“Miss Bennet is here? Why did you not mention you invited her before we departed?” Bingley asked in an accusatory tone.
“Would you believe the woman arrived on horseback, soaked through,” Miss Bingley conveyed, pointedly ignoring her brother’s question. “Now thepoordear is sick and will be imposing on us until I can send her on her way safely.”
“Miss Bennet will remain until she is well enough to travel and you, Caroline, will not be the one to determine that,” Bingley stated firmly. “Did you call the apothecary?”
“Of course I did. I am a consummate hostess, after all,” Miss Bingley preened. None of the men missed the way Mrs. Hurst looked anywhere except at them and the housekeeper rolled her eyes before she schooled her features.
“Mr. Jones is with Miss Bennet now, Sir,” Mrs. Nichols informed the master. “He should be down soon and then we will know more.”
The five residents had just seated themselves in the drawing room when Mr. Jones was announced by the butler. Much to Miss Bingley’s displeasure, Mr. Darcy had chosen an armchair not close to any other seat in the room.
“Miss Bennet is rather ill, I am afraid,” Jones informed the gathering after greetings had been exchanged. “She has a fever. It is not too high yet, but given her propensity for this kind of illness, I am sure it will worsen before it gets better. Her parents know she is susceptible, so I wonder at them allowing her to ride on horseback in this weather.”
“It is no mystery why they did,” Miss Bingley stated spitefully.
“Caroline!” Mr. Bingley exclaimed. “That will be quite enough from you.” Miss Bingley’s face displayed one of her trademark pinched looks after her brother admonished her. Bingley turned to Mr. Jones. “Should I call my physician from London?”
“Based on my experience, I do not believe that will be necessary, but that is your decision,” Jones replied. “My recommendation is you hold off unless there is a significant worsening of her condition.”
“It will be so. Please know she is welcome to remain here untilyou,” Bingley looked pointedly at his younger sister who looked decidedly displeased, “inform us she is well enough to return home.”
Not long afterwards, Mr. Jones took his leave. “You cannot be so blind, Charles,” Miss Bingley spat out as soon as the man departed. “Surely, you can see Miss Bennet used this stratagem to throw herself in the path of you rich gentlemen.”
Darcy could not disagree with the shrew but the more she talked the more she displayed her lack of knowledge of how to be a proper hostess. Even if what she said was true, there was no excuse for her to denigrate a guest in her house, especially a sick one. Just when he thought he could not think less of Miss Bingley, Darcy found he could.
“At first light, a footman will be sent to Longbourn with a note,” Bingley decided.
“My suggestion is you dictate the content to one of your sisters,” Darcy stated. “It may be preferable for the Bennets to be able to read the note.”
“Louisa, please accompany me to the study. You too, Nichols,” Bingley addressed the butler. “I will hand you the note when my sister has written it and I have signed it. Make sure it is sent as soon as possible in the morning.” The butler bowed to his master as the three of them made their way to the study.
Before Miss Bingley could launch the diatribe poised on the tip of her tongue, Darcy wished her and Mr. Hurst a good night and was on his way up the stairs before the woman had an opportunity to react.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Elizabeth was concerned when Jane had not returned home the prior night. She was up with the dawn and fretting when Mrs. Hill passed her a note, just arrived from Netherfield Park, to take to her father.
Elizabeth knocked on the study door and entered when her father bade her to do so. Bennet knew none but Lizzy would be awake at such an early hour. It seemed his second daughter was so anxious over Jane’s wellbeing that she had forgone her morning ramble.
Elizabeth handed her father the note. “Is it about Jane? What does it say?” Elizabeth babbled, her distress overriding her normal calm demeanour.
“Give me a second to read it, Child,” Bennet said kindly. “Here, you read it.” Bennet handed the note to his daughter.
“It says Jane was soaked and chilled and is sick with a fever. Mr. Jones was there last night and it seems the duration of Jane’s stay will be of some days’ length. Oh Papa, why did you not put your foot down?” Elizabeth moaned. “It was easy to see the heavens were about to open.”
“You know I will have no peace if I try to gainsay your mother,” Bennet stated weakly.
“Is Jane’s health not worth bearing some of Mama’s complaints?” Elizabeth asked pointedly. Her father felt shame at his weakness, but there was little he was willing to do about it.
“Your mother will be happy that Jane must stay at Netherfield Park,” Bennet said stoically.
“I must go to my sister,” Elizabeth decided.
“Do you want me to call for the carriage, Lizzy?” Bennet enquired.
“No thank you, Papa,” Elizabeth responded emphatically. “I will walk.”
Elizabeth ran up to her bedchamber and donned her sturdiest walking boots, her coat, and a shawl over her shoulders. Accepting some sustenance from cook, Elizabeth struck out at as fast a pace as she could manage without actually running.
