3. Chapter Three

The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows upon the cobblestone streets of Meryton as the militia arrived with grand fanfare. Elizabeth stood by the window in Mrs. Philips' apartment, observing the bustling scene, her thoughts a mixture of curiosity and wariness. The red-coated officers rode on horseback, accompanied by the steady drumbeat of marching soldiers. Excited chatter filled the air, with the townspeople gathering to welcome the newcomers.

"My father is holding a party for the officers tomorrow night," Charlotte said, joining Elizabeth at the window. "We must attend, of course, to welcome them to Meryton."

"Indeed," Elizabeth replied, watching as Sir William Lucas waved his hat enthusiastically. "It seems our quiet village has transformed into quite the spectacle."

"Surely you must be excited, Lizzy?" Maria Lucas exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement. "Such handsome young men in uniform!"

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at the younger girl, wondering if she would maintain the same ardour when confronted with the reality of young men seeking entertainment rather than commitment. She turned her gaze back to the crowd below, feeling an inexplicable unease settle within her.

"Let us bear in mind that their presence here is primarily for our safety, not our amusement," Charlotte reminded her sister, attempting to dampen Maria's enthusiasm.

"Indeed," murmured Elizabeth, grateful for her stepmother's level-headedness.

Lucas Lodge was a lively scene of music, laughter, and dancing. The officers seemed to revel in the attention they received from the townsfolk, their boisterous energy filling the room. Their bright red uniforms added a touch of vibrancy to the scene, but their presence did little to impress the three Bennet ladies.

"Though their company is lively," remarked Charlotte, "it is prudent for us to remember that it is highly unlikely a militia officer would have the necessary income to support a wife. We must be cautious not to let our hearts be swayed by mere appearances."

"Indeed, Stepmother," Jane replied with a gentle smile. "We must always be mindful of the true measure of a person, beyond mere surface charm."

Elizabeth nodded her agreement, her gaze drifting across the room to where Mr. Darcy stood aloof, watching the revelry. His appearance certainly belied his character, she thought with a little smile. A handsome face hiding a petty spirit!

As the music began, Mr. Bingley approached Jane, a radiant grin upon his face. "Miss Bennet," he said, extending his hand, "might I have the honour of this dance?"

"Of course, Mr. Bingley," Jane responded, accepting his hand with a delicate blush rising to her cheeks. As they proceeded to join the other couples, Elizabeth could not help but observe the way Mr. Bingley's gaze lingered on Jane, his enchantment with her evident in every glance and touch. It was clear that he was more enamoured of her than ever.

"Look at them, Lizzy," whispered Charlotte, leaning closer to her stepdaughter. "Mr. Bingley does seem completely taken with Jane."

Elizabeth smiled, her heart swelling with happiness for her sister. "Jane deserves all the love and joy that Mr. Bingley can offer."

"Indeed," agreed Charlotte, "but we must not forget your own prospects either, my dear. As we have discussed, the militia officers may not be suitable, but there are other gentlemen present who could make worthy matches." She glanced meaningfully towards Mr. Darcy, who stood on the opposite side of the room, his gaze fixed on Elizabeth. "He has not taken his eyes off you since arriving, I believe."

"Oh, Stepmother, no." Elizabeth let out a small laugh. "I am not handsome enough to tempt him, remember?"

"Do you not recall that conversation we had about first impressions, and how one should not rely on them, or be too quick to judge? Unless I miss my guess, Mr. Darcy has rethought his first impression of you." Charlotte nudged her lightly and laughed. "Do not be too hasty, my dear. Ten thousand a year and a grand estate in Derbyshire deserve the benefit of your consideration, at least."

"I am more inclined to measure a man by his character than the size of his fortune," Elizabeth said, striving to match Charlotte's light tone.

"And I should never tell you not to, but only caution you to take the time to make it out properly. Something you shall never do if you do not get to know him."

