The Firstborn
Chapter Four
Henry arrived at Netherfield in the late afternoon of the second day after he had set out, having been obliged to stay overnight at an inn in Oxford. The stopover had its compensations, as he had enjoyed a congenial dinner with several of the fellows of his former college, who had been undergraduates when Henry himself had been a fellow before his ordination. The memories of the meal, and especially of the company he had enjoyed, kept Henry's mind occupied until he arrived at Netherfield Park.
A groom hastened to take the reins, and Bear was happy enough to jump down from the floor of the curricle and race around, reacquainting himself with the flora and fauna. Henry climbed down in time to receive a greeting from a hurtling ball of fur flinging itself at his chest; it was Darcy's spotted pointer, Rowley, who greeted Henry with total canine abandon.
"Down, boy," said Henry, laughing and twisting his head to avoid having his face licked overmuch. Rowley sat obediently, his tail thumping happily on the pebbled drive and his tongue lolling in sheer delight. Henry scratched his ears, and the creature writhed with joy until finally he was prone on the ground belly-up, one of his rear legs twitching as Henry scratched a particularly sensitive spot.
"Rowley seems glad to see you, Tilney," said a voice, and Henry looked up to see Darcy smiling down at him. "Depend upon it, the creature has no higher approbation than to allow one to scratch his belly."
Rowley jumped up at the sound of his master's voice and ran to him happily. Bear arrived on the scene shortly afterward, his own explorations complete. He and Rowley eyed one another warily, and Bear finally went to his master and sniffed his hands thoroughly, clearly unhappy about the scent of alien dog they had acquired.
Henry stood, absent-mindedly rubbing Bear's ears, and said quietly, "It is good to see you, Darcy."
Darcy held out his right hand, and Henry took it. "It is good to see you as well, Tilney. Your journey was comfortable, I trust?"
"As much so as can be expected."
"I am glad to hear it." Darcy started back to the house, and Henry followed him. "Bingley has engaged us to dine with the militia officers tonight."
Henry laughed. "I suspected we would not be dining here at Netherfield Park. Bingley's household expenses must be next to nothing. He never has to provide dinner for his guests."
"Well, the ladies are staying behind tonight."
"Not having to feed Hurst should make up the difference."
Darcy laughed heartily at this impertinent observation. Henry grinned in relief, happy to see that Darcy was more his usual self. He renewed his resolve to try to better understand his friend, a much easier task when Darcy was not behaving in that oddly proud and reserved manner he had adopted.
Captain Carter stood, held up his glass, and cried, "Gentlemen, I give you His Majesty! God save the King!"
They all rose and held up their glasses, shouted, "God save the King!" and drank copiously. Toasts followed to the Prince of Wales, various members of the royal family, and the continuing confusion of Bonaparte.
"To Colonel F-F-Forster!" cried little Saunderson. They all drank good-naturedly to the absent officer.
"Where is Colonel Forster tonight?" inquired Bingley.
"He is calling on Miss Watson's family," smirked Carter. "There is a lesson for you, gentlemen; when one wishes to take a young wife, one dances to her tune!" There was a great deal of ribald laughter at this comment.
Henry smiled at Carter's words; Catherine was even younger than Miss Watson. But then, he was a great deal younger than Colonel Forster. He rose, held up his glass, and said, "To Miss Catherine Morland!"
"Miss Morland!" was the cry of the assembled gentlemen.
Bingley rose slowly, and said hesitantly, "To Miss Jane Bennet!" The officers drank to that lady's health. Eyes turned toward Darcy, and Henry wondered for a moment if he would call for a toast to Miss Bingley, but Darcy remained silent.
Chamberlayne rose and cried, "Miss Lydia Bennet!"
There was laughter, some of it rather lewd, and glasses were raised to the youngest Miss Bennet. Carter said something in a low voice that Henry could not make out but which occasioned yet more laughter at the other end of the table and caused Saunderson to turn bright pink and drain most of his glass.
