“Mama returned early from the shops,” Mary whispered. “She has been wondering where you are. I told her that the break in the weather can only mean you would tarry longer out of doors, but she has been growing increasingly insistent.” She led Elizabeth down the hall toward the drawing room.
“Thank you, Mary,” Elizabeth said, squeezing her hand. She felt she ought to say much more, but her sister merely smiled, pressed her cheek against the book she cradled in her other arm, and pushed Elizabeth inside the drawing room.
“There you are, Lizzy! I have been at my wit’s end with worry over you! Well, at least you are here now. Poor Jane is unwell. The good news is that Mr. Bingley insists she must stay at Netherfield Park until she is recovered.” She waved her handkerchief like a flag in a parade, her voice triumphant.
Papa turned away from the window, his hands clasped behind his back. He winked at Elizabeth. “Yes, dear, it is a tragedy for which we could not be happier.”
“I wish it was me!” Lydia whined.
Papa chuckled. “I suppose pallid complexions and red, swollen noses are the way to a gentleman’s heart.Be that the case, Jane will be engaged by the end of the week.”
“She will be if I have anything to do with it!” Mama agreed.
“But Mama, what if she is truly ill?” Mary asked.
Mother waved off her concern. “She was well enough to write. Young ladies do not die of a cold.”
Lips pinched in disapproval, Mary looked about to launch into a recital of one of Fordyce’s sermons when she seemed to think better of it. Instead, she walked stiffly to the writing desk, pulled a book from her pocket, and began to write. It was a handsome diary, and from what Elizabeth could see, Mary had already written several pages in it.Well done, Mr. Goode!
The warmth of the fire had only just begun to thaw Elizabeth’s limbs, but Jane needed her. Besides, it looked as though it would rain again soon. One soaked-through Bennet was careless, but two of them would seem particularly contrived.
Her father turned back to the window. “I hope the fields drain better than they did last year.” His comment, made without any apprehension, gave Elizabeth pause. How could he be so complacent when Longbourn was in peril? When Jane was ill and nothing was secure? He had been exceptionally agreeable to Mama since his return from London.
Elizabeth might have pondered the matter further, but she needed to leave. Mama tried to delay her departure, no doubt hoping that rain would drench her second eldest just as it had her eldest daughter theprevious day. But Elizabeth managed to keep to her original plan and leave before fifteen minutes had passed. If she gave a second glance to her reflection before donning her second-best gown with a ribbon she borrowed from Kitty, she did not tarry about it. She left Remy with the cook on strict orders to keep him indoors lest he muddy his newly washed coat.
Basket in hand full of remedies to comfort Jane and her pocket heavy with her sketchbook, Elizabeth set out at a brisk pace, one eye on the stormy clouds overhead and the other on the slippery, puddle-riddled path at her feet.
CHAPTER 9
Elizabeth was closer to Netherfield Park than to Longbourn when she heard Remy’s bark. Spinning around, she saw her loyal pet bounding in her direction, mouth open, tongue lolling?the image of a happy escapee. He wiggled and waggled around her, too pleased to be in her company again for her to remain angry with him. She ruffled his ears. “What am I to do with you, sir? You cannot go with me to Netherfield, and I am too close to turn back to Longbourn.”
He sat on a tuft of grass as though trying to convince her that he would avoid the mud so long as he could accompany her. She sighed. “I suppose I could leave you out at the stables.” Remy seemed to accept that solution. He strode ahead, occasionally looking behind him to ensure that Elizabeth followed.
It had yet to rain. Though her priority was Jane’s welfare, Elizabeth’s heart longed to return to thehunting lodge. Time was precious. One missed opportunity to paint, and her hard-won gains would be lost. The estate house had just come into view when she saw three riders and a dog—two gentlemen and a lady: The Darcys, Mr. Bingley, and Archie. Remy barked his greeting, trotting over to meet them and receiving introductions to the horses from Archie.
Mr. Bingley greeted Elizabeth with a raised hat, sliding deftly off his horse to walk beside her. Mr. Darcy also dismounted and then held out his arms a fraction of a second before Mr. Bingley did to take her heavy basket. He fell in beside them, and the three strode toward the estate.
Elizabeth’s face heated, and she struggled not to smile too widely. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy.” She hoped the party would credit her breathlessness to the exercise and the chill of the weather rather than his nearness.
Miss Darcy smiled and bobbed her head from atop her horse, wisely sparing her habit and boots from the mud.
As they could have no doubt why she was walking on Netherfield’s property with a basket full of remedies, Elizabeth overcame her embarrassed giddiness to ask, “How fares Jane?”
Mr. Bingley shook his head. “My sisters gave her a draught from our London physician in hopes that she might rest well and wake up improved, but I have it from the maid that she slept poorly. I fear the draught was ineffective.”
Jane had not written that she was so terribly ill, but she probably hid the gravity of her condition to spare her family from worry. Jane would do that; she always put everyone ahead of her own concerns.
Anxiety to see her sister quickened Elizabeth’s steps until Mr. Darcy’s firm voice interrupted her perturbed thoughts and slowed her pace. “Mr. Jones saw her this morning. He was of the firm opinion that some rest and a couple of days out of the cold would restore her health.”
Bingley frowned. “I ought not to have left her?—”
Mr. Darcy silenced him with one piercing glare. “Miss Bennet must rest. There is no need to distress Miss Elizabeth any more than she already is when the apothecary, who has known Miss Bennet much longer than we have, has assured us of her full recovery.”
Elizabeth exhaled her pent-up breath. Mr. Jones had indeed known Jane since her birth and was aware of the strength of her constitution. Of course, Mr. Bingley did not know her as well and would be overly concerned, as any attentive host would be.
“You are correct, of course.” Mr. Bingley also exhaled deeply, his demeanor brightening. “Miss Bennet cannot get the rest she requires when I fret and pace the hall and my sisters inquire after her every five minutes. My apologies, Miss Elizabeth. I did not intend to distress you.”
Although Mr. Bingley’s concern pleased Elizabeth, it garnered another disapproving look from his friend. Perhaps Mr. Darcy considered that the youngergentleman had revealed too much of his heart. If that were the case, Elizabeth resolved not to give Mr. Bingley cause to regret his candor. His honesty ought to be rewarded.
