Elizabeth smiled faintly. “I shall take my chances.”
Mrs. Bennet, meanwhile, had already begun planning aloud. “Yes, Lizzy, you must go and report back on Jane’s condition. And if she must stay longer, well! It can only be to her advantage. She will have the opportunity to further endear herself to Mr. Bingley. Oh! What if he insists on nursing her back to health himself? What a charming romance it would be!”
Elizabeth barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “I hardly think Miss Bingley would allow that.”
Mrs. Bennet sniffed. “Miss Bingley may as well resign herself to the inevitable. Mr. Bingley likes Jane—I could see it in his eyes! And now he has the perfect excuse to dote on her. And with one daughter so well situated at Netherfield, we will no longer be in danger of the hedgerows when your father is gone.”
“But Mama, the Gardiners have already promised they will be of assistance to us,” Elizabeth protested.
“Only if your sisters behave, though.” Mrs. Bennet glared at her younger two. Kitty looked abashed, but Lydia frowned spitefully. “With Lydia’s lively spirits, I am certain Mr. Gardiner will change his mind. If she does not learn to hold her tongue and behave properly, we may all be turned out into the hedgerows after all!”
Lydia scowled. “I do not see why I must be the one to change. You are all so very dull, sitting around and discussing who should behave this way or that way. If I were at Netherfield, I would bring far more life to the place than Jane ever could.”
Elizabeth arched a brow. “Yes, I imagine Miss Bingley would love that.”
Lydia tossed her curls over her shoulder. “Well, she is no fun at all! I would be far more entertaining than she is.”
“You would be far more something,” Mary muttered under her breath.
Mrs. Bennet threw up her hands. “Oh, enough of this! Lydia, you will mind your behavior, or I shall have your aunt take you in hand again.”
Lydia shrank back at the warning, and Kitty let out a soft snicker.
Elizabeth, meanwhile, turned back to her mother. “Regardless of Miss Bingley’s feelings, Jane would not want to be viewed as an invalid any longer than necessary. I shall go in the morning and see how she fares.”
Mrs. Bennet nodded, but her eyes sparkled with excitement. “Yes, and do make note of everything! Tell me how Mr. Bingleylooks at her, whether he inquires after her comfort, whether he—”
Elizabeth sighed. “Yes, yes, Mama, I shall do my best to observe everything of importance.”
With that settled, Mrs. Bennet finally allowed the subject to drift toward other matters, though Elizabeth suspected she would not hear the end of it until Jane returned home—with or without a proposal in hand.
Chapter 9
Elizabeth glowered down at the mud caked on her hem - it had to be at least six inches deep up her petticoat. With every step along the path to Netherfield, she could feel the damp fabric clinging to her legs, heavy and cold against her skin. Each squelching footfall only deepened her frustration. If Jane had not been injured, she might have been able to laugh at the absurdity of her predicament, but as it was, her concern for her sister dulled any amusement she might have found.
Well, it is a good thing I do not particularly care about what those harpies think of me.
She could already imagine Miss Bingley’s disdainful gaze sweeping over her muddy skirts, her lips pursed in that superior way she had perfected. No doubt she would make some cutting remark about country manners or unfashionable resilience.
Let her try,Elizabeth thought with a smirk.If a bit of mud is enough to scandalize her, I shall have to resist the urge to kick off my boots and make it even worse.
As she neared Netherfield, a movement in the side garden caught her eye. A tall figure, clad in a dark cloak, was walking along the gravel path, hands clasped behind his back.
Darcy.
He was dressed more casually than she had seen him before, his coat unbuttoned as though he had just returned from a walk. His hair was slightly tousled, and for the first time, she thought he looked less severe, less like the imperious figure from the assembly and more like the man she had met in London—exhausted, yes, but capable, controlled. As she approached, his dark gaze flickered to her hem, then to her face, his expression unreadable.
“Miss Elizabeth.” He inclined his head in greeting.
Elizabeth ignored the warmth curling through her at the sound of her name on his lips. “Mr. Darcy. I have come to inquire after my sister. How is she?”
“I confess to being in complete ignorance. I have yet to break my fast, as I wished to take advantage of the fresh air.”
“Yes, the morning after a rainfall always makes it easier for Kitty to breathe as well. I believe it is the damp in the air.”
He hesitated. “The herbs you have provided seem to have helped as well.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I am truly glad to hear it.”
