Title: Miss Bingley's Herbal Tea
Setting: Regency
Rating: T
Chapters: 4/17 (PIP)
Blurb: Mr Darcy doesn't want to drink Miss Bingley's new disgusting, sketchy, ancient-super-secret-recipe herbal tea. Lizzy does instead.
I would be very happy if you could let me know about any spelling or grammar mistakes :) Thanks and enjoy the chapter!
Mr Darcy took a shot at billiards, feeling rabid at himself. The ball missed its pocket and he silently cursed.
After safely delivering Elizabeth to Mrs Nicholls' cares, the moment of danger having passed, the headedness of the kiss momentarily put away, his mind had started to reflect critically upon what had happened.
And for a gentleman's daughter like Miss Elizabeth to throw herself in his arms, there was only one explanation: she had aimed at entrapping him. He was a means to an end for her. She was just a fortune hunter.
Blast, this would never have happened with another woman.
Mr Darcy had to admit that before meeting Elizabeth he had never been attracted to a woman. He might have thought himself to be, but now he could see that it had been his imagination of what it would have felt like.
If only he had not been so attracted to her, if only she had not arrived at Netherfield six-inches deep in mud just two days before, if only she had been Miss Bingley, he would have had enough good sense to push her away, to stop her, to make her realize that trying to entrap him by throwing herself at him was not… Not what she needed to do.
He sighed. Well, he had not done any of that. And now he would have to marry Elizabeth and by looking at her every day, be reminded of his blindness for the rest of his life.
And yet a part of him resisted the thought of Elizabeth as a scheming temptress. He could not believe that the woman who he admired, who was capable of such wit and warmth would take advantage of his affection in such a way. It would have been a betrayal. It would have been Ramsgate all over again.
Mr Darcy started to blink rapidly, feeling a lump in his throat. He managed to swallow it and took a deep breath. It was no use to indulge in fanciful hopes of Elizabeth's innocence: she was a fortune hunter and that was that.
He had to keep telling himself that so that those words would become undeniable facts in his head. He was not to forget it and start admiring her again at the first sight of her. He had made enough of a fool of himself already.
Her bonnet! He suddenly remembered. He had left her bonnet and gloves in that field when he had brought her back to the house. He looked out of the window: it was going to start raining soon.
No matter. I will buy her another one. And gloves too. After all, she will have my pin money soon enough. He thought bitterly. How am I going to explain all of this to Georgiana?
Mr Bingley entered the room with a flippant pace. He had a satisfied countenance that grated on Darcy's nerves, but Bingley was his oldest friend and he brought news of Elizabeth, so he was to be tolerated.
"How does she fare?" He asked dryly bent on the table, without moving his gaze from the tip of his cue stick.
"Quite well, given the circumstances. She has reacted with great dignity at the news and has instantly gone to tend to—"
Mr Darcy straightened. "I meant Miss Elizabeth, not Miss Bennet."
Mr Bingley blushed. "Of course. She has yet to regain consciousness, but the apothecary is on his way. May I join you in your game, Darcy?"
Darcy nodded and busied himself with rearranging the balls. They played in silence for a while. Finally, Bingley broke the silence.
"Are you alright, Darcy?"
"Why do you ask?" His tone was harsh.
"Why? You are letting me win at billiard and you don't even realize it!"
Mr Darcy looked at the table and saw that he was right. "I'm not alright." He conceded. "What happened with Miss Elizabeth—" He could not voice his thoughts. "I came here to distract myself, but it does not seem to be working."
"We are all distressed, I understand. But she will be fine, I am sure of it. She has probably caught Miss Bennet's cold. Even if, come to think about it, Miss Bennet has never fainted."
Darcy shrugged. "Maybe Miss Elizabeth is more fragile than her sister."
"Or maybe it was something entirely different. Maybe it is the new kind of sickness that everyone seems to have in London right now."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, you know, an unknown fever. It was all on the paper two days ago. Many gentlemen of the Ton have been affected of late." He looked around the room and saw a newspaper. "Oh, here it is. Let's see… The patient shows signs of distress, unusual behaviour…"
"Unusual behaviour!"
Darcy squeezed the cue stick so much that he half expected it to snap into two pieces. Could it be? Had Elizabeth kissed him and entrapped him into matrimony not with greedy aims, but because her mind had been fogged by an unknown sickness? No, he should not be so ready to hope. He gritted his teeth and repeated: Elizabeth is a fortune hunter after my money, and that is that.
