Author's note: story is finally moving along a bit, but not in the way you think it will. It's funny how I have one idea in my head, but the characters won't obey my plans! Enjoy :)

Chapter 11

Alas, the following two days had such a torrential downpour of freezing rain that it was impossible for the inhabitants of Longbourn to return the call on Netherfield. They spent their time industrially making preparations for the arrival of the Gardiners and the rice, but by the send of the second day, even Mary was wishing to be able to take a few steps out the front door.

Finally, on the third morning, they awoke to silence; the cessation of the rain pattering on the rooftop left an almost eerie quiet in the house. Elizabeth declared at breakfast that she would take advantage of the relatively nice weather to visit the tenants and ensure none of their homes had sustained damage.

Not long after Elizabeth left, a letter arrived at Longbourn for Jane. Mrs. Bennet, her sister, and her daughters were all sitting in the drawing room. It had been agreed that during the day, the drawing room and the study would be the only two rooms to have fires throughout the entire day, and the women congregated there each morning after breakfast.

The servants stayed warm by attending to their duties briskly and keeping to the kitchen, which also kept a fire, as was typical for the time. They had agreed to share beds, just as the Bennet girls had decided to do. This was voluntary, but the maids all agreed that if the Misses Bennets were humble enough to give up their beds in order to conserve fuel, they could do so as well.

The letter from Netherfield was greeted by exclamations and fluttering from Mrs. Bennet and her sister. "Oooh, what fine handwriting!" they squealed as they turned the sealed missive over, inspecting the direction. Once they had exhausted the different ways of expressing their raptures, the letter was passed on to its intended recipient.

My dear friend,

If you and your sister Eliza are not so compassionate as to dine to-day with Louisa, Miss Darcy, and me, we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives, for three whole days of tête-à-tête between three women can never end without a quarrel. This weather has been beastly, and the men have ignored us in favor of estate matters. Come as soon as you can on the receipt of this. My brother and the gentlemen are to dine with the officers who have lately arrived in Meryton.

—Yours ever,

Caroline Bingley

"What a pity Lizzy is not here. I shall have to decline the invitation," Jane said remorsefully.

"Decline the invitation?" shrieked Mrs. Bennet hysterically. "Certainly not! No, you will sent a missive immediately stating that Lizzy is otherwise occupied, but you are happy to pay the call yourself."

"Go to Netherfield on my own?" Jane asked in horror.

"Perhaps Lydia might accompany you, although there really is nothing for her there," Mrs. Bennet replied.

Jane was not mollified by this idea; indeed, she was even more aghast at the idea of bringing along an uninvited guest than by traveling to visit strangers on her own. Her expression must have shown on her face, for Lydia hastily rejected the idea. "No, Mama! I am needed to help Mary with a few things in the kitchen today while we have good weather."

Mary looked at Lydia in slight confusion, but a sharp elbow to the ribs and a nod in Jane's direction had her saying, "Yes, Mama, I need Lydia's help."

Mrs. Bennet sighed in disappointment, then her eyes lit up. "Then perhaps when you are finished, you can go to Meryton to meet the officers!"

Mrs. Phillips chimed in, "It's such a shame I am not in Meryton right now, or I could have met them and introduced you all. I was not even aware they had arrived!"

"With things as they are, I doubt many people are aware of their arrival outside of the butcher," Mary said.

"Very well," Mrs. Bennet sighed. "There's nothing to be done for it than to send Jane immediately."

"I'll call for the carriage," said Mary. She stood to leave the room but froze at her mother's objection.

"Certainly not! Since you are going by yourself, you shall go on horseback."

Even Mrs. Phillip stared at the Bennet matron in disbelief. "On horseback?" Jane repeated, her face pale.

"Yes, for it might be too cold for you to return after dinner. Then you shall have to stay the night." Mrs. Bennet sat smugly back in her chair, looking very pleased with herself.

"But what if it rains?" objected Mary.

"Nonsense! There's not a cloud in the sky!"

No amount of arguing from Mary or Lydia would change their mother's mind. Lydia even dared to invoke Kitty's name, claiming Jane would fall ill in the cold, but Mrs. Bennet would not be moved. She mourned the loss of her fourth daughter keenly, but sentiment had no place in matchmaking.

