After reading it through, she said, "It is Eddie. He has broken his leg and has a slight fever. He is asking for me."
Mrs. Bennet pressed a hand to her heart. "A broken leg. A fever. Well. There it is. I knew something was wrong, did I not say so, Mr. Bennet? A mother always knows."
"You said your brother was dead," said Mr. Bennet.
"I said something was wrong." Mrs. Bennet rose. "I must lie down. This has been a very great shock to my nerves. I hope the boy recovers, of course. Jane, come and sit with me."Jane followed her mother. Mary set aside her book and retired to the pianoforte. Mr. Bennet, having contributed all he considered necessary to the occasion, withdrew to his book room.
Lydia appeared in the doorway."Kitty, come. We are going to Meryton."Kitty hesitated only long enough to glance toward Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner before following her sister from the room.
"Go," said Elizabeth. "You must go immediately."
"I know," Mrs. Gardiner said. She folded the letter with the careful precision of a woman doing something with her hands because the alternative is standing still and feeling everything at once. "I had thought I might stay another few days. I had thought—" She stopped. "It does not signify what I had thought."
Elizabeth took her hands. "He is asking for you. Nothing else signifies at all."
Mrs. Gardiner looked at her for a moment, as though there were far more she wished to say than time allowed.
"Edward will come as soon as he can. I will send him the moment I reach town. Do not let them rush anything before he arrives." She paused. "And do not let your father see how much you understand. He is not a man who responds well to being understood."
Elizabeth almost smiled. "No. He is not."
Mrs. Gardiner embraced her then, briefly and firmly. Then she released her. “I shall need the carriage,” she said.
Mrs. Gardiner found Mr. Bennet in his book room. "As you know, my son is ill. Can you not spare the carriage for me?"
Mr. Bennet looked faintly inconvenienced. “The carriage is not available,” he said. “The horses are wanted on the farm. It is harvest time.”
“Then perhaps a hire from Meryton.”
“I believe the only available vehicle there is currently being repaired.”
Mrs. Gardiner looked at him for a moment. “Have you no care whatsoever for anyone beyond the walls of your book room?” she said. It was not quite a question. “Fortunately, Mr. Darcy was good enough to say, when we travelled here, that his carriage would remain at my disposal for as long as I had need of it. It seems I have need of it now.”
“Darcy's carriage?” said Mr. Bennet, looking up at last.
“He is not coming himself. He is sending his horses and his driver. You have banned the man from your property, not hisequipage. And as you cannot provide your own, I find I have very little choice.” Rising as she spoke, she added, “I trust you will not object to his carriage using your drive.”
The carriage arrived from Netherfield in rather less than the hour Darcy had promised. Mrs. Gardiner's trunk was brought down, her things assembled, and within the hour she was gone. The house soon resumed its ordinary course, though to Elizabeth it seemed quieter than before.
Some hours later, when the sound of Lydia and Kitty returning from Meryton reached the house, Mr. Bennet appeared in the doorway of his book room.
"Catherine," he said. "Come in here a moment."
Kitty followed him in and stood quietly while he settled himself behind his desk with the unhurried manner of a man conducting a routine inquiry.
"Where exactly did you find your aunt and sister this morning?" he said.
"At Hayes farm, sir. She and Elizabeth had gone to call on the tenants."
"Hayes farm," Mr. Bennet repeated. "And was there anyone else on the road?"
"It is a public lane, sir," Kitty said. "There are generally people on it."
He looked at her for a long moment. Then he picked up his book. "Quite so," he said. "You may go."
The door closed behind Kitty, and in the passage she allowed herself the smallest smile before her expression settled back into its ordinary composure and she went to find her sister.
The following morning Elizabeth rose early and went out before the house was properly awake, taking the path that curved north through the home fields and down toward the lower boundary where the land began to flatten and the hedgerows gave way to open ground. The Hayes farm sat at the far edge of it, close enough to Netherfield that the smoke from both chimneys was visible on a clear morning. The Hayes family had worked Longbourn's northern acres for generations, and Elizabeth had been welcome there since childhood.