Too late, Elizabeth observed Sir William Lucas approaching, Mr. Darcy at his side. Charlotte was welcoming their approach with a smile and a nod.

"Dear Elizabeth," Sir William boomed jovially. "I cannot help but notice that you have not danced with our dear Mr. Darcy yet. He has expressed a desire to dance, and I thought to present you as a most suitable partner. What do you say?"

Elizabeth smiled, even while her mind worked frantically, trying to think of a way she could gracefully decline. "Why, Sir William, I say that I am not accustomed to being asked to dance by proxy," she said lightly.

Sir William boomed a laugh, Charlotte sighed, and Mr. Darcy's already stiff posture seemed to grow even more rigid.

"Miss Elizabeth, may I have the pleasure of this dance?" Darcy clipped out.

Left with no escape, Elizabeth curtsied. "Thank you," she murmured distantly, only hoping that the dance should be a short one. Or even that Mr. Darcy might prove to be an interesting conversationalist, but it was not to be; he barely spoke until she provoked him, and then seemed more interested in provoking her in return than anything else.

When the apparently interminable dance finally ended, she curtsied to him and quickly retreated to Charlotte's side, feeling flustered and off-balance.

"Stepmother," she whispered urgently, her heart still racing from the encounter, "I cannot believe I was obliged to dance with Mr. Darcy."

"Indeed, Lizzy," Charlotte replied, her voice laced with amusement. "But do not let a bad beginning prejudice you against an extremely wealthy and influential man. Be pragmatic."

"Perhaps," Elizabeth admitted, her lips pursing in thought. "But I cannot help but feel that your pragmatism clouds your judgement when it comes to matters of the heart."

"Pragmatism has made me a very happy woman, Lizzy," Charlotte remarked gently, and Elizabeth was forced to concede the point.

Elizabeth was ten when her mother passed trying to bring a son into the world, and she well remembered Fanny Bennet's histrionic temper and silly ways. Charlotte's calmness and sensible manner had been like a breath of fresh air to Longbourn, and it had not taken long for Elizabeth to realise that Charlotte made her father far happier than ever his first wife had, even though his first marriage had ostensibly been for love and his second for practicality.

Perhaps Jane, at least, might have both, Elizabeth thought as she watched her sister dance with Mr. Bingley, Jane's angelic face aglow with happiness as she smiled at her partner. But for both of us to fall in love with wealthy men seems so far-fetched! I shall have to settle for being an aunt to all of Jane's children, and teach them to play the piano very ill.

Elizabeth laughed to herself at the thought, unaware of how her merriment enhanced her beauty and the sparkle in her dark eyes.

Mr. Darcy noticed.

And Charlotte noticed him noticing, and turned away, a smug smile on her lips she would not let Elizabeth see, lest her stepdaughter wanted to know what she found so entertaining.

A few days later, Elizabeth found herself seated in the parlour, her needlework lying forgotten in her lap as she listened to her father read aloud a letter he had just received. Mr. Bennet looked up at his wife and daughters with an expression that was a curious mixture of amusement and exasperation.

"Ah, my dear Mr. Bennet," he began, adopting the pompous tone of their cousin, Mr. Collins. "I write to inform you of my intention to visit Longbourn in the coming weeks. My esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, has impressed upon me the necessity of a respectable clergyman to have a helpmeet in life. It is my fervent hope that I shall be able to make the acquaintance of your estimable daughters, and perhaps even find among them a suitable wife."

"Mr. Collins?" Elizabeth asked, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Why ever would he wish to marry one of us?"

"Lady Catherine has told him to," Mr. Bennet replied dryly. "She seems to think Mr. Collins should make amends for the circumstances of the entail by marrying one of you."

"How ridiculous," declared Elizabeth, her eyes flashing with annoyance. "And to declare his intention to come among us and select one of us… as though choosing between different hats in a shop!"