At last, Jane rode off towards Netherfield on Nelly, the old nag that was kept in the stables. Lydia and Mary busied themselves in the kitchen. Not a quarter of an hour later, Elizabeth burst in.

"Good heavens, Lizzy!" cried Mary. "Is everything quite alright?"

Elizabeth panted for breath. "A storm cloud blew in quickly. I ran the rest of the way to beat the rain," she finally made out between gasps.

Mary and Lydia looked at one another in horror. "Jane!" Lydia dissolved into sobs, dropping the bowl she was holding.

Elizabeth looked at her weeping sister in confusion, and Mary briefly explained the situation. Elizabeth's face darkened with anger. "I will go fetch her back. This is foolish."

She took two steps towards the door, but the sudden sound of rain pummeling the house stopped her in her tracks. With wide eyes, she turned and ran up the stairs towards her father's book room.

"Papa!" Elizabeth cried as she threw open the door to his study. "Mama has sent Jane to Netherfield - on horseback!"

Mr. Bennet looked up from his ledger in astonishment. He looked at the freezing rain pouring down the window, and his face turned red with fury.

"Mrs. Bennet!" he roared, standing up so quickly his chair overturned. He strode from the room, and Elizabeth followed closely behind. Throwing open the door to the drawing room, he took two steps in before halting at the sight before him.

Standing at the window, looking out at the rain, was Mrs. Bennet. When she heard the door open, she turned and let out a pitiful moan. "My dear Jane! What have I done? I've…I've killed her."

Then she fainted.

Mr. Bennet and Mrs. Phillips rushed forward, but they were too late to prevent the unconscious woman from cracking her head against a small table near the settee. Her head rolled over on the floor, and blood began to pool from underneath.

"Mama!" Lydia screamed from the doorway and began to collapse as well, but Mary supported her from behind.

"Girls, to your rooms this instant! Mrs. Phillips, call for Mr. Hill and send someone to fetch Mr. Jones," bellowed Mr. Bennet.

At that exact moment, a carriage came into view from the house. The door to the chaise opened, and Mrs. Gardiner descended, followed by her four children.

"Oh, Lord," Mr. Bennet groaned. He looked around the room and said, "Lizzy, go help your aunt. Mary, get Lydia to your room."

"Come, Lydia," urged Mary as she pulled the hysterical girl towards the stairs.

Elizabeth ran down the hall, her father's voice following her as he gave directions to Mr. Hill. She reached the front door just as the older servant flew past her and down the steps towards the stable. In an emergency situation, no one cared if a staff member used the master's entrance.

"What on earth?" asked a startled Mrs. Gardiner, staring in surprise after Mr. Hill.

"Mama sent to Jane to Netherfield on horseback." Elizabeth paused briefly at Mrs. Gardiner's gasp, then breathlessly continued. "When the rain began, Mama's worry about Jane made her faint. She hit her head as she fell and is bleeding. Mr. Hill is going to fetch Mr. Jones, the apothecary."

Mrs. Gardiner stared at Elizabeth for a moment, then said, "It seems I've arrived just in time. Help me bring the children in. If you will settle them in our room, I will go help tend to your mother."

Elizabeth nodded and ushered the children through the door, down the hall, up the stairs, and into the largest bedroom that they were to occupy during their stay. The eldest, a young eleven-year-old girl named Susan, sat on the bed with the youngest, two-year-old Phillip to rock him to sleep.

"Where is the nurse?" Elizabeth asked, as she quietly played marbles on the floor with nine-year-old Thomas and six-year-old Robert.

"She is coming in a few days on the mail coach," Susan answered in a whisper. "She wanted to see her sister settled before coming, so she asked for a few extra days in town."

"I see. And your governess?"

Susan shook her head. "She did not wish to come. Her beau is in London, and they are to be married soon."

Elizabeth nodded in understanding. "Well, we shall just have to continue your lessons while you are here! Mary can give you lessons on the pianoforte, and Jane can help you with needlework and . Lydia is the best of all of us at French, and I can teach you all the rest."

Susan smiled brightly at the idea of spending so much time learning from her grown-up cousins. "That would be wonderful. It will be like having sisters!"

Elizabeth returned the smile with a grin of her own. "It will be very different than having three younger brothers!"

Thomas, who was named after his uncle Bennet, looked up and said, "May I have lessons, too? I like to read."

"I think my father would be very pleased to teach you everything he knows," Elizabeth said with a smile.

