His Good Opinion: A Mr. Darcy Novel (6 page)

Bingley, who had remained silent while Darcy read, finally said, "By the smile on your face, I trust the letter contains good news."

Darcy folded the paper and placed it in his breast pocket. "Indeed, Bingley."

"Perhaps I may impose on your good mood then. Colonel Forster has invited us to dine with the officers tonight. Of course I will go, but I would be glad of your company."

Normally Darcy would refuse such an invitation. He had nothing against the Colonel, but some of his officers had proven less genteel. Today, however, his mood was complacent. "I believe I will join you, Bingley."

"Join Charles where Mr. Darcy?" said Miss Bingley, who entered the room just in time to hear that last pronouncement. "Surely not at Colonel Forster's, for I know how little you care for such coarse manners."

"Nevertheless, I do mean to dine there tonight."

Her attempt at a pout looked more like a grimace. "But what of Louisa and me? We will be left quite alone if all the gentlemen are gone, for Mr. Hurst intends to go as well."

"Invite Miss Bennet to share the evening meal with you," Bingley suggested. "I am sure she would be willing, and you have said you enjoy her company."

Irritation flashed quickly across his sister's face, but she had no choice but to agree. A servant was dispatched with a letter for Miss Bennet shortly before the gentlemen left.

The evening passed much as Darcy had expected, coarse company with worse manners, but the food was surprisingly good. Colonel Forster reminded him a great deal of Richard, and between him and the two gentlemen there soon subsisted an easy camaraderie which made Darcy willing to overlook the roughness of the general party.

"Well, Darcy?" Bingley inquired when they were on their way back to Netherfield. "Was the evening as objectionable as you anticipated?"

"I admit, Bingley, it was not."

"Indeed not," Mr. Hurst interjected, with far more energy than he usually displayed. "I have not seen a better level of card play since entering the neighborhood."

Darcy leaned back against the carriage seat. "That is hardly surprising, sir. From what my cousin has told me, militiamen often have little to do in the way of regular duties. With so much time on their hands, of course they develop an aptitude for cards."

Mr. Hurst snorted. "Aptitude! Devilish skill is more like it. Bingley, if we ever have the opportunity to invite them to Netherfield, I should like a chance to play again with Mr. Denny in particular."

"I am sure Caroline would be delighted to host a true party," Bingley said. "I will ask her about it tonight."

However, they found Miss Bennet still at Netherfield when they arrived, and her presence drove all else from Bingley's mind. She smiled at them in apology when they entered the house. "I am so sorry to impose, but I wonder if I might borrow your carriage, Mr. Bingley. I am afraid I did not anticipate the rain, and rode over on horseback."

Her dismay caught even Darcy's sympathy, and Bingley tripped over his words when he invited her to stay the night instead. "Then when morning comes, we will send you on home."

When morning came, however, it was clear to everyone that Miss Bennet would not be going anywhere. The dampness in which she had been forced to remain for the whole of the previous afternoon had settled in her bones, leaving her with a chill and a nasty cough. Bingley insisted on calling for Mr. Jones, the local apothecary, and Miss Bennet was equally insistent that she must send a letter to her family, letting them know what had become of her.

After those messages were sent, the party sat down to breakfast, sans Miss Bennet, who had been made comfortable in her room. They were just finishing their coffee when a footman entered and cleared his throat. "Miss Elizabeth Bennet is here, sir," he told Bingley.

"Well, show her in."

The gentlemen rose when Miss Elizabeth entered, dressed in a gown whose soiled hem told plainly that the road was still wet. Then she brushed a wayward strand of hair from her face, and Darcy saw her eyes, bright with exercise, and her loveliness banished all other thoughts from Darcy's mind.

His sudden awareness of her caught him off guard, and he moved to the side of the room, where he could observe her freely. Her windblown hair clung to her cheeks in a most beguiling fashion, and he realized with a start that she was one of the handsomest women of his acquaintance.

