CHAPTER 9
E lizabeth was closer to Netherfield Park than to Longbourn when she heard Remy’s bark. Spinning around, she saw her loyal pet bounding in her direction, mouth open, tongue lolling―the image of a happy escapee. He wiggled and waggled around her, too pleased to be in her company again for her to remain angry with him. She ruffled his ears. “What am I to do with you, sir? You cannot go with me to Netherfield, and I am too close to turn back to Longbourn.”
He sat on a tuft of grass as though trying to convince her that he would avoid the mud so long as he could accompany her. She sighed. “I suppose I could leave you out at the stables.” Remy seemed to accept that solution. He strode ahead, occasionally looking behind him to ensure that Elizabeth followed.
It had yet to rain. Though her priority was Jane’s welfare, Elizabeth’s heart longed to return to the hunting lodge. Time was precious. One missed opportunity to paint, and her hard-won gains would be lost. The estate house had just come into view when she saw three riders and a dog—two gentlemen and a lady: The Darcys, Mr. Bingley, and Archie. Remy barked his greeting, trotting over to meet them and receiving introductions to the horses from Archie.
Mr. Bingley greeted Elizabeth with a raised hat, sliding deftly off his horse to walk beside her. Mr. Darcy also dismounted and then held out his arms a fraction of a second before Mr. Bingley did to take her heavy basket. He fell in beside them, and the three strode toward the estate.
Elizabeth’s face heated, and she struggled not to smile too widely. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy.” She hoped the party would credit her breathlessness to the exercise and the chill of the weather rather than his nearness.
Miss Darcy smiled and bobbed her head from atop her horse, wisely sparing her habit and boots from the mud.
As they could have no doubt why she was walking on Netherfield’s property with a basket full of remedies, Elizabeth overcame her embarrassed giddiness to ask, “How fares Jane?”
Mr. Bingley shook his head. “My sisters gave her a draught from our London physician in hopes that she might rest well and wake up improved, but I have it from the maid that she slept poorly. I fear the draught was ineffective. ”
Jane had not written that she was so terribly ill, but she probably hid the gravity of her condition to spare her family from worry. Jane would do that; she always put everyone ahead of her own concerns.
Anxiety to see her sister quickened Elizabeth’s steps until Mr. Darcy’s firm voice interrupted her perturbed thoughts and slowed her pace. “Mr. Jones saw her this morning. He was of the firm opinion that some rest and a couple of days out of the cold would restore her health.”
Bingley frowned. “I ought not to have left her?—”
Mr. Darcy silenced him with one piercing glare. “Miss Bennet must rest. There is no need to distress Miss Elizabeth any more than she already is when the apothecary, who has known Miss Bennet much longer than we have, has assured us of her full recovery.”
Elizabeth exhaled her pent-up breath. Mr. Jones had indeed known Jane since her birth and was aware of the strength of her constitution. Of course, Mr. Bingley did not know her as well and would be overly concerned, as any attentive host would be.
“You are correct, of course.” Mr. Bingley also exhaled deeply, his demeanor brightening. “Miss Bennet cannot get the rest she requires when I fret and pace the hall and my sisters inquire after her every five minutes. My apologies, Miss Elizabeth. I did not intend to distress you.”
Although Mr. Bingley’s concern pleased Elizabeth, it garnered another disapproving look from his friend. Perhaps Mr. Darcy considered that the younger gentleman had revealed too much of his heart. If that were the case, Elizabeth resolved not to give Mr. Bingley cause to regret his candor. His honesty ought to be rewarded.
“One always feels better when surrounded by the comforts of home,” Miss Darcy added. “Miss Bennet will improve once she sees her sister and her sweet dog.”
Remy, seeming to know that he had gained their attention, spun in a circle, then promptly plopped down in the middle of a puddle.
“Remy!” Elizabeth cried. She did not have a lead to tug on. “Oh! This is why I wanted you to stay at Longbourn!” His ears perked up at the familiar name. “No, that is not where we are going, and you can forget about seeing Jane when you are a mucky mess. Cook will not let you into her kitchen when she sees you, and I am inclined not to give you a bath at all today when I gave you a perfectly lovely one yesterday, you troublesome mongrel!”
Only once the words were said did she consider how strange she must seem talking to a dog. Remy lowered his face into the water, splashing and playing, inviting them to join in the fun. Archie, however, was backing cautiously away from him.
Mr. Darcy’s face was too grave to be taken seriously when he addressed Remy himself. “What is this, sir? Are we to understand that you lay in the puddle on purpose?”
“That is exactly what he does! Remy loves his baths so much that he will roll in the mud to secure another. I had left him in the kitchen back at Longbourn, but he managed to escape.”
Mr. Darcy turned back to Remy. “Have you nothing to say in your defense?”
Remy sneezed into the water. Elizabeth had to give the animal credit. On a path riddled with puddles, he was lying in the last and quite possibly the deepest one.
With a chuckle, Mr. Darcy handed the basket to a footman who had emerged from the house. Then he helped his sister down from her saddle and set her gently on the gravel drive.
The stable boy gathered the horses’ reins, clicking his tongue for them to follow his lead. Before he started moving, Elizabeth asked Mr. Bingley in the boy’s hearing, “Might Remy stay in the stables until I see Jane? I apologize for the inconvenience?—”
Mr. Bingley stopped her. “It is no trouble at all.” To the boy, he said, “See that you dry him off before you rub down the horses. He is friendly.” It was a good plan, and Remy was content to follow the boy until he realized Elizabeth was walking in the opposite direction. Ducking his head, he jogged over to their party, too intent on her to heed the stable boy’s clucks and whistles.