"Did you notice any symptoms other than the fainting, Darcy?" Asked Mr Bingley.
Mr Darcy hid his blush by examining the table more closely and then conceded: "She felt… warm."
"Warm?" Mr Darcy nodded. "Then maybe she is feverish, then. It's one of the signs of the disease."
"And she trembled."
"Trembled!"
"And muttered words."
"Words!"
"Yes." Mr Darcy was starting to feel quite irritated at Bingley. "Yes. And she ki—" He stopped himself just in time.
Bingley waited for his friend to end the phrase. "And she ki… What?" He laughed. "And she kicked you?"
"Of course not. And she fainted, that's what I was going to say."
Bingley kept laughing.
But if Elizabeth had indeed been affected by the sickness, then was he a brute that had imposed himself on her in a moment of distress? Mr Darcy did not know which of the two possibilities he hated more. If that was the case, he would spend the rest of his life making amends for it.
"Is it a deadly disease?"
"Uhm, the article does not say…" Bingley left the newspaper on the same armchair where he had found it and rejoined the game, to Darcy's great irritation. "But let's not worry about this now. Mr Jones will be able to tell us more after the visit. Do you think that they— that is, Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth — will be required to remain at Netherfield longer than we had foreseen under these new circumstances?"
How did Bingley manage to turn every conversation into a conversation about Miss Jane Bennet? "I do not know. Do you feel comfortable with giving shelter to the patient of a potentially deadly disease?"
Mr Bingley's cue stick fell to the floor. "Darcy, for shame! Would you rather we turn our backs to friends in the moment of need? If Miss Elizabeth is truly sick, sending her back to Longbourn could mean her death."
Darcy felt the blood drain from his face. "And you appear far too happy on the prospect of having Miss Bennet stay here to tend to her. I hope you are not congratulating yourself on your good luck."
Bingley reddened and seemed about to reply, but he was interrupted by the arrival of a maid. She had come to announce Mr Jones, the apothecary. Mr Bingley replied that he would be joining him shortly. The maid curtsied and left. The two gentlemen looked everywhere but at each other, both uncertain about what to say.
Darcy was the first to speak. "I'm sorry, Bingley. I did not mean that. I'm— I'm worried for her. I don't know what I'm saying."
"No, I understand. You are right, I shouldn't have— I was being insensitive. Please, forgive me."
Darcy offered his hand and they shook on it.
"Shall we go to see Mr Jones?"
"Yes, yes, let's go. And, Darcy." He put a hand on his arm. "I'm sure Miss Elizabeth will be fine."
Darcy nodded but said nothing. And off they went to see Mr Jones.
Elizabeth opened her eyes. She was in her room at Netherfield and Mrs Nicholls was sitting next to her bed, intent on some mending.
"Water…" Rasped Elizabeth, her throat as dry as the desert.
Mrs Nicholls dropped her work and jumped up. "You are awake, Miss Lizzy, the Lord be thanked!" She then addressed a maid, "Hurry and call back Mr Jones."
As the maid hurried away, Mrs Nicholls brought a glass of water to Elizabeth and held her head up to help her to drink. "How are you feeling, Miss? Miss Jane has just stepped out a moment with Mr Jones and the gentlemen. She will be back in a wink."
Mrs Nicholls kept talking but Elizabeth was unable to listen. She was tired, as if her every strength had been drained from her body, and her mind was crowded with disturbing questions to which she had no answers: how had she arrived in her room? Why had she fainted? What had come over her in the garden? Had they been discovered? Was she ruined?
She could still sense the intensity of feeling that had made her act so scandalously in the park but only barely, in the way cinder still gives some warmth after the fire has died. At least she would not have to worry about an encore of her madness.
Oh, what was Mr Darcy going to think of her now? She had already been barely tolerable and impertinent to his eyes but now she was also a desperate, wanton woman.
Mr Darcy would certainly tell no one what had happened, or they would be forced to marry. So unless someone had seen them in the park… And what if someone had discovered them? Would she have to marry him? Her mind had not been in control of her actions for mere minutes: was she to pay with her life for a momentary clouding of her judgement?
Elizabeth took a deep breath and accepted another glass of water from the housekeeper.
"What has happened?" She murmured, at last, afraid of the answer she would receive.
But before Mrs Nicholls could address the matter, Jane burst through the door and threw herself at her neck. "Oh, Lizzy, how are you feeling?"
"I am fine, Jane."
