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Jane and Elizabeth Bennet were more than pleased to be on their way back to Longbourn in Mr Bingley’s coach.

The former was sad to be away from Mr Bingley, even though she knew leaving today was right and proper. She could not prevaricate and pretend to still be ill like Mamma wanted in order to remain at the leased estate until Tuesday. Jane believed that she had lost her heart to Mr Bingley since meeting him at the Michaelmas Assembly on the final Friday of September past. She had been the only woman he had distinguished with two dances that night. Each subsequent time she and her family had been in company with the party from Netherfield Park—which had been frequent—Mr Bingley would immediately seek her out and they would sit and speak, their heads close together.

Contrary to what Lizzy said, Jane did not believe that Caroline and Louisa—Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst—were against her forming an alliance with their brother. How could that be so? They were her good friends. It was due to their friendship with her that they had invited her to dine with them the evening the men were to eat with the officers. Perhaps Lizzy had been correct when she had told Jane that she should have never agreed to Mamma’s machinations and ridden Nellie to Netherfield Park instead of insisting on the carriage.

Because she had not opposed Mamma, she had arrived soaked to the skin and had all but fainted while Caroline was questioning her about her family so that she and Louisa could come to know Jane better. She had been taken to a bedchamber where she had slept the night while the rain continued to lash the windows.

The next morning, her head, throat, and chest had all pained her, and Jane could tell she had a fever. She had sent a note to Lizzy to tell her she was ill, but Jane had downplayed her sickness so Lizzy would not worry.

She had been secretly very pleased when Lizzy arrived a few hours later. No one nursed her like Lizzy did. When it was time for Lizzy to walk home, Jane had been distressed, and kind Mr Bingley had invited Lizzy to remain, to which her sister had agreed, even if it meant being in the same house with Mr Darcy, the man to whom she had taken a decided dislike.

Thanks to Lizzy’s insistence, Mr Jones had been called—Jane could not understand why her friends had not thought of doing that—and he had diagnosed that she had a bad cold. Due to his tinctures and Lizzy’s nursing, Jane had begun to heal.

The day that Mamma came to see her, with Mary, Kitty, and Lydia in tow, she had spent a few minutes with Jane. Then Mamma and her four daughters had gone to pay their respects to the residents of the estate.

Afterward, Lizzy had said she had never been so terribly embarrassed and told of how Mamma had made vulgar statements about the cost of items she had seen at the estate. On top of that, Jane had been told her Mamma had denigrated Lizzy and Charlotte while heaping praise on Jane. Elizabeth also reported that Lydia had demanded a ball, something to which Mr Bingley had agreed. According to Lizzy, before she left, Mamma had said that Jane was far too sick to be moved for some days yet, and Mr Bingley had been all that was solicitous. She also related that Mrs Hurst, Miss Bingley, and Mr Darcy had all looked rather put out. Surely Lizzy was wrong about how bad Mamma and Lydia had been and also about the reactions of her friends.

As it did not fit with how she wanted to see the world, Jane conveniently forgot that this same behaviour of Mamma’s that Lizzy had reported to her had chased three of her previous suitors away, never to be seen again.

Feeling well enough to come down to the drawing room the previous evening, Jane had enjoyed her time with Mr Bingley. This morning, as it had been the second day with no fever, Lizzy had sent a note to Papa asking for the carriage to collect them. Mamma had written back saying the horses were needed on the home farm until Tuesday at the earliest. Lizzy had requested that Mr Bingley allow the use of his carriage. He had protested it was too soon, but Lizzy had been adamant.

When they were packing Lizzy opined that remaining at the estate when Jane was clearly well would make her look desperate and grasping. Jane had agreed; hence, they were on their way home.

Elizabeth had never been so pleased to be away from anywhere ever before. Jane had been in bed for all the times Miss Caro Bingley—she called Elizabeth Eliza, so to her the shrew was Caro—and Mrs Hurst had shot their ill-disguised barbs at her. As they were not very intelligent, Elizabeth had easily deflected them and turned them around on the supercilious sisters in a way which left them wondering whether they were being insulted or complimented. Of course, when she told Jane how the supercilious sisters—especially Miss Bingley—had behaved towards her, Jane had tried to find a positive slant to explain the behaviour away.