The drinking and toasting carried on for some time until the party finally began to disperse. The Netherfield gentlemen climbed, somewhat unsteadily, into Bingley's carriage. The ride back to the house was rather quiet, until Hurst, his head lolling back against the cushion and his mouth hanging open, suddenly started to snore. The others could not help but laugh at him, their snickers jolting Hurst back into wakefulness, resentful both of their laughter and of his broken slumber.
Back at Netherfield, they stumbled into the house and entered the drawing-room, laughing and teasing one another. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst sat on the sofa, their heads close together, whispering excitedly. When the gentlemen entered the room, Miss Bingley turned to them and said, "Do be quiet, Charles; Jane Bennet is asleep in the blue room."
Bingley was instantly sobered. "Miss Bennet!" he cried. "How did this come to be?"
"Louisa and I invited her to dine with us, and she rode over on horseback, if you can believe that!"
"But it rained all evening!" Bingley was aghast.
"Yes, and the poor girl was caught in it. You should have seen her when she arrived, brother; she was soaked through."
"Why did her parents not send her in their carriage?" cried Henry.
The ladies exchanged a significant glance, and Mrs. Hurst said, "We believe that her mother purposely sent her over on horseback so that she would be unable to return because of the rain. Of course we could not send her home the same way she came, and you had the carriage."
Henry sighed; from what he had observed of Mrs. Bennet, she was perfectly capable of such artfulness. His impatience with Jane's mother was tempered by amusement at the expression on Bingley's face, a combination of anticipation and anxiety. To breakfast with one's beloved unexpectedly will bring such a mix of emotions, I suppose! Henry's amusement did not last long, however; he was reminded of the last time he had breakfasted with his own beloved, so many months ago at Northanger Abbey. Catherine's smile that morning had warmed him on his ride back to Woodston and hastened his return to the Abbey, only to be met there by his father and told to think of her no more. He might as well have told a starving man to think of food no more. The wine he had consumed worked to exacerbate his misery, and he mumbled an excuse and left the room.
He was walking up the stairs when he heard Darcy calling him. He turned and saw his friend at the bottom of the stairway. "Yes, what is it?" Henry's voice held a touch of impatience; he wanted to be alone with his misery.
"Are you well?" asked Darcy quietly.
Henry wiped his hand over his face and replied wearily, "Yes, I am well. I am simply fatigued from my journey, I think."
Darcy did not move. "Is there--" he hesitated for a moment, then continued, "Is there anything I can do for you? I would help you, Henry, any way I can."
His friend's use of his Christian name was not lost on Henry; like most young men, they usually called one another by their surnames, and Henry could not remember a time when Darcy had called him anything else. His heart warmed toward the other man at this sign of consideration. "Yes, Fitzwilliam," he said quietly. "I know you would. And I thank you for your concern. But I am afraid that only one person can help me at this juncture."
Darcy's face showed perfect comprehension. "General Tilney, you mean."
"Yes."
Darcy nodded. "If in the future I can be of assistance in any way, you need only ask."
"Yes, I know, and I thank you." Henry knew that any more show of emotion or gratitude would only serve to embarrass his friend.
"Good night, then."
"Good night." Henry watched him re-enter the drawing room, then turned to ascend the stairs again. He walked toward his chamber, the candle's flame throwing flickering light across the patterned wallpaper, and could not help smiling despite his woes. You are a fortunate man indeed, Tilney, to have such friends!
Henry went in to breakfast the next morning after an early ramble about the grounds with Bear. He was not at all surprised to see Bingley already in the dining-room and dressed in his best blue coat. He was, however, surprised by the thunderous expression on his friend's face.
"Of course she must stay, Caroline!" he was saying as Henry entered the room. "She has a fever! We cannot very well pack her into a carriage and send her home, in the damp and the cold!"
"The weather has moderated, Charles," his sister responded. "It would be quite safe for Jane to ride back to Longbourn in your carriage."
"Absolutely not," said Bingley firmly. "I shall not hear of it. Good morning, Tilney," he added upon noticing Henry.