"I am sorry to trouble you so early," Miss Elizabeth said, and Darcy's attention was drawn to her lips. "I received a note from Jane. Please, is she very ill?"

Concern added a note of sweetness to her voice, and the disdain Darcy heard in Miss Bingley's reply set his teeth on edge. "Do not trouble yourself with the time, Miss Eliza. It is quite natural you should come to see your sister."

"Jane is not well at all," Mrs. Hurst provided. "She slept ill, and as you can see, she was not well enough to leave her room."

Worry darkened Miss Elizabeth's eyes. "Is she feverish?"

Miss Bingley nodded. "I am afraid so."

Bingley walked toward Miss Elizabeth and took her hands in his. "We have called for Mr. Jones," he said comfortingly. "I have hopes he will tell us our concerns are exaggerated and that Miss Bennet will be returned to health in a few days' time."

Elizabeth managed a weak smile. "Thank you. May I see her?"

Miss Bingley rose from her seat. "Of course, Miss Eliza. I will take you to her room."

The ladies moved toward the stairs, and as Miss Elizabeth left the room, it was evident that the back of her petticoat was coated in mud. The thought of a lady walking such rough roads alone bordered on indelicate.
Was it quite necessary for her to expose herself to the elements, just to visit her sister?

"I believe we must find some way of amusing ourselves today, gentlemen." Bingley's voice cut into Darcy's thoughts. "If we remain indoors, we will only get in the way."

Darcy was very willing to absent himself from the house and the disconcerting effect of Miss Elizabeth's presence. "Hertfordshire offers excellent hunting."

"A capital suggestion, Darcy. Mr. Hurst, will you join us?"

The lazy gentleman grunted his assent. His wife said, "Caroline and I will, of course, spend most of our day with the Bennet sisters."

"I trust you to treat them both with every politeness," Bingley said. The plans for the day were shared with Miss Bingley when she returned, and then the gentlemen departed to change.

They gathered in the entryway fifteen minutes later, dressed in warm hunting clothes. A footman held the rifles and a bag to carry any birds they might hit. Bingley opened the door, and the early November sunshine seeped into the house. "Are we ready, gentlemen?"

Darcy and Hurst nodded, and they set out for the wooded area which surrounded Netherfield on three sides. From their rides across the property, Darcy and Bingley knew of a small pond where they might conceivably find fowl.

Their destination was approximately thirty minutes away on foot, over some rather steep hills. For Darcy and Bingley it was but an easy walk, but Hurst was puffing when they reached the water's edge. "Is this it?" he said, disappointment clear in his voice.

"It is." Bingley gestured for the footman to hand out rifles, but though Darcy readily accepted one, Hurst held up his hands in refusal.

"I think not. I have no intention of standing here in the shade on a cool November afternoon, with nothing to do but wait for a bird to appear." He surveyed the area and then pointed to a large tree on the bank. "There is a spot of sunshine; I am going to sit down for a rest. That walk left me entirely fatigued." He was asleep within moments, and Darcy and Bingley shared a look of amusement.

However, it did not take Darcy long to realize Bingley did not have much more interest in the hunting than did his brother-in-law. Birds came and went without Bingley's notice, and of the ones he shot at, he missed more than he hit. After his fifth missed shot, Darcy said, "Where are your thoughts, Bingley? For it is clear they are not here."

His friend smiled sheepishly. "You have caught me, I am afraid. I am worried about Miss Bennet. Do you think Mr. Jones has been to visit her yet?"

Darcy raised an eyebrow. Though it was plain to everyone in the neighborhood that Bingley preferred Miss Bennet, this was a new level of solicitude. He glanced at the sun and judged it to be mid-afternoon. "We should return to the house to change for dinner. Perhaps you will be able to inquire after her."

Bingley brightened. "Yes, let us. Hurst, are you ready?" They roused the gentleman and the whole party returned to the house, where Bingley immediately set out to find someone who could tell him the state of Miss Bennet's health.

