Chapter 8

Monday Morning

2 nd December, 1811

It was a gray and gloomy sort of day, clouds heavy and leaden in the sky, a frigid sort of nip to the air and the light thin and milky. Darcy found himself grateful for the hot brick at his feet and the rug across his lap inside his friend’s well-sprung carriage. He had originally planned to ride Phoenix to Town today, but Bingley had mentioned at dinner the previous evening that he also intended to travel to London this morning and suggested traveling together. Darcy was especially glad now that he had agreed; it would be far more pleasant to sit in a warm carriage on comfortable seats than to brave the raw day on horseback.

Behind the carriage, Phoenix was blowing and stamping, weary of being tied in one place and ready to start moving. Darcy had decided to take his horse notwithstanding so that he might ride while in Town. Phoenix, he knew, would be unbothered by the cold, but the young stallion was restive being forced to wait.

He looked over as the carriage door opened and Bingley stepped up inside, worming his way under the rug. The younger man reached up to rap his cane on the roof, and with a slight jolt, they were away.

Darcy watched through the window as Netherfield Hall sank away from them. He was pleased to have a chance to talk to his friend without being overheard. He had hoped, at breakfast the previous day, to have such a chance to converse without either of Bingley’s sisters interrupting them, but scarcely had they finished eating than the party, apart from the injured Miss Bingley, set out for the small rustic church in Meryton.

Any peace Darcy had gained from the sermon fled swiftly upon their return to Netherfield. Miss Bingley had been carried downstairs to the sitting room while they were at church, and her shrill voice penetrated the main rooms of the main floor. Bingley, of course, had escaped to Longbourn directly, leaving Louisa Hurst, her husband, and Darcy to deal with the petulant Miss Bingley.

Darcy had soon abandoned the Hursts and Miss Bingley to repair to the library. He had no wish to subject himself to Miss Bingley’s incessant complaints and critique of her current locale. As sympathetic as he was to the pain of her injured ankle, his compassion did not extend to listening to her withering tongue as she turned it against each and every one of their local acquaintances.

His reluctance to listen stemmed partly from the pricking of his own conscience. In his pride, he had initially encouraged Miss Bingley’s disdain for her country company by looking down upon the locals. The seeds of his arrogance had taken firm root in the fertile soil of Miss Bingley’s conceit. Once again, Darcy found himself grateful for Charles Bingley’s endlessly amiable manner, a welcome contrast to his younger sister, and that in spite of the truth that Bingley, as son and heir, was far wealthier than his sisters.

As his mind returned to his present surroundings, Darcy looked over at his friend, whose eyes were unfocused, whose lips were curved up in a joyful smile, and asked, “Have you decided on a date for your wedding?”

“We have!” Bingley replied, turning toward him. “We will marry on the twentieth of December. The sooner we are wed, the sooner Caroline will stop complaining.”

This was not actually a surprise, given that the banns had been read for the first time the previous day, but Darcy was still taken aback. Bingley, who had been his closest friend for two years, would soon be married. Given that Bingley genuinely loved his fiancée, Darcy’s friendship with Bingley would never be quite the same. He was happy for his friend, of course he was, but he had never particularly enjoyed change, and it was no surprise that he felt a trifle downhearted.

“I know that is soon,” Bingley continued cheerfully, “but I will be honest with you – I was hoping to marry the Monday after the third Sunday of the banns. But Jane wished to wait until later that week so that her Uncle Gardiner and his family will be able to attend. He is a tradesman from London, and his business will keep him busy until at least the sixteenth of the month.”

Darcy’s stomach twisted again at this reminder of Jane Bennet’s poor connections, but he merely said, “I hope that the next weeks will pass quickly for you.”

“I doubt that!” Bingley replied with a rueful chuckle.

“What do your sisters think of the upcoming wedding?”

“Well, to be entirely truthful, I have not told them of the date yet. I informed Louisa that it would be soon, but she has been so busy running around at Caroline’s beck and call that I did not speak to her after we solidified the date.”