The conversation fell away as little Phillip began to snore in the his sister's arms. Elizabeth continued her game with the elder two boys, while Susan watched from the bed. About hour later, Mrs. Gardiner returned to the room.

"Thank you, Lizzy," she said gratefully. "And you as well, Susan."

"How is Mama?" Elizabeth asked, standing up from the floor.

"She will be well. Head wounds always look much worse than they really are. She awoke just as I came into the room as your father was lifting her. She is tucked into her bed, and Mrs. Phillips is there with her. Mr. Jones said the gash would only need a few stitches, and he would not have to shave her head."

"I'm sure that was a relief to poor Mama!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

"It certainly was."

"Is there any news about Jane?"

"Your father asked Mr. Hill to send someone to Netherfield to make sure she arrived safely. We should know something soon."

"Thank you, Aunt," Elizabeth said fervently. "I am sorry your arrival was marked by such chaos."

"I'm not. I was glad to be of assistance."

The two women smiled at each other, then Elizabeth said, "I should check on Lydia and Mary."

"That is a good idea. I need to help my children finish getting settled in and make sure our luggage gets to our rooms."

"Oh! Let me go check on that for you!"

Mrs. Gardiner shook her head. "You have enough to worry about, Lizzy. I am quite capable of looking after my own things and directing servants. You need not stand on ceremony with me, especially given the circumstances."

Elizabeth gave her aunt a look of gratitude, then hurried out of the room to Mary's and Lydia's shared chamber. She was relieved to not hear any sounds of weeping as she approached the door. She knocked gently and said, "Mary? Lydia?"

"Come in," called Mary in a soft voice.

Elizabeth opened the door cautiously and found her two younger sisters curled up on the bed together. Lydia had fallen asleep, her tear-stained cheeks testifying of her emotional state before she had given way to slumber.

"Any news?" Mary asked, stroking Lydia's hair.

Elizabeth briefly related Mrs. Gardiner's update. "Should we wake Lydia and tell her, do you think?"

Mary shook her head. "No, let her sleep. I'll inform her when she awakens."

Nodding, Elizabeth said, "I will go find out what I can about Jane."

Elizabeth closed the door quietly behind her and went down the stairs to her father's book room. The door was open, and she went inside. Mr. Bennet sat at his desk, his shoulders hunched over, making him appear to have aged twenty years since she had seen him at breakfast.

"Papa? Any news of Jane?"

Mr. Bennet sat up, his eyes wet. "The servant has not yet returned. I pray it doesn't mean that -"

His voice broke off as he choked on words he couldn't bring himself to say.

"Oh, Papa," Elizabeth said, crossing the room. She put her arms around him, attempting to console the man she had only seen cry one other time in her life, and that was the day Kitty had died. His body shuddered in her embrace, and she sat in silence for several minutes.

"She will be alright," she said finally. "Nelly is smart. She could find her way on a dark night. If they haven't returned by now, then they were able to make it to Netherfield."

Mr. Bennet sat up and wiped his face with his handkerchief. "I worry more if she was not there before the rain began. Jane does not have your robust constitution, and with the weather so cold…"

His voice trailed off. Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but she was interrupted by a knock on the door. Father and daughter looked over to see Danny Hill, the middle child of Mr. and Mrs. Hill, standing at the door, soaking wet. "Excuse me, sir, but I thought you'd want to know right away. Miss Bennet is safe at Netherfield. She got a little wet, but only just. She sent a note." The lad held out a folded piece of paper.

Mr. Bennet broke out into a relieved smile. He reached his hand out for the letter, and Danny passed it over before touching his cap and dashing out of the room to change in to dry clothes.

Chuckling lightly at the boy's antics, Mr. Bennet opened the missive and scanned the words quickly. He sighed heavily, then passed it on to Elizabeth to read.

Dear Papa,

Danny came to check on my arrival, so I am penning this missive to let you know I am safe at Netherfield. The rain began about five minutes before I arrived, so I was only a little wet. My kind friends will not hear of my return this evening, as Miss Darcy is gravely concerned about me going out in the cold night air after having gotten wet. I will return on the morrow; Miss Bingley has graciously offered to

—Jane

Elizabeth re-folded the letter and handed it back to her father. "Does she not know about Mama?"

Mr. Bennet shook his head. "I did not wish for that information to be shared by a young servant boy. I will tell her when she returns tomorrow."

