One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy (5 page)

Chapter Six

Summoned to Netherfield

T
he Bennet family, but for Jane, had all gathered for tea when the sound of horse hoofs pounding down the drive caused them to suspend their conversation in order to listen more carefully. The steady rain that was falling muffled the sound, but there was no mistaking the neigh of the horse as the rider reined to an abrupt halt. The pounding at the door roused them from their momentary trance, and they collectively jumped up to make their way to the door, which Mrs. Hill had opened to reveal a rain-soaked man in a black cape. Mr. Bennet worked his way past his wife and daughters to accept the letter and invited the man to wait for a response.

He opened the letter, raising it high; the shadows of the women who had gathered around him blocked his light. With a loud “Ahem,” he began reading the missive silently. He turned to the messenger and said, “Tell them we will come at once.” With a silent nod, the man was gone. The door slammed behind him, the sound of the hooves fading quickly as the man sped away.

Fear filled the eyes of Mrs. Bennet as she cried out. “What? What has happened? Is it my sister?”

Mr. Bennet called for Mr. Hill, ordering the carriage to be brought to the front of the house with haste. He then turned to his wife. “Fanny, please sit down.” He took her by the hand and guided her to her chair, and when she was properly settled, he began, his countenance grave. “Jane,” he began slowly, “has suffered a fall.”

Mrs. Bennet began to wail. “My Jane! Oh no, my Jane! What is to be done, oh, what is to be done?”

“She was taken to Netherfield,” Mr. Bennet continued, “and is in the care of Mr. Jones, the apothecary.”

Mrs. Bennet was suddenly silent, and with a sniffle, she asked softly, “Is it very bad?”

Mr. Bennet considered his words carefully, for he knew that should he phrase the answer badly, his wife's nervous maladies would create havoc at Longbourn.
 
This would most certainly not be conducive to Jane's recovery. “It is serious. She lives, although she cannot be moved.”

“I must go to her!” Mrs. Bennet cried out, beginning to weep.

“You must not go to her.” Mr. Bennet was stern. “Longbourn requires its mistress. Lizzy will come with me to Netherfield, to assist with Jane's care. You and your nerves will remain at Longbourn.”

“But I am Jane's mother!” Mrs. Bennet protested weakly. “Lizzy will not know what to do for her. I
must
go, for no one else will do.”

Mr. Bennet frowned. “I am resolved, Mrs. Bennet. Lizzy, go and get a few things. We will send more to you tomorrow. You may be at Netherfield for some time.”

Elizabeth did not look at her mother. “Yes, Papa.” She pushed past her sisters and ran to her room, hastily packing a day's worth of clothing in a bundle. Racing back down the stairs, she heard the familiar clatter of the carriage outside as it was brought to the front of the house.

~*~

Their arrival at Netherfield was marked by end of the storm, with enormous rays of light breaking through the clouds in all directions as if to defy that anything in the world could be amiss. Elizabeth would normally relish such a sight, but her heart was heavy, and she was anxious to be with her sister.

Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth were taken immediately to the bedchamber where Jane was resting. Mr. Jones invited Mr. Bennet to speak privately in the outer hall, as Elizabeth ran to her sister's bedside. Caroline Bingley was sitting in a chair near the window of the room and addressed Elizabeth quietly. “I am sorry, Eliza, for dear, sweet Jane. She is not herself, and we are all most distressed.”

“Not herself?” Elizabeth asked with alarm, for Jane, who had not yet said anything to her sister, appeared reasonably well. Elizabeth scanned Jane again, who had several visible scratches and a large swelling on her head, but was otherwise unmarked by the accident.

“You will see,” Caroline replied as she stood to leave. “I will have your dinner sent to the room, so you may stay with your sister.”

“Thank you.” Elizabeth said as Caroline quit the room. “You are most kind.”

Mr. Bennet entered the room as soon as Caroline left it, and standing at the foot of the bed, addressed his eldest daughter. “Jane, I see that you are awake. How are you feeling, my dear? You have given us all quite a scare.”

“I am sorry to have caused so much trouble, Papa. I fear that I suffer from dizzy spells, and my head aches most exceedingly, but other than that there is nothing much,” Jane spoke softly but clearly. “I hope this has not distressed Mama too much. Tell me, will our Easter preparations be delayed?”

“Lizzy, I would speak to you in the corridor for a moment.” Mr. Bennet said as Elizabeth's jaw dropped in dismay at Jane's question. “Jane, we shall return in a moment.”

Mr. Bennet related to Elizabeth that which Mr. Jones had said to him about Jane's condition. Upon arrival at Netherfield, she had suffered from an attack of some kind, convulsing and vomiting profusely. She had been in a state of confusion from the moment of her fall, which is not uncommon with a blow to the head according to the apothecary; it was important that she be humored in order to keep her quiet.

She should be awakened every few hours, and plied with as much tea and broth as they could persuade her to take.
 
She was to remain in bed and not be moved until she was recovered. As the swelling on her head lessened, her condition should improve, unless a fever set in. If this occurred, she should send word to Longbourn immediately. The apothecary had brought some preparations to administer for pain, but there was nothing to be done for her other symptoms. When his recitation was complete, Mr. Bennet returned to the room, bid his goodbyes to Jane, and departed, leaving Elizabeth alone with her sister.

Elizabeth sat by Jane's bedside and tenderly took Jane's hand. “Lizzy,” Jane said, “where am I? This room is most strange.”

