, which had originally been a dressing room. Mary's room didn't even have a door to the hall: she entered and exited through Kitty and Lydia's bedroom, having shoved her bed against the opposite door that accessed Jane and Elizabeth's room.

  When Mary sat down at the breakfast table, Lizzy realised it behooved her to offer Jane's place to Mary. She was silently grateful when her sister declined to move, citing her preference for solitude.

  "Well, girls," said Mrs Bennet as she buttered her toast, "What say you to Jane's big day? I think everything has passed off uncommonly well, I assure you. The spread was as good as any I ever saw. The venison was roasted to a turn–and everybody said they never saw so fat a haunch. The champagne punch was fifty times better than what we had at the Lucases' last week; and even Mr Darcy acknowledged that the partridges were remarkably well done; and I suppose he has two or three French cooks at least. And, I never saw dear Jane look in greater beauty. Mrs Long said so, too, for I asked her whether she did not. And what do you think she said besides? 'Ah! Mrs. Bennet, we shall have to find someone for Lizzy now, for she is next in line, though where we shall look now the militia have gone I cannot say.' "

  "Well, Lizzy, worry not, her nieces are very pretty behaved girls and not at all handsome: I like them prodigiously. If any other young men should come into the neighbourhood, they will look your way first."

  Lizzy was heartily glad the militia was gone, so she would not have to continue to put up with this silliness at breakfast in the future.

  After helping Hill return the furniture in the rooms downstairs to its customary pre-wedding reception state, Lizzy scampered off to the lumber-room. Finding her father's old desk stored there, she requested Hill to have it transported to her bedchamber at the earliest convenience. She then enlisted her sisters to rearrange her existing furniture.

  By the time Dr Gregory arrived at eleven to discuss plans for the hospital, Lizzy was well on her way to having the room arranged very much to her liking.

  Dr Gregory had brought a box of notions, which the haberdasher had given him as part payment for his services; and he duly presented these to Mrs Bennet as a token of his appreciation of Lizzy's help. Mrs Bennet became slightly more reconciled to Lizzy's latest start.

  He then unfurled a plan of Netherfield on the dining room table and proceeded to describe his long and short term plans for its renovation to Lizzy. The most urgent of these was the conversion of the ballroom into a ward. Lizzy offered to turn his ideas into drawings and a more detailed schematic to allow the work to begin as soon as Mr Bingley vacated Netherfield in a fortnight.

  When Mr Bennet walked in to partake of tea during the course of this discussion, he was appalled at the possibility that the Netherfield library might end up as a ward. Dr Gregory reassured him on this point. The library would remain, along with the study, as the nexus of administration in the hospital.

  The next phase of Dr Gregory's plan was revealed to Mrs Bennet in the afternoon, when Mr Jones arrived in his gig to give Lizzy a driving lesson. The good doctor was, of course, concerned about the time it would take Lizzy to traverse the three-mile distance between Netherfield and Longbourn on foot, as had been her habit when she frequented the infirmary. Never much of a horsewoman, Lizzy took to the whip admirably and was soon bowling up and down the village street in command of her chariot with the village children running raucously behind.

  On the following morning, Dr Gregory arrived with the infirmary's ledgers under his arm, begging Lizzy to run her eye over them, and presenting her with a fresh volume for the hospital. He explained how a board was being convened to manage patronage for the hospital and invited Mr Bennet to become a member, an honour he swiftly declined before disappearing behind The Morning Post.

  Dr Gregory then revealed his intention to loan Elizabeth his old gig, which he had recently supplanted with the Tilbury. But upon hearing this pronouncement, Mr Bennet gruffly stated from behind his newspaper that he wasn't using his own gig much these days.

  Or at all, thought Lizzy.

  So it was decided that the Bennet gig was henceforth at Lizzy's disposal.

  Shortly after Dr Gregory departed, Mr and Mrs Bingley arrived for their first family lunch. Jane looked radiant, hugging her mother and kissing her father, before disappearing upstairs with her favourite sister.

  Jane was somewhat startled when she walked into their old room to find the chaise longue had disappeared.

  "Lizzy, it's completely different!" she said as she surveyed the desk and bookcases in dismay. "I feel like I've lost my home!"

  "Oh, come now, Mistress of Netherfield," Lizzy chided, "you didn't look too upset when you walked in the front door. I gather your marital duties aren't as revolting as Mamma painted?"

  "Oh, Lizzy, he is so wonderful!" cried Jane. "I do so enjoy being married!"

  "So it did not hurt?" whispered Lizzy.

  "No, not at all." replied Jane, not bothering to lower her voice. "It is the most joyous thing I've ever experienced in my life! And Charles says there is so much more!"

  High praise indeed, Mr Bingley, thought Lizzy. She did not think she could look her brother-in-law in the face again.

  "So what has been decided?" asked Lizzy, changing the subject. "Are you to live in London or Yorkshire?"

