Chapter 7
Elizabeth sighed with relief as she sank back into the overstuffed down pillow on the bed at Netherfield. As much as the maid had tried to be gentle, Elizabeth's feet were throbbing after being bathed, poulticed, and bandaged.
Three quick raps, followed by three slow knocks came at the door. A smile crept across her face at the childhood tradition her father instilled in her when she wanted entrance into his private library.
"Come in, Papa," she called.
Mr. Bennet entered the room, his brow furrowed. For the first time, Elizabeth was struck by just how old her father was. He had married later in life - preferring books to balls - and was now almost sixty. Deep creases in his forehead and around his eyes, coupled with stark white of his hair, made him look positively ancient compared to the energetic Papa of her youth.
He sat down heavily on the chair next to her bed. "How are your feet?"
"They ache quite fiercely, but I daresay I deserve it," she said lightly, trying to ease his spirits.
To her chagrin, the furrow in his brow only deepened. "Yes, Elizabeth, I daresay you do deserve it. Not only for your wild behavior - as your mother would call it - in running outdoors without the proper footwear, but your wild behavior at running on at Miss Bingley."
Elizabeth winced at her father's echoes of a commonly used refrain from Mrs. Bennet about her second daughter's character.
"I did not mean to, Papa," Elizabeth said. "The words just came out. I couldn't stop them."
"Lizzy," he warned.
"But you didn't hear what she was saying!" cried Elizabeth. "After her awful comments at dinner about Jane's uniqueness and the goodness of the Darcys to pay attention to us, she then began to hint at how fortunate Mama's death would be for us, and Jane's! When we only just learned about Jane -"
Elizabeth's voice broke on the last word, and she could speak no further. Tears poured down her face, and she looked pleadingly at her father. To her astonishment, his eyes were wet as well.
"How can anyone think that Jane's death will be anything but a tragedy?" she finished in a whisper.
"This is why I never liked London," Mr. Bennet said with a heavy sigh. "I know your mother has begged me to take all of you, and I usually blame the expense and the noise. But really, it's about avoiding the narcissists that make up the ton. The people that make the beau monde are anything but beautiful, for all their finery."
"They're horrible," Elizabeth said fiercely. "Miss Bingley's soul is full of avarice and selfishness."
"Not all of them are wicked, my dear. We must judge them each on their merits, of course, just as we would expected them to do for us. You would not wish to be lumped with Lydia, for example."
Elizabeth managed a small, rueful smile. "No, I suppose not," she conceded.
"But you must be cautious, my girl, that in your interactions darkness, you do not allow it to pollute your own light. Miss Bingley's nastiness does not mean you can be rude and disrespectful in turn."
Elizabeth hung her head in shame. "I don't know what came over me. I didn't even mean what I said. You know I don't care anything for social status! I just wanted hurt her as much as she hurt me."
"Well, I daresay it's your first time experiencing such cruelty firsthand, and from someone your own age. For all your mother boasts of dining with four and twenty families, your circle of acquaintances is quite limited, and they're people you've known your entire life. You know not take your Aunt Phillips seriously when she comments about your beauty compared to Jane's, or when Charlotte Lucas rolls her eyes at Lydia's behavior."
"You're saying that by knowing their character, I'm able to better dismiss their words?"
"Precisely. These new ladies are sharing their first impressions of what they see, and you therefore feel it more deeply when they aren't pleased."
She nodded slowly. "I think I understand. Thank you, Papa. I promise to do better next time; it won't take me as much by surprise."
He gently patted her shoulder. "You're a good girl, Lizzy. I hope you'll also understand why I will be requiring you to apologize to Miss Bingley tomorrow."
Sighing deeply, Elizabeth acquiesced. "As much as I hate to let her have the satisfaction of me humbling myself, I would much rather prove my good breeding. I won't let her to influence me in that way."
As Mr. Bennet left his daughter's room for his own, a similar conversation was being conducted in the family wing.
