Chapter Seven

To Elizabeth's consternation, Jane was even worse off than the notes had conveyed. She had become feverish and fatigued and could not manage much more than her delight at seeing her sister. Her ankle was puffed up and reddish, and it was clear that she could not have left the bed had she the power to. Elizabeth was her silent attendant and spoke only when necessitated by the arrival of Mr. Bingley's sisters. She found herself much obliged to the younger, Miss Bingley, when upon Jane's request, the offer of the carriage back to Longbourn was transformed into an offer to stay the night. A man was sent to deliver the update and pick up some clothes for her stay. She discovered that on the whole, when the sisters had the inclination, they were excellent companions, and she was in danger of starting to like them when they left to dress for dinner.

At dinner, however, all her dislike of Jane's friends returned. They were supercilious in their inquiries after her health and subsequent declarations of how they hated being ill and how shocking it was to be both sick and injured. Their brother was more solicitous, and Elizabeth felt all the pleasure on behalf of her sister in his obvious concern for Jane Bennet.

To the impertinent questions about the cause of Jane's afflictions, Elizabeth deflected with the agitation of someone at fault. She was ashamed; she was mortified, and she felt unsafe disclosing either of those feelings to her dining companions. It was at Miss Bingley's sly insinuation that Mrs. Bennet had sent Jane on foot to catch a husband that Elizabeth resolved to speak only in praise and admiration of her mother around the insufferable woman.

"Mama," She said lightly, setting down her fork with shaking fingers, "takes a prodigious amount of care of her daughters with regard to their respectability. It is her pleasure–and might I add–she is perfectly proficient in it. If ever her daughters act foolishly, it must be out of a disregard for her wishes and from their own inclinations entirely."

Miss Bingley did not reply: perhaps she felt the insult of Elizabeth's words too keenly. Mr. Darcy filled the lull, startling all.

"You are very fond of your mother?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said, smiling slightly, "It bodes well for neither when there is great variance in the wishes of both."

"You agree with her as a rule, then?"

Elizabeth shifted in her seat. "I do not follow her blindly, nor would she expect me to. We simply share an understanding of one another's character. I have great respect for my mother and what she has given up for our sakes'."

At this point, Miss Bingley had found her confidence again. "I would not have considered marrying up to be any great sacrifice."

"Perhaps because you have not experienced it yourself," Elizabeth said coolly, forgetting herself, "My mother has taken many measures to ensure the comfort and security of all her daughters."

Again, Miss Bingley was struck dumb, but Elizabeth endured a hollow victory. She cursed herself for her selfishness that would get her in trouble with the family Jane esteemed so much as dear friends.

Mr. Darcy did not speak again, and for that, Elizabeth was grateful. He seemed to draw out the worst impulses in her. She excused herself shortly after that, claiming her sister as her excuse.

"I don't think I've ever met," said Miss Bingley hotly, "a more vulgar, impertinent girl than Miss Eliza Bennet. She truly has the ugliest countenance I've ever seen. Her manners are so bad as to make me doubt the insipid rumors that she has been educated by the masters."

Mrs. Hurst nodded her assent, adding, "She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker–something we cannot credit her sister with. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild."

"She did indeed. And why come at all? Hardly a reason for her to scamper about the country because her sister fell ill and twisted her foot."

"Yes, certainly, sister–and her petticoat! I hope you saw her petticoat, brother. Nearly six inches deep in mud, I'm absolutely certain. The gown had been let down to conceal it and was certainly not doing its office."

"Perhaps it wasn't, Lousia," Bingley said mildly, "But I was not paying attention to her skirts. I noticed her face and thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well when she entered the room this morning."

"Surely, Mr. Darcy," Miss Bingley said, switching tactics at top speed, "You would not wish your sister to make such an exhibition."

"Certainly not."

"To have walked three or five or eight miles in the mud all alone–what could she mean by it? Her mother's prodigious care was certainly lost on her. It seems to me to show an abominable sort of independence–and a hatred for her mother's wishes if she truly wished Miss Eliza to stay home." Miss Bingley continued. Mr. Bingley jumped in.

"It shows an affection for her sister, which is quite pleasing–and she spoke well enough of her mother this evening when you were abusing poor Mrs. Bennet to her."

A short pause followed this pronouncement. Miss Bingley flushed and looked away.

Mrs. Hurst broke the silence carefully. "I have an excessive regard and sympathy for Jane Bennet–but to be imposed upon by such a sister! I do hope with all my heart she might be well-settled–but the father! And such a scheming mother! Even with such a stupendous fortune, her family cannot be overlooked. They will stop at nothing to throw Jane Bennet in the path of the peerage."

"I heard that the mother has given up her own allowance to build their portions," Miss Bingley said, recovering her equanimity, "And that she has actually entrusted their education to her brother's wife, who lives in Cheapside!"

