However, after some consideration Mrs. Bennet determined it would be best to send a nurse to see after Jane’s health, and to provide, as Mr. Bennet would say, anagent in situto ensure that the interests of the Bennet family were well managed.
That is to say, to make sure that there was a person who would ensure that Mr. Bingley was regularly given every information that might keep his mind upon Jane, and further to ensure that any respectable, or even impossible to respect opportunity to put the master of the house in close contact with the invalid was taken—all tasks which Mrs. Bennet, though sanguine and believing them to be amenable to all her wishes, did not wish to leave to that gentleman’s own sisters.
“Lizzy, you had best walk over,” Mrs. Bennet said as soon as she returned Jane’s note to the silver tray. “And also, to discover if there is any chance that Mr. Darcy has a thought of any of us. I do not think so—he seldom talks to anyone, and certainly not to any ofus—but Mr. Bingley would be nothing tohim. If I could catch him for one of the girls, he would be as good as a Lord.”
“I do not think,” said Mr. Bennet putting down his knife and fork, and pushing the sausage and eggs away, “that this is the place for Lizzy. If Jane needs a nursemaid, which I very much doubt, it would be best that one of her sisters be sent.”
Mrs. Bennet replied immediately, “Nonsense, imagine Lydia serving at an invalid’s bedside! Nothing can be more ridiculous.”
“That does not speak well to your rearing of the child. Nor mine,” Mr. Bennet replied acerbically. “But I dare say neither Kitty nor Mary would make such a ridiculous picture.”
“Nonsense, I say. There is no one so appropriate as Lizzy, for what else does she have to do? And we are so very kind to her, and we give her so very much. There could be nothing more appropriate than her showing her gratitude and repaying us a little for all the troubles that we take with her, and all the expenses that we run on her account. You do not keep such close track of the household accounts, but I assure you that Lizzy is dreadful expensive.”
“On the contrary,” Mr. Bennet replied, “I assure you that I do pay attention to all of the household accounts, and I think I have a much better notion of what our dreadful expenses are than you.”
This not being a satisfactory reply for Mrs. Bennet, she returned to the chief point. “Mary would not serve at all. She would sermonize them all. That would not promote Jane’s interest. And Kitty does not have the application. It had best be Lizzy.”
“What interest would I fail to promote?” Mary asked. “I can sit by her bedside, read to her, risk my own infection, and provide every care that my dear sister needs.”
“Yes, but you must make sure that Bingley hears of her.”
“He is hardly likely not to, and I can promise,” Mary added, “to give him a report of her health every time I see him.”
“You would add nothing to it. Lizzy, you understand what I mean? You must say so much as will stoke his anxiety, even when there is none to be felt. And then when he sees Jane recovered and blooming, it will make the stronger effect. Oh, I wish I could go myself, but I have so many matters of importance to see tohere.”
Mr. Bennet perked up and said with a smile, “Yes, my dear, I dare say it would be best if you went.”
“You are always so silly,” Mrs. Bennet replied. “But we have the dinner with Sir William and the Mr. Gould tomorrow. And since Sally left, I must find her replacement. And the young people hardly could wish an ancient woman to be hanging about them.”
“As much as it pains me to disagree with you,” Mr. Bennet replied, “You are yet a charming young creature, in the fullness of her bloom.”
“Ah, my dear Mr. Bennet.” Mrs. Bennet flushed, and she looked both pleased, and still very pretty. Elizabeth had often heard that when Mrs. Bennet had first come out, that she had been the equal—or maybe superior—to Jane. Time had left her more of that beauty than was usual in women with four daughters all grown.
When Mr. Bennet directly asked Elizabeth if she would not much rather stay home, and Elizabeth was forced to confess that even though sitting at Jane’s sickbed would be a task, she would much rather go. A change to Netherfield promised interest, difference, and closeness to Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth of course did not admit her interest inMr. Darcyto Mr. Bennet. But the notion that she might like a change of scene and a vacation of some days from Mrs. Bennet was not difficult for the gentleman to understand.
Thus Mr. Bennet sighed and told Elizabeth that in an hour the carriage would be called for her, and that further he wished to speak with her in private before she departed.
His plan to have her sent with the carriage was instantly opposed by both Elizabeth—who loved long walks, and by Mrs. Bennet, who thought it was raising the consequence of the girl to a ridiculous degree.
Mr. Bennet replied, “Elizabeth is a gentlewoman of the house. If she is to be sent as a nursemaid, I will not have them think that she is to be treated in any way differently from how one of my daughters would be treated. Elizabeth is under my protection. She lives under my roof, and I wish that to be well understood.”
“My dear Mr. Bennet, heavens, that is such a ridiculous way to raise her. Miss Lizzy will soon start to think too much of herself,” replied his lady, “And when you are often so intent on matters of economy. These fifteen years you have refused to let us have more than three footmen, and you would never allow me to hire an actual Frenchman for our cook. Is there not work for the horses on the farm today?”
“That is at present a matter of indifference to me. She will go by carriage, or she will not go at all.”
Soon after, Elizabeth followed Mr. Bennet to the familiar library.
All the walls were covered by bookcases; the tables were piled high with journals and books filled with plates. A stoppered bottle of port sat on Mr. Bennet’s desk, and Elizabeth’s fine, though by now well used, writing desk, which had been a gift for her fifteenth birthday stood also facing the window, where there used to be a sofa.
A pair of dueling pistols hung above the mantlepiece in their display frame. Once in response to a story in the newspaper that he had read, Mr. Bennet exclaimed that he did not approveof dueling, and that he would rather that juries treated it as murder. It was murder, not a casual game between gentlemen.
Elizabeth had asked him why he kept a pair of dueling pistols if he thought so negatively of dueling.
Mr. Bennet had paused for a while, looked at her thoughtfully, and then at the pistols. He at last said, “Not because I shall ever challenge anyone to a duel or even accept such a challenge. But a good gun… you never know when it is useful to have a gun.”
It was in fact after this that Mr. Bennet had started to take Elizabeth with him when he went shooting pheasants, and he’d bought her a muff pistol, and encouraged her to keep it in her reticule or dress pocket whenever she took her long walks. Though it was kept unloaded in the bag, as Mr. Bennet thought that the danger of accidental discharges should always be treated with a great respect, as a friend of his in university had been killed by one.