"Good morning," said Henry. "Were you speaking of Miss Bennet?"
"Yes," said Bingley, frowning. "Unfortunately, she seems to have contracted a fever as a result of her wet ride last night. She will be staying with us until she is better," he added, glaring at his sister.
Miss Bingley did not give up so easily. "What say you, Mr. Darcy?" she appealed that gentleman, who sat across the table from Henry with a cup of tea. "Is it really necessary to invite Jane Bennet to stay at Netherfield indefinitely, over a little trifling cold?"
"This is your brother's establishment, Miss Bingley," said Darcy mildly. "It is not for me to say whom he may invite to his home." The lady's protests subsided under Darcy's reluctance to enter the fray.
The Hursts entered the room at that moment. Mr. Hurst made straight for the breakfast table, surveying the offerings hungrily, while his wife contented herself with a cup of tea.
"That is too bad about Miss Bennet's illness," said Henry, trying not to smile, "but I hope that she will soon feel well enough to join us."
Bingley looked at Henry, and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly as he said, "As do I."
Henry allowed the hovering servant to pour him a cup of tea and helped himself to some eggs and toast. "Shall we go shooting today, Bingley? The day is extremely fine."
"Certainly, if you care to. Hurst, will you join us?" That gentleman answered with a grunt and a mutter that the generous listener could assume to be positive.
"We should be well on our way, then," said Darcy.
"I suppose you are right." Bingley regarded his blue coat with dismay. "I must change."
"Indeed. Your fine feathers would make the birds envious, sir." Henry sipped his tea to hide his smile at his friend's disconcertment.
"I was only thinking that it will be quite dirty outside today, after all the rain last night," said Bingley with some attempt at dignity.
Henry rose from his chair and directed an elaborate bow in Bingley's direction. "I understood you perfectly." Fortunately for Bingley's self-respect, he was a great deal too distracted to notice the twinkle in Henry's eye.
At that moment, a servant announced Miss Elizabeth Bennet. The gentlemen hastily rose and the ladies exclaimed in surprise. Elizabeth entered the room, her cheeks glowing with exertion and the hem of her dress stained with mud.
"Miss Eliza!" cried Caroline. "How came you here, so early? Tell me that you did not walk!"
"As you see," said Elizabeth stiffly.
"In such dirty weather! And by yourself!" cried Mrs. Hurst.
"The distance is only three miles," said Elizabeth. "And I often walk by myself. I enjoy the exercise."
Henry noticed the sisters exchange a smirk, and he sighed in annoyance and determined to make Elizabeth feel welcome.
"Good morning, Miss Bennet," he said brightly. "Will you join us for breakfast?" With this comment, Henry became the object of a venomous stare from Miss Bingley, which he bore with great fortitude.
"I thank you, no, Mr. Tilney," said Elizabeth. "I am only come to inquire after my sister. I hope you will understand my concern when I received her note saying that she was ill."
"Of course," said Bingley warmly. "Caroline, will you take Miss Bennet to her sister?" Miss Bingley could do nothing but comply.
"Are we to have any sport today?" said Hurst gruffly after she was gone, and the gentlemen hastened to fetch their guns and dogs, boots and greatcoats and venture out boldly into the dirty fields.
"Miss Bennet, may I inquire after your sister's condition?" asked Bingley anxiously when Elizabeth joined the company before dinner.
"I am afraid that she is by no means better," she replied quietly. Despite her lovely dress, sent over by her mother after Caroline's reluctant invitation to stay at Netherfield, Elizabeth had a strained look about her eyes that gave Henry some private pain.
"Oh, it is so shocking to have a bad cold," said Miss Bingley in tones of sincerity as false as they were studied. "I am grieved to hear that dear Jane is not better."
"Oh, yes," cried her sister. "I excessively dislike being ill myself."
"Indeed," added Caroline. "I dislike it as well. Poor Jane! We must visit her after dinner, Louisa."
"Of course," agreed Mrs. Hurst. "It is so shocking that she should be ill."
