Chapter Five

M r. Darcy congratulated himself on having managed to avoid the assembly. Miss Bingley had offered – though he considered it more a threat – to remain at Netherfield to keep him company. He had simply told her that he would be in bed and preferred to be there alone. She had turned bright red and had abandoned the topic immediately. He had, in fact, spent the evening in the library alone, staring at the mostly empty shelves.

But there had been something of a disturbance yesterday. Miss Bingley had invited a young lady she had met at the assembly to come to dinner, while he and Mr. Bingley were out having dinner with some officers. The young lady in question, a Miss Bennet, had evidently elected to arrive on horseback, despite the threat of rain, and had consequently – though not surprisingly – come down with a cough and a headache.

Mr. Bingley had been very upset upon hearing this, as this young lady was evidently his newest lady-love. Mr. Bingley had inquired as to the whereabouts of the nearest apothecary, and a Mr. Jones had arrived, visited the patient, and diagnosed a bad cold. She should not be moved, Mr. Jones had said, sternly, and must be permitted to remain at Netherfield until she was quite well.

Mr. Darcy had not paid much attention to any of it; a sick young lady in one of the bedrooms was no concern of his. He doubted he would even meet her.

He had gotten through the dinner with the officers the previous night and had gone riding with Bingley this afternoon; he had then retired to his room, pleading a return of his headache. He had avoided spending any time at all with Miss Bingley, though he knew, of course, that he would be required to join his host and hostess in the drawing room before dinner, headache or no. He took a deep breath, allowed Crane to brush imaginary lint from his trousers, and made his way downstairs.

When he entered the drawing room, he saw a young lady he had not yet met. She was wearing a pale blue dress that provided a striking contrast to her shining dark hair and large dark eyes. A pretty thing, he thought, absently.

Miss Bingley introduced her as Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Evidently, she was at Netherfield to nurse her elder sister, the young lady who had come down with the cold.

Mr. Bingley enquired, anxiously, "And how do you find your patient, Miss Elizabeth? Dare I hope she is improved?"

"She is still quite feverish, I fear," was the reply. Her voice was low and very pleasant, Mr. Darcy thought, unlike Miss Bingley's high-pitched and seemingly incessant screech.

Then he heard the screech. "All that from a little rain? I would have thought country people a rather hardier species." Miss Bingley's voice was not kind.

Elizabeth just looked at her for a moment. Finally, she simply said, "Jane is the daughter of a gentleman."

And that was all. But that, Mr. Darcy realised, managing to suppress his smile, was all that she had needed to say. If the Bennets were indeed the daughters of a gentleman, then they were of a higher social sphere than the Bingleys. This young lady had reminded Miss Bingley of that fact in just seven words, thereby putting an immediate end to what would doubtless have been a distasteful conversation. He silently applauded the young lady's cleverness.

Miss Bingley frowned and quickly changed the subject, speaking at length about events she had attended in London, new fashions, the latest on-dits, how Lady Such-and-Such had spilled tea onto Lord So-and-So. Mrs. Hurst occasionally chimed in, but otherwise it was a monologue, and a tiresome one at that, as no one else in the room had the slightest interest in such nonsensical goings-on.

When Miss Bingley paused to draw breath, her brother leapt in, saying, "Miss Elizabeth, I am eager to learn about my new neighbors here in Meryton. Will you tell me something of them?"

Elizabeth was happy to oblige. She began with the Lucas family, explaining that Sir Lucas had received his title directly from the King, as a result of a speech he had given when His Majesty had visited the small town in which the Lucases had lived before moving to Meryton. She spoke of the Lucas family's affability and kindness, not excepting her dearest friend, Charlotte.

She went on to describe the Gouldings as being so kind to their servants that positions in that household were highly coveted and never relinquished.

The Longs made it a point, she said, to drop off baskets of foodstuffs to the poorer folk of the town, but always under cover of darkness, for they could not bear to have their generosity recognised.

Mr. Darcy listened in astonishment, wondering if he had stumbled into the kindest village in all of England, but soon realised that Elizabeth was talking about the good she had found in her neighbors, rather than the bad . The contrast between Miss Bingley and Miss Elizabeth was so striking that he found himself shaking his head in amazement. He was well-accustomed to the Miss Bingleys of the world; he had never before encountered a Miss Elizabeth.

When they were called into dinner, Miss Bingley again dominated the conversation, speaking about the superiority of her wardrobe, her connections, and her accomplishments. Mrs. Hurst gave her attention to her plate, Mr. Hurst to his glass, and Bingley just looked absent-minded. Mr. Darcy hoped that Miss Elizabeth would speak again, that he might once more have the pleasure of hearing her voice, but she remained silent.

Elizabeth excused herself immediately after dinner, saying that she would spend the remainder of the evening nursing her sister. She thanked her hostess politely, curtsied and departed; she had scarcely left the room before Miss Bingley began attacking her guest's appearance and character.

Even Mr. Bingley had finally heard enough, and he bade his sister be silent. Miss Bingley flushed an ugly red, but held her tongue for the remainder of the meal.

***

Jane was asleep when Elizabeth crept into her room. Elizabeth had suspected this would be the case, but had been happy to cite tending Jane as an excuse to leave such unpleasant company. Be fair, she chastised herself. It was only Miss Bingley who was unpleasant. Mr. Bingley was pleasant enough, and Mr. Darcy was…well, it was hard to know, for he had scarcely said a word.

Elizabeth thought she might read to Jane when she awoke; perhaps she could make her way downstairs to Netherfield's library without encountering anyone.