On arriving back at the Netherfield library, Bingley tenderly deposited his precious load into an armchair, placing a footstool under her injured leg.
"Oh dear," he apologised. "the Holland cover is quite dusty. I should have taken it off before setting you down!"
"I'm glad you did not sir, because I'm soaked through, and it is easier to clean my dress than your chair."
Bingley eyed her appreciatively. She was indeed soaked through. He blushed and turned away.
Jane crossed her arms across her chest.
At this awkward moment Darcy and Elizabeth provided a welcome distraction by arriving at the door with the trunk.
After depositing it on the floor just inside the door, Elizabeth ran to Jane.
"Is your ankle hurting terribly Jane?" she asked.
"It throbs Lizzy. I think it may be swelling."
Lizzy carefully untied the handkerchief. As she removed Jane's shoe, her sister gave a sigh of relief. The ankle was indeed much larger than its mate.
"Oh dear, I think it should be elevated more," said Lizzy looking around the room. "Could we use another chair?" she enquired of Bingley.
"Of course," said Bingley, pulling another into service.
"The swelling is quite bad," said Lizzy. "Perhaps it is broken?"
"May I?" asked Bingley.
"Are you a physician sir?" asked Lizzy becoming interested.
Fortunately Bingley was not insulted. "Ah no," he replied, "but I played a lot of sport at Eton and Oxford."
He felt both Jane's feet carefully. Aside from the swelling he could feel nothing grossly amiss.
"I cannot feel aught awry," said Bingley, "but there are many small bones in the foot."
"I believe I have some arnica," said Lizzy, opening the trunk and beginning to unpack it.
Darcy was well aware of the impropriety of watching her unpack her trunk, but he found it was the only interesting thing happening in the room. His eye was caught by a copy of Plato's Republic and a travelling chess set she placed on the floor. Following her hands to her trunk, he watched as a very interesting nightgown and a pair of stays were pushed to one side.
She retrieved a large drawstring reticule, placed it on the floor, and expanded the neck to reveal its contents, which consisted of some jars and bottles, and a piece of bark.
She selected one of the jars and began to smooth some ointment onto Jane's foot. After finishing this operation, she fetched a shawl from the trunk and hid her sister's naked feet beneath it.
She then turned to Mr Bingley again. "Forgive me sir, in my concern for my sister, I did not introduce her properly the first time. This is my older sister, Miss Jane Bennet."
"Your servant, Miss Bennet," said Bingley reaching out for her hand and bowing over it. He did not relinquish it immediately, instead planting a light kiss on the back of her hand before releasing it.
Darcy was duly introduced and an awkward silence reigned.
"I gather your coachman has gone to seek help?" asked Mr Bingley.
"Indeed Longbourn is not far," said Lizzy. "We expect him back within the hour."
Bingley glanced at the trunk. "Given that you have a change of clothes, it might be wise to change from your wet dresses. I'm afraid this is the only habitable room. Perhaps Darcy and I could step into the hall for a moment?"
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 and the only illumination was provided by a fan light 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 his 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've sat upright if we'd 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 met! 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. He shrugged out of his wet tailcoat. Fortunately, 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."
Darcy performed this office for Bingley, and the gentlemen were standing there in their damp shirtsleeves when Miss Elizabeth opened the door and bid them come back inside.
She was arranging the ladies' wet dresses over the backs of some Hepplewhite chairs when Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley re-entered.
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."
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 the 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! 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 hurt 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. "It is completely at your service."
Darcy's cheek twitched. In fact the chaise and four was 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 Elisabeth.
"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?" asked Mr Darcy 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, 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 were not a dozen moves into the game before Darcy saw he was in real danger from Miss Elizabeth, and devoted more attention to the game.
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. His hair was also rather disordered. He occasionally ran his fingers through his wet locks as he pondered his next move and each time the black curls 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 his next move, by thinking of a name for his hair style. It went somewhat beyond The Windswept. Caught in a Downpour? Three Sheets to the Wind?
As he made his next move, she noted his large hands, long tapering fingers, and heavy gold signet ring that still proclaimed the aristocrat.
Darcy was beginning to become a little distressed. He didn't feel in control of this game and despite 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 you 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 gentleman 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 Mr Bennet 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!