Chapter 8

Elizabeth stared at the two men in front of her, feeling as though she could claw their eyes out. Never once had she wished to have been born a man - even with the entail - but this moment she would have given anything for the ability to call them out.

"How dare you," she seethed. "I'll have you know -"

"Elizabeth."

Just as he had the night before, Mr. Bennet arrived at the exact moment his daughter was about to unleash her fury. He stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I believe, my dear, that you had something you wished to say?"

"But Papa, they just -"

Her words stopped suddenly when he squeezed her shoulder none-too-gently. Gritting her teeth, Elizabeth forced a smile. "My apologies, gentlemen, for my behavior last night."

Bingley and Darcy watched with wide eyes. When nothing further was said, Bingley looked at them in bewilderment. "I don't understand."

"My daughter is a gentlewoman, and she was raised to behave as such. She knows what is due to her host and hostess, no matter how provoked she may be."

"In that case, please allow me to apologize for the provocation," Bingley replied, shifting from one foot to another. "I don't know what came over Caroline to behave in such a manner."

"You heard what your sister said, then?" Mr. Bennet asked with an edge to his voice.

Bingley nodded, and Mr. Bennet continued, "Then I trust that you will handle the matter?"

Confusion flitted across Bingley's face, but Darcy broke in smoothly, "Of course he will."

Elizabeth shot Darcy a hard look and said, "I find, Papa, that my feet hurt rather badly right now. I think I will take breakfast with Jane in my room."

Mr. Bennet looked down at his daughter's bandaged feet and sighed. "Very well, my dear, but you will be expected to come downstairs at some point today to speak with your hostess."

She nodded at her father, then dipped a shallow curtsy at Bingley and Darcy. "Gentlemen," she said coldly, placing an emphasis on the word.

With that, she turned and went back into her room, closing the door firmly behind her. Darcy's words echoed in her mind, and the idea that he was encouraging his friend to forget her beloved sister in favor of better matches made her want to scream.

The urge was so overwhelming, in fact, that she crossed the room and collapsed onto her bed. She buried her face into the pillow and began to yell as loud as she could.

All of the emotions from the last several days poured out of her and into the cushion, which thankfully muffled the sound. She shouted until her throat was raw from the exertions.

A knock came at the door, and a maid entered with a tray. Elizabeth was surprised to see lemon and honey next to the cup.

"In case your throat is sore," the maid explained.

"That was thoughtful of your mistress," Elizabeth reluctantly admitted.

The maid looked at her in surprise. "No, miss. 'Twas Mr. Darcy who requested it for you."

Elizabeth's eyes raised high on her forehead. "Indeed?" she asked, taking a sip of the cup. "I wouldn't have thought it of him."

Now it was the maid's turn to look surprised. Elizabeth, noticing the girl's astonishment, added, "You disagree?"

"It's not my place, miss."

"Nonsense," Elizabeth replied firmly. "You clearly think highly of the handsome man."

The maid blushed furiously. "I don't. I mean, that is… I do think highly of him, and I admit he is handsome, but that's not reason."

"Then why?"

"He's a gentleman," the girl said simply. "A real gentleman, with manners. He always has a kind word. Even in London, he never treated any of us poorly when he came to visit. I thought maybe he'd be different here in the country, but he's the same. I've never heard tell of him use a cross word with anyone."

"Really?"

The doubt must have been clearly evident in Elizabeth's voice, because the maid straightened her shoulders. "Not even his own servants have anything bad to say about him. Ever."

Realizing she had spoken more firmly than she should have, the maid dipped a curtsy and muttered, "Will that be all, miss?"

Elizabeth's thoughts were swirling in her head over this new piece of information about Darcy's character. She absentmindedly dismissed the servant, sipping on her tea as she contemplated all the contradictions that existed in one man.

Some time later, her father knocked on the door. "I am going back to Longbourn now, but I will return again tomorrow to check on you and Jane."

