Chapter 4
Mrs. Weston, the Netherfield housekeeper, had been a resident of Meryton since before Elizabeth was born. She had served at Netherfield since her twelfth year, when she began work as a housemaid. Rising through the ranks, Mrs. Weston had seen more than her fair share of unique tenants to come through the estate that hadn't been visited by its master in half a century.
When the spoiled Miss Bingley had declared a holiday for all the servants except for Mrs. Weston, the butler, and a maid and footman, Mrs. Weston decided to not look a gift horse in the mouth. After all, the poor workers deserved a break from the inconsistent whims of a capricious mistress.
The complete and utter shock she felt upon viewing the poor girl's state moved the elderly woman to a volume of shouts she hadn't used in more than two decades. She immediately shouted for the footman by name. Within a few moments, the young man, alarmed by shouts, skidded to a halt in the doorway to the hall from the kitchen and gawked.
"Fetch Mr. Jones, at once!" Mrs. Weston bellowed before yelling at the maid to heat water immediately.
Elizabeth watched all of this with a vacant expression and blank mind. Now that she had contacted someone who could take matters in hand, the shock of all that had occurred finally caught up with her. She trembled violently, but when Mrs. Weston made to lead her towards the kitchen, Elizabeth shook her head frantically and pulled away. "No, I must go to Jane!"
Dashing back up the stairs, Elizabeth ignored Mrs. Weston's calls to slow down and be careful. Instead, the girl ran faster, desperate to return to her beloved sister. She flew into the drawing room and stopped only when she reached Jane's side.
Behind Elizabeth, Mrs. Weston gasped. She had hurried after Elizabeth at a speed she didn't know the older woman could possess. Ignoring the housekeeper, Elizabeth sank beside Jane on the sofa and tried to rouse her, but she remained limp. Tears filled Elizabeth's eyes as she cried, "Jane, Jane!"
Hands grasped her shoulders, trying to pull her away. "No, let me go!" cried Elizabeth as she fought to free herself.
"Miss Elizabeth, Miss Elizabeth, come away or you might injure her," Mrs. Weston said firmly.
Elizabeth was no match for the strength of a woman who had known decades of hard labor in service. When she realized her efforts were futile, Elizabeth turned and wept into Mrs. Weston's shoulder. The two remained in that position until a knock on the open door announced the arrival of Mr. Jones.
"Good God in heaven!" the apothecary cried as he looked around the room. Spying the only two conscious people, he continued. "Miss Elizabeth, what on earth happened here?"
Several servants crowded in behind him, gasping and pointing as they murmured amongst themselves. Suddenly conscious of the situation, Elizabeth followed the gesturing fingers towards her sister and Bingley, who were in a scandalous position on the sofa.
"Oh Lord," Elizabeth groaned. "The gossip!"
She stood and attempted to pull the couple apart, but her arms had no more strength. Mrs. Weston barked at two manservants by the door, ordering them to come help set everyone to rights, but they were too terrified to move.
Mr. Jones let out a startled cry of alarm when Elizabeth turned to face him. Her dress was torn in numerous places, in addition to being soaked and filthy. Her arms and face were covered in long, deep scratches that were bleeding, and leaves were caught in her half-unbound hair. "Miss Lizzy, I insist you sit down immediately," he said in a firm voice.
Unable to find the strength to argue, Elizabeth sat and mutely stared around the room as Mr. Jones came to her and felt her forehead. Frowning with concern, he looked at Mrs. Weston. "She is feverish. She needs dry clothes, fire, willow tree bark tea, and a bed immediately."
She nodded, took Elizabeth's arm, and guided her away. Before they made it a few steps, however, a groan came from behind them. Everyone turned to stare at Darcy, who was rising to his feet. "What the devil?" he asked hoarsely, looking around blearily.
Upon seeing Elizabeth and seeing her disheveled, wounded state, his eyes widened, then sharpened into a focused gaze. "Elizabeth! What happened? You are injured!" He took a step towards her but swayed on his feet.
Mr. Jones hastily leaped forward to steady the tall gentleman. "It appears you have all been drugged with laudanum."
Darcy looked around the room again, this time seeing clearly. When he spied Bingley and Jane entangled on the sofa, he let out a strangled cry. He tried to cross the room to them, but Mr. Jones kept a firm grip on Darcy's arm.
"Mrs. Weston, please take Miss Elizabeth out before her fever worsens," Mr. Jones stated firmly.
The housekeeper nodded and tugged on Elizabeth's arm, pulling her out the door and up the stairs.
Turning his attention back towards his patient, Mr. Jones said in a strong voice, "Mr. Darcy, clearly everything is in chaos at the moment. We must do the most pressing things first. Now that Miss Bennet has been taken care of, I need to examine you. Once complete, I will tend to the others."
Still groggy from the drugged tea, Darcy merely nodded at the command, which reminded him much of his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Mr. Jones quickly checked Darcy's eyes and listened to his heart. As he did so, both Bingley and Jane stirred. Bingley was the first to awaken, and he smiled dreamily at Miss Bennet, which caused the peering maids at the doorway to titter. Alarmed at the sound, Bingley startled in his seat and looked around wildly. Upon realizing the public and scandalous nature of the situation, he immediately straightened, startling Jane out of her own haze.
"Oh my goodness!" she cried, sitting up and turning a furious shade of red.
She and Bingley both stammered their apologies to one another. Jane was near tears, and she buried her face in her hands. Darcy was struck by the similarities between Jane and his sister, Georgiana, and his heart was touched by the young woman's obvious mortification.
"It is all right, Miss Bennet," Mr. Jones said softly as he reached her side. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he added, "The tea you all drank was drugged. None of you are responsible for acting improperly on purpose."
The apothecary examined the embarrassed couple, then crossed the room to where Mrs. Hurst was asleep near the tea things. He felt her pulse and announced that her heart sounded strong, which produced a sigh of relief from the entire party.
Going lastly to Hurst, who was prone on the smaller sofa, Mr. Jones knelt and spent a long time placing his fingers on the man's neck and wrists. Finally, he sat back and ran a hand through his hair. "I am afraid that the laudanum was too strong for this man. Mr. Hurst is dead."