The next morning dawned with the bright sun and gusty winds that usually follow a storm. The breezes had licked up much of the rain from the evening before but not enough by the early hour at which he rose to tempt Darcy to a morning ride. He knew he ought to work out the fidgets to which Nelson was undoubtedly treating his groom, but the mud they would kick up would be horrendous, and the horse’s hooves would cut up the turf dreadfully. No, as much as he would relish an hour on horseback, he did not relish cleaning up the dirt in which he would return. Nelson and his groom would have to work out an understanding on their own.

Coffee awaited him on the sideboard, and cup in hand, he sought out the library and the letters from his steward and housekeeper at Pemberley that required his attention. An hour later, noises from the hall alerted him to the presence of the rest of the household, and folding his letters, he went to join them in the breakfast room.

“Mr. Darcy, up before us as usual, I see.” Miss Bingley greeted him with a smile and a nod at the empty cup and saucer he laid on the sideboard. As Darcy helped himself from the platters arrayed before him, a servant entered and bent to speak privately to Miss Bingley. When he had left, she turned to her family at table with a sigh. “Miss Bennet is no better, I fear. It seems she must remain our guest a little longer.”

“Can anything more be done for her, Caroline?” Concern flooded through Bingley’s voice. “Perhaps a physician from London should be summoned.”

“Surely, Charles, that is her family’s decision! It would not do to act so precipitously. Mr. Darcy, you concur in this, do you not?” Miss Bingley looked to Darcy, confident of his support. In consideration of his friend’s anxiety, Darcy would not reply at once. With reluctance he seconded Miss Bingley’s opinion of the matter but took care to couch it in terms he hoped would soothe Bingley’s concern. The meal progressed in silence for a time but was interrupted when the door suddenly opened, revealing an extraordinary sight.

Framed in the doorway was Miss Elizabeth Bennet, her cheeks a becoming rosy hue but the rest of her person in a pronounced state of dishevelment. From the condition of her boots and petticoat, it was obvious that she had been some time out-of-doors, most probably walking across fields. Her hair was windblown despite her bonnet, its ribbons in a hopeless tangle, and the hems of her dress and pelisse were spattered with mud. Darcy’s lips twitched in delight at the charming picture she made, her eyes brilliant from exertion yet guardedly defiant of any censure that might be accorded her unannounced and untidy appearance.

Bingley was the first to move toward her. “Miss Elizabeth! Welcome, welcome…Please come in and sit down! You have walked all the way from Longbourn?” At her nod he shook his head. “You must be very tired.” Pulling out a chair, he gently pushed her into it. “Please, do sit. There now, you have come for news of your sister.”

Darcy knew a moment of unreasonable jealousy when Elizabeth raised a grateful face to Bingley as she accepted the seat. “Thank you, sir. You are very kind.” She paused briefly, tugging at the ribbons of her bonnet. “What can you tell me of Jane, Mr. Bingley? Is she very ill?”

“I regret to say my sisters tell me Miss Bennet did not sleep well. She continues to be feverish and is unable to leave her chamber.”

Elizabeth rose quickly from the chair and begged that she be taken to her sister immediately. “Come, Miss Eliza,” drawled Miss Bingley in soothing tones, “Louisa and I will take you up. We were just about to visit your sister ourselves, were we not, Louisa?” Between them, the two women quickly swept their new guest out of the room.

Darcy was careful not to watch as the ladies departed but instead finished his breakfast, a pensive Bingley keeping him silent company. Finally, he laid aside his napkin and regarded his friend with compassion tinged with some exasperation. “Bingley, no one will be served by the two of us keeping vigil outside Miss Bennet’s door. I have some letters to post. What do you say we take them into Meryton ourselves? We shall have to stay on the roadsides and no mad gallops…” He left the question unfinished. During his discourse Bingley had stirred and, by its end, evidenced some interest.

“I would be sorely tempted if you were to, say,…allow me a go on your Nelson?” he replied with an impish grin.

“I would be writing your death warrant should I allow something so harebrained! You are not so disconsolate that I would tempt fate merely to cheer you.” Darcy tried to look severe in the face of Bingley’s attempts to look inconsolable. “Come now” — he abandoned his pose — “do we ride for Meryton or shall we wander the halls of Netherfield, waylaying everyone who comes out of Miss Bennet’s chamber?”

“Meryton it is, Darcy!” Bingley joined him in laughter but then paused and continued in a more serious manner. “I am glad that Miss Elizabeth has come. She will know her sister’s health better than the servants or, Heaven forbid, my sisters. I think Miss Bennet would want her sister by her rather than strangers.” He was silent for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. “If Miss Bennet is not better when we return, I shall invite Miss Elizabeth to stay at Netherfield until her sister can safely be removed to her home. There is nothing objectionable in that, is there, Darcy?”

“Nothing at all, Bingley. All the demands of propriety are met. It is an excellent idea.”

“Good! Then, I shall meet you in the stable in twenty minutes, no…one half hour, and we will be off to Meryton to post your oh-so-important letters.” Bingley’s lightened mood lent a spring to his step as he made for his chambers to change into riding clothes. Needing far less time to change, Darcy poured himself another cup of coffee and took it to the window, leaning one shoulder against the frame.

Was Elizabeth’s presence at Netherfield truly an excellent idea, as he had just told Bingley? To be so often in her company, here, where he had achieved a certain level of easiness, threatened his comfort; yet it was the perfect place to deepen his acquaintance with her. Here, she would be the guest, the outsider, and he would have the advantage that familiarity bestowed.

He shifted his stance, lifting the cup to his lips as he contemplated what the next few days might hold. No society of strangers to placate or play to, no competition for her attention, no clever, meaningless chitchat to invent or maintain. He could fence with her — that their interaction would resemble that activity, he had no doubt — at leisure. Regardless of the excellence of the idea, the real question confronted him: Which did he desire more, his continued comfort or the thrumming excitement of verbal swordplay with Miss Elizabeth Bennet?

“Mr. Darcy, can you inform me of my brother’s whereabouts? Miss Eliza has entrusted me with a request.”

Miss Bingley’s habit of interrupting his thoughts was growing wearisome, but he turned to her with a polite reply. “He has gone to change into riding clothes. We thought it best to leave you to your nursing in peace so you will not feel obliged to entertain us as well as your patient.” He laid aside his cup and bowed, adding just before he left, “Do not let Bingley leave before you have spoken with him. He has come upon an excellent idea.”



Miss Elizabeth Bennet was not to be found in any of the public rooms of Netherfield on the two gentlemen’s return from their ride. Nor did she appear in the course of the afternoon. Darcy had kept an ear attuned for any strains of music from the drawing room or a low, pleasing voice issuing from the ladies’ parlor, but the house was silent save for the noise of servants about their duties. By supper, he began to feel disgruntled and at short ends. Having arduously come to the conclusion that he desired her presence despite the havoc it would wreak upon his composure, he found her absence now grated upon him.