"What will you tell Mama and the others?"

Mr. Bennet sighed. "The truth."

Elizabeth grimaced in response. "Mama will not take it very well."

"No, she most likely will not. However, the situation is somewhat one of her own making, and she must feel that responsibility. I daresay the feeling will pass more quickly than it should, unfortunately, and the situation will once again be the fault of anyone but herself."

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "I know the situation here is difficult for you, and the company even more so. Please behave."

"I will do my very best, Papa. I promise."

As he made to leave, a sudden thought struck her. "Does Jane know, Papa?"

"That she is dying?" He shook his head. "No, and I forbid you to tell her. It's imperative that she remain calm so as not to agitate her heart any further. Mr. Jones has given her laudanum, which will make her sleepy. He said it should also help her to feel somewhat recovered, even though it is merely masking the symptoms."

After Mr. Bennet's departure, Elizabeth went to her sister's room. To her great delight, Jane was sitting up in bed, her color much improved.

"Oh, Lizzy, I feel ever so much better!"

"I'm glad to hear it, dearest," Elizabeth replied, sitting on the bed with her sister and placing an arm around her shoulder. "Now, how shall we entertain ourselves until a lunch tray comes?"

The two sisters spent the remainder of the day playing spillikins, which was Jane's favorite game. She could play it for hours, but her family often tired of it quickly. Seeing her sister's face wreathed in smiles, Elizabeth resolved to play it as often as Jane wished. Her heart ached with each new game, knowing that soon there would be no more.

Jane regularly dozed off throughout the day, but she was wide awake when the dinner bell rang.

"Oh, Lizzy, I want to go down to dinner! I want to see my friends."

"Jane, dearest, I don't think that's best."

"But I'm feeling better, Lizzy! Please, I want to see Mr. Bingley. I want to. Please let me."

The more Elizabeth demurred, the more agitated Jane became until a coughing fit made it impossible for her to speak for several moments. Remembering her father's charge to keep Jane calm, Elizabeth finally agreed to allow Jane belowstairs once dinner was completed and everyone was in the drawing room for tea.

Having rested with her feet up for the majority of the day, she was satisfied to discover that they only ached a bit as she stood and put her weight on them. Arm in arm, the two Bennet sisters descended the stairs together.

Bingley's eyes lit up with delight when he saw Jane enter the room. He made quite a fuss over ensuring her comfort, then sat down next to her as closely as propriety would allow. For her part, Elizabeth crossed the room to where Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley were whispering together.

"My apologies, ladies, for my behavior yesterday. It was not the behavior of a lady, and I ought not to have spoken so."

She bowed her head, knowing that if she saw the smug looks of satisfaction on their faces, she wouldn't be able to follow through with her promise to her father to behave.

"Yes, well, it is quite understandable," Miss Bingley replied in a snide tone. "I would have expected nothing else from someone in your… situation. I am sorry as well for the misunderstanding."

Elizabeth bit her tongue and replied with a curt nod, then moved to the other side of the room where she settled onto a small sofa. Bingley and Jane remained in happy conversation for the remainder of the evening, while Elizabeth watched on anxiously.

Occasionally, her eyes would travel towards Darcy - who had been wheedled into playing loo with the Hursts and Miss Bingley - in order to gauge his feelings on the situation. She was not surprised to discover that each time he glanced towards the couple near the fireplace, his lips tightened.

After the cards concluded, the group engaged in some discussion about what all was required in an accomplished lady. Elizabeth would have been amused by the conversation and Miss Bingley's blatant attempts to simultaneously encourage Darcy's affections and denigrate the Bennets, but she was too focused on her sister's status.

After about an hour, Jane began to droop and her face grew pale. Elizabeth immediately declared that it was time for them to retire. Bingley personally escorted Jane up the stairs and to her bedroom door, leaving Elizabeth to hobble along behind them on her own. Darcy made to follow, but he was called away by Miss Bingley over an apparently urgent matter that he could not ignore without appearing ungentlemanly.