Jane was followed by a placid Mr Jones, a worried Mr Bingley and a scowling Mr Darcy. Elizabeth paled and reddened, hoping that the others would attribute her reaction to her being ill.
As Mr Jones went to her side, she risked another glance at Mr Darcy. He appeared more haughty and inaccessible than ever. Their eyes met and his scowl deepened.
Only then did Elizabeth realise that she was not wearing her morning dress anymore, but a nightgown. She crossed her arms against her chest. Jane seemed to notice too because she quietly asked the gentlemen to leave the room while Mr Jones completed his examination.
Elizabeth could breathe again only after the door had closed behind them.
While the apothecary examined her, Jane started to recount what had happened from her perspective: she had been wakened up from her nap by loud noises coming from the bedroom next to her. It had been Mr Darcy and the maids, bringing Elizabeth to her room. He had found her unconscious on the grounds.
"Mr Darcy brought me back?" Elizabeth could not understand. "On foot?"
Jane almost laughed. "Yes, silly. He carried you here."
Well. Elizabeth had half a memory of strong arms swinging her around. That explained it.
Further inquiry revealed that she had been unconscious for almost an hour. Mr Jones had just completed his examination and Jane, the apothecary and the gentlemen were discussing her situation when Elizabeth had woken up.
From this, Elizabeth deduced that no one was aware of what had passed between her and Mr Darcy, yet.
In the meantime, Mr Jones had finished his second examination. He had found nothing out of the ordinary but severe exhaustion and recommended rest until they knew more about what had caused the swooning, but it was improbable that the accident would repeat itself.
"It would be better to have the gentlemen return now, madams."
Elizabeth nodded to Jane, who quickly passed her a dressing gown.
What is the use? Thought Elizabeth, thinking about how her body had already lost every modesty to the hands, if not the eyes, of Mr Darcy. Again, she hoped that they would attribute her reddened cheeks to her being ill.
Both men stayed on the threshold, not daring to go further in the room.
"Miss Elizabeth!" Said Mr Bingley. "We would not impose on you, in, in your room, during such trying times, but we have to— that is, we would like to know what happened."
Elizabeth hesitated. "I— Ah, I have no memory of what happened."
"No memory?" Mr Darcy brusquely interrupted her. "You mean to say that you do not remember what happened before you fainted?"
No! No, he cannot misunderstand me on that. "No, I… I did not mean that. I do remember but— I do not know what came over me. It, just happened. I am sorry if this has been the cause of… Trouble to anyone." She sent him a pleading look but Mr Darcy gave no sign of understanding her meaning.
"Lizzy, you have been no trouble." Protested Jane.
"Miss Bennet is right, Miss Elizabeth. It has not been an inconvenience at all." Said Mr Bingley. "Why, it has been our pleasure to have you here, being ill." Mr Darcy sent him a scathing look. "Er, that is—"
As Mr Bingley tried to remedy his faux pas, a valet burst through the door.
"Mrs Nicholls! Downstairs, the servants' hall… Everyone is dead!"
That was all the boy could only utter before dying himself, collapsing in Mr Darcy's arms.
"What is the meaning of this!" Mr Bingley exclaimed.
"There is a pulse, he is alive." Said Mr Jones.
"Thomas! Thomas!" Cried Mrs Nicholls while trying to slap the boy awake.
Why does this keep happening to me? Thought Mr Darcy.
"Enough!" Jane was the first one to regain her wit and took control of the situation. "Mr Darcy, you will move the boy to my room. Mr Jones, you will examine him and then join Mr Bingley and Mrs Nicholls in the servants' hall. Anna (talking to the maid), you will call for Miss Bingley. Does everyone know what to do? Good. Elizabeth, you stay here."
In a few moments, Elizabeth found herself alone in her room, everyone having run out to comply with Jane's instructions. She tried to make sense of what had just happened, but before she could arrive at some satisfying conclusion, Mr Darcy was back.
"Eliz— Miss Bennet." He said, taking a step into the room. But then he stopped, seeing her violent blush. He averted his gaze, more to defend himself from her charms than to preserve her modesty. "Miss Bennet, I believe we must talk."
Elizabeth felt exasperated. "Indeed we must, Mr Darcy, but this is not the time nor the place. How is Thomas?"
"Still unconscious. Your sister is with him."
"Then, shouldn't you be downstairs to aid Mr Bingley with— with whatever is happening?"
"They are all alive. Mr Jones is tending to them."