"Indeed, Lizzy," agreed Charlotte, who had been listening quietly from her place near the window. "I believe I know how best to proceed. Mr. Bennet, it would be most prudent for you to fetch Mary from the Gardiners' residence in London. She is, I believe, the most suitable match for our cousin."

"Mary?" Elizabeth repeated incredulously, glancing over at Charlotte. "But she is hardly acquainted with him – more so than Jane and I, I admit, but she had little to say about him after they met."

"True," Charlotte conceded, her voice calm and pragmatic as ever. "However, as a clergyman, a lady of learning and piety would be the most suitable wife for Mr. Collins - qualities which Mary possesses in abundance. Moreover, she has been in London long enough to have acquired a certain polish and refinement that may serve to recommend her to our cousin."

"Very well," Mr. Bennet acquiesced, laying the letter aside and rising from his seat. "I shall make arrangements to travel to London and bring Mary back with me. Heaven knows what sort of wife she will make for that pompous fool, if she should choose to accept him, but at least we shall have done our best to accommodate his wishes."

"Indeed," Elizabeth murmured, her thoughts troubled as she contemplated the prospect of her sister being married to a man such as Mr. Collins. It seemed a cruel twist of fate that the very qualities which had always marked Mary as something of an oddity in their family should now be the means by which she might secure a husband - albeit one whose character left much to be desired.

"Take heart, Lizzy," Charlotte advised, noticing her stepdaughter's disquiet. "This may yet prove to be a fortuitous arrangement for all concerned. Mary has remarked more than once that she might like to be the wife of a clergyman. With one all but offering himself up on a platter, we would be foolish to refuse him before even giving them the opportunity to see if they should suit."

"True," Elizabeth conceded, though she could not shake the nagging sense of unease that had settled upon her. "We must simply trust that Mary will find a way to manage him - or, failing that, at least ensure that he does not make too great a nuisance of himself."

"Indeed," Charlotte agreed, her eyes twinkling with suppressed humour. "And who knows? Perhaps this union will serve to remind us all that there is more to life than wealth and influence. After all, even the most obsequious suitor cannot hope to compensate for a lack of genuine affection. Your father and I will not press Mary to accept him if she does not wish it, that I promise you."

Mr. Bennet nodded in firm agreement with his wife, and with those promises, Elizabeth had to be content.

Mr. Bennet's carriage had only just rattled out of sight, on his way to London to collect Mary, when a messenger arrived from Netherfield.

"Miss Bingley invites me to dinner," Jane murmured, reading over the message before passing it to Charlotte.

"Oh, the gentlemen are to dine with the officers. What a pity." Charlotte smiled slightly. "I see they did not include you in the invitation, Lizzy."

"Not that I should want to go," Elizabeth remarked dryly. "Miss Bingley and I have made poor impressions on each other thus far, I think. No, evidently they want to get to know Jane better, since their brother is obviously quite in love with her."

Jane blushed, and Elizabeth and Charlotte both laughed gently at her.

"Should you like to go, Jane?" Charlotte asked. "With your father having taken the carriage, and not back until tomorrow evening, you have a perfectly good excuse if you would like to decline."

"No, it is too kind of Miss Bingley to invite me to decline for such a reason! I should like to go," Jane said stoutly. "I shall ride Nellie."

"Very well, dear. But if the weather does turn – those clouds look suspiciously grey – I have no doubt the Bingleys will offer to send you back in their carriage," Charlotte said firmly. "It may feel like an imposition, but you must accept, for to insist upon staying the night would be a great deal more so."

"Oh, indeed!" Jane cried. "Thank you, Stepmother. I shall make you proud, I promise."

"You never do anything else, dearest Jane," Charlotte said, kissing her cheek. "I'll tell John to have Nellie saddled for you."

The sun shone weakly through the clouds, casting a pale, watery light upon the damp earth as Elizabeth Bennet gazed pensively out of the window. A restless urgency filled her chest, making it difficult to concentrate on anything but the news that had just arrived at Longbourn: Jane, caught in the rain during her ride to Netherfield the previous day, had fallen ill and was now confined to her bed at Mr. Bingley's estate.

