One cloudy day a note arrived from Bingley sisters that invited Jane to dine with them. Mrs. Bennet frowned at the note. "The gentlemen are out dining — Jane, you must go by horse as it is likely to rain. Lizzy, it is odd they did not invite you as well. I have seen how you talk so much with Miss Bingley."
The rain started heavily only minutes after Jane left, and Elizabeth frowned and fidgeted.
There was no news of Jane until the next morning when a footman from Netherfield arrived with a note written by Jane that announced she was ill. Her poor sister would be quite lonely with just the supercilious Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley for company.
"Mama," Elizabeth announced, "I going to visit Jane."
"I see no call for that. Jane said it is a mild illness, and if you are present you may interfere with Mr. Bingley attending on her."
"Jane is in bed — Mr. Bingley will be unable to attend on her in any case. It would be completely improper."
"I do not see why not. He might try, at least if you are not there to worry him."
"Mama! I shall visit Jane. Might I have the carriage?"
"By no means. I shall call on my sister this morning and tell her the news. It is much too muddy to walk."
Elizabeth set out towards Netherfield on foot. She knew her dress and petticoat would be a muddy mess after walking three miles over the wet roads. She did not like that Darcy would see her that way.
Elizabeth tried to be careful. She stepped around puddles; she looked to see where the heaviest amounts of mud were before walking; and she still splashed her dress and boots with mud. When Elizabeth arrived at Netherfield, breathless from the long walk, she frowned at her clothing with angry embarrassment. Darcy and, worse, Miss Bingley would see and judge. Elizabeth brushed as much of the mud as she could off of her petticoats and let down her dress to disguise what was left. She hurriedly rearranged her hair, looping back into arrangement the curls which had fallen out.
Before she knocked, Elizabeth attempted to see her distorted reflection in the bronze plate of the knocker. Ha. She must be an awful sight. Well, she could do nothing further to help it.
Elizabeth blushed but smiled when the butler allowed her into the house and led her to the drawing room. Darcy, with his affection for his sister, would not judge her harshly for paying little attention to appearances when caring for her own.
The drawing room was neatly decorated, and the large marble fireplace held a cheery blaze. Vases full of freshly cut flowers perfumed the room; there was a collection of comfortable wingback chairs and deep sofas. Netherfield was the largest house in the neighborhood, and the ceiling of the drawing room rose some twenty feet above them. The walls had a rich rosewood paneling that was varnished to a gleam.
The fineness made Elizabeth yet more aware of her dirtied appearance. She blushed and stood stiff.
Darcy immediately stood, followed a little more slowly by Bingley. Elizabeth curtsied. Darcy stared at her almost wide-eyed, and Elizabeth flushed and brushed at her hair again. He did not look away, and Elizabeth's face went hotter.
Miss Bingley said with a sneer, "My dear Miss Eliza, did you walk this entire way?" She shook her head dismissively. "I assure you, if you had cause to worry for your sister, we would have informed you. There was no need for the trip."
Elizabeth blushed brightly. She knew Miss Bingley despised her for her dirty condition. Being scorned was preferable to the unsettled feeling Darcy gave her. His eyes still had not turned away. Elizabeth said, "I thank you kindly for caring for my sister. Yet, I dearly wish to observe her myself."
Miss Bingley glanced at Mr. Darcy and led Elizabeth from the room. Mr. Bingley followed them, assuring Elizabeth in a rapid tone that he was doing everything possible to care for Miss Bennet, and in fact, if Darcy had not convinced him doctors often caused more harm than benefit, he would have called for a physician from London.
Darcy watched the back of Elizabeth's shapely figure disappear from the doorframe. He let out a gust of air and turned to the window. It was an unseasonably warm day and Elizabeth's sweat had dampened her dress and caused it to cling around her belly and hips. She had somehow placed a smudge of mud against her cheek. Her face had been crimson, from exertion and embarrassment. Her breaths had been fast, and the pants caused her bosom to rhythmically rise and fall.
Darcy had never wanted a woman so intensely.
His body was tense, and he ached with a longing to touch her. She was upstairs. In a bedroom.
Darcy's mouth was parched, and he could not turn around, or else Mr. and Mrs. Hurst would see the effect of his arousal.
He took in several even long breaths. Without looking at the Hursts, Darcy walked to the door and nodded his head very quickly. "It is such a fine day — I believe I shall have a ride."
Darcy's stallion was a reliable horse, though a little ugly. He had been born on the estate, and Darcy had trained the animal since he was young. Today Darcy galloped hard along the country roads about Netherfield, trying to push both himself and the horse to exhaustion. He galloped more than five miles past Meryton and rode through several other villages before he jumped off the horse and sat sweaty and tired next to an oak tree.
He would need to bathe before being seen by Miss Elizabeth when he returned.
After such a walk, she would remain for several hours. When she was taken to bed by a gentleman the first time, her face would take on that rosy hue again. She had brushed at her hair and face nervously, but missed the spot of mud again and again. Darcy's stomach clenched, and his arousal returned. He saw her dimpled smile, and he imagined her pushing her lips against him while smiling so.
