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“Is your head feeling better?”
I looked at Mrs. Bennet in surprise. “Yes. Much better, I thank you.”
She must have read my confusion for she said, “My sister frequently has megrims and I recognized the look on you last night.”
Ah. I nodded, embarrassed I had been so easily read. Though perhaps it was better they knew I had a headache rather than think me rude. It was odd for me to care about the opinions of strangers, but these were Bingley’s neighbors, and I was making a friend of Mr. Bennet. Yes, that must be why I cared.
I brought myself back to the current conversation as Mrs. Bennet was re-introducing her daughters. The dark haired one with the bright eyes was Miss Elizabeth. The skinny blonde was Miss Mary. I nodded at each of them and continued my conversation with Mrs. Bennet. Thankfully, it consisted of simple topics about the neighborhood and what sport we planned to indulge in.
Bingley finally noticed my presence and we took our leave, though I had the oddest sensation as I was walking out the door. I chanced to look at Miss Elizabeth and she had the strangest look on her face, as if she knew me. Her eyes bore straight through my façade of politeness and read every one of my ill-considered thoughts. I had the sense she was laughing at me behind those bright green eyes, and I turned away and hurried out the door.
8
Elizabeth
Theweekaftertheassembly, we were invited to a gathering at Lucas Lodge. I planned to attend until Mrs. Allums sent a boy to Longbourn asking for me that morning. There was a travailing woman at one of the farms at Haye Park, and she was having a difficult time. I quickly threw on my assistant clothes and my mother kindly offered to drive me over in her gig. She was going to visit her sister anyhow, or so she said.
The laboring woman was indeed in a bad way and by the time she was safely delivered, my family was on their way to Lucas Lodge. I stayed with the babe until the sun began to dip below the horizon. He was not strong, though he was large. Something ailed his heart, I thought. When I placed my hand on his abdomen, it fluttered strangely beneath my palm. I spent a full hour working on him. By the time Mrs. Allums drove me home in her cart, I was so exhausted I could hardly sit up.
The sun was nearly set, but it was just light enough to see by as we passed through Meryton. An expensive carriage passed by us, not giving way in the slightest and clearly expecting us to move aside, though we were exposed to the elements and their passengers were safe and warm inside the box.
I scowled at the vehicle as we waited for it to pass, silently cursing the ridiculously rich who thought they could do what they liked with no regard for others. To my surprise, my scowl was returned by the disgruntled face of Mr. Darcy. He stared out the window with a look of supreme irritation. Whether it was directed at me or the evening in general, I could not say.
Regardless of the direction of his ire, it was easy to discern one thing: Mr. Darcy was not a happy man.
Darcy
This day had been interminable. What was I saying?Thisday? More like this entire week! Miss Bingley had been a thorn in my side since I arrived at Netherfield. I could not understand why Bingley had made her his hostess instead of Mrs. Hurst. She was the elder sister and more experienced by far. She was also significantly more agreeable.
I imagined Miss Bingley badgered him into it like she did everything else.
The woman was incorrigible! I could go nowhere in Netherfield that she did not follow. If I went to the library, she offered to find me a book. Not that it would be difficult to choose amongst three dozen titles. If I wrote a letter in the sitting room, she offered to mend my pen. If I attempted a walk in the gallery, she latched onto my arm and clung for dear life, walking at a pace more suitable to ninety-year-old grandmothers than twenty-one-year-old women. If I mentioned riding, she offered to accompany me and show me the best places, though she knew less about the estate than I did. It had gotten to the point that I sent my valet into the corridor to ensure the way was clear before I left my room!
I had never appreciated the position of a fox in a hunt before, but I found myself suddenly sympathetic.
As if Miss Bingley’s stalking was not enough, I had spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I had no idea why. We had spoken two sentences to each other when I visited her home last week. Perhaps that was it. She did not fawn or pursue my company, but neither did she hide and shy away. She was neither frightened of me nor in pursuit of me. She simply was.
It sounded terribly arrogant to say so, but I could not recall the last time I had known a woman who behaved thusly. Excepting married women and family, of course. There were probably some ladies somewhere who had done the same, but I could not recall them. They had likely not caught my interest. In fact, I could not think why Miss Elizabeth had caught my attention either. I was slightly intrigued by the way she looked at me when I left Longbourn, but that was hardly enough to warrant this level of notice on my part.
As I pondered this strange turn of my own mind, I finally realized why she intrigued me so. She was the young lady at the assembly who had fallen into me! I knew there was something familiar about her. I had simply not been able to place it. Very well. Now I knew what had caught my attention, I would be able to put her out of my head.
***
Blast it all, she was not at the Lucases’ party this evening. Her parents and sisters were there, but she was nowhere to be found. Not that I was looking for her specifically, but she was not among any of the people I saw. Though when we were driving home, and Miss Bingley was going on about her superiority again as she so enjoys doing, I saw a girl in a cart driven by an older woman. They were likely tenants on one of the farms nearby, or perhaps a shopkeeper’s wife and daughter, but the younger woman bore a striking resemblance to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
I took this ridiculousness to mean I needed fresh air and exercise, and before retiring that night, I asked Bingley to join me on an early morning ride.
For all his lack of determination in dealing with his sisters, Bingley knew how to direct a mount. He was an excellent horseman. We rode for over an hour across the pastures and beside a small river that ran along Netherfield’s southern border. We had slowed to a gentle walk, relaxed and filled with the good humor only exertion can bring, when we came upon a group of ladies riding towards us.
“Good morning, Miss Bennet!” cried Bingley.
“Good morning! Are you enjoying your ride?”
Miss Bennet approached with two other riders slightly behind her. I recognized the middle rider as Miss Elizabeth, and the one in the blue habit as her younger sister, Miss Mary. It was in the bright morning light that I realized Miss Elizabeth’s hair was not brown as I had previously thought, but a deep auburn. It looked like flames were dancing through it in the sunlight and I soon found myself staring.
Soon they were lined up in front of us, the two blondes bookending their redheaded sister, and I could not help but think they looked like fire in the middle of a snowstorm, lined up as they were. They were quite a pretty picture, the three of them, and I finally understood why everyone spoke of the Bennet sisters’ beauty in such glowing terms.
Bingley had continued speaking to Miss Bennet as I ruminated, and I did not notice Miss Elizabeth moving her horse closer to me.