"Dearest Lizzy," her hand trembled as she read aloud, "please do not be alarmed, but I find myself quite unwell this morning. I fear the damp air has taken its toll on me, and it is deemed best by both Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst that I remain here until I recover."

"Jane should never have gone!" Elizabeth exclaimed, crumpling the note in her fist. "How could we allow her to venture forth in such weather? And with the carriage away, no less!"

"Indeed," Charlotte agreed, her brow furrowed in concern. "It was a most unfortunate circumstance that the rain began much earlier than we expected; poor Jane must have been caught in it on her ride. However, we must make haste and see to her well-being."

"Quite right," Elizabeth said, determination lighting her eyes. "I shall walk to Netherfield at once and attend to my sister."

"Allow me to accompany you part of the way," Charlotte offered. "I must call in at Lucas Lodge to see my mother today."

"Thank you, Stepmother," Elizabeth replied gratefully. "Your company will be most welcome."

As they set out on their journey, the lingering moisture from the previous day's rain clung to the grass beneath their feet, leaving a trail of damp footprints in their wake. Elizabeth's heart pounded with worry for her sister, each step bringing her closer to Netherfield and the unknown state of Jane's health.

"Stepmother," she said, her voice tight with concern, "what if Jane's condition is worse than we feared? What if this illness should cause some lasting harm?"

"Take heart, Lizzy," Charlotte reassured her. "Jane is strong and will recover soon enough. In the meantime, it is our duty to care for her and ensure that she wants for nothing. Send to Longbourn if there is anything you need, and I will see it sent over at once, I will be home in an hour or two."

"Indeed," Elizabeth murmured, though her mind remained clouded with unease as she left Charlotte behind and strode onwards.

The imposing fa?ade of Netherfield loomed before Elizabeth as she approached, her heart beating faster with a mixture of trepidation and urgency. Servants bustled about the grounds, attending to their numerous tasks, and the house seemed to hum with activity. With a deep breath, she ascended the broad steps and rapped on the massive door.

"Miss Bennet," said the butler, his voice coolly formal as he admitted her, "Miss Bingley is receiving this morning."

"Thank you," Elizabeth replied, her eyes darting around the opulent entrance hall as she followed him to the drawing room. The splendour of Netherfield did little to ease her anxiety; if anything, it served only to amplify her sense of unease.

"Ah, Miss Eliza," drawled Miss Bingley upon her arrival, her tone dripping with disdain, "how very... devoted you are, to walk all this way to tend to your sister."

"Indeed, Miss Bingley, I am here to ascertain Jane's well-being for myself," retorted Elizabeth, struggling to maintain her composure in the face of such blatant indifference. "I hope she is resting comfortably, at the very least."

"Of course," Miss Bingley replied dismissively, waving a hand as though the matter were of no real consequence. "She is abed, and the physician has been sent for. Do make yourself at home, Miss Eliza, although I must say, your attire is rather damp."

At Miss Bingley's pointed observation, Elizabeth glanced down at her sodden dress, acutely aware of the muddy hem and damp tendrils of hair clinging to her brow. She flushed with embarrassment, suddenly conscious of her dishevelled appearance.

"Your concern for your sister is commendable, Miss Bennet," came Mr. Darcy's deep voice, startling her. His dark eyes met hers, and she detected a glimmer of something akin to admiration in their depths.

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth replied hesitantly, her pulse quickening at his unexpected praise. "I would do anything for Jane."

"Indeed," he said, his gaze never leaving her face. "If there is any assistance I might offer, please do not hesitate to ask."

"Your kindness is most unexpected, sir," Elizabeth stammered, taken aback by his offer. "I shall keep it in mind."

"Very well," he nodded, before taking his leave with a quiet determination that left her feeling both bewildered and strangely reassured.

