She nodded slowly, her expression sad. “Perhaps it is time I moderate my expectations of her, Brother.” She moved off then, to enquire after the comfort of their guests. Bingley took up his pen again and, for her sake alone, added her request to his letter.
* * *
Though Darcy, Bingley, and Carter were kept busy during the daylight hours, riding about the area and gathering information on the spread of the sickness, the evenings at Netherfield proved very long. A pall had settled over the house, with the knowledge of illness within and the fear of more to come. Dinners were quiet affairs, and the hours in the drawing room afterwards quieter still. Mr Hurst preferred to avoid the atmosphere by overindulging in wine over dinner and falling asleep on the sofa by the windows. Mrs Hurst would amuse herself with a novel or music.
The other gentlemen would use the time to tend to their correspondence, and then to read or converse. Carter proved to be pleasant company, willing to enter into conversation on any subject or indulge Mrs Hurst by making up a table for loo orvingt-et-un. Despite these mild pleasures, they often found themselves retiring early, ending the day that the next might arrive the sooner. Darcy found himself wishing that Miss Elizabeth might join them one evening; she more than deserved a respite from attending her sister and all would welcome the addition of her wit and intelligence to their conversation.
Darcy’s mind was much occupied by the events of the day—the revelation of Bingley’s strong feelings for and improper exchange with Miss Bennet, the obliviousness of those he had seen in Meryton, and the testimony of Mrs Millidge as to the fine characters of the eldest Bennet sisters. As they all sat in the parlour after the meal, Darcy emerged from his thoughts to hear his friend repeating his name with an edge of exasperation.
“I beg your pardon; I was not attending.”
“I should say not!” Bingley exclaimed, his irritation instantly transformed to humour. “I have been trying to get your attention these two minutes at least. Your face is a picture of gloom, old friend. Pray, what troubles you?”
Darcy rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I do not know that I am troubled, precisely. I was only wondering…if it were my sister sick with the smallpox, and I had not been inoculated, would I have the courage to attend to her myself?”
Bingley’s eyebrows rose. “I should be very surprised if you did not, for I have rarely seen a closer relationship between brother and sister than that between you and Miss Darcy. I imagine you would cheerfully die for her, if called upon to make such a sacrifice.” He rose and moved to the decanter, pouring a small glass of brandy for each of them. Setting one before Darcy, he resumed his seat.
“You are thinking, I suppose, upon Miss Elizabeth’s care of Miss Bennet. It is admirable. They are admirable ladies, both of them.”
Darcy took a sip of the brandy, and then said, “Having met the rest of the family, I am forced to wonder if there was another Mrs Bennet, for I cannot conceive of either of them issuing from that woman, or being full sisters to the other three.”
Bingley set his glass down and was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was pitched too low to carry across the room to his sleeping brother-in-law, or to his sister and Captain Carter, engaged in a lively game of Cassino.
“Darcy, you seemed to approve the other day when I spoke my mind about my sister’s disobedience, so I shall dare to be forthright again. I do not like it when you speak of our neighbours in such a fashion. Mrs Bennet may not be the most cultured lady, but she has made us very welcome here—more welcome than some of our party deserved,” he added emphatically. “I have been in society long enough to see women of rank display similar manners—or worse!—and yet I do not hear you speak of them so. I beg you will do me the courtesy of disapproving of my neighbours silently. I am beneath many of them in station, if not in wealth, and when you mock their breeding, it makes me wonder what you truly think ofme.”
Darcy was shocked by this speech—shocked, and ashamed. “I do beg your pardon. I never wished to give you cause to doubt my esteem for you. I am mortified to find that I have done so. I hope that if I offend in future, you will correct me again.”
Bingley eyed him speculatively, then nodded. “I thank you for that, and I do forgive you. I understand that you were raised to think meanly of anyone beneath you in consequence, and it has been the greatest compliment of my life to be counted among your friends despite it.”
Darcy startled at that characterisation, but could not honestly deny it.
“I greatly admire the elder Miss Bennets,” Bingley continued, “and as I said, Mrs Bennet has been very welcoming, despite first impressions.”
“What do you mean by that?” Darcy asked.
“Well, after you insulted Miss Elizabeth during our first engagement with our neighbours, I would not have been surprised if Mrs Bennet had denied our entire party admittance to her home,” Bingley said with a chuckle. “But aside from a little understandable coldness towards you, she has been gracious, and I am grateful for it. She is the leading lady of the neighbourhood and could have made us all very uncomfortable here, had it been her desire.”
Darcy was greatly offended by the charge. “I have never insulted Miss Elizabeth!” he exclaimed, causing Mrs Hurst to look up from her cards.
“Certainly you have, Mr Darcy,” she replied with a laugh. “At that little assembly we attended, you said she was not pretty enough to dance with, or something similar. She heard you herself, and found it amusing to tell her friends what ‘that conceited fellow from the north’ had to say about the beauty of the local ladies. Did you not know? It was much spoken of for a week at least.”
An incredulous expression flitted across the captain’s face before he could master himself, and he began to study his cards with more intensity than they warranted.
Darcy went by turns red and pale. To understand that the lady he was coming to admire so very greatly had overheard his petulant statement—forgotten by him until that very moment—and thought him a boor was mortifying in the extreme. He looked to his friend, who was gazing at him with a mixture of sympathy and amusement.
“I, too, thought you were aware that your opinion of Miss Elizabeth had been widely circulated,” Bingley admitted.
“I had not the least idea.” Darcy took a long sip of brandy, then declared quietly, “You are correct—it is a wonder that Mrs Bennet did not retaliate in her daughter’s defence. I am amazed that Miss Elizabeth speaks to me at all.”
Bingley stifled his laughter, but Mrs Hurst did not, and Darcy retreated into his thoughts and his brandy, which they kindly allowed. However, as the gentlemen ascended the stairs at the close of the evening, Carter made so bold as to recommend a maker of spectacles, Mr Pierce of Knightsbridge, to Darcy, delivering the suggestion with a slight smirk and a clap on the shoulder.
* * *
The next morning, Mr Bingley once again appeared at Jane’s door in the early hours, and asked Elizabeth to give her sister another note. Elizabeth, brows raised, enquired, “Is this to become a regular occurrence?”
“I certainly hope so,” Mr Bingley admitted with a boyish grin. “But the power rests entirely with you and Miss Bennet, and I must hope you both take pity upon me.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes a little, chuckling at his audacity. “I think, sir, you have realised that I will deny my sister nothing when she is ill, so rather say the power rests with her,” she replied, slipping the note into her pocket.