Darcy gazed at him with concern and said, “I pray that they are courteous to Miss Bennet when they hear the truth.”

“They had better be,” Bingley replied, his brow lowering, and then he relaxed and said, “Elizabeth will be with Jane all the time, and she is a warrior when sufficiently aroused. She will look after my bride to be. But enough of that, Darcy, we have not had a chance to discuss Mr. Wickham. Have you given further thought to that menace?”

“I have indeed,” Darcy said, and smiled dangerously. “I have indeed.”

/

Miss Bingley’s Bedchamber

Netherfield Hall

Noon

A large fire crackled in the grate, filling the room with welcome heat and light. In the chair closest to the hearth sat Miss Bingley, her skirt lifted slightly and demurely to reveal her injured ankle, which was propped on a luxuriously cushioned footstool. Doctor Davis knelt before her, carefully examining the injured limb. He was a small spare man, thin-faced, dark-haired, bespectacled, neat as a pin and with a coat cut as fine as any gentleman’s. He had ridden out from London that morning at Bingley’s behest, and for a hefty fee, to examine Miss Bingley’s injury.

The doctor sat back and Caroline relaxed back against the upright back of her chair, jaw unclenching and shoulders dropping as the pain ceased. Nearby Louisa stood wringing her hands, face drawn; the presence of injuries and pain always left her uncertain and stressed.

“Well, Doctor?” Miss Bingley demanded, straightening her back. “It is merely sprained, is it not?”

Doctor Davis regarded the lady’s bruised ankle and shook his head. “I fear that I concur with the local apothecary’s opinion. I believe that you have broken at least one bone in either your ankle or your foot. I say that based on the level of pain, and the bruising, both of which are obviously substantial.”

Miss Bingley moaned, and the physician lifted a staying hand. “In truth, it little matters whether it is broken or sprained. Even if it is merely a sprain, it is a very serious one. Regardless, the foot requires complete rest. I will bandage it, and I urge you to put no weight on it for at least another two weeks, whereupon I will return from Town and assess the situation.”

“Two weeks?” the lady cried out in distress. “Two weeks ?”

“I fear so. I suggest that you obtain crutches, which will give you some freedom of movement.”

Caroline held back tears at the thought of being carried up and down the stairs daily and of hobbling around with a crutch. She knew herself to be a beautiful woman, and her clothing was nearly the best that money could buy, but she would look ridiculous if she was forced to hop around, or stump around, or be carried by footmen wherever she went.

“I would also advise that, if at all possible, a chamber be prepared on the main floor for you, Miss Bingley,” the doctor continued, heedless of his patient’s thoughts. “The less jostling you experience, the sooner you will heal.”

Caroline could only agree and turned an anxious look on her sister, who said, “We have many sitting rooms and parlors which could be set aside for your use, dear sister.”

Caroline felt herself relax a little. “That is an excellent idea, Doctor. Thank you.”

/

Housekeeper’s Office

Netherfield Hall

The housekeeper’s office was a cozy little nook, lined with shelves and cubbyholes. Piles of neat ledgers sat upon spotless shelves, organized by date, alongside rolled paper lists, empty notebooks, pens, simple pen boxes, and bundles of tallow candles. More lists sat neatly placed across the surface of the plain oak desk, including the week’s meal plans and the shopping list. Mrs. Nicholls pulled one of the papers closer to review it. The maids’ schedules for the next several days would need to be revised, with Maggie out seeing to her ailing mother.

She had just begun this task when a tap at the door caught her attention, and she looked up as it opened and the butler entered, with Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth at his heels. The two ladies were dressed in severely practical clothing, a dove gray for Miss Bennet that made her eyes look bluer than ever, and a dark earth brown dress for Miss Elizabeth. Both ladies had pulled their hair up into serviceable buns.