As Elizabeth hastened to her sister's side, she could not help but puzzle over Mr. Darcy's sudden change in demeanour, nor could she shake the feeling that she had just glimpsed a hidden facet of his character that few were ever privy to. Her heart swelled with gratitude, even as her thoughts remained clouded by concern for her dear Jane.

The mellow morning light streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow upon the room where Elizabeth sat by Jane's bedside. Her fingers deftly smoothed the damp cloth across her sister's forehead, her heart swelling with affection and concern as she watched the rise and fall of Jane's chest.

"Excuse me, miss," a maid said from the doorway. "Mrs. Bennet and Miss Mary are here."

"Stepmother!" Elizabeth exclaimed, rising from her seat as Charlotte entered the room with Mary in tow. "Mary, you have returned! How glad I am to see you both."

"Elizabeth, we were most anxious to learn how Jane fares," Charlotte said, her brow furrowing with worry as she took in Jane's flushed features.

"Not well at all, I fear. The doctor has been, but he says she is a good deal too ill to be moved. She was quite feverish in the night." Elizabeth herself had slept little, sitting by Jane's bedside, trying to comfort her sister as she tossed restlessly, or coax a few sips of soothing tea between Jane's cracked lips.

"Poor Jane." Charlotte touched Jane's hot brow, shaking her head. "Well, I daresay I shall have to go and speak to Miss Bingley and see if she is willing to extend Netherfield's hospitality to Jane a while longer. And you, Lizzy? I know you well enough to be sure you will not leave Jane until she is better."

"Indeed I will not."

"Would you like me to stay with you?" Charlotte offered.

Elizabeth hesitated, glancing at Mary, who had spoken scarcely a word since greeting her. Mary looked well, dressed in a more flattering gown than her usual dull brown attire, with her hair prettily arranged. "No. You should be at Longbourn, preparing for our guest." Preparing Mary for her potential suitor, she meant, and Charlotte nodded, understanding the unspoken message.

"You are very capable to take care of Jane, dearest, but if you need me, send at once."

"I will," Elizabeth promised, knowing Charlotte would come, in the middle of the night if need be. "Jane is resting quietly for the moment; come, let us go downstairs and inform Miss Bingley that we must impose on her a while longer. And introduce Mary to everyone, of course."

"Oh, I… I could stay here with Jane," Mary offered quickly, clearly not delighted with the idea of meeting a group of strangers, but Charlotte shook her head to deny the request.

"Time you met our neighbours, Mary," Charlotte said quietly, and though Mary sighed, she also bowed her head in resignation.

"You look very well, Mary," Elizabeth said, linking her arm through Mary's as they made their way downstairs. "How did you find our uncle and aunt Gardiner?"

"They are so kind." A smile broke across Mary's face. "And our dear little cousins! Anna was forever begging me for another music lesson."

"How familiar that sounds," a deep voice said as they reached the bottom of the stairs, and both girls started to see Mr. Darcy emerging from a passageway. He made them a polite bow. "I do beg your pardon, I did not mean to startle you. It was only that what you said sounded so familiar… for the last few years, I have been constantly hearing my sister Georgiana beg me for more music lessons!"

Elizabeth gave him a pert smile. "And you have indulged her, Mr. Darcy? Certainly, according to Miss Bingley's accounts of Miss Darcy's accomplishments, you must have."

He bowed in response, eyes flicking to Mary, and Elizabeth felt her cheeks flush. "Mr. Darcy, please allow me to present my sister Mary, who is lately returned from visiting some relatives in London. Mary, this is Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, in Derbyshire."

"And how is your other sister, Miss Bennet?" Mr. Darcy inquired once the formalities were observed. Genuine concern etched his features.

"We are just about to speak to Miss Bingley about Jane, sir," Charlotte said. "Perhaps you would care to come into the drawing room with us and hear what Lizzy has to say about Jane's condition?"