Elizabeth frowned as the elation on Jane's face, and she ushered her elder sister into the room. Before going in herself, she gave Bingley a stern look and said, "Be careful, Mr. Bingley, that you know what you are about."

Closing the door in Bingley's startled face was quite satisfying indeed, and Elizabeth slept quite peacefully that night.

When no tray arrived for Elizabeth the next morning - although one did come for Jane - she gave into the hunger and went down to breakfast room, limping slightly as she went. She had been delighted to discover upon awaking that her feet had healed significantly.

To her dismay, all of the other occupants of Netherfield were present, and she was forced to remain instead of taking a small plate back upstairs.

Darcy stood immediately when she entered. "Allow me, Miss Elizabeth."

Before she could respond, he was at the sideboard and filling a dish for her. Remembering her father's admonishments, she took a seat at the table. Miss Bingley glared as Darcy placed his offering in front of Elizabeth. She looked down and was surprised to see many of her favorites.

"Thank you."

"It was nothing."

Darcy took his seat once more and picked up the newspaper he had set aside upon Elizabeth's entrance. He resumed reading but was shortly interrupted by Bingley, who had been looking at his own.

"Say, Darcy, have you read this article about the discussions of replacing the Poor Relief Act?"

"Yes," he frowned. "It's caused quite a bit of a headache for my uncle."

"Oh, the Earl of Matlock!" cried Miss Bingley. "I'm sure he is quite occupied with so many important matters with running the Kingdom."

"I don't understand," Mrs. Hurst complained.

"Have you heard of the Elizabethan Poor Law?" Elizabeth asked.

When Mrs. Hurst shook her head, she continued, "In 1601, Parliament under Queen Elizabeth I set up a system of laws for the poor to be used throughout England and Wales. It formally made the parishes responsible for caring for the poor."

"Why would they want to change it, then?" Mrs. Hurst asked in confusion.

"The problem comes in determining who, exactly, is poor," Darcy answered before Elizabeth could open her mouth. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he gestured for her to continue.

Turning her attention back to Mrs. Hurst, Elizabeth said, "Right now, there are three classes of poor people: those who cannot work, those who can work, and those who can work but refuse to do so."

"If they can work, wouldn't that make them not poor?" Miss Bingley asked. "It seems to me that the only ones who are poor are those too lazy to do something about it."

"Caroline!" exclaimed Bingley.

"I'm sure Mr. Darcy agrees, do you not, sir?" She batted her eyelashes. "After all, you must deal with many tenants who demand more than their fair share."

"As a matter of fact, I disagree entirely," Darcy replied, causing the arrogant woman to gasp slightly. "Most of my tenants want to work. But there are many things that occur that are out of their control. The weather, for example, or illness that sets them back."

"Precisely," Elizabeth added. "Additionally, there are others who would work but are physically unable to do so. A soldier losing a limb in a war, or a farmer who was thrown from his horse and is now unable to use both hands, for example."

"If these laws are helping the poor - and they do seem to be somewhat well thought out - then why would changes be made?"

Hurst snorted at his wife's mean understanding of the issue. "Because some people think they're being too generous."

The lady blushed slightly at her husband's condescending tone and looked down at her hands to fiddle with her bracelet. Elizabeth felt a moment of pity for the woman she had, only hours before, privately thought of as arrogant and unfeeling.

"It's a difficult topic, Mrs. Hurst," she said, smiling kindly at the married woman. "If it were easy, there would be no need to discuss it or make changes!"

Mrs. Hurst looked up and gave Elizabeth a shy smile of her own. "I've never been one to follow current events - unless it pertains to fashion, of course."

Elizabeth gave a surprised laugh at this unanticipated bit of humor. "It is time well spent. No one who sees your dresses could think anything else."

