Page 12 of Most Truly the Gentleman

They were remarkably eager to speak to Jane, Elizabeth noticed, and especially when Mr Bingley had been with her for more than a quarter hour. Jane would not hear her cautions that their overtures of friendship might be insincere, however, and so Elizabeth resolved to watch and wait. Never had she seen such a promising inclination as existed between her elder sister and their new neighbour, and if it was within her power to foil any attempts to separate them, she would act.

When Miss Bingley invited Jane to join her and Mrs Hurst for dinner on an evening during which the gentlemen would be dining with the officers, Elizabeth forbore from suggesting that the timing was suspect. Jane was puzzled that they had invited only her, and not Elizabeth, citing the ladies’ early resolve to befriend them both.

“Yes, Jane,” she had replied with a laugh, “they did say as much, but it seems I am not to their tastes, for I have hardly had a word from either of them since! Do not trouble yourself over it; you know I am not greatly enamoured of their society, either.”

Mrs Bennet was not about to lose the opportunity of putting her eldest in Mr Bingley’s path, however, and upon noting some promising clouds, she insisted that Jane go to Netherfield on horseback, hoping that a storm might keep her there overnight. Elizabeth protested, but Mr Bennet would not check his wife, and Jane was sent off on Nellie less than a quarter hour before the rain began to fall.

On receiving in the morning a note from Jane advising the family that she had contracted a fever from getting wet through the previous day, Elizabeth resolved to go to Netherfield Park and attend her. Accordingly, she set out through Meryton and thence across the fields, heedless of the mud which spattered her hems and sucked at her boots.

Her appearance in the breakfast parlour at Netherfield caused some consternation among the ladies within; Mr Bingley’s sisters could not imagine what she meant by coming. Their brother, however, was delighted to see her; Mr Darcy greeted her with grave courtesy, and the colonel, with warmth. Mrs Nichols was swiftly summoned, and within a few minutes of entering the house she was shown into her sister’s room.

Jane was unwell, to be sure, though not gravely so. She was feverish and had slept poorly as a consequence, but her mind was not addled, and her appetite was fair. Thinking that Jane would benefit from a healing tonic, she asked Mrs Nichols if Mr Jones, the apothecary, might be summoned, and was pleased to hear that Mr Bingley had given his housekeeper authority to call upon anyone who might assist Miss Bennet.

Jane was too weary for much conversation, so Elizabeth attended her with cool cloths for her brow and such little comments as might cheer her. After breakfast, Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst visited. Though Elizabeth was certain they did not wish for their brother to become further enamoured of her, they were all kindness to her face, and Elizabeth thought a little better of them for it. Mr Jones soon arrived and pronounced the affliction a violent cold, which he had seen about the area, and sternly warned that Jane must rest, lest she risk its growing very much worse. He left her with some draughts; his warning was soon proved correct when her fever rose and her headache increased as the day wore on.

Miss Bingley most reluctantly invited Elizabeth to remain at Netherfield when it became clear that they could expect no significant improvement in Jane’s condition that day. A servant arrived from Longbourn with a trunk for Jane and Elizabeth, just in time for Elizabeth to ready herself for dinner. She noted with some exasperation that Jane’s best day and evening gowns had been included; how her mother imagined they might be put to use with Jane confined to bed, she could not say.

The moment she descended for dinner, Mr Bingley was before her, earnestly enquiring as to her sister’s well-being. He was dismayed to hear that she was no better, and pleased to learn that Mr Jones had been called; he averred that anything or anyone of benefit to Miss Bennet would be sought at Elizabeth’s slightest suggestion. Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst spoke carelessly of how shocking it was to be ill and how intensely they disliked it. When Jane was not before them, they seemed to have little care for her. Mr Darcy and his cousin showed their good breeding by expressing their own concern for Jane, albeit less intently than their host, while Mr Hurst’s attention could not be drawn from his glass long enough to partake in any conversation about her illness.

Once they were all seated at the table, Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst made it their business to claim the whole of Mr Darcy’s attention, while Mr Hurst addressed his energies solely to his meal, leaving Elizabeth to be entertained by Mr Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam, an arrangement which suited her perfectly well. She had released her former dislike of Mr Darcy, though she remained too uncertain of his character and disposition to feel a real warmth for him, but she had no desire to interact with the ladies beyond what civility demanded of her as their guest. Her host and the colonel she knew to be excellent company, and throughout the whole of the three courses, they conducted a lively, wide-ranging conversation, pausing only for food and laughter.

Mr Darcy, she noted through a series of discreet glances, seemed far less entertained by his devoted companions. He answered them with a word or a nod whenever he could, his gaze often drifting to the more energetic trio. His expression was too inscrutable for her to determine whether he looked because he wished he might join in with their talk, or simply because their animation drew his notice.