"I would be honoured, Mrs. Bennet." Mr. Darcy made her a little bow, and indeed followed them into the drawing room. A little puzzled, Elizabeth watched him from the corner of her eye as Charlotte greeted the gathered Bingleys and Hursts and presented Mary to them.

"Another Bennet!" Caroline Bingley let out a false little trill of laughter. "Gracious. However many are there of you?"

"I have two more daughters, Miss Bingley, but they are too young to be Out in society and are presently away at school in Oxford," Charlotte replied equably.

"Well." Caroline seemed to be trying to think of something to critique in that statement. She settled for a little toss of her head instead. "And how does the eldest of your multitude of daughters do?" From the tone of her voice it was evident she did not care in the slightest how Jane was, and Elizabeth gritted her teeth.

"Jane is not well at all, I am afraid," Elizabeth said. "Doctor Jones has said that she is too ill to be moved at present."

"Miss Elizabeth," Bingley interjected, stepping forward from his position near the door. "Please do not trouble yourself on that account. I insist that your sister remains here at Netherfield until she has fully recovered. You have my word that she shall receive the utmost care and attention."

"Thank you, Bingley," Charlotte said, her tone and expression genteel and grateful, while Elizabeth nodded in earnest agreement. "Your kindness is much appreciated."

With their concerns momentarily assuaged, Charlotte and Mary took their leave. Turning back from the front door after seeing them off, Elizabeth's keen ears caught the sound of raised voices coming from the drawing-room.

"Goodness," Caroline Bingley's voice dripped with disdain, "I must confess that I find it rather tiresome to have our home turned into an infirmary."

"It will be an infirmary for as long as Miss Bennet needs it!" Mr. Bingley's voice was emphatic.

"Mr. Darcy, surely you must agree that there is nothing worse than undesired houseguests," Caroline said plaintively, obviously seeking an ally. "Especially ones with relations in trade."

"Miss Bingley," Mr. Darcy responded, his voice firm, yet calm. "I believe that the bond between sisters is something to be admired – the devotion and concern that Miss Elizabeth shows for her sister is a testament to the strength of their relationship, as is the fondness of Mrs. Bennet and Miss Mary. I only wish my own sister was blessed with such loving sisters." He paused a moment before adding, "And if I had objections to those with relatives engaged in trade, I would never have befriended your brother."

Caroline's retort died upon her lips, unable to withstand the weight of Mr. Darcy's words. Elizabeth, who had been listening in silent astonishment, felt a mixture of gratitude and confusion wash over her. Mr. Darcy's praise of herself and her family, and his setdown of Miss Bingley, was wholly unexpected, and yet it warmed her heart, even as she struggled to understand his motives.

Elizabeth stood by the window in Netherfield's library, her thoughts lingering on Mr. Darcy's praise of her family as she watched Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley riding their horses away from the house. It was a notion she could scarcely comprehend – that he, who had once looked upon them with disdain, should now speak highly of their bonds, even as Caroline Bingley sought to denigrate them.

"Miss Eliza," a voice called from behind her, and she turned to find Caroline Bingley entering the room. The woman's mouth was pursed in disapproval, an expression she seemed to wear whenever she looked at Elizabeth. "I must say, I am surprised you would abandon your sister's side for even a moment. Surely, you cannot think it proper to leave her unattended?"

Elizabeth smiled serenely, her composure unwavering. "Your concern is touching, Miss Bingley, but I assure you, Jane is presently resting, and I have been advised to take a brief respite, lest I become ill myself. We would not wish to trespass upon your generous hospitality any longer than need be."

Caroline Bingley's eyes narrowed. "Indeed," she said after a moment of fraught silence, but even she would not be so rude as to tell Elizabeth to her face that moment could not come too soon. Instead, she turned on her heel and swished out of the room, leaving Elizabeth alone to browse the meagre selection of books Netherfield's library had to offer.