"Had their education been overseen by the town fool," cried Bingley, looking distressed, "would not make them a jot less charming and pleasant."

"Yes, but the fact is that the mother, of low birth though she may be, will not allow any of her daughters, least of all the eldest Miss Bennet, to marry anyone less than a Baron. That is the material point." Mr. Darcy, who had been observing this back and forth with seeming indifference, finally cut in.

"What is a title," Bingley said, "to real inclination of the heart?"

"I am sure you will find Miss Bennet's heart to be touched by no less than a member of the peerage," Darcy said coldly, "for she will oblige her mother in choice of husband as in anything else."

That point, however, must be recognized as false. Miss Bennet, who lay upstairs, delirious with fever and foggy with pain, had begun to think of only one man with any complacency, would have not satisfied Mrs. Bennet's many requirements for matrimony. Her heart had been touched by a man not of gentle birth but of a gentle smile and such happy and indulgent manners as to make Jane Bennet believe herself half in love with him.

Her sister thought of no man with such affection but was feeling rather sorry for how she had behaved to her hostess. Her poorly-considered words could be traced to the high temper she shared with her mother. Ironic, then, that it was in defense of her mother that she had spoken with such venom. Elizabeth resolved to be perfectly civil (but nothing more) in her interactions with Miss Bingley and act in all matters with cool composure.

Her next opportunity to practice such genteel manners came later in the evening when Miss Bingley and her sister paid a visit to the invalid upstairs. They were as gracious as gracious could be, and Elizabeth could only detect a little of the contempt she believed they held her in.

The sisters departed after some time on receipt of the call for coffee from the gentlemen. Only upon seeing her sister well and truly asleep did Elizabeth leave her side to join them.

"Miss Bennet! How fares your sister?" Bingley looked up from his hand of cards on her entrance into the drawing-room where the party was assembled.

"A little better, I thank you," Elizabeth smiled. "I believe her to be improved from this morning."

"I am glad to hear it," Said Bingley, with equal warmth, "Now, will you join us for cards?"

"No, thank you, I shall amuse myself with a book."

"You prefer reading to cards?" Said Mr. Hurst, astonishing the group. "How very singular."

"But you see, Mr. Hurst, one can enjoy all the exhilaration of cards from a book with little fear of the repercussions," Elizabeth said, "After all the excitement from last night and day, I find myself in want of the steadiness only a book can provide."

"Miss Eliza Bennet is a very great reader," Miss Bingley proclaimed, "And takes little pleasure in anything else."

Elizabeth bit back a retort. She settled for a milder: "I am not a great reader, Miss Bingley, and I take pleasure in many things."

"In nursing your sister, for one," Bingley said quickly but with finality, "Which I hope will soon be increased by her recovery." He led her to a table where a small pile of books lay, brooking no more discussion.

Elizabeth thanked him and selected her book. "I wish for your sake I could offer you more selection," he sighed, "But though I have but a few, I have more than I ever will read."

Elizabeth laughed. "It is the quality of one's reading, not the quantity, Mr. Bingley, that is the mark of a well-read man."

"You would neglect, then," said Mr. Darcy, frowning at her, "the continued maintenance and growth of your family library?"

"Not at all, sir," Elizabeth said lightly, "But not all of us have the privilege of deciding the growth of a family library. Some find their circumstances imposed upon them by fortune or fate. I have had the benefit of having a book-lover for a parent."

"Not your mother, surely," Mrs. Hurst said with great innocence.

"My mother saw to our education in other ways, Mrs. Hurst," Elizabeth said with forced patience. "It was she who found us masters of French, history, arithmetic, and letters, among others."

"Arithmetic and history? One might have thought she was raising sons!" Miss Bingley smiled, teeth flashing.

"My sister, Georgiana," Mr. Darcy said icily, "Also studies with arithmetic and history masters. A mistress must be able to keep her house on budget and have enough sense to know why we're fighting Napoleon."

Miss Bingley's mouth closed with a snap. Elizabeth felt almost sorry for her. "I must confess that the employ of our arithmetic and history masters were much more arbitrary than what Mr. Darcy has indicated," She said, "For my mother, not having had the advantage of having masters herself, knew not which were for genteel young ladies, and so instructed her brother to hire an array of masters. By consequence, each of us has a particular proclivity for a couple subjects over the others: Jane excels at French and drawing, Mary, music and arithmetic, Kitty needlework and the sciences, and Lydia, German and singing."

"And what of you, Miss Bennet?" Mr. Darcy inquired, eyebrow raised.

"What of me?"

"You said that you all had a proclivity for certain accomplishments over the others. Which are yours?"

Elizabeth could scarcely keep the grin off her face. "It would hardly be modest for me to say, Mr. Darcy. No, I shan't speak on that score, lest I give you reason to think me hatefully boastful."

Mr. Darcy looked at her with surprise, which melted into something else she couldn't interpret. Feeling awkward, she turned away.

