Mrs Bennet gave an impatient sigh. "Netherfield is scarcely three miles away, and Jane is not made of sugar. Should the weather turn, Miss Bingley will insist that she stay the night which would be no bad thing. All will be well." There was such satisfaction in her voice that the purpose of the horse became plain. Jane coloured and looked down at her plate, while Kitty and Lydia began to laugh.
???
Later that afternoon, Elizabeth followed Jane into the hall and helped settle the collar of her riding habit, smoothing it firmly into place as if, by gathering it around her sister tightly enough, she could protect her from any meteorological event. Beyond the open door, the air was cool and damp, though it had not yet developed into rain. A fine mist hung over the drive anddarkened the gravel, while the heavier clouds still appeared some distance away.
"You need not go," Elizabeth said quietly.
Jane smiled and pressed her hand. "Netherfield is not far, Lizzy. I shall be there long before the weather turns. Please don’t worry yourself."
The groom helped Jane mount, and Elizabeth remained beneath the portico as her sister crossed the drive and disappeared between the trees. Mrs Bennet watched her go with bright, eager attention, one hand pressed to her chest as though Jane were setting out upon some grand romantic adventure.
"She looked very pretty," she said, more to herself than Elizabeth. "And if the rain does begin, they will be obliged to keep her. Mr Bingley cannot fail to be struck by her. Nothing could be more fortunate."
For the next half-hour, the weather did little more than threaten. Then the sky darkened to an angry purple and the rain began in earnest, beating against the windows and sweeping across the fields in dark sheets. Mr Bennet came out of his study and peered out of the parlour window, concern beginning to darken his features.
Mrs Bennet remained in her chair beside the fire, humming softly as she bent over her embroidery, apparently quite content with the turn the weather had taken.
Elizabeth stood abruptly. Fear for Jane had been tightening in her chest since the first heavy drops struck the glass, and her mother’s cheerful unconcern was suddenly more than she could bear. "I hope that when Jane dies of a fever, you will both be entirely satisfied with this nonsense." Her voice broke on the final word. Before either of them could answer, she rushed from the room.
???
The next morning found Elizabeth marching to Netherfield. Her anger and urge to get to Jane had propelled her through the first mile. But by the time Elizabeth reached the boundary of Longbourn, mud clung heavily to her boots and pulled at the hem of her gown. Her feet were soaked and each step along the muddy path was frustrating and laborious.
A note had been delivered to Longbourn as the family sat at breakfast to say that Jane was unwell and suffering from a fever. Mrs Bennet had started crying noisily, Mr Bennet had looked perturbed and said nothing, while Elizabeth simply stood up,collected her walking things and left the house without another word.
The message had been written by Miss Bingley rather than Jane herself. That troubled Elizabeth more than she cared to admit. Miss Bingley had explained that Jane was too weak and unwell to write comfortably, that everything possible was being done for her and that Elizabeth would be welcome at Netherfield whenever she chose to come. The final line had been pressed hard enough into the paper to leave its shape upon the other side.
Please come. I believe she wants you.
As the house came into view beyond the wet fields, Elizabeth slowed. Netherfield rose pale against the dark sky, its windows catching what little light had broken through the clouds. The quickest path crossed one final meadow before meeting the drive, but the rain had left a broad stretch of standing water between her and the stile. She gathered her skirts higher and was considering the least disastrous route through it when the sound of a horse approaching made her turn.
Mr Darcy rode towards her along the edge of the field. He appeared not to recognise her at first beneath her damp bonnet, but then his posture altered sharply and he brought the horse to a halt several yards away. "Miss Elizabeth?"
There was so much surprise in his voice that Elizabeth looked down at herself. Mud covered her boots and reached almost to her knees, while the wind had pulled several curls free and blown them across her face. She pushed them back with one gloved hand and attempted an air of cool civility. "Good morning, Mr Darcy."
He dismounted at once. "Has something happened? Are you injured or unwell? Pray, are you unattended?" He looked around as if expecting to find a liveried footman trudging after her.
Elizabeth ignored his questions. "My sister is unwell. Miss Bingley sent word this morning that she had passed a difficult night. I am here to see her."
Concern replaced his surprise. "I knew Miss Bennet had taken cold, but I had not understood that she was so ill." His gaze travelled over Elizabeth's mud-spattered gown. "You have walked from Longbourn?"
"Mr Darcy, I would walk through fire or flood for my sister. A little mud will not deter me. Now, if you will excuse me, I must get to her."
She moved to pass him, but a shiver ran through her. As she stood still, the cold seemed to seep into her bones. Mr Darcy's hand closed lightly around her upper arm before she had taken more than a step. "You are cold."
The touch lasted only a moment, but the warmth of his palm seemed to pass through the wet fabric of her sleeve. Elizabeth looked down at his hand in surprise, and he released her at once, his expression tightening as though the contact had startled him as much as it had her.
"I am perfectly capable of reaching the house," she said, though her voice had lost some of its force.
His eyes moved once more over her dishevelled clothes and hair, but there was none of the disdain she had expected. If anything, he looked unsettled by the sight of her. "The ground is badly flooded near the stile," he said. "There is a firmer path along the hedge."
Elizabeth looked in the direction he indicated. It was not much of a path, but it appeared less likely to swallow her boots entirely. She made some effort to soften her tone. "Then I am fortunate you happened upon me before I attempted the direct route."
The faintest colour rose into his face. "Allow me."
He took hold of his horse's reins and led the animal along the hedge, keeping his pace slow enough for Elizabeth to follow. For several moments neither spoke. Their last conversation had ended with Elizabeth rebuking him before half the assembly, and the memory of it seemed to hang between them.
When they reached the stile, Mr Darcy opened the narrow field gate beside it and led his horse through. The ground beneath the gate had been churned into a deep mire, but a strip of firmer earth remained beside the stile. He closed the gate, secured the latch and crossed back towards her.