Henry interrupted these effusions with a sympathetic smile at Elizabeth. "I am sure she will soon be feeling better," he said, "especially with such an indefatigable and affectionate nurse." Elizabeth gave him the first genuine smile she had managed since she entered the room.
"She must stay here at Netherfield Park until she is better," added Bingley. "And you must stay as well, Miss Elizabeth. I am sure that your sister cannot do without you."
"I thank you, Mr. Bingley," said Elizabeth warmly. "I should very much like to stay with Jane until she is better."
"Then you shall," he declared. A servant announced dinner, and they all went in. Henry was quick to secure Elizabeth's hand on his arm, ignoring Darcy's furrowed brow.
The civil inquiries of the preceding moments were abandoned in the face of the food. Caroline had placed Elizabeth next to Mr. Hurst, who had nothing to say to her once he had determined that she preferred a plain dish to a ragout. No one else spoke to her except Henry; Darcy was reserved, making monosyllabic replies to Miss Bingley's constant attempts to engage his attention, and even Bingley seemed unusually lost in thought.
Henry watched Elizabeth push the food around on her plate and said, "May I help you to some of this beef, Miss Bennet?" Elizabeth smiled and shook her head.
"I am sorry, Miss Eliza, that you find nothing here to tempt you," said Miss Bingley in tones of cold civility. "My brother keeps a simple table, unlike Mr. Tilney's father. The fare at Northanger Abbey is always elaborate. Perhaps Mr. Tilney's sister will invite you to dine there someday." Henry knew that Caroline was well aware of his estrangement from General Tilney and was quietly furious at her for bringing up his domestic situation.
"I should enjoy that," said Elizabeth politely.
"When I am married, my wife will be glad to have you and your family to dine in our home, should you find yourselves in Gloucestershire," said Henry.
Caroline laughed. "Miss Eliza, it is well that you are not dependent on Mr. Tilney's marriage to gain your dinner. You might starve waiting for that happy event." Mrs. Hurst's high-pitched giggle joined her sister's, although Bingley and Darcy both looked displeased with Miss Bingley's attempt at wit.
Henry leaned back in his chair and smiled at Caroline. "I am gratified that you take such an interest in my affairs, Miss Bingley," he said.
She regarded him coldly. "I am sure that I always treat my brother's guests with propriety, sir."
"Indeed," he observed. "And I am sure that Miss Bennet will join me in approbation of your generosity and kindness."
Lizzy had raised her napkin to her mouth, but her dark eyes twinkled at him. When she lowered the cloth, her countenance was serene. "Oh, yes, Mr. Tilney," she said. "I am in complete agreement. Miss Bingley is all kindness, just as one might expect from a lady of her disposition."
Henry maintained his mask of clerical solemnity. "I find that ladies with a disposition such as Miss Bingley's are considered the best sort of hostess by society in general. They have the highest degree of consideration for their guests' comfort and enjoyment."
"Indeed, sir. Such hostesses are always to be desired. Their guests must feel truly welcome."
Caroline's gaze darted from Henry to Elizabeth and back again, her suspicions aroused, but she was unable to discern any outward mark of contempt from their placid countenances. However, being a woman of mean humour, she did not detect the unholy mirth that passed between the two pair of dark eyes, the owners of which were having a very good joke at her expense. Then Darcy caught Henry's eye, and his keen glance indicated that he knew exactly what Henry and Elizabeth had been up to, and Henry wondered once again if Darcy had taken offense at a perceived slight to the lady of his heart.
Elizabeth rose and said, "I must return to my sister. Please excuse me."
"Oh, certainly," cried Bingley, rising along with the other gentlemen. "Miss Bennet?"
She stopped by the door and turned back to Bingley with a smile. "Yes, sir?"
Bingley opened his mouth to speak, closed it, paused, blushed, and finally said hesitantly, "Please carry my best wishes to your sister for her recovery."
"I will be sure to do so," said Elizabeth with an even wider smile. Her eyes met Henry's a final time, and she was gone.