Mr. Hurst grunted. "This is no way to play cards! Come now, focus!"

"Oh," sighed Miss Bingley, standing, "I don't wish to play cards. I think I'd prefer a book too–after all, there is no enjoyment like reading."

Elizabeth stood, shut the volume she was perusing and handed it to Miss Bingley with a smile. The latter took it somewhat apprehensively.

"You're not leaving us, Miss Bennet?" Mr. Bingley asked, startled.

"Oh," said she, "I am afraid I must. Jane must have been requiring my presence for some time now. Goodnight."

Waiting just long enough for their polite protestations that transformed into 'goodnight,' she left the room and went upstairs to keep her vigil beside her sister's bed.

By morning, Jane was a little better, having had some of the draughts prescribed to her by the physician, a Mr. Jones. To Elizabeth's suggestion that Jane be moved to Longbourn, however, Mr. Jones would not hear of it and rather insisted on Jane's being as stationary as possible. Thus, Elizabeth was obliged to send a note to Longbourn, requesting her mother's visit to form for herself an opinion of the situation.

At length, Mrs. Bennet came and came alone. She was greeted coolly by the hostess and her sister, which was returned with equal coldness.

After half an hour with the patient, she descended the stairs and into the breakfast parlor with her second daughter, where the household was assembled.

"I trust you did not find Miss Bennet worse than you expected?" Mr. Bingley asked immediately on their entering the room.

"Indeed I have, sir. Mr. Jones says she is a great deal too sick and hurt to be removed. It seems we must trespass on your hospitality for a little longer."

"Removed!" cried he, aghast, "We must not think of it. My sister, I am sure, will not hear of it until she is better."

"Miss Bennet will receive every attention while she remains with us, Madam, I assure you," Miss Bingley said.

"You are too kind," Mrs. Bennet said stiffly. "I am sure my daughter is much obliged to your kindness. You must forgive her silliness in walking in a rainstorm; it was all rather hastily thought of. Normally," with a pointed look toward Elizabeth, "My eldest behaves better."

Upon the silence that followed this pronouncement, Mrs. Bennet spoke again, with the greatest reluctance. "You have a sweet room here, Mr. Bingley, with a pretty prospect from the southernmost window. I hope you will not think of quitting Netherfield in a hurry."

"Whatever I do is done in a hurry," Mr. Bingley replied, grinning, "And if I do resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five minutes. But at the present time, I find myself quite engaged and settled here."

If he thought this would garner sympathy with Mrs. Bennet, however, he was gravely mistaken. She stared at him baldly.

"That is exactly what I supposed of you, Mr. Bingley," cried Elizabeth, not bearing the silence.

"You begin to comprehend me, do you?" He asked, sounding relieved.

"Oh! Yes–I understand you perfectly."

"Elizabeth," her mother said haughtily. "Do remember where you are."

They fell into silence again. "Mama," Elizabeth ventured. "Have you heard from Charlotte Lucas since I went away?"

"Yes, dear, she looked in on us yesterday. I asked her to dine, but she was obliged to go home as her mother needed her about the mince pies. What a good girl. Pity she's not more handsome, but there, she will make someone a very excellent wife, I'm sure of it."

"Miss Lucas seems a very pleasant sort of girl," said Mr. Bingley politely.

"Yes, she is. And she is our Elizabeth's most particular friend: I do not know one who could be a better influence on her. Miss Lucas, you see, sat in with my girls during their studies, as her mother, I'm sorry to say, had been most lax in arranging for annual masters. But as I told Lady Lucas, I am quite determined to see her as well married as any of my daughters–or at least, as best she can be given her circumstances."

Here, Elizabeth found it absolutely necessary to interject before her mother could continue to indelicately imply a connection, inferior though it may be to any match her daughters could make, between Mr. Bingley and her dearest friend.

"I do believe that Charlotte's character and equal parts pragmatism and frankness must be inducement alone for any gentleman. She was always so steady."

"I had never considered frankness of character as inducement for matrimony," Mr. Darcy said suddenly.

"It has been my observation," Elizabeth said, "that a couple who are upfront from the outset of their attachment must be much more inclined to felicity in marriage than those that attempt to conceal or omit parts of their personhood. To be in a relationship built on a foundation of falsehoods reflects well on neither."

To this, Mr. Darcy said nothing and merely smiled. Few words were exchanged following that, and Mrs. Bennet departed for Longbourn shortly after, and Elizabeth to Jane. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst quickly resumed in censuring their dear friend's officious mother and sister, but for all their effort, Mr. Darcy could not be counted on to join them.


Author's Note (April 12, 2022)

Thank you everyone for your thoughtful and kind feedback–I have been blown away by the response to my fic. This was a slow chapter (both in the posting of and in the plot), but things should be kicking up. I eagerly anticipate your thoughts–sorry I've been slow in responding to your comments thus far. I hope to be caught up by the weekend.