He was bursting with a strange, presumptuous eagerness to believe her innocent. If there truly was a strange illness afoot, then…
He closed the door behind him.
"Mr Darcy, what are you doing? They can not find us here together, we are already risking too much!"
"I know that it's improper, but in light of our situation, don't we deserve a little lenience?"
Our situation? Thoughts of his hands on her hips and his mouth on her neck populated her mind unbidden. Her cheeks burning, Elizabeth rushed out of bed and grabbed his arm to try and shove him toward the door. "Get out of my room, now! I will not have you compromise me."
Him compromise her? Ha! He chuckled, not unmoved by her soft hands clasping his arm. "My dear Miss Elizabeth, it's a little too late for that."
Elizabeth stopped and looked in his eyes."No, it is not. I was not in myself this morning and I can't give you an explanation for what happened but—"
Darcy found her angry blush was very becoming. "Yes, I know. You had a fever. Don't worry, I won't blame you for entrapping me."
"But I didn't! And no one is going to accuse me of trying now if only you—"
"Let us speak plainly, Elizabeth, this morning you have entrapped me—"
Elizabeth's shriek at Mr Darcy's use of her Christian name was repressed as she heard steps out of the room. They both stayed still until whoever that was had run away. Elizabeth peeked from the door and saw the back of a maid carrying blankets.
She sighed in relief, until she remembered that Mr Darcy was still in her room, currently standing far too close and staring at her with soulful, unshakable eyes.
"I beg you to leave this room." She pleaded in a whisper.
He seemed to finally understand but still hesitated. "We do need to talk."
Elizabeth nodded frantically. "Yes, yes, we must. I will try and come downstairs as soon as possible. Now, go!"
Elizabeth shoved Mr Darcy out of her room and locked the door.
Was that day ever going to end?
As Elizabeth wondered what had become of her life in the last few hours, Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley were arguing about the herbal tea in the latter's room, unaware of what mayhem had swept the rest of the house.
"You mean to tell me that you have tried to give it to Mr Darcy during breakfast? Without telling me?" Cried Mrs Hurst.
"Yes, and he would have drank it too if only Charles—"
"Are you daft? You tried in front of Charles?!"
"Well, I will need to have a witness, in case he decides not to keep his word."
"You have no idea of what happens after one drinks that wretched tea! Miss Alderton told you nothing."
"Miss Alderton now is Lady Birmingham, so that means that the tea works." Replied stubbornly Miss Bingley.
Mrs Hurst let out an exasperated gasp. "Caro, be reasonable. Promise me that you will abandon this foolish plan."
"Indeed, I will not."
"You want to try it again, even while the house is in an uproar because of Miss Elizabeth's fainting?"
"Her fainting does not signify. She is nothing more than a bystander in this matter."
Miss Bingley would have never confessed that seeing Miss Eliza in Mr Darcy's arms that morning had made her worry even more about their growing intimacy. She had to act, and soon.
I will have all of Mr Darcy's attention for myself while she is ill. And he will drink that tea today, if it is the last thing I do.
Mrs Hurst looked at her sister, knowing perfectly well what was going on in her mind. For her part, she had an opposite view of the situation.
"Say, Caroline. Are you absolutely certain that Mr Darcy did not drink the tea?"
"Of course. His teacup was full when he left the room and I am not yet engaged to him."
Mrs Hurst scoffed. "Yes. But think of this. What if Mr Darcy had indeed drank the tea and then left and found Miss Elizabeth? What would have happened, then?"
Miss Bingley frowned."Whatever do you mean?"
Mrs Hurst stayed quiet for a moment, trying to decide how much to tell her sister of her suspicions. Before she could reach a conclusion, they were interrupted by a maid that brought them the dreadful news of what had happened in the servants' hall.
After that, they were busy and Mrs Hurst was forced to put aside her sudden intuition.
That is, until the next day.
Author's corner
Well, that one was a wild ride. I did not remember half of the stuff that happened. Indeed, I think I told some reviewers that there would be some answers in this chapter but I think I just made everyone more confused. So I won't make any promises about what will happen next week, we shall all have to live and see :)
On another note, does anyone here like Legally Blonde? I'm currently obsessed (have watched the musical 2 times in a week and have to constantly refrain myself from putting it on AGAIN). I have this idea for a what-if ff that I'll never get to write but is cool to think about instead of editing Miss B. And this is all in procrastination for my finals. I would say send help but I can't resist and I don't want to try (get the reference, win a spoiler?)