The door had barely swung shut behind her when Miss Bingley began to abuse her. "Miss Eliza Bennet has very bad manners indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence; do you not agree, Louisa? She has no conversation, no style, no taste, no beauty."
"I agree with you completely, Caroline. She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild."
"She did indeed. I could hardly keep my countenance. Very nonsensical to come at all! Why must she be scampering about the country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair, Louisa! So untidy, so blowsy!"
"Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to hide it not doing its office."
Henry sipped his wine, considering how he could defend Elizabeth against the sisters' abuse, when to his surprise and delight Bingley rendered such attentions unnecessary.
"Your picture may be very exact, Louisa," said Bingley with some warmth, "but this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice." Henry smiled to himself; Bravo, Bingley!
"You observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure," said Miss Bingley, "and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see your sister make such an exhibition."
"Certainly not."
"To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! What could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum."
"It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing," said Bingley.
"Indeed," agreed Henry. "Miss Bingley, do you wish me to understand that you would not do the same for Mrs. Hurst, and she for you? You would truly leave her alone in a strange house, feverish and wishing for her family? I cannot believe it, madam. You and Mrs. Hurst always seem to me the picture of devoted sisterhood."
Miss Bingley glared at him, then turned her attention to Darcy. "I am afraid, Mr. Darcy," she observed in a half whisper, "that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes."
"Not at all," said Darcy mildly. "They were brightened by the exercise."
Henry nearly laughed aloud at Miss Bingley's expression, which revealed her disappointment in Darcy's answer. In fact, he was so thoroughly distracted by his amusement that he failed to consider the true implications of Darcy's statement.
A short pause followed this speech, and Mrs. Hurst began again. "I have an excessive regard for Jane Bennet, she is really a very sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with such a father and mother, and such low connections, I am afraid there is no chance of it."
"I think I have heard you say that their uncle is an attorney in Meryton."
"Yes; and they have another, who lives somewhere near--" hissing, "--Cheapside."
"That is capital," added her sister, and they both laughed heartily.
Henry wished to add a comment regarding the late Mr. Bingley having once been a tradesman in an unfashionable section of London, but he would not have pained Bingley for all the world. Henry regarded not the status of his friend's ancestors; he judged Bingley entirely on his own merits. Fortunately Bingley himself jumped once again into the fray.
"If they had uncles enough to fill all Cheapside," cried Bingley, "it would not make them one jot less agreeable."
Darcy spoke up, surprising Henry greatly by his words. "But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world." Why in the world does Darcy care about the Bennet girls' chances of marriage? Is he concerned that Bingley will be making an attachment below his station? He swallowed hard at his next thought: What must Darcy think of Catherine? Henry had great affection for Darcy, but if he were forced to choose between his friendship and his heart, he knew where he would choose, and it gave him great pain to think that Darcy's unaccountable pride might result in an estrangement from his oldest friend.
Bingley did not answer Darcy, but lapsed once more into thoughtful silence; his sisters, however, gave Darcy's statement their hearty assent, and indulged their mirth for some time at the expense of their dear friend's vulgar relations.
With a renewal of tenderness, however, they repaired to her room on leaving the dining-parlour, and sat with her till summoned to coffee. They reported Miss Bennet's dreadful condition to the gentlemen, their faces full of woe, but threw off their despair to join in a game of loo that had been begun by Mr. Hurst.
Elizabeth joined them some time later. She was quiet and unusually grave and only said that her sister was sleeping. Bingley looked at her with some concern and failed to tend to his cards until called sharply to attention by Mr. Hurst. Elizabeth was invited to join the group, but she politely declined, making her sister the excuse, and said she would amuse herself for the short time she could stay below with a book. Mr. Hurst looked at her with astonishment.
"Do you prefer reading to cards?" said he. "That is rather singular."
"Miss Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley, laughing and joyful at spending an entire evening close by Mr. Darcy's side, "despises cards. She is a great reader and has no pleasure in anything else."
"I deserve neither such praise nor such censure," cried Elizabeth. "I am not a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things."
