I want to apologize - life has been, well, a LOT lately. It is only very recently that I have emerged from the fog surrounding my mind and have been able to write this chapter, short though it is. Hopefully, upcoming chapters will be forthcoming more quickly.
Several days had passed since the assembly and naught else of note had occurred. On this particular day, however, the residents of Meryton received two welcome diversions – there was a militia regiment come to winter in their fair locale and news of their beloved Watchmen had been received. The militia would supplement their small society and provide more variety than could typically be found in this small town, but the information regarding a thwarted robbery on the road to London was positively scintillating. For though men in regimentals were indeed handsome, they had been organized for the protection of the nation as a whole and were headquartered in Meryton for no more than the winter months; whereas, the Watchmen must be residents of this county and patently were in existence for the sole protection of Hertfordshire. The young ladies were friendly in their dealings with the militia but swooned at the thought of coming in contact with their beloved defenders.
At the southeastern-most corner of Hertfordshire, Cheshunt was at a distance of greater than twenty miles from Meryton and, therefore, it had taken two days for knowledge of the victory to be widely known in this district. A group of miscreants had periodically targeted this precise stretch of the ancient Roman road, for it was frequently travelled by those journeying to London from northern and eastern climes.
On this occasion, they had been met by enough of the guardians for none of the ruffians to have survived the encounter; on examining the bodies, the local magistrate had found, to his delight, several wanted criminals amongst the corpses. It was dearly hoped that this would provide a deterrent against persecuting the citizenry, especially within the borders of Hertfordshire.
Lydia and Kitty were much taken with the account and were recounting with exultation those specifics celebrated by the general populace; their youthful raptures over such excellent acts of courage were punctuated with fluttering hands and cries of joyousness.
While they were thusly engaged, a note arrived at Longbourn for Miss Bennet. It was from Netherfield. Jane perused the missive privately and then, at Mrs. Bennet's instigation, read it aloud for all to hear. Miss Bingley had invited her dear friend to spend the day with herself and Mrs. Hurst, as they two were certain to be unhappy if left to themselves. Of a considerable amount of interest to Mrs. Bennet was the communication that Mr. Bingley and the other gentlemen were to dine with the officers that evening; Jane would assuredly return home prior to encountering Miss Bingley's brother.
On consultation with Mr. Bennet and after further discussion on the subject, Mrs. Bennet, secure that the carriage could not be had, insisted that Jane go on horseback to call upon her new companions; it looked likely to rain and the roads would not be passable, necessitating Jane's remaining at Netherfield until the morrow. Of a certainty, an oilcloth cape atop her outerwear would be necessary – for who should wish their child to take a chill or cold while procuring a new acquaintance?
Elizabeth could not like it – she wondered at the intentions - but, as one who oft relied on her mother's excellent understanding, she accepted the decision, if not with grace then at least with resignation. In truth, she was anxious for her beloved sister, who could see no malice and believed in the goodness of all man. Elizabeth could not fully comprehend this attitude, as she herself tended toward more rapid judgment, and considered a truly good person to be somewhat of a singular individual; for she felt certain that, aside from Jane, she had yet to meet such a personage. Having heard repeatedly that she had a quickness of mind to a greater degree than many, she felt assured that her opinions and impressions were most probably correct.
After being introduced to Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, Elizabeth had noted the disdain and arrogance with which they gazed upon the society of Elizabeth's neighbors, but that they attempted to disguise as a gracious and good-humored superiority from having resided in London. Their brother, Mr. Bingley, could hardly be thought their sibling, so amiable and pleasant was he. Elizabeth suspected the man's sisters disapproved of Jane as a connection and they had invited her merely as a distraction from their restiveness whilst the gentlemen were otherwise occupied.
The note was duly replied to and off Jane went to Netherfield; shortly after her exit, the rain could wait no longer and continued heavily throughout the evening, making return to Longbourn impossible and answering Mrs. Bennet's hopes. Breakfast was scarcely over when a message was brought; Jane was unwell and begged one of her sisters to convey a packet of specific herbs. Mary was called upon to retrieve the requested items, from those that she and Jane were perpetually collecting and discussing, but, as Mary was not a great walker and the carriage was still not to be had, it was Elizabeth on whom the burden fell to deliver them. Not that it was much of a strain, for bringing relief to poor Jane could never be considered a difficulty.
Jumping over stiles and puddles and hurrying across numerous muddy fields, Elizabeth was shown into the breakfast parlor, where the entire company, all but Jane, was gathered. They were shocked by her appearance but offered nothing beyond polite acknowledgments, though Mr. Bingley had something in his tone that was more than politeness; it sounded like kindness.
On taking her leave and withdrawing from the room, as she prepared to follow the maid assigned to direct her to Jane's bed chamber, Elizabeth requested a moment – she had to retrieve the purpose of her visit, the packet of herbs, from a side table, where it had been placed on her entrance. The door to the breakfast room had not been quite fully shut and the voices of the occupants of said space were clearly to be heard. Slowly, so as to glean the greatest amount of intelligence possible, she walked to her parcel, listening to Miss Bingley expound on Elizabeth's appearance.
'She has nothing to recommend her but being an excellent walker. Why, I could hardly keep my countenance. I daresay you saw, her petticoats were six inches deep in mud. To walk such a distance and alone!'
Mrs. Hurst replied, appalled, 'And her hair – so blowzy and unkempt. Because her sister is ill, she should scamper about the countryside? I should think not. Very improper.'
'I am sure that I saw nothing of the sort,' opined Mr. Bingley, 'I thought that she looked remarkably well. She shows a compassion for her family and that can only improve my opinion of her.'
Miss Bingley resumed, 'But to walk three – or is it four? – miles, up to her ankles in mud? I am sure, Mr. Darcy, that you would not wish for your younger sister to do any such thing.' She spoke confidently, in the tone of one certain of their reception.
The great man replied, 'Positively not. Georgiana has lived in situations where she has been taught proper comportment and to mind closely the propriety of one's actions. Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bennet have been their entire lives in Hertfordshire; we cannot presume as to their knowledge or comprehension of appropriate behavior outside of this rather limited society. While you reside in the neighborhood, there could be little harm in befriending them, for assuredly you share no connections and would have little occasion to meet outside of these environs.'
Mr. Darcy's words – which precisely corresponded to Elizabeth's estimation of the gentleman – caused Elizabeth to hurry her steps toward her sister, as she did not wish to publicly release the mirth brought on by his unguarded speech.