A/N: Longer delay than usual for this chapter. That pesky RL tends to intrude. We are about 1/3 of the way through the story, I think. Wade
Elizabeth's plan to return to Longbourn failed almost immediately. When she was shown into Jane's room, she saw Sally Cobb, a young woman of her acquaintance. Sally was daughter to one of the Longbourn tenants who had entered service, first in Graystone Manor five miles from Meryton, and later at Netherfield when it was leased. Sally was familiar with Elizabeth and Jane from their regular visits to the tenants over many years.
"Elizabeth smiled at her old friend, and said, "Sally, it is so nice to see you."
"Good morning, Miss Lizzy. I expected you might be along."
Elizabeth was happy to see someone so well known, but not thrilled that Sally looked very tired. She asked on some concern, "You look just about exhausted, Sally. Are you all right?"
Sally just laughed a bit and replied, "Do not concern yourself Miss Lizzy. I spent all night with your sister, but I will be fine."
"All alone without relief?", Elizabeth asked in surprise.
Netherfield was a large estate, leased by a wealthy man. There were bound to be more people in the house who might have assisted. She would think any halfway sensible mistress of an estate of that size would be mortified to think that the servants might gossip that she could not afford more than one maid to tend to a sick woman.
Sally just chuckled once more, and replied, "You just settle yourself down, ma'am. No harm was done, and both you and your sister have nursed me through illness more times than I can count."
"Yes, you were either a bit of a sickly child, or you just liked Mrs. Hill's soup too much and pretended to be ill."
Both women smiled in kind recognition. Accepting Sally's assurances, she set out to learn her sister's status in detail.
Jane welcomed Elizabeth eagerly, but only managed to stay awake a few minutes. Sally told Elizabeth of Jane's many attempts to expel the remains of the fish course from her stomach, long after there was anything to be gained by the exercise. Her sister had been feverish and nauseous all night, slept very poorly and was otherwise miserable. Writing the short note to Longbourn had sapped the rest of her strength. Jane -being Jane- had minimized her discomfort, showing both an admirable bit of consideration for the feelings of her family, but an appalling lack of sense.
There was not the slightest chance that anything short of extraordinary measures would get the eldest Bennet to the hall, let alone in a carriage to Longbourn. Elizabeth heard the report with sympathy towards Jane, anger at her mother's machinations, resignation that her dear sister was to be stuck at Netherfield for at least a day, and chagrin that all her selfish plans would amount to naught.
She sent Sally off to her bed with thanks and sat down to tend to Jane. She was still feeling quite unwell, with a high but not alarming fever, so Elizabeth tried her best to cool it a bit with cold cloths.
Later in the morning, the Netherfield ladies came in for a visit, and for a time seemed to be offering Jane a lot of caring and solicitude. Elizabeth thought that while she was still quite suspicious of the two ladies, she could probably like them quite enough if they acted like this all the time. They spent an hour with the patient and Elizabeth, and the time was quite pleasant. Their powers of conversation were considerable. They could describe an entertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humour, and laugh at their acquaintance with spirit.
The apothecary came, and having examined his patient, said, as might be supposed, that she had caught a violent cold, and that they must endeavour to get the better of it; advised her to return to bed, and promised her some draughts. The advice was followed readily, for the feverish symptoms increased, and her head ached acutely.
Elizabeth stayed with Jane for the remainder of the morning. She asked for a tray for luncheon, even though Jane was sound asleep by then, mostly so she could have some time to think. By the time the clock was sneaking up on three o'clock, she resolved what to do. She was certain Miss Bingley would be quite happy for her to return to Longbourn, while Mr. Bingley would probably go into vapors over the very idea.
No amount of thinking could convince her that Jane should be left to the tender mercies of Miss Bingley with nobody but Sally to really care for her. It would be unfair to Sally, Jane and even Miss Bingley. Primarily though, Elizabeth was still convinced that it was not proper. The rules of propriety were not an exact science, but she still thought that Jane staying in the house with two bachelors and an unmarried mistress could not be considered correct. By all rights, Mr. or Mrs. Bennet should have come to the house, but without a carriage available for the day, neither of them had any practical way to get there… well, except for asking Mr. Bingley to send his carriage, asking to borrow Sir William's carriage, asking Mr. Darcy to fetch them, or asking… well, she could go on in that vein all day. The truth was that Elizabeth and Mary were the only ones who would be concerned about the impropriety of the situation, so it was likely she was overreacting.