"In nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure," said Bingley; "and I hope it will soon be increased by seeing her quite well."
Elizabeth thanked him from her heart, and then walked towards a table where a few books were lying. Bingley immediately offered to fetch her others; all that his library afforded.
"And I wish my collection were larger for your benefit and my own credit; but I am an idle fellow, and though I have not many, I have more than I ever look into. Tilney, here, might direct you toward something worth your while. He always has his nose in a book."
Elizabeth assured him that she could suit herself perfectly with those in the room. Henry, weary of the card game, took the opportunity to ask her what sort of books she liked, that he might direct her selection.
"I am afraid, Mr. Tilney, that you will be disappointed in my taste, for I much prefer reading novels to anything else," said Elizabeth with an arch smile.
"Indeed I shall not be disappointed," said Henry, smiling as he thought of another novel-reading young lady. "I enjoy a novel very well myself."
Hurst stared at him. "You read novels, Tilney?" he said in tones of disgust. "Dreadful things. Nothing but trash and nonsense in 'em."
Henry was visited by a sudden insight: In ten years, John Thorpe shall become Hurst. This thought entertained him so greatly that he feared he would be able to maintain his countenance whilst seated across a card-table from the latter gentleman. He declined to join in a new game being dealt at that moment and went to join Elizabeth where she stood choosing between the books. They immediately engaged in a high-spirited conversation of the merits of various novelists until each finally chose a volume to peruse. Neither of them noticed Darcy watching them with some intensity.
"I am astonished," said Miss Bingley, who did notice the direction of that gentleman's gaze, "that my father should have left so small a collection of books. What a delightful library you have at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!"
"It ought to be good," he replied, "it has been the work of many generations."
"And then you have added so much to it yourself, you are always buying books."
"I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as these."
"Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of that noble place. Charles, when you build your house, I wish it may be half as delightful as Pemberley."
"I wish it may."
"But I would really advise you to make your purchase in that neighbourhood, and take Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a finer county in England than Derbyshire."
"With all my heart; I will buy Pemberley itself if Darcy will sell it."
That's the last thing your sister wishes for, Bingley, my old friend, thought Henry with a smile.
"I am talking of possibilities, Charles."
"Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it more possible to get Pemberley by purchase than by imitation."
Henry noticed that Elizabeth was paying more attention to the conversation than her book, which was a history, as Bingley had few novels in his library and none in the room. She soon lay the volume wholly aside, drew near the card-table, and stationed herself between Mr. Bingley and his eldest sister to observe the game. He did not blame her for her inattention, as the book was not a very interesting one, nor were any of the others on the table. No wonder Bingley never reads. Perhaps an introduction to Mrs. Radcliffe is all he requires!
"Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring?" said Miss Bingley. "Will she be as tall as I am?"
"I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet's height, or rather taller."
"How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners, and so extremely accomplished for her age! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite."
"It is amazing to me," said Bingley, "how young ladies can have patience to be so very accomplished as they all are."
"All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?"
"Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover skreens, and net purses. I scarcely know any one who cannot do all this, and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without being informed that she was very accomplished."
"Your list of the common extent of accomplishments," said Darcy, "has too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no otherwise than by netting a purse, or covering a skreen. But I am very far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I cannot boast of knowing more than half a dozen, in the whole range of my acquaintance, that are really accomplished."
"Nor I, I am sure," said Miss Bingley.
"Bingley's description is as generous as his nature," said Henry. "Like myself, he is simply grateful to those young ladies whose training and application brings so much pleasure to idle and ignorant gentlemen such as ourselves."
Bingley beamed at him, and Darcy agreed with a smile at both of his friends. "But I am afraid that I still must disagree with your definition, Bingley."
"Oh, yes, Darcy, we know your refined tastes," said Bingley with a laugh.
"Then," observed Elizabeth, "you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman."
"Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it," said Darcy thoughtfully.
"Oh! certainly," cried his faithful assistant, "no one can be really esteemed accomplished, who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half deserved."
"All this she must possess," added Darcy, "and to all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading."