Darcy sucked in a long breath and slowly blew it out, the air pushing his lips outwards. He took another breath.
This was not right.
Damn this desperate infatuation. He was very partial to Elizabeth. But he could not marry her.
Her fortune was a mere thousand pounds that would only be released upon the death of her mother. Her family was vulgar and connected to trade. He did not care about that himself — he had experienced too much to ever hold the sins of a person's family against them — but his uncle would never approve.
His duty was to Pemberley, and he needed his uncle's support or a large additional fortune to protect it.
Miss Bingley had enough of a fortune, and she was tolerable. He was going to marry her.
He had flirted with Elizabeth.
Each time they were in company, he had wished to converse with her and make her smile. He could not do that anymore. If he did, he might give her hopes, and he would dishonor himself.
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Jane was delighted to see Elizabeth, and her disappointment when the time came for Elizabeth to leave forced Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley to invite Elizabeth to stay. A servant was sent to Longbourn to inform her family and collect clothes and other necessaries. When the time came for dinner, Elizabeth changed her petticoats and carefully washed her face before she went down.
She had discovered why Darcy had studied her so intensely; a spot of mud had been on her face.
Elizabeth hesitated outside of the drawing room door. She would pretend nothing had happened. It was an absurdity, and she loved such things when they happened to other people. Appearing before Darcy with a smudge of mud on her cheeks would make a delightful anecdote someday.
Elizabeth smiled and settled herself. She held her head level and opened the door. Mr. Darcy's blue eyes immediately turned to her. Elizabeth blushed, the embarrassment returning, and looked at the other occupants of the room.
Everyone was most solicitous to know about Jane's well-being, though Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley's concern held more sincerity than that of Bingley's sisters. However, after the first greetings were done, it was a quiet table.
Mr. Darcy especially was silent, and there was something reticent in his manner that kept Elizabeth from pushing her conversation towards him. She was nervous. It was Charlotte's fault. Before she was completely unselfconscious with Darcy, but now she wondered if he admired her.
Darcy strained to keep from staring at Elizabeth and halfheartedly directed what conversation he made towards Miss Bingley. Normally, Mr. Bingley kept the party lively, but he was oppressed by concern for Jane Bennet.
Darcy realized he was infatuated. Miss Elizabeth was beautiful, sweet, and affectionate. They conversed easily, and she was his feminine ideal. This was a damned inconvenient time to have such a realization.
After the quick meal, Elizabeth claimed a need to return to Jane and left the room.
The moment the door closed, Miss Bingley said, "Miss Elizabeth is a most impertinent and forward girl. And her behavior shows the worst sort of country self-reliance and impropriety. To walk across such a distance, alone."
"I agree," said Mrs. Hurst, "and with her sister not very sick. She should have waited for the carriage. You noted her hems, six inches deep in the mud. And her hair, so blown about by the wind."
Miss Bingley said to Mr. Darcy, "You cannot approve of the display she made of herself."
Elizabeth's affection for her sister was praiseworthy. He saw her entering again panting, with her hair falling about.
Bingley said, "Enough of that. Enough. They are both very pleasant and good girls. I will hear nothing against them. I noticed nothing of the sort."
Darcy had noticed the mud on her petticoats. The memory alone aroused him. He could not have imagined that such a sight would give him such a need for a woman.
"You saw the mud, Mr. Darcy." Miss Bingley said, "Your eye is more discerning than Charles's. You must think a lady should keep their appearance neater than that."
Bingley laughed. "Caroline, you will not reach Darcy that way. Not at all. You never saw him before he inherited the estate." Bingley grinned at his friend. "I remember when I first saw you. You wore the same tail coat you'd had for four years, but now it was two inches short. Those long arms stuck out, and you appeared to be some country bumpkin who could barely afford to attend university, wearing the coat of an older brother who was much smaller."
"Ha!" Darcy replied, "And you looked like a peacock."
Bingley laughed. "I thought I was doing you a favor, since you looked terribly uncomfortable in that long coat — and I felt terribly uncomfortable having just joined the college the day before. Greeting you was the best thing I ever did. The best thing."
Miss Bingley blinked and tilted her head as her eyes darted between Mr. Bingley and Darcy.
Mr. Hurst raised his wineglass and said, "Hear, hear. You may have looked the eccentric, but you were the making of my brother."
Darcy remembered the day. Bingley's friendly grin had not changed. "You were lanky and thin and had an obvious smell of a cit about you. But, your open friendly manner immediately set me at my ease." Darcy smiled. "I think that year was the happiest of my life. At least until the end…"
The memory of the old family servant arriving to inform him played before Darcy's eyes. He had been at Bingley's apartments, and they had finished fencing and planned to go out for a show. The butler's face had been gray and lined. He had worn a tall black top hat and a black cravat. For a terrible instant Darcy feared something had happened to Georgiana.
And then… then he found that he had still loved his father.
Bingley raised his glass and said with a soft smile, "To happy times and to sad times. And most of all to friendship."