The housekeeper stood quickly, nervously swiping her hands down her apron. A moment later she mentally chastised herself, what if she had just smeared ink on herself?

“Mrs. Nicholls,” Jane said, “I apologize for intruding…”

“It is nothing at all, Miss Bennet. Please do come in, both of you, and sit down. May I say how very happy I am that you are engaged to the master?”

Jane smiled gloriously. “Thank you! I am overjoyed as well. Now I hope you have time to speak with us, as Elizabeth and I wished to discuss the needs of the servants of Netherfield. Mr. Bingley has asked us to arrange for boxes for the servants and tenants for Boxing Day.”

“Oh, how wonderful!” the older woman exclaimed, taking her seat once she was assured that the Bennets were settled in their own chairs. “I am pleased to assist you in any way possible.”

“The first thing,” Elizabeth said, pulling out a small notebook, “is for us to make a list of all the servants. Mr. Bingley asked his bailiff to make a list of the tenant families for us, but you know the servants here at Netherfield better than anyone, Mrs. Nicholls.”

The housekeeper could not help the tears of gratitude which filled her eyes. She had been managing the Netherfield mansion for more than a decade and had mourned that the absentee owner of the estate, Mr. Scott, never bothered to send gifts or bonuses to the small staff which had been keeping Netherfield clean and in good order for those years.

“I am delighted to help you with that, Miss Bennet,” she said as she wiped her eyes.

/

Kitty Bennet’s Room

Longbourn

The pencil scratched slowly at the paper, sunlight glancing in the window and spreading across the small table pushed close to the curtains. A book sat open in the light, a smiling girl’s head looking up from it, with some few frocks and hats pictured. Several pieces of yet-untouched paper sat nearby, and an excellent copy of the smiling young girl was taking shape beneath Kitty’s carefully wielded pencil.

Every so often, Kitty would glance at the open History of Little Fanny spread open before her, checking some detail before returning to her painstaking drawing. She was carefully saving up to buy tops for the two young Gardiner boys, who would be joining them in a few short weeks, but she could not afford to buy more Little Fanny books for her girl cousins.

She was, however, reasonably gifted with both drawing and watercolors. So now she sat, carefully drawing duplicates of Little Fanny, her paints set nearby ready to be employed once she finished her sketching. She was certain that her young female cousins would adore the paper dolls. It was pleasant work, and she was enjoying herself, when her door suddenly banged open to admit Lydia.

“Kitty, whatever are you doing?” the youngest Miss Bennet demanded. “It is getting late, and we need to walk to Meryton!”

“I do not wish to go to Meryton,” Kitty replied quietly, setting down her pencil and turning toward her sister.

Lydia frowned in obvious bewilderment. “Why ever not? It is quite a nice day outside, and we will probably see officers walking up and down the street! Do come, Kitty!”

“I am working on my gift for the little Gardiners,” Kitty said, gesturing toward the papers.

Lydia wrinkled her nose and said, “Do not be absurd! You can do that in the evening, but now there are handsome officers waiting for us!”

Kitty took a deep breath and lifted her chin. “I do not care about the officers.”

Lydia was obviously so stunned at this pronouncement that it took her a full thirty seconds to recover sufficiently to speak. When she did, her voice was both raised and shrill. “Not care about officers? Are you mad? You and I are both going to marry a man in a red coat!”

“You may, but I will not,” Kitty replied calmly, though her heart beat fast in her chest. For many years, she had been accustomed to following her younger sister’s lead because Lydia was extremely strong willed. However, in this instance, Kitty was quite certain of her own mind.

“What?!”

“I wish for a comfortable home, Lydia, and most of the officers are poor. I would not mind marrying someone like Colonel Forster, who has a decent income, but most of the captains and lieutenants earn less than three hundred pounds a year, and I wish for more than that!”

“You cannot be serious! What is money when compared to love?”