Eventually, after much thought, Elizabeth decided she would have to follow Mr. Darcy's suggestion that she stay to take care of Jane. She was not at all certain she wanted to do, so but had managed to rope herself into it by circumstances. Had she never appeared at Netherfield in the first place, Elizabeth would have spent days fretting, but Jane would have survived. The Bingley sisters could both be amiable when they chose, but Elizabeth did not quite trust them; particularly when Jane, late in the afternoon, related the gist of the conversation the previous evening. The sisters seemed to be on a fishing expedition for things that could be held against the Bennets. Elizabeth did not want to pre-judge them harshly, but she did not want to overly trust them either. Had Elizabeth stayed in Longbourn, the sisters would have tired of caring for Jane before long, and Sally would have picked up the burden.
However, since she did appear, she did spend the day with Jane, her sister did ask for her company and she, by her own words, was concerned about the propriety of the situation, Elizabeth had neatly boxed herself in. She would have to stay and do her best to shuffle Jane out of the house at the first opportunity. In that matter, Mr. Darcy was correct. Her presence, along with the hostess would satisfy just about anyone that nothing untoward was occurring.
Around three o'clock, Elizabeth decided that she had to get the unpleasant chore over with by arranging to stay. It had been Mr. Darcy's suggestion, and she felt certain he could make it happen quietly, though the responsibility for the offer was technically for the mistress of the house to proffer. Elizabeth had been reading to Jane for over an hour and Jane was finally sleeping fitfully, so Elizabeth decided to go in search of either the master of the house, the mistress or as a last resort, Mr. Darcy. What little she knew about him seemed to indicate he suffered from a bit of pride and extreme discomfort in crowds, but otherwise he seemed completely proper in his manners and actions.
A footman directed her towards a parlor where the sisters were keeping company with the two gentlemen and offered to announce her. She demurred the announcement, telling the young man that it was unnecessary and allowing him to get back to his duties.
As she approached the parlor, she was once again uncertain about whether she should have kept the footman with her or not, because she overheard a conversation that she could not at all like. She wondered if she was destined to become a professional eavesdropper. Miss Bingley's wit seemed to be able to flow long, and she was using it to abuse Elizabeth and just about anything Bennet she could come up with.
Elizabeth's manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence; she had no conversation, no style, no beauty. Mrs. Hurst thought the same, and added, "She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild."
"She did, indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance. Very nonsensical to come at all! Why must she be scampering about the country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair, so untidy, so blowsy!"
"Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to hide it not doing its office."
"Your picture may be very exact, Louisa," said Bingley; "but this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice."
Elizabeth had to smile at that. While she would love to have Mr. Bingley spend his efforts teaching his sisters enough manners to speak well in the first place instead of having to contradict them, she imagined that to be a Herculean task, and no sensible man would pick up the yoke. Miss Bingley was a fully-grown woman, with several London seasons to her credit, and her character seemed as fixed as if it were firmly clamped in Mr. O'Malley's vise back at the smithy in Harpenden. It was enough that the gentleman knew his own mind and would come to a lady's defense when required.
Miss Bingley ignored the reply and carried on.
"You observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure, and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see your sister make such an exhibition."
"Certainly not."
"To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! What could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum."
"It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing," said Bingley.
Elizabeth wanted to turn around and leave, but she was now able to peek into the open door and was struck by what she saw. Apparently, this type of talk was common enough in the Bingley household that nobody worried about servants overhearing.
She could see Mr. Darcy, and he looked both distinctly uncomfortable and quite angry. She had been endeavoring for weeks to speak as little as possible to the gentleman, but that did not mean she could not observe him. She had done her best to pay attention to the gentleman in every gathering they shared, even going so far as to listen to a few of his conversations, so long as they were in public. She hoped she had been subtle about it.
Mr. Darcy was facing away from her, but she could see his jaw working as if he were grinding his teeth, while his fist was not moving, but seemed to be clenching and unclenching silently. It was obvious he was uncomfortable and angry, as any houseguest should be, when the mistress of the house was being both impolite and vulgar, while the master of the house did not appear to feel like a battle. Why did he say nothing when the conversation clearly bothered him? Had long experience taught him doing so was counterproductive? Did he want to avoid engaging Miss Bingley in any conversation at all? He could easily absent himself from the room, so why did he stay? All these questions left her perplexed, but the Bingley sisters were by no means finished.