Immediately after the meal, Elizabeth left them to return to Jane. She did not move quickly enough, however, to fail to hear Miss Bingley pronounce her manners to be ‘very bad indeed’. She shook her head; the irony of the woman—her hostess!—who had said not a single word to her over the meal claiming that another’s manners were faulty was not lost on her. She would bear the ladies when she must, for her family’s credit, her sister’s happiness, and the gentlemen’s comfort, but she did not envision a future in which she would learn to really like them.

8

A STAY AT NETHERFIELD PARK

Miss Bingley, ably assisted by her sister, was intent on pointing out every supposed flaw she had seen in Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Her manners, her conversation, her style, her appearance were all found gravely wanting. Bingley attempted to defend her when they exclaimed over her appearance that morning with dirty petticoats, but they ignored him, as they so often did. Miss Bingley then turned to Darcy and asked if he would wish his sister to make such a display.

“Certainly not,” he replied, and she began speaking again before he might continue his thought, which featured the fact that his sister would always have a carriage or a mount available to her, for he was able to keep a large stable and several vehicles, unlike the more modestly-placed Mr Bennet. Furthermore, if his sister were through some bizarre circumstance without a conveyance and chose to walk across the fields to assist a relation, he would never censure her for it.

“To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and quite alone! It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum.”

“It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing,” said Bingley, beginning to appear rather agitated.

“Even if the dress is ruined, I expect Miss Elizabeth would count it a trifling sacrifice, in service of being present for her sister in her illness,” Darcy’s cousin commented.

Mrs Hurst tittered. “I cannot but imagine that the loss of a single dress might be a very great one, in her situation.”

“Even more laudable, then, that she should risk it for her sister’s comfort,” Fitzwilliam replied easily, though Darcy sensed a bite behind the words.

Miss Bingley protested that she herself was extremely fond of Miss Bennet, speaking with feigned sorrow of her lack of wealth and connexions, which must prohibit her being settled as she deserved. Bingley attempted to defend the sisters, declaring that if they had many merchant uncles instead of one, he would find them no less agreeable.

“But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world,” Darcy pointed out. It was true, and he thought his friend, in the throes of infatuation, was not paying sufficient attention to the practicalities. Bingley might easily end up responsible for the whole noisy lot of Bennets, all on the strength of a pretty face and a ready smile, if he did not soon begin to consider such things. He looked to his cousin, certain he would support Darcy’s position.

Fitzwilliam, however, was slowly shaking his head. “A man of consideration in the world,” he said with a little smirk, “can afford to marry where he pleases. Oh, he may come in for some tutting and finger-wagging from the sticklers, but what can that matter if he has chosen a lady who delights him? When one has wealth enough for security, the next thing to be sought must be happiness.”

No one else liked that opinion at all, except, it seemed, for Bingley, who declared that it was the most sensible thing he had heard this last hour.

The next day brought a slight improvement in Miss Bennet’s case, and this drew Mrs Bennet to Netherfield along with her three other daughters. Having ascended to the sickroom to inspect her eldest, she descended once more, all the others in tow, including a pink-cheeked Miss Elizabeth, to declare to the company that her second daughter had been entirely ridiculous to suggest that Jane might be moved that day or the next. She nattered on for a time about how sweetly and bravely Miss Bennet bore her illness, before turning the conversation to praise of Bingley. She held forth on this subject for a full ten minutes, broken only by a few pointed comments directed at Fitzwilliam about how her Lydia was so lively and pretty, just the sort of girl a soldier should like to come home to after a gruelling day of marching and drilling.

Darcy saw his cousin struggle to conceal his amusement at this display, though he himself could find no humour in it. Really, the woman was intolerable! Shrill, manipulative, and grasping, characteristics he could not abide in anyone. Miss Elizabeth attempted to restrain her, to little effect. The youngest two girls were also ill-mannered and hoydenish. The youngest of all had the temerity to tax Bingley with his casual mention, on the night of the assembly, that he might throw a ball at Netherfield, twisting it into a promise.

Bingley, agreeable and generous soul that he was, readily conceded that a ball would be just the thing, and declared that the arrangements would commence as soon as Miss Bennet was recovered. This seemed to satisfy the girl, who commented that some officer or another, presumably a favourite, should have returned from town by then.

Visibly contented with the results of her efforts and Miss Lydia’s, Mrs Bennet gathered up her three youngest daughters and departed. Miss Elizabeth, blushing, made her excuses and retreated upstairs to attend her sister. Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst lost no time in excoriating the behaviour of the visitors. Though Darcy agreed with much of what they said, he held his tongue, for to agree with Miss Bingley was to encourage her delusion that she would, one happy day not long in the future, be Mrs Darcy.