She would have borne being with them better had not Mr ‘She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men’, hateful, proud, disdainful Darcy also been in the house. As if she needed more proof that he was no gentleman, when Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst had been rude to a guest in their brother’s home, Mr Darcy had not said a word to correct them. How could he ignore such atrocious behaviour from the woman supposed to be the hostess? An inconvenient voice spoke up in her head. ‘Neither did Mr Bingley, and they are his sisters! Would such a man protect Jane from his pernicious sisters if she became his wife?’ She shook her head to quiet the words she heard but wanted to ignore.

How could he call himself a gentleman and insult a woman within her hearing the way Mr Darcy had done the night of the assembly? The answer was simple; he was not at all gentlemanlike. Even Mamma cared not about his reputed ten thousand pounds per annum. He had insulted one of her daughters, and that was unforgiveable. The fact that Mamma had said as bad and worse herself was beside the point.

Like he did whenever they were in company together, he stared at her to catalogue more of her faults. She had heard him tell Mr Bingley and the sisters that the Bennet girls’ fortunes, or lack thereof, and connections to trade would materially lessen their chances of marrying men of any consideration and consequence in the world. Did he forget that Mrs Hurst’s—now the property of Mr Hurst—and Miss Bingley’s dowries, not to mention all of Mr Bingley’s money came from trade?

With Uncle Frank being the local solicitor and Uncle Edward owning his successful business in London, Elizabeth’s disdain for the sisters had nothing to do with how their father made his money. Had it been so, she would have been the worst kind of hypocrite. No, her dislike was rooted in the way they treated those around them, especially the disrespectful way they related to the staff and servants, and how they thought themselves better than others connected to trade. They held themselves above those born on an estate and put on airs and graces like the daughters of nobility.

The previous day, she had gone to sit in the library—if one could call a room with a dozen books on one of the shelves such—where Mr Darcy had been sitting and reading in a wingback chair. Elizabeth had taken a book and begun to read, which she had done for half an hour. Not one word had he said to her, as if she had been invisible. She had come very close to taking him to task for his rudeness, but she decided that the insufferable man was not worth the effort to do so. She had stood, replaced the book, and walked out of the library with her head held high. Not a word had the rude man said, not even a brief farewell greeting! Yes, she could have greeted him, but was it not for the man to do so first?

Returning to Longbourn was the most sensible action, regardless of how much Mamma would rail against their return; and more likely than not she would blame Elizabeth for the early departure. In a way, it had been her decision, but Jane had agreed.

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Fanny was seated in the drawing room with her three youngest daughters. Mary was reading her book of sermons while Kitty and Lydia were making over some bonnets. The Bennet matriarch felt herself nodding off when the crunch of carriage wheels on the gravel of the drive was heard.

“Kitty, look and see who it is,” Fanny commanded as she sat up straight and pulled her lace mobcap on properly.

“Mamma, it looks like Mr Bingley’s coach,” Kitty reported.

“Why would he be coming to Longbourn when my beautiful Jane is at Netherfield Park?” Fanny screeched. “My poor nerves, I hope Jane is not actually sick and is going to die.”

“No, Mamma, Jane and Lizzy are well; it is they who arrived in the carriage.” Kitty watched as the Longbourn footman retrieved the trunk with her older sisters’ clothing, and the conveyance departed. She watched until the two eldest Bennet sisters were out of her view as they entered the house.

“You must have erred, Kitty! I told Jane and Lizzy to remain at Netherfield Park until Tuesday.” Fanny huffed as the door began to open. “Why are you home?” she demanded as soon as she saw who walked into the room. “You wilful disobedient girl, Miss Lizzy! Why did you force Jane to come home? Mr Bingley would have proposed to her if not for you. You will run him off like the other suitors Jane had,” Fanny wailed.

The caterwauling brought Bennet into the drawing room. “Welcome home, Jane and Lizzy. Jane, I am pleased to see you did not die of a trifling cold in service of your mother’s machinations. It is pleasing to me that my two most sensible daughters are home.”

“I ordered them to remain until Tuesday! Today is but Friday,” Fanny moaned.

“You never commanded us to remain, Mamma. You told us the carriage was not available to collect us until Tuesday,” Elizabeth corrected. “You did not instruct us not to ask Mr Bingley for the use of his conveyance. It would have been far worse for Jane had we overstayed our welcome.” She did not say that, according to the terrible sisters, that one day had been too much.