That evening as he dressed for dinner, Darcy considered once again the Bennet ladies. He had escaped to the privacy of his own rooms when they returned to the house, and he had not heard anything about the apothecary's visit. He eyed his valet in the mirror and finally said, "Vincent, how does Miss Bennet fare?"

Vincent took a step back. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy?"

Darcy flushed lightly. He was well aware his question was outside his normal behavior. He did not encourage gossip among his servants, and he never participated in it.
But I need to know if she...
"Come, man. I know you are aware of what goes on in this house. How ill is Miss Bennet?"

Vincent narrowed his eyes, and Darcy forced himself not to squirm under his servant's examination. "She has caught a violent cold, as was to be expected," he said finally. "Miss Elizabeth would go home, but Miss Bennet was so concerned when she announced her departure that Miss Bingley invited her to stay." Vincent snorted. "I do not imagine she enjoyed that."

Darcy's brow wrinkled in a frown. "Why would Miss Elizabeth not wish to stay, if her sister is truly ill?"

Vincent raised an eyebrow, and Darcy realized he had referred to Miss Bingley. He nodded to show he understood, though this was every bit as confusing as what he had first believed.
Why would Miss Bingley begrudge giving every consideration to her sick guest?

Vincent said no more, and Darcy respected his circumspection, though he felt he had missed something. A few minutes more, and he was ready to go down for dinner.

When Darcy exited his room, he heard the quiet snick of a door closing on the adjacent corridor, where he knew Miss Bennet's room was. Unwilling to encounter Miss Elizabeth on the stairs, he waited a moment to allow her to reach the dining room before he did.

In fact, Darcy was the last to arrive. Upon his entry Bingley gestured for the footmen to bring in the first course. "And how is Jane doing?" Miss Bingley asked, and Darcy gathered she was continuing a conversation with Miss Elizabeth that his arrival had interrupted.

"She feels quite ill, I am afraid. She wished me to send her apologies for keeping to her room."

"Well, of course we could not expect her to join us," Mrs. Hurst exclaimed. "The poor dear, to have a cold. It is quite a miserable experience."

"Oh yes," Miss Bingley chimed in. "I declare there is nothing so wretched as lying ill in bed. And to be in a strange house as well! When I am sick, I wish for nothing more than the comforts of home."

Miss Bingley did not wait for a reply from Elizabeth, but turned to Darcy instead. "Mr. Darcy, I hear you received a letter from your sister yesterday. Tell me, how does she fare in London?"

The rapid change of topic caught Darcy off guard, but he answered her question tolerably well. Unfortunately, his answer led to another question, and he quickly found himself locked in conversation with the two people in the room he least wished to converse with--Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst.

Elizabeth's light laugh caught his attention, and he looked over at her. She and Bingley spoke with some animation, he supposed about something for the elder Miss Bennet's comfort. He had been glad when he sat down to be on the opposite side of the table from her, but now he wished he could be closer.

At last, the footmen collected the dishes from the final course of the evening. Miss Elizabeth rose to her feet when they exited the room and said, "I believe it is time I returned to Jane. She was asleep when I left, but I am sure she is awake now and wanting my company."

"We must make every effort to give her some home comforts," Bingley said. "Miss Elizabeth, is there anything in particular, anything your mother would do for your sister that we can offer?"

Miss Elizabeth smiled. "I fear my mother is not the most tender of nursemaids. Jane is so very agreeable; I cannot think of anything we might lack."

"If anything comes to mind, please just let the servants know."

"Pray come down to join us if she sleeps again," Miss Bingley added, and Miss Elizabeth nodded her thanks before she left the room.

Darcy caught the half-smile on Miss Elizabeth's face and wondered at it. A minute later, her reason became clear. No sooner had she gone than Miss Bingley began to abuse her.

"I declare, I have never been so surprised by the manners of the lady as I have been by Miss Eliza Bennet," Miss Bingley remarked. "They are very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence that is utterly without fashion. And did she really just leave us to tend to her sick sister? She truly has no conversation. I pity Jane her company. Of course, her style is lacking, but no one expects that in the country--even from one reputed as a great beauty."