Well, Catherine fits that definition in one respect at least, thought Henry in some amusement.
Elizabeth smiled beatifically at Mr. Darcy. "I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing any."
Miss Bingley was affronted by this remark, as might be expected. "Are you so severe upon your own sex, as to doubt the possibility of all this?"
"I never saw such a woman, I never saw such capacity, and taste, and application, and elegance, as you describe, united."
Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley both cried out against the injustice of her implied doubt, and were both protesting that they knew many women who answered this description, when Mr. Hurst called them to order, with bitter complaints of their inattention to what was going forward. As all conversation was thereby at an end, Elizabeth soon afterwards left the room.
"Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley, when the door was closed on her, "is one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the other sex by undervaluing their own, and with many men, I dare say, it succeeds. But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art."
"Undoubtedly," replied Darcy, to whom this remark was chiefly addressed, "there is meanness in all the arts which ladies sometimes condescend to employ for captivation. Whatever bears affinity to cunning is despicable."
Miss Bingley was not so entirely satisfied with this reply as to continue the subject. Henry watched Darcy's face carefully, wondering if perhaps his assumption about his friend's feelings toward that lady were incorrect. It was a subject that would bear further study, but he dared not question Darcy directly quite yet. The wounds of their last skirmish were still not entirely healed, and he wished to maintain the peace as long as possible.
Elizabeth joined them again only to say that her sister was worse, and that she could not leave her. Bingley urged Mr. Jones's being sent for immediately; while his sisters, convinced that no country advice could be of any service, recommended an express to town for one of the most eminent physicians. This she would not hear of, but she was not so unwilling to comply with their brother's proposal; and it was settled that Mr. Jones should be sent for early in the morning if Miss Bennet were not decidedly better. Bingley was quite uncomfortable; his sisters declared that they were miserable. They solaced their wretchedness, however, by duets after supper, while he could find no better relief to his feelings than by giving his housekeeper directions that every possible attention might be paid to the sick lady and her sister.
Henry quickly became weary of the sisters' duets and Caroline's flirtations with Darcy, and he took a candle and went to his chamber. As he walked down the passage, a door opened, and Elizabeth passed through it. She started at seeing Henry. "Oh! Mr. Tilney," she gasped. "I beg your pardon, sir. I did not expect to see anyone."
"What is your sister's condition?" he said softly, keeping his voice down so as not to disturb the ill woman.
"No better, I am afraid," she said, just as softly. "I was just going to my chamber to fetch my things. I shall not leave her side tonight."
As a clergyman, Henry was well used to providing comfort by sickbeds. He set the candle on a nearby table and took Elizabeth's hands in his. "She will be well," he said soothingly. "I feel quite sure of it. I have seen many fevers such as this. The patient has one bad night and then grows quite well within a day or two. But if your sister has need of the apothecary's services during the night, be not afraid to send the servant to wake me. I shall be glad to fetch him if it will make you easier."
Elizabeth let out a great sigh that was half a sob. "I thank you most sincerely, Mr. Tilney," she said. "Knowing that shall make me a great deal easier."
Henry squeezed her hands reassuringly and raised one of them to his lips. "She will be well, Lizzy, do not fear."
She smiled at him, and they were both startled by a noise at the end of the hallway. Henry turned to see Darcy staring at them, a frown creasing his handsome features.
"Darcy, is all well?" asked Henry, alarmed by his friend's expression.
Darcy did not answer him immediately. "Yes, all is quite well downstairs," he said. "Is all well here?"
"Miss Bennet is fearful for her sister's condition, but otherwise all is well."
"Then perhaps you should not keep Miss Bennet from her sister."
Henry smiled down at Elizabeth. "Are you more comfortable, madam?"
"I am," she said with a small smile. "I thank you, sir."
"Excellent. Then I shall say good night." He bowed to her, took up his candle, and continued down the hallway toward his own chamber, followed closely by Darcy. When he reached the door, he turned to his friend and wished him a warm good night, but Darcy simply nodded and disappeared into his own chamber.
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