"Caroline, your behavior was deplorable this evening! I still cannot believe what you said to Miss Bennet. If I hadn't heard it with my own ears…."
"Nonsense, Charles," Miss Bingley drawled. "It was all a simple misunderstanding."
Sitting on a comfortable chair in front of her vanity and mirror, she focused her attention on watching the maid brush her hair out. She hardly listened to her brother's words, being intent on counting to make sure the lazy girl did the full one hundred strokes.
"A misunderstanding?" Bingley's voice cracked on the last word.
"Yes, a misunderstanding. The foolish girl took offense where none was meant, I assure you. I only wished to cheer the girl up, and she took what I said completely out of context."
Bingley frowned doubtfully at his sister. "Let's just say for a moment that I believe you. You should have spoken with more care to her. She just discovered that her sister is going to die, and your words were thoughtless."
"Well, how was I to know that she would be so sensitive? She seems quite arrogant most of the time."
Bingley sighed and rubbed his temples. "Be that as it may, it does not excuse the fact that your behavior was left wanting. I expect you to apologize tomorrow."
"Apologize, me? I wasn't the one who lost her temper!"
"Caroline, don't push me on this. You will apologize, or I will not subsidize your allowance this quarter. You'll have to make due with what you have left."
"But I've already spent it all, Charles!"
"Then you'll apologize."
Miss Bingley huffed and crossed her arms, slouching back in her chair. The maid, startled by the sudden movement, yelped and dropped the brush.
"Stupid girl," Miss Bingley said crossly. "Pick it up! If it's damaged in any way by your carelessness, I'll take the cost of it from your wages."
"Caroline, I mean it. You will apologize."
"Oh very well," she snapped. "I'll apologize to the chit. Happy?"
Bingley frowned at this appellation, but he was reluctant to take his sister to task once again. "Thank you," he said, choosing to take the small win.
"Now, if you don't mind, I need to get to sleep. I want to be up early for breakfast, and I can't appear in front of Mr. Darcy with shadows under my eyes."
Rolling his eyes, Bingley left his sister's room and walked to his own, all the while remembering the comfort of a gentle smile and soft voice.
Please, God, keep her healthy for as long as You can.
Darcy awoke early the next morning and dressed for the day. He usually kept country hours, and residing in a household with Miss Bingley did nothing to discourage his habits. She attempted several times to catch him breaking his fast by arising early herself, but she always seemed to just miss him.
Little did she know that his valet had convinced Miss Bingley's lady's maid to inform him each night what hour Miss Bingley had requested to be woken up. The young girl, who had little loyalty to the her harsh mistress and thought Darcy handsome and kind, willingly gave up the information.
Thus Darcy had just finished his morning ride and was approaching the house when an express rider approached.
"Mr. Darcy?"
Upon confirming his identity, the young man passed down a note, then held out his hand for payment. Darcy fished a few coins from his pocket, and the lad dashed away again as quickly as he came, all without dismounting.
Heart sinking, Darcy opened the missive and looked down at the unfamiliar handwriting. He breathed a sigh of relief; it was a note from Dr. Rowley, confirming that he would be arriving the following day.
He entered Netherfield and quickly made his way up the stairs, darting past the open door to the breakfast room, praying he wouldn't be seen.
Once safely in his chambers with the door closed, he said a quick prayer of thanks. The debacle from the prior night had yet to be resolved - or even discussed - and he had little desire to do so over breakfast alone with Miss Bingley.
Darcy's valet had just finished tying his master's cravat when a knock sounded. The manservant opened the door, then looked back at Darcy.
"Mr. Bingley, sir."
"Very well. Let him in, Hawkins."
Hawkins opened the door further to admit Bingley, then disappeared into the dressing room. Darcy watched with mild amusement as Bingley paced back and forth, muttering to himself. Finally, the younger man looked up. "I'm going to marry her, Darcy."
The world seemed to spin around Darcy's face for a moment. "Marry who, exactly?"
"Miss Bennet." Bingley had stopped pacing and now stood at the window, running his hands through his hair and twisting his fingers together.