It had been worth a try. She sighed. “It appears that I shall have to make a stop at the stables first.”
Mr. Darcy patted his leg and whistled in a manner that commanded attention. “Come, Remy, we are old friends. Perhaps you will agree to accompany me.” He stepped toward the stables at the back of the house. “We will get you dried off. If you do not give the grooms any trouble, I shall see that you get a treat. Archie owes you a bone.” Remy walked after him, looking over his shoulder at Elizabeth. Mr. Darcy continued talking, “Good boy, Remy. Come get your treat!”
Elizabeth’s dog was not the most intelligent animal in the kingdom, but he knew the significance of the word “treat” as well as he understood Mr. Darcy’s praise. He followed the gentleman, who continued chatting with him as they rounded the corner of the house. “I cannot promise it will be a meaty bone, but we shall see what the cook has for you in the kitchens, eh, boy?”
Biting her lips together, Elizabeth watched her feet all the way inside the house. Miss Darcy waited for her inside the door. Elizabeth knew that if their eyes met, she might giggle at the pleasing image stuck in her mind of Mr. Darcy talking to her dog in the same manner she did.
“Miss Elizabeth!” called Miss Bingley. Her hand trailed a path down the banister as she descended, stopping one step from the bottom. Looking down from her added height, she added, “A pleasure, to be sure.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” Elizabeth did not think much of Miss Bingley, but she was there to see Jane, not to call on Netherfield’s hostess. Still, proper decorum must be observed. “Allow me to express my gratitude for being such an attentive friend to Jane during her illness. She wrote that you have seen to her every comfort.”
Miss Bingley nodded in acknowledgment. “It is the least I can do.”
“It has been our privilege!” her brother gushed, inducing her lips to pinch.
“If it pleases Miss Bingley—” Miss Darcy began.
“Caro, darling.”
“Em, yes, as you have said… Caro… I would like to show Miss Elizabeth to her sister’s room. It is on the way to mine, and I must change my riding habit.”
“I shall accompany you,” Miss Bingley offered.
“I am eager to learn how our patient fares, so I shall join you.” Mr. Bingley motioned for his sister to precede him. It was apparent that his intention to accompany them had soured Miss Bingley’s mood, but she quickly covered her ill-humor.
The excessively large party was walking down the length of the guest wing when a maid stepped out of a bedchamber into the hall and closed the door softly behind her. “Is Miss Bennet much improved?” Miss Bingley asked her. “Her sister is here to accompany her to Longbourn.” Clearly, the lady was ready to be rid of her guest.
“Oh, miss, I beg you not to wake her now. She only just fell asleep after a long night of tossing and turning.” The maid wrung her hands in her apron as she stood in front of the door as though to bar passage from anyone who dared wake Jane .
Elizabeth spoke in a whisper. “I brought some remedies. A footman carried them inside.”
The maid nodded. “Mrs. Nichols will know where he put them.” Her eyes softened. “Miss Bennet will be more at ease with you here, miss.”
“And yet, she was able to sleep before I got here, thanks, no doubt, to you.”
“It was nothing, miss.”
“Still, I thank you.”
Miss Bingley cleared her throat. “Yes, Sarah is an exceptional maid. Louisa and I have hardly felt the inconvenience of going without her, but we are happy to sacrifice our comfort if it helps sweet Jane.”
“Fetch Mrs. Nichols if you would, please, Sarah, and ask her to bring the basket,” Mr. Bingley instructed.
Sarah disappeared down the stairs in search of the housekeeper while Miss Bingley struggled to keep her expression pleasant. Much as Elizabeth wanted to laugh, she kept her expression carefully neutral. As long as her sister was a guest in the Bingleys’ household, she must do nothing to embarrass her hostess. Fortunately, Mrs. Nichols appeared with the maid, offering a much-needed distraction.
Now content that Jane would soon have some relief from her symptoms, Mr. Bingley promptly departed to change from his riding coat and boots. Miss Darcy also retired to change out of her riding clothes, leaving Elizabeth alone with Miss Bingley. Having nowhere to go and nothing more to say, Elizabeth excused herself. “My dog is in the stables,” she explained .
Miss Bingley’s smile turned genuine. “Excellent. Mrs. Nichols can show you the way. I shall send a servant to fetch you when Jane awakens.” Elizabeth had not planned on spending that long out at the stables, but if Miss Bingley was to be her company, she supposed she would rather stay with the horses.
The housekeeper nodded. “I shall take Miss Elizabeth to her dog.”
They descended the stairs. Instead of going out of doors and around to the back of the house, Mrs. Nichols took Elizabeth toward the kitchens. It was highly unusual for a guest to be brought below stairs, but she explained, “It is raining. This route is drier.” Maids scattered as they saw them coming, hiding their smiles behind their hands and stifling their giggles. It was a strange reception, and Elizabeth wondered if there was some joke in the air. If she was the target, far be it from her to deny anyone a laugh. She continued to follow Mrs. Nichols until they stopped in front of a closed door, and she frowned. The door faced the wrong way; it would not lead her outdoors to the stables.
Slowly, Mrs. Nichols reached for the handle. “Your dog, miss.” There was no malice in her expression, but she had a lilt in her voice and a gleam in her eye as she quietly pushed open the door.