  "Yorkshire," replied Jane decisively. "After we spend the fortnight at Mr Darcy's townhouse, we are coming back to Netherfield for one week, at Dr Gregory's invitation, so that I can say my goodbyes. Then we are off to Sheffield to stay with the Nettlecombs, the family of Charles' business partner. Apparently they have a huge house where we can stay while we find a place of our own. But we will be back to London for Christmas, possibly to stay with the Hursts."

  The afternoon was spent sorting through Jane's belongings, deciding what to pack into her newly purchased trunk and what to consign to the lumber room for another trip.

  After her sister departed for Netherfield, Lizzy sat down by candlelight to examine the infirmary's ledgers and was rather dismayed by what she found there. With a sigh she ruled a neat line underneath, opened the box of invoices, and starte
d to write.

  A day later, Lizzy received her first note from Georgiana, letting her know the Darcys had arrived in London and begging her to visit during Jane's stay, else she would be obliged to journey to Kent with her brother. Elizabeth was too busy with the hospital to go for a jaunt, but after talking with Mary, she was able to offer her sister instead. Jane was also glad to have Mary's companionship, particularly if it also secured Georgiana's. She looked forward to shopping with them on Bond Street during the days when Mr Bingley would be in the city conducting business.

  For the rest of the honeymoon, Jane sent the Bingley carriage for Lizzy before lunch, and they spent their afternoons reminiscing of their life at Longbourn, their stay at Netherfield during Jane's illness, and their inauspicious arrival there after the carriage accident. All the while, they measured rooms, and Lizzy plotted to turn the grand old house into an institution.

  "Did you never wonder where Mr Darcy spent all his time when he was at Netherfield?" asked Jane as she poured tea one afternoon in the library.

  "Not really, no," replied Lizzy. "I was too busy looking after you. I presume he was down playing cards with the ladies and Mr Hurst."

  "Oh, no! He spent most of his time in the study, managing the estate for Charles. Charles had no experience with estate management, you see, and there was no steward initially, so Mr Darcy did everything before he recruited a steward for Charles. Charles says he would have made a total hash of it without his friend. Mr Hurst was no help at all."

  Never having seen Mr Hurst do anything beyond eat, sleep and play cards, Lizzy could readily believe this. Had she painted Mr Darcy with the same brush?

  "He really has been a very good friend to Charles, Lizzy." Jane continued. "I believe him to be a most excellent man."

  In the evenings, the Bingleys returned with Lizzy to Longbourn for dinner before heading back to Netherfield in the moonlight.

  Lizzy had already received two excited letters from Georgiana anticipating the Bingleys' arrival before the happy couple went off on their London jaunt, taking Mary with them. She answered these as best she could between doing other things.

  Kitty had taken over the bulk of the work in the stillroom for Mr Jones, with Lizzy only assisting when there were issues with the apparatus or digitalis to be prepared. Finally, the renovations to Netherfield could begin in earnest.

  Two days after Jane's departure, the first patient arrived at the hospital, a Captain Kirkby of the 50th Foot who had been paralysed at the Battle of Corunna. He considered himself a lucky man–most of his companions had died in battle trying to defend the embarking army's flanks from Soult's attack. The captain had the means to pay for a private room upstairs, but he was unable to take the stairs in his wheeled chair. Thus he would be the first to occupy the ward once the ballroom was converted. In the meantime, a bed was set up in the library.

  Lizzy started to take tea with Captain Kirkby in the afternoons while she supervised the installation of a water closet, a new invention that would lessen the need for chamber pots. The captain was heartily grateful for Lizzy's company–he had been loath to institutionalise himself, but had little choice after the death of his mother from consumption.

  A week later, three more soldiers had arrived–veterans of Salamanca. Major Thraxton had lost both his hands to an artillery shell, which had exploded nearby. He made do with wooden prostheses that were strapped to his arms. Lieutenants Harboard and Entwistle were both cavalrymen who had lost their sword arms to the engagement. Harboard was missing his left and Entwistle, his right. Together, they joked, they made up one decent sort of man. The downstairs ward was largely completed and had begun to take on the flavour of a barracks.

  Soon after the appearance of the new arrivals, Lydia requested a ride to Netherfield in the gig one morning, eager to meet the military heroes now in residence. She was momentarily taken aback upon making their acquaintance: the maimed remnants of British manhood she encountered were a far cry from the whole, but untried, militiamen who had recently occupied Meryton.

  Lizzy was called away from her patients to discuss the installation of a new closed stove in the kitchen with Mrs Fletcher. When she returned, Lydia had instituted a card game. Lizzy was happy to find Captain Kirkby participating with the first smile on his face she had seen since his arrival.

  By the time Jane and Mary had returned from London, Lydia had dubbed herself a nurse and drafted her friend Mariah Lucas from Meryton. They spent their days entertaining the men and occasionally doing something useful like pushing Captain Kirkby round the garden. Of course, there were paid nurses from Meryton who did the real work, but Dr Gregory was very glad for Lydia and Mariah's assistance–not only did they raise morale, they could read. The village women had to rely on their patients to read instructions for their own care when the ladies were not about, a situation that might have been ludicrous, if it wasn't so commonplace.

