“I hope you do not mean to be very harsh?” Mrs Hurst objected mildly. “She has acted wrongly, to be sure, but she is frightened, and if word of her unchaperoned trip to London gets out, she will be ruined.”
Hurst patted his wife’s hand. “Worry not about her reputation, my dear. We do not even know if she arrived safely.” He did not seem at all troubled by the thought.
Darcy scowled, admittedly less concerned with Miss Bingley’s safe journey on dry roads than he was about the condition of the horses she likely had driven at high speed.
“Louisa, I shall be harsh, for what she has done deserves no less. Permanently separating her from my household is not out of the question,” Bingley replied implacably. “She has not only risked her reputation, she has possibly carried a terrible disease to Hurst’s house and servants in town.”
His brother frowned. “Endangering my household cannot be overlooked. I shall send an express to my housekeeper and ask after Caroline. That is all that may be done in our present situation.”
CHAPTERTWO
Jane’s feverbroke in the night, bringing her immediate and welcome relief. Elizabeth stayed by her side, though her sister again urged her to leave and protect herself.
“Jane,” she said reasonably, “I remind you again that I was with you in the Blake cottage and every day that passed between. Leaving now will avail me nothing, and cost me the comfort of being of use to you.”
Jane had no reply to that, but continued to fret until Elizabeth reminded her that their father had lost two sisters to smallpox but never caught it himself. “Perhaps,” she suggested lightly, “I am like him in that, as in so many other things.”
“Oh, I do hope so. I shall never forgive myself if you fall ill from tending me.”
“Enough of that, Jane. If I fall ill, it will be because we both went to deliver that basket of food. Do not you trust Mr Jones? He has said that these things keep to no certain schedule. Now,” she turned the subject lightly, moving to the table where sat the few appealing volumes she had found in Netherfield’s scant library, “should you like to hear Blake, Coleridge, or Wordsworth?”
The day passed quietly and more pleasantly than the two previous, for with the fever gone Jane felt quite well save for some lingering weakness and the increasing soreness of the lesions in her mouth and throat. Jane ate and drank as much as her stomach could hold, mindful of Mr Jones’s exhortation on the subject, and after the apothecary’s visit, during which he found nothing new to concern him, she fell into a deep sleep.
Noting the early hour, with more resolve than anticipation, Elizabeth refreshed herself, changed her dress and, having assured herself that Jane continued to rest peacefully, presented herself in the drawing room only moments before the dinner bell. Mr Bingley hurried to make her welcome and to ask after her sister, exclaiming with delight when informed that Jane was as well as could be hoped and already sleeping. Mrs Hurst added her own more sedate words of pleasure at this information, while Mr Darcy and Mr Hurst contented themselves with a brief nod of greeting and did not speak at all.
The bell then rang, and Mr Darcy offered his arm to Elizabeth, while Mr Hurst followed with his wife and Mr Bingley was forced to enter alone. Elizabeth wished she might instead take the arm of her host and wondered why Mr Darcy had not hung back and allowed matters to fall out so. He had openly declared upon their first meeting that she was not handsome enough to dance with, and following that they had hardly spoken. When they were together in company, she often found him staring darkly at her, no doubt cataloguing her many flaws of person and faults of manner. Not once had he troubled himself to attend his friend when Mr Bingley called upon her family home, Longbourn. Why he should wish to escort her into the room and, presumably, sit by her for the meal she could not fathom. Unless, she thought with an inward chuckle, he sought to examine in detail the defects he had thus far viewed at some remove.
“I was glad to hear your good report of Miss Bennet’s condition, Miss Elizabeth,” he said as they traversed the long dining room. “And may I applaud your courage in remaining to nurse her, now that the cause is known?”
A compliment from Mr Darcy! Only her innate civility prevented her from bursting out laughing in sheer astonishment. Instead, she allowed herself a half-smile. “As much as I am loath to disappoint you, sir, there is no courage in the case, only cold reason. I was with Jane for more than a day before we knew her illness for what it is; departing could not then protect me. Add to that the fact that I was with her when we suspect she contracted it, and you see that my continuing health is entirely in the hands of chance.”
He pulled a chair out for her and saw her settled upon it, then bent to murmur for her ears alone, “You may call it reason, Miss Elizabeth, but I shall continue to think it courage.” He took his seat to her left; Mr Bingley was at the foot of the table to her right, while Mrs Hurst had rejected the lonely mistress’ seat at the head of the long table to place herself on her brother’s other side with her husband next to her. Elizabeth absorbed this second compliment with only slightly less astonishment than the first.
As the soup was being served, Mr Bingley turned to her. “May I say, Miss Elizabeth, how delighted I am that you were able to join us this evening? I expect you may not often be able to do so, during your stay with us.”
“I thank you, sir,” she replied with a smile. “I fear you may be correct, though naturally I hope it is not the case.” She looked about. “Does Miss Bingley not dine with us?”
An awkward silence descended upon the table. Mr Bingley cleared his throat and said briefly, “My sister has returned to London—”
Shocked, she cried, “London?”
“—against my wishes.”
Conscious of having mortified her hosts, however inadvertently, Elizabeth merely nodded and lightly turned the conversation to the weather. “I hope your impression of living in Hertfordshire is not adversely affected by the chilly conditions of late, sir. Most years we are very comfortable until later in the autumn, though I recall one or two like this.”
Mr Bingley laughed and said that, having grown up in York and Scarborough, he thought the present weather rather temperate for autumn, and was not at all disappointed. The difficult moment had passed, and everyone relaxed and entered into the conversation.
While the soup was removed, Mr Darcy turned to her. “Miss Elizabeth, I hope it will comfort you to know that all at Longbourn continue well.”
“I am happy to hear it, but how is it that you know this, sir?” she asked in some surprise.
He gave her a small smile. “Why, the housekeeper—a Mrs Hill?—informed me when I stopped there today. Were you aware that Mr Bingley and I have undertaken to visit all the houses in the neighbourhood frequently, that Mr Jones may have early word of any new illness?”
“Indeed, I was not!” she exclaimed, looking between the two men. Mr Bingley’s goodness she had not doubted, but she was quite shocked that Mr Darcy would put himself to such trouble for country folk. She looked at him more closely. “That is very good of you. And you are not concerned that you may face further exposure?”
“We were both inoculated at Cambridge. The risk is exceedingly low, and we have time and good horses.”
“I think many would baulk at even the slight risk you admit,” replied Elizabeth.