“You are at Netherfield.” Elizabeth said.

“Oh, then I am at home.” Jane sighed happily. “Send my husband to see me, for I would be in far more comfort if he were here.”

“Jane, you are not married.” Elizabeth said, frowning.

“What has become of Charles?” Jane asked drowsily with a childlike pout.

Charles, Elizabeth knew, was frantically pacing the hallway outside, as agitated and worried as she had ever seen any man; he had hovered close when her father had spoken to her. She had seen the look in his eyes, a look of desperation and regret, and he followed her with a look of longing when Elizabeth had re-entered the room. He had given away much in his vulnerable state. Elizabeth was convinced in those short moments that Charles Bingley had formed a deep attachment to her sister.

“He is near.” Elizabeth soothed. “He cannot come to you now, but he is near.”

“Then I shall see him?” Jane closed her eyes. “Tell me when he comes home, Lizzy. A husband needs a proper greeting from his wife.” Jane relaxed and dozed off.

Elizabeth watched her sister sleep, wondering what Jane had said to Caroline, or to Charles. She set about to tidy up the room when the incessant sound of footsteps in the hallway stopped. She went to the door and opened it a crack. She saw Charles leaning up against the wall, his head against one of his forearms as his shoulders shook. She considered retreating inside the room, pretending she had not seen it, but, overtaken by compassion, she stepped into the hallway.

“Mr. Bingley,” she spoke softly. “Jane will be well. You shall see.”

Charles stood up with a start and turned slowly to face Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet.” The cheer that usually graced his features was gone, replaced with melancholy. “I did not know.” His head sagged.

Elizabeth mentally rehearsed what Jane had said to her and wondered what Jane had said before she arrived. Had Jane revealed her feelings in her confused state? Elizabeth pressed her lips together as she shook her head subtly. He continued speaking, “I knew, of course, that she was to dine at Netherfield today with my sisters,” Charles explained, “but had I known that she was to come on horseback....” He looked past Elizabeth at the door to the bedchamber, and repeated. “I regret that I did not know.”

“Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth reassured him again, “Jane shall be well, and you must know that you are not to blame.
 
This is
not
your fault!”

Charles nodded. “It is nearly time for dinner. I will check again on Miss Bennet later.”
 
Elizabeth nodded her assent and turned to go back into Jane's room.

“Miss Bennet.” Mr. Bingley said, as if another thought just occurred to him. “Do you know what your sister wants to name her first child?”

Elizabeth turned slowly. “Mr. Bingley? Why do you ask such a question?”

“Do not be alarmed, Miss Bennet, I mean no offense. Your sister said something to me as we carried her to the house after her fall that I have not been able to set aside. I thought perhaps you could help me reconcile it.”

“I fear that I cannot help you, Mr. Bingley, for I do not know the answer. You will have to ask Jane when she is better.” Elizabeth opened the door and returned to her sister.

~*~

The night was long for Elizabeth. Although Jane slept fitfully, Elizabeth slept not at all. She dutifully roused Jane several times to make her sip some tea and provided tender comfort when Jane muttered and moaned.

When morning came, Elizabeth went to the adjacent room for just a few moments to wash and change before returning to be with Jane. When she entered the room, she saw that a breakfast tray had been brought but did not at first notice the man standing near the window, for he had pressed himself backwards into the draperies when she had entered the room.

“Good morning, Jane.” Elizabeth said cheerily as she sat on the side of the bed right next to Jane. “Open your eyes, my dear, for it is time I had a proper look at you.” She combed Jane's hair lightly with her fingers as Jane made a feeble protest to awakening. “You are not nearly so frightful as you could have been—your beautiful face is barely scratched and will heal soon enough, although I can see some bruising today as well. You will undoubtedly make the peacock colors of a bruise look so appealing on a person that all the ladies of the neighborhood will wish that they could be injured too.” Elizabeth's teasing tone disguised her concern, for the swelling on Jane's head had not improved.

“Lizzy,” Jane said softly, “I have such a headache. Close the curtains, I pray you, for I cannot open my eyes in this light.”

“Of course.” Elizabeth had herself opened the curtains at dawn, knowing how much Jane preferred rooms filled with sunlight. She felt foolish for not realizing that Jane's injuries might cause her to be sensitive to it, and she hastened to amend her error. It was at that point that the figure of a man stepped forward from within the curtains.

Chapter Seven

Managing Mr. Bingley

E
lizabeth jumped at the sight of him, startled to see Mr. Bingley in Jane's room, but fortunately she caught herself before she made any sound; although she stared in shock for several seconds before proceeding to hastily close the curtains.

He stood before her, smiling shamelessly. He looked over at Jane, clearly quite as pleased with himself as a child caught sneaking a spoonful of jam too late to be stopped. Elizabeth put her hand up to her mouth, signaling him to be silent, and quickly crossed to the doorway, hoping to send him away unnoticed by the household. She peered into the hallway and beckoned him to come. He nodded and tiptoed halfway across the room when Jane's eyes fluttered open and she weakly said, “Charles? Charles, you are here at last. Will you not sit with me now that you have come?”

He stopped walking but looked beseechingly at Elizabeth. Elizabeth shook her head and motioned toward the door, indicating that he should hurry. He hesitated only for a moment before moving to Jane's bedside where he sat in the chair that her sister had previously occupied. He tenderly clasped Jane's hand and, looking earnestly into her eyes, said, “I am here.”