She had a pair of canes now, and though it annoyed Lydia when something she had dropped was put away in the last place Lydia would ever look for it, which is to say, where it belonged, Elizabeth ensured that the floors were always clear of any obstructions which might trip Jane.
All instructions, except for the unachievable demand for quiet, which Mr. Thompson gave them were minutely studied and carefully executed. A new servant whose job was specifically to follow Jane around and help her had been taken on.
Mr. Bennet did not caviled at all upon the extra cost. However, perhaps he had been affected by the anxious worrying upon money that Mrs. Bennet had plunged into since Bingley abandoned Jane and Elizabeth refused Mr. Collins. At any rate, he had encouraged one of the footmen to take a new place that was offered at another estate, and he had not replaced him.
He also had sold off several valuable books he had collected over the years, reduced the clothing allowance of the girls, and refused to allow Mrs. Bennet to purchase a particularly fine fish for a dinner that they had thrown for the neighborhood.
Papa was also setting a small fund aside for Jane’s support after his demise, and Elizabeth was pleased to see her father exert himself, even though it would require many years for him to set aside enough for Jane to survive off of the income.
After only a few stabbings of the finger, Jane found she was as able to thread a needle and embroider or knit as well as ever. When shewashome, rather than tramping the many country walks around about, Elizabeth sat next to her reading aloud.
This was congenial to both, as Elizabeth preferred reading to knitting, and Jane had always preferred knitting to reading.
It was a pretty day at the end of November.
Elizabeth had already enjoyed her early morning ramble, escaping a morning of listening to the bustle and noise of the apartment. Lydia and Kitty shouting, Mama complaining, Mary loudly but incompetently practicing.
This day she had returned rather earlier than she might have preferred, as they were at an interesting point in the novel she was reading to Jane, and she sat next to Jane to read to her. As Papa had a particular interest based on a conversation with Sir William in gaining a familiarity with the novel that Elizabeth was reading, he had joined them, and he often interrupted her reading to argue about the lack of plausibility in the characterization of the heroine.
Elizabeth could not quite decide if her father’s presence in this case was a pleasant happy thing, or an annoyance which she could do well without.
After she had read for twenty minutes that day, Lydia exclaimed from where she sat by the window, boredly watching the world, “A carriage is coming up the drive! I cannot imagine who this could be, I do not recognize the carriage, but it is a chaise and four.”
Mrs. Bennet shuddered. “No unexpected visitors! No! I’ll not have it again. The last time such a visit arose, it was Mr. Collins, and now he is to marry Charlotte Lucas, even though everyone agrees she is quite ugly, and they’ll throw us into the hedgerows as soon as Mr. Bennet is cold in the grave.”
“My dear,” that gentleman replied, arising from where he’d sat by Elizabeth and Jane, and going to the window himself to examine the visitor and his carriage, “I have determined upon outliving you all, by at least a year or three. This includes Mr. Collins. So you are not to — the deuce, Mr. Darcy? Jane, was he also a suitor of yours?”
Elizabeth rushed to the window in time to see him settling himself on his crutches, and beginning to swing himself with that quick pace the crutches allowed him towards their front door. He did not look up, as he always carefully watched the ground when he took steps.
A tall figure, well dressed, using mahogany crutches.
Mr. Darcy.
The sound of his knocking echoed faintly in the drawing room, and then before Elizabeth had time to prepare herself emotionally to see him, he was introduced to the room.
How he moved always fascinated Elizabeth. That combination of confidence with partial incapacity. The strong neatly trimmed hands, how he lifted himself up on the crutches, swung both legs forward, and then moved the crutches again ahead of himself and repeated.
Just a few times, and he’d reached the middle of the room.
“Why, Mr. Darcy!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed to him. “There was no notion on my part that you were yet in the countryside. I had believed you in London — are you here because Mr. Bingley has returned to Netherfield? I would be very happy if that—”
“My apologies, madam, but there seems little chance of that. Mrs. Bennet, Mr. Bennet, might I have an opportunity to speak to your daughter, Miss Elizabeth, in private?”
His face was pale, but determined.
“Speak toElizabethin private?” Mrs. Bennet sounded out the words, as though they were some difficult piece of French or Italian that she could not parse. “But why?”
“Yes, why.” Mr. Bennet sardonically raised his eyebrows, and he studied Mr. Darcy, looking him up and down with a critical eye. “But in any case, I do not make a practice of interfering with the private business of my daughters, not if there is any hope that I can avoid doing so — Lizzy, have you any objection to such an interview?”
She shook her head mutely as she studied Mr. Darcy. Their eyes met, her stomach twisted in an odd mix of anxiety and pleasure, and he tried to smile at her but could not quite.
“Well, Lizzy, was that a yes, or a no, or you cannot decide?” There was something rather annoyed in Papa’s tone, but Elizabeth could not care about any such thing at this moment.
“I am wholly happy to listen to anything Mr. Darcy may wish to say to me.”
She could see something in his pose relax at the way she said that.
“Well then, no reason to remain. Let’s get out of the room, eh.” Mr. Bennet helped Jane up who looked rather worried and groped with her hand to squeeze Elizabeth’s shoulder.