A short pause followed this speech, and Mrs. Hurst began again, "I have an excessive regard for Miss Jane Bennet, she is really a very sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with such a father and mother, and such low connections, I am afraid there is no chance of it."
"I think I have heard you say that their uncle is an attorney in Meryton."
"Yes; and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside."
"That is capital," added her sister, and they both laughed heartily.
"If they had uncles enough to fill all Cheapside," cried Bingley, "it would not make them one jot less agreeable."
"But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world," replied Miss Bingley with what Elizabeth thought was a bit of a nasty smirk in her voice.
Mr. Darcy had apparently had enough, as he replied very calmly.
"I did not quite realize you were so fascinated with the local gossip, Miss Bingley. I assume you must be enjoying your visit to Hertfordshire enormously, if you find the trading of tales so amusing. Can you tell me, since you seem to be an expert on the subject, the name of the attorney? I have a small legal matter that requires a quick response, and it may be easier to seek the council of the Miss Bennet's uncle than sending to town. If you do not know, I shall ask Miss Elizabeth for his name, and specialty."
Elizabeth almost laughed at that response. She peeked her head around to where she could see Miss Bingley, as all she had seen so far was a view from the side of Mr. Darcy. The 'lady' seemed to be either seething or frightfully confused, while Mr. Darcy had quit grinding his teeth, and was calmly taking a sip from his teacup.
Miss Bingley, apparently not one to be dissuaded once she had chosen a course, replied, "To the contrary, Mr. Darcy. I am not enjoying this county at all. I cannot wait to go back somewhere more civilized."
Elizabeth wondered what Mr. Darcy would have to say about that, and he did not disappoint.
"Perhaps, Miss Bingley if you feel so strongly about it, Mrs. Hurst could act as your brother's hostess for a time. As I told you at Lucas Lodge, I am enjoying Hertfordshire, and plan to stay long enough to fulfill my promise to your brother."
Miss Bingley immediately started to disavow from her earlier statements.
"No, Mr. Darcy. You mistake me. I am quite enjoying my time in Hertfordshire and would not dream of leaving until my brother has finished his task of preparing himself for the eventual purchase of his estate. I would not dream of abandoning him."
Elizabeth by this point had heard more than enough and wished she had brought the footman with her. She could not announce herself at this point, so she quietly returned to Jane's room with the intention of returning in a half‑hour after Miss Bingley finally finished her tirade.
She found Mr. Darcy's behavior curious. He had sat silently until he apparently lost his temper, which was understandable enough. She did that nearly every day with her mother and her sisters. His assertion that he was enjoying the county seemed like a vote of confidence. He had made a bad start, but she could believe based on her observations that he was starting to get along with most of the people they regularly encountered. He did not appear to enjoy Miss Bingley's company, but he had come here for a reason and would leave when that reason was satisfied.
After she had calmed down, the request to stay as a guest was made, and happily accepted, or at least it was happily accepted among the male population of the household. The female portion accepted it with resignation, so Elizabeth went back to tend Jane until dinner.
At half-past six Elizabeth was summoned to dinner. Miss Bingley was back to pretending to be friendly, and since the lady did not know that Elizabeth had overheard the earlier conversation, probably thought she was convincing. The sisters carried on for a time about how terrible it was to suffer from a cold, and then moved onto other trivial subjects.
Elizabeth now knew that the two sisters were mostly trying to use Jane to brighten up what they considered a dismal existence in such a backwater, find objectionable things about the Bennets they could use to dissuade their brother from making an attachment, or more likely both at the same time.
Dinner passed with Miss Bingley mostly fawning over Mr. Darcy, asking for his comfort in every way she could, placing her body in provocative positions that reminded Elizabeth of Lydia, and generally making a nuisance of herself, apparently believing that would recommend her to the gentleman.
Mr. Darcy mostly ignored her, as any sensible person would. At least the Bingley sisters managed to refrain from abusing her while she was at the same table.
Her conversation with Mr. Hurst ended rather abruptly when she indicated she preferred a plain dish to a ragout, and he had nothing more to say.