Kitty inspected her sister from head to toe and said, “I would think that you would care; your gown, underthings, stockings, and shoes alone must cost at least ten pounds. Father makes two thousand pounds a year and has saved nothing, so we are spending hundreds of pounds on clothing and shoes and bonnets, not to mention food and servants. What is three hundred pounds a year in income compared to two thousand? Perhaps you wish to slave away cooking and cleaning and mending your husband’s clothing, but I do not.”

Lydia was now open-mouthed. “But we would not have to, Kitty! We are the daughters of gentlemen!”

“What does that matter if there is no money to pay for servants?” Kitty said irritably. “Do leave if you wish. I will stay and finish my work.”

Lydia, to her irritation, did not avail herself of that invitation. Instead, the girl stomped over to the chair closest the fire and sat down, a peculiar look on her face.

Kitty quietly turned back to her work. The Gardiners would be arriving in less than three weeks, and she hoped to have several little dresses for each paper doll head.

“You never said anything about this before,” Lydia said abruptly.

Kitty shrugged and turned back toward her sister. “There was never any point before. There were no rich men about, and the officers are enjoyable dance partners. But now that Jane is engaged to Charles Bingley – oh Lydia, if they will invite us to stay with them, we can meet all sorts of wealthy men. Just think of the opportunities for us!”

Lydia stared at her as if she had never seen her before and then stood up and wandered out of the door without another word. Kitty frowned in some perplexity; it seemed unlikely that Lydia had actually listened to her, as her younger sister rarely listened to anyone whose opinion was different from her own.

In any case, she had gone away, and now Kitty could return to her work in peace.

/

Darcy House

London

“ Feel free to enter, and I will join you in a minute, Darcy,” Bingley suggested as the two gentlemen stepped out of the carriage. “I need to speak with my driver, and perhaps you would like to spend a few minutes with Miss Darcy alone?”

“Thank you, Bingley,” Darcy said gratefully and ran lightly up the shallow steps to the front door, which opened to reveal his butler and a liveried footman waiting.

“Good evening, Mr. Birks,” Darcy said, handing over his hat and cane and coat to the footman.

“Good evening, sir. Would you…”

“Brother!”

Darcy turned just in time to keep from being bowled over as his sister rushed into the room and embraced him enthusiastically.

“Georgiana!” he exclaimed, pulling her close. “My dear, how are you?”

“So very happy, now that you are here,” his sister replied, stepping back and smiling up into his face.

Darcy looked down fondly on his only sibling. Georgiana Darcy was, at the age of sixteen, very similar in form and features to their mother, Lady Anne Darcy, who had died more than a decade earlier. She had blonde hair and deep blue eyes, and like her mother, was a tall girl. He was pleased to see that in the weeks since they had last seen one another, the bloom had returned to her cheeks. She had always been shy and uncertain, but after the near disaster in Ramsgate only a few months previously, she had withdrawn into herself like a turtle does its shell.

“I was so glad to receive your note yesterday that you were coming to Town,” Georgiana said. “Will you be able to stay for a time?”

Darcy felt a sudden stab of compunction at the pleading in her eyes and said, “This trip will need to be a short one, but I promise I will be back in time for Christmas.”

“Or Miss Darcy could visit Netherfield,” Bingley said, and the siblings turned hastily to observe the man’s smiling face. “We would be very pleased to have you.”

“Mr. Bingley,” Georgiana said, and Darcy was startled to see the joy in her face dim slightly. “I did not realize that you were coming as well.”

“Your brother was kind enough to invite me to stay here at Darcy House, though I too will not be here long. I am, in fact, intending to spend as little time as possible with my man of business, and then I will return to Hertfordshire to be with my fiancée.”

Georgiana, who had been looking uneasy, now looked startled, and then her lips quirked up in a smile of delight. “Your fiancée? You are engaged, Mr. Bingley?”

“Indeed I am, Miss Darcy, to the most beautiful woman in all of Hertfordshire! I am so very happy.”

“And I am happy for you!” Georgiana said warmly. “Very happy indeed!”