Sitting a little taller, Mrs. Hurst then asked, "So what going to be changed?"

"That's part of what my uncle is discussing right now," Darcy replied. "There are those who feel the workhouses and poorhouses are making the problem worse by encourage sloth and idle behavior. Then there are others who feel more resources should be devoted towards improving the standards in such places. One of the reasons this has become a central topic of discussion recently is that Mr. Thomas Robert Malthus has once again released a new edition to his book."

"You mean An Essay on the Principle of Population?" Elizabeth asked. "I wasn't aware that a new one had come out."

Darcy turned to her in surprise. "You are familiar with his work?"

"Oh, yes," she scowled. "I think my favorite part is in his second edition when he says, 'A man who is born into a world already possessed, if he cannot get subsistence from his parents on whom he has a just demand, and if the society do not want his labor, has no claim of right to the smallest portion of food, and, in fact, has no business to be where he is.'"

"You have that memorized very well," Miss Bingley said snidely.

"Yes, well, it stood out very clearly to me when I first read it. I shan't bore you with contents of the rest of the book, but they were quite similar."

"It makes logical sense, though, doesn't it?" Miss Bingley replied. "After all, if someone does not have anything to offer to society, then what purpose do they serve?"

"But what about those who are too sick to work?" Elizabeth asked, annoyance lacing her words.

"If they're too sick to work, then they're probably too sick to live. So if they're going to die, they'd better do it, and decrease the surplus population. Lord knows we have enough orphans and street rats."

The room fell instantly silent. Elizabeth felt a hot well of anger rise in her chest, and she knew her face must be as red as the fire inside of her. She stood quickly, her fork and knife clattering to the table. Her father's words echoed in her ears, and she bit her cheek to keep herself from giving the hateful woman the tongue-lashing she deserved. "Excuse me," she said. "I find I am suddenly not fit for company."

She made to leave the room, but she was only halfway to the door when Bingley cried, "No, wait!"

Elizabeth stopped, but she refused to turn around, unwilling to let the company see the tears that filled her eyes.

"Miss Elizabeth, I cannot even begin to apologize for my sister's behavior," he continued.

Miss Bingley gave a strangled gasp. "Charles!" she hissed.

"No, Caroline. Enough is enough. I warned you last night that if you continued to behave poorly, you would be confined to your rooms. You didn't even last twelve hours."

She tried to protest again, but he slammed his fist down on the table, causing everyone else to startle in their seats. Elizabeth turned around just in time to see Bingley say, "Now, Caroline. Or so help me, I will call for a footman to drag you by your hair."

The young lady emitted a slight shriek and placed a hand on her elegant coiffure that had seemed out of place for the breakfast room. She threw her napkin on the table and said, "I will never forgive you for this, Charles. Never!"

As she ran from the room, she brushed past Elizabeth much harder than was required, especially given there was plenty of space. Bingley opened his mouth, his face turning even more red, but Elizabeth just shook her head. He relaxed slightly, then turned to Mrs. Hurst. "Louisa, will you please act as mistress for the remainder of our stay?"

Mrs. Hurst looked nervously at the door through which her sister had just departed, then back at her brother. She touched the small swell of her stomach that had been hitherto unnoticed by Elizabeth. "Alright, Charles," the married lady agreed.

"You can't do any worse of a job than Caroline," grunted Mr. Hurst.

Bingley closed his eyes and sighed in exasperation. When he opened them again, he said calmly, "Again, Miss Elizabeth, my apologies for my sister's behavior. I don't know what has gotten into her lately. Please, if there is anything I can do to make amends -"

"There is no need, sir," Elizabeth interrupted. "I think as long as she and I are not in one another's company, things will go more smoothly. I am hopeful that my sister will soon be able to return to Longbourn, and you will once again enjoy the privacy of your own home."

The conversation was then interrupted by the new that the doctor had arrived. Elizabeth sighed in relief. Perhaps, finally, they could go home.