Darcy gave a silent prayer of thanks as his balance was restored. "And what, pray tell, has led you from admiration to marriage?"
Bingley started pacing again. "You heard her father. She may only have months to live, if that. I cannot imagine a world without her in it."
"And marrying her will fix things?"
"Yes! No." Bingley threw his hands in the air. "I don't know. All I know is that I have spent the last two weeks enjoying her smiles. If they are to come to an end, then I want to have spent every moment possible enjoying them."
Darcy frowned at his friend. "And then what? You will spend the next year or so chained to a sickbed. Then after she dies, you will spend another year in mourning - and that's not including the fact that you would be bound to her family for the rest of your life."
Bingley placed his hands on hips and faced his friend. "What are you saying, Darcy?"
"I'm saying that you are acting with too much haste. Would it not be better to leave now, before your affections are even more engaged and you are tied to a mother-in-law who would bleed you dry?"
The silence in the room was heavy. Bingley slumped his shoulders. "I don't think you understand."
"Then explain it to me."
"I don't think I can put it into words. It's just… you heard Caroline last night."
"Unfortunately, yes."
"Wasn't Miss Elizabeth marvelous? She said all of the things I think when I hear my sister speak but haven't the courage to say out loud."
Darcy sighed. "I fail to see what this has to do with wanting to marry Miss Bennet."
"I never realized until I met her that anyone could be so kind, so loving. Her smiles make me feel as though I could accomplish anything. I've never felt that way before, Darcy. Not once. I spend my days being told by my sisters all the things I need to do better. I spend my nights in the company of beautiful women in society who only look at me for my income."
"You believe Miss Bennet to be different?"
"When she smiles at me -"
"She smiles at everyone, Bingley!"
Bingley flinched at his friend's harsh tone. "You do not think she cares for me?"
"I think she is too simple to even know how! You heard her father; the doctor wanted Miss Bennet to be put in an asylum or workhouse. It's clear that there is something wrong with her mind, not just her heart. Her smiles may not mean anything other than she thinks you are kind."
"You're wrong!"
The two men stared at one another. Bingley's face was contorted with anger. "I do not care, Darcy, if she doesn't love me the way I love her. I want to spend my days feeling the way she makes me feel."
"Then that is selfish, Bingley!"
Startled, Bingley looked at his friend in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"You speak of how she makes you feel, but what about how she feels? If she truly only has a short time left of life, why do you think she'd want to spend it with you?"
Seeing he was finally getting through to his friend, Darcy pressed on. "It's clear her family loves her. Why take her from the only home she has ever known? Wouldn't she want to be with those whom she loves most in her final days? And what of her family's wishes? I imagine they'd prefer to spend every moment they could with her. Would you rob them of that?"
Indecision flitted across Bingley's face. "I hadn't thought of it that way."
"And that's precisely why you shouldn't make any decisions right now. You're not seeing things clearly. A marriage with Miss Bennet would be an unequal match, which wouldn't be agreeable to you or her."
"What - what should I do?"
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Let the doctor come and make his determinations. Once Miss Bennet is well enough to return home, you can leave her and her family in peace. Return to London and find someone more appropriate to marry. Someone who can bear your children and manage your home."
With each word Darcy uttered, Bingley seemed to shrink into himself more and more. At last he said, "I see your point, Darcy. You needn't elaborate any further."
There was silence for several long moments, each man absorbed in his own thoughts. After several long minutes, the sound of a clock striking the hour interrupted the stillness.
"It is time for breakfast," Bingley said tonelessly.
The two men exited the room and made their way towards the staircase, and Darcy clapped his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Forget about Miss Bennet. There are much better matches you could make."
"Ahem."
The two men froze and turned towards the sound. Just behind them, coming from the guest wing, was Elizabeth Bennet.
The fire in her eyes told Darcy that, once again, she had heard him make a disparaging remark about her sister.
He groaned to himself. How could this morning get any worse?