“He might very well be kind toyou,” Mrs. Bennet replied. “You are so far beneath him that he need not worry about your opinion of him. You could never have the pretension of thinking yourself his equal. But as for us, he knows that we are every bit as good of him, and that we all deserve his respect, and he refuses to give it. But we are better than he is, because we have more general good cheer—Iinsist.Make Jane come downstairs, even if you must drag her from the bed.”
The image of herself doing exactly that skipped through Elizabeth’s mind. But she did not let it show in her submissive expression.
“Jane is a biddable creature. Tell her that it is my order. She does as she is told.” Mrs. Bennet patted Elizabeth on the cheek. “You are a good girl, and I am monstrous grateful that you have been here to help with these things. Make sure she is downstairs. And I am determined that Jane shall stay with Bingley for a week entire. Put off any hints of using a carriage before that.”
When they reentered the drawing room, Mr. Bingley inquired of Mrs. Bennet about how they had found the patient.
That good gentleman at long last found what he had sought, and failed to find, in the words of every other person who entered the sickroom: An encouragement to fret and worry about the girl who he had begun to think of in a constantly more serious light.
“She is much worse than I expected,” Mrs. Bennet replied. “She is a great deal too ill to be moved. Mr. Jones says we must not move her. We must trespass a little longer on your kindness.”
“Removed!” cried Bingley. “It must not be thought of. My sister, I am sure, will not hear of her removal.”
“You may depend upon it, madam,” said Miss Bingley, with cold civility, “that Miss Bennet shall receive every possible attention while she remains with us.”
“I am so grateful,” Mrs. Bennet began. “So very grateful—Lizzy, do get my shawl. I left it by chance in the carriage. You must see this shawl; it is new arrived and trimmed with some excellent lace.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Elizabeth said immediately, bobbing her head to Mrs. Bennet and going out.
She could tell that Darcy’s eyes were upon her, but she did not dare look at him in Mrs. Bennet’s presence.
Even though those feelings that she had developed regarding that gentleman were meaningless, and they could mean nothing, she was terrified—in part rationally—about how her benefactress would respond if she could perceive how far above her station Elizabeth’s fevered brain had imagined.
Upon Elizabeth’s return she found Lydia pestering Mr. Bingley about holding a ball, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst observing in a sneering manner, and Mr. Darcy standing by the window.
The light from outside caught his hair in a way that made it glow. Elizabeth could not stop herself from smiling at him. Hesmiled back at her, and that made her heart jump and stutter. Elizabeth hurried in and handed the shawl to Mrs. Bennet.
Mrs. Bennet looked at her with a pinched expression. She studied Elizabeth’s dress. Then after Elizabeth helped to arrange the shawl around her shoulders, Mrs. Bennet said, “I must imagine that Jane needs something, do go back up.”
“Yes, madam.” Another bobbed head, and Elizabeth left the room.
She carefully did not look at Mr. Darcy.
Jane was surprised to find Elizabeth back so soon. A maid sat in her chair talking to Jane of the servant’s gossip, or what parts of it were fit for the ears of the quality, while Jane sat up against a set of pillows.
Elizabeth made a small smile and shrug, and she asked Jane if there was anything she might do for her.
When Jane demurred Elizabeth sighed, picked up her copy ofThe Iliad, and struggled to read. She resisted the urge to go back to her room to where she’d quickly stashed the locket so she could pull it out and stare at her mother’s image again.
Did she even have a right, as she knew her mother to have sinned terribly, to imagine the ways that her mother, a true mother, might have been better than Mrs. Bennet?
After a while Elizabeth heard the horses and carriage wheels come around to the entrance, and then the clattering sound of them leaving.
Jane had fallen into an easy nap, and Elizabeth took this opportunity to go downstairs. As she stepped out, she carefully closed the door, in opposition to Mrs. Bennet’s wishes.
She knew that there were circles around her eyes, and she felt tired.
But things like the developing connection between Jane and Bingley went off so often.
There was a hollow anxiety in Elizabeth’s chest now that Mrs. Bennet had visited, and she did not like it. She had not yet had any chance to explore the walks around Netherfield, and she dearly wished to see some of it.
Elizabeth rapidly walked along the gravel pathways, and over the flagstones. She was unhappy that they would be here for so much longer. She felt so confused in the evenings, caught between falling into the easy and pleasant chattering that she liked with Mr. Bennet, and the solemn mien that was appropriate to theintendantof Mrs. Bennet of Longbourn.
Absorbed in her thoughts, she startled when she heard her name spoken from the side. “Miss Elizabeth.”
Mr. Darcy walked up to her with his long strides and a stiff smile.
She could not resist the smile that spread across her face on seeing him.
