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“In the carriage, of course. Dear Mamma, you must have noticed the rain,” said Elizabeth.

“Indeed, but I did not know when she departed.”

“Not long before you arrived home, Mamma. If she had ridden horseback, she would certainly have been wet through,” Elizabeth answered.

“That is a shame she did not, for then she would be forced to stay the night.”

Mrs. Bennet was therefore entirely pleased later in the evening when the coachman returned without Miss Bennet, bearing a note for Elizabeth. Tearing it open, she read:

My Dear Eliza,

I write to tell you that Miss Bennet began to feel unwell shortly after her arrival hither. It is clear to us that the damp air must have given her a chill. My sister and I, naturally, were very much concerned about your dear sister, and were most anxious that she remain here. It did not seem at all proper to let her depart in such a state.

Should her condition not improve, we shall send word immediately. Do not trouble yourself to come at once; she is resting comfortably, and we are doing all we can to see her made well with all possible speed.

Yours ever,

Caroline Bingley

“My poor, dear Jane!” Then, her expression shifted, a familiar glint appearing in her eyes. “But to be so well-cared for at Netherfield! It is wonderful, is it not?”

“Wonderful?” Elizabeth looked up from the letter. “She is ill, Mamma.”

“Worrying is the word I should choose,” said Mrs. Ellington.

“Oh, it is a trifling cold! And to be in such good hands. It is all very well. Indeed, if I could have the carriage tomorrow, I should go at once to see her.”

The carriage was not to be had the next day, for the horses were needed in the fields. Mrs. Bennet was thus deterred from visiting, but Elizabeth was not. Silently, she resolved to visit Jane, even if it meant that she must go on foot.

Chapter 8

The prospect of a note from Netherfield made for a restless morning. Though Jane’s health was Elizabeth’s chief concern, she could not deny another, more unwelcome source of disquiet: the memory of Mr. Darcy’s discerning gaze at Lucas Lodge. He had seen everything, she was certain of it. It was absurd to expect a message before breakfast, but that did not stop her pacing the hall, starting at every sound from the drive. When a note was at last delivered, the news within was far from pleasing.

“She shall be well, Lizzy,” soothed Mrs. Ellington. “I am sure she is receiving wonderful care.”

“I wish to visit her and ascertain that for myself, dear cousin,” Elizabeth replied, before asking her parents for the use of the carriage.

“I am quite sorry, Lizzy, but after allowing your sister use of it yesterday, the horses are needed today.” Her father did not even look up from his papers as he spoke.

“Then walking is my only alternative,” declared Elizabeth.

“Certainly not!” cried Mrs. Bennet. “You shall not be fit to be seen.”

“I shall be fit to be seen by Jane, which is all I care about.”

“You might ride Nelly,” suggested Mary. “I am sure she is not needed.”

Mr. Bennet gave a snort at the very idea of the stubborn, elderly mare being any help. “Certainly, she is not. You may ride Nelly if you wish, Elizabeth.”

“I would much prefer to walk, Papa.” Elizabeth never had been a great horsewoman, and although she could ride, Nelly in particular never seemed to do as Elizabeth requested, even unseating her on occasion. She would likely arrive a greater mess if she rode than if she did not.

“You might bring a change of garments, then, my dear,” suggested Mrs. Ellington. “Then you can change upon your arrival and be fit to be seen by all in the household.”

Elizabeth agreed to this, as well as Mrs. Ellington’s further suggestion that she allow one of the servants to escort her to Netherfield. Given this, she also took the longer route to Netherfield, for she could not imagine them enjoying the tedium of crossing the muddy fields at a lady’s pace. Even with such precautions, her hems were splattered with mud upon arrival, and she was glad to have a clean gown to change into.

Upon arrival at Netherfield, Elizabeth was shown into the library, where all but Jane had gathered after breaking their fasts. Her entrance, though expected, elicited exclamations from Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, who were amazed at her decision to walk three miles so early in the day and in such weather. Yet Mr. Bingley greeted her warmly, expressing his delight at her arrival to care for Jane. Mr. Hurst offered little more than a nod, thoroughly engrossed in his tea. Mr. Darcy was the true source of Elizabeth’s unease. She was certain he knew of Lydia’s indiscretion at Lucas Lodge. Each perfectly courteous phrase seemed to mask a hidden condemnation of her family.

Her inquiries after her sister were not very favourably answered. Jane had slept poorly, and though now awake, was feverish and too unwell to leave her bed. Elizabeth was relieved when Miss Bingley offered to show her to Jane’s room. Jane, who had only been withheld by the fear of giving alarm or inconvenience from expressing in her note how much she longed for such a visit, was delighted at her entrance, though such emotion could only be shown through a weak smile. After Miss Bingley left them alone, Jane told her sister how thankful she was for the exceptional kindness she had received.