  The Bingleys occupied the master's chambers at Netherfield for one last time before their removal to Yorkshire. Jane was delighted to show Lizzy all the finery she had purchased in Bond Street. Charles had opened his pocketbook, and Caroline had deigned to introduce Jane to her own modiste. The gowns the sisters had slaved over stitching prior to Jane's wedding seemed amateurish in comparison to the Bond Street gowns, but Jane did not despair. She had studied each of the modiste's gowns and seen how she could improve the homemade ones to make them look more professional. Upon Jane's encouragement, Mary had purchased a single pair of white kid gloves for church, inspiring Jane to choose a lovely pair of brown kid gloves for Lizzy to wear when she drove the gig.

  Jane spoke in wonder of the Darcy townhouse: if Pemberley was the epitome of an English country estate, then the Darcy townhouse was a model of city sophistication. Of Georgiana, she had nothing but praise: she was the sweetest and best educated girl of her acquaintance; the Bingley sisters looked like poor simulacra of ladies of quality in comparison–an astonishing admission from Jane. Of Mr Darcy, they had seen nothing. There had been a problem with Lady Catherine's steward, requiring Mr Darcy to recruit a new one and fix some problems that had arisen due to the previous poor management. He spent the entire duration of their visit at Rosings and was unable to return to London before the Bingleys' departure. They had left Georgiana to the sole companionship of Mrs Annesley.

  Jane spent her final week in Hertfordshire dividing her time between her family at Longbourn, where she spent her mornings, and the company of her husband and dearest sister at Netherfield, where she spent her afternoons. Lizzy was now sufficiently experienced to drive herself to and from Netherfield with a footman sitting on the tailgate.

  Meeting the patients of the new hospital was an eye-opener for Jane. After reading of the carnage during the Peninsular War, it was sobering to be reminded that not all those who returned could lead comfortable and productive lives. Jane silently applauded her sister's occupation and thought that her earlier objections to Lizzy's work seemed more worthy of the Bingley sisters. She guiltily thought that Lydia seemed to have more proper sensibility than she did herself.

  The day of the Bingleys' departure for Yorkshire was one of much lamentation. Mrs Bennet wailed, Jane cried, and even Lizzy shed a tear. The gentlemen stood around, wondering what all the fuss was about and trying to look supportive.

  Finally Charles handed Jane into the carriage and climbed in himself. The steps were put up, and they were off.

  Alone in her bed at night, Elizabeth missed Jane. Sometimes she thought of Mr Darcy: their kiss, and how it had made her feel. It was strange how time had distorted her memory of her stay at Hunsford. The evening of his proposal had been replayed a hundred times in her mind while other events had paled into insignificance. It had got to the point where Mr Collins and Lady Catherine seemed only to exist as weird caricatures in her memory; and she began to wonder whether the silent Anne de Bourgh was not a figment of her imagination.

  Occasionally she thought of her aunt's words on Jane's wedding day and
tried to remember just exactly what Mr Darcy had said to her after his first improper proposal. In his letter, which she had, as he requested, burnt; he said he believed he was honour bound to offer marriage. But that was a pale, reluctant proposal, wasn't it? She had been right to turn her nose up at it, hadn't she? At Pemberley, he had said he had the deepest admiration and respect for her, and had asked if there was hope. She had spurned him again. And what of his attendance at the wedding? A tiny part of her wished that he had come to her sister's nuptials to see her again, but was there any evidence in his behaviour to support that? He had been silent and abstracted as they walked from the church, and not sought her company at the reception.

  Now, as she laid her head on the pillow, she went through the sequence once more.

  Why, if he came to the wedding only to be silent, grave, and indifferent, she thought, did he come at all? If he no longer cares for me, why silent? Teasing, teasing, man! I will think no more about him.

  Exhausted from her work at Netherfield, she fell asleep.

  Chapter 47: Lady Catherine's visit

  At Rosings, Darcy was having a damnable time. During his latest visit at Easter, he had noticed a discrepancy between the ledgers kept by Lady Catherine's steward and a survey of the works performed during the past year. It had concerned him sufficiently that he had summoned his own steward from Pemberley to investigate the matter, leaving his under-steward in charge of his own estate in Derbyshire. The steward of Rosings had fled when a trail of embezzlement had been discovered. The sum of money involved was large enough to warrant calling in the Bow Street Runners, which Darcy had done.

  Darcy had also insisted on choosing the new steward himself. His aunt always chose toadies rather than judging people on their merits–her parson was an excellent example. Frankly, Darcy didn't want to have to clean up another mess. He eventually decided it would be best to move Pemberley’s under-steward to Rosings and train a new under-steward for his own estate.