Nodding, Elizabeth stood and said, "I will go and tell Mama that Jane is safe."

Mr Bennet scowled. "Perhaps we should keep it from her for a bit. Then maybe the agony she feels will finally make her realize the error of her ways."

"Papa!" Elizabeth gasped.

He sighed heavily. "No, Lizzy, I will not be so unkind. I am, however, still extremely angry with her decision to send Jane on horseback. Did she learn nothing from Kitty's death?"

Elizabeth bit her lip, then said hesitantly, "I think the poor harvest has made her realize our tenuous position even more than before. Before, she has only had to worry about the future, after your passing."

Mr. Bennet let out another sigh. "I should have put money away long before now for difficult times and to bribe foolish young men to marry my daughters. We always thought we would have a son, however. By the time we realized that would not come to pass, it seemed to little too late."

Elizabeth remained silent as her father stared pensively off into space. Then he said, "I received a letter last week from my cousin, Mr. Collins."

"The miserly heir?" exclaimed Elizabeth.

"Well, his son. Apparently my cousin died a few years ago, and his only son became my new heir. I had not heard anything of the situation before, due to the break between our families."

"What happened to cause such a divide?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

Mr. Bennet shrugged. "Our grandfathers were brothers, and they had a severe falling out over who-knows what. Neither would ever say. That enmity did not die when they did, and that hatred was passed onto their respective sons."

"Was there no one to help mend the breach?"

"No, my family has always been small," Mr. Bennet explained with a shake of his head. "Outside of myself and Mr. Collins, there is no one else. The family Bible shows only one male child per generation that lived to adulthood until our grandfathers. There are a smattering of daughters, but most remained unmarried or died childless."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to ask another question, but Mr. Bennet held up his hand. "I assure you, I canvassed the situation quite thoroughly after Lydia was born. When the midwife told us there would be no more children, I did quite a bit of research into seeing if there were any other possible options for heirs, as the senior Mr. Collins was always quite vitriolic the few times I reached out. There is no one."

"Then perhaps he will not be so bad as his father?" Elizabet suggested hopefully. "After all, he took the initiative to send you a letter."

"I will let you read it and decide for yourself," he replied. He opened his desk and pulled out a piece of paper. "I have not yet responded to it, but after today's debacle, I believe I should do so sooner rather than later."

Elizabeth took the letter with alacrity and began to read.

Dear Sir,—

"The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honored father always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach; but for some time I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing lest it might seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms with anyone with whom it had always pleased him to be at variance.

My mind, however, is now made up on the subject, for having received ordination at Easter, I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honorable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall be my earnest endeavor to demean myself with grateful respect towards her ladyship, and be ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which are instituted by the Church of England.

As a clergyman, moreover, I feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in all families within the reach of my influence; and on these grounds I flatter myself that my present overtures are highly commendable, and that the circumstance of my being next in the entail of Longbourn estate will be kindly overlooked on your side, and not lead you to reject the offered olive-branch. I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the means of injuring your amiable daughters, and beg leave to apologize for it, as well as to assure you of my readiness to make them every possible amends—but of this hereafter.

I had hesitated to come to visit, as the weather has proved to be quite dreadful. Lady Catherine will not hear of me waiting until the spring, however, as she is horrified to hear of five unmarried ladies with nowhere to go on your demise. My wise patroness insists that with God on my side, as my visit is righteous, I will travel with Providence at my side.

Therefore, if you should have no objection to receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family, Monday, November 18th, by four o'clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday se'ennight following, which I can do without any inconvenience, as Lady Catherine is far from objecting to my occasional absence on a Sunday, provided that some other clergyman is engaged to do the duty of the day.

I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady and daughters, your well-wisher and friend,

—William Collins

Elizabeth looked up from the letter with wide eyes. "Oh dear," she said with dismay. "He does not seem to be very sensible at all."

"Especially if he is still traveling here in spite of his reservations at the insistence of this Lady Catherine," agree Mr. Bennet.

"Well, there's nothing to it," said Elizabeth firmly. "We shall have to receive him and hope for the best. It is too late to write and put him off. The letter would never reach him in time."

Mr. Bennet grimaced. "I had quite lost track of the date these last several days." He paused then, changing the subject, he said, "Now, let us hope that tomorrow proves to be a better day."