Chapter Eighteen

The first thing Miss Elizabeth did when she and Darcy arrived at Netherfield was to rush to her sister’s room to assess her condition and progress. Darcy was relieved to see Bingley had returned from his mission of delivering the notes of reassurance to all the estates in the neighborhood. He was not sanguine that the danger had passed with the capture of the three miscreants. But it was Miss Bingley that demanded his immediate attention.

“Mr. Darcy! I am so relieved to see you safe. Surely, we should take advantage of your victory over those terrible men to leave this dreadful place and return to London. If I had any idea that country living would be so … dangerous, I should never have encouraged Charles to take an estate.” She stopped for a moment, as she realized she might offend the great landowner. “That is to say, I should have insisted he take a property some place well-regulated, with neighbors of quality, such as in Derbyshire, near Pemberley.”

“While I believe my efforts to keep order near Pemberley have had some success, no place is completely proof against outside agitation or the depredations of a lunatic. Even London has enough dangers to require due diligence.”

“I am glad this is over,” Bingley said, evidence of the resilience of his optimistic outlook. “I think we should consider ways we might assist in our neighbor’s recovery from this tragedy.”

“That is a fine idea, Bingley. A very proper sort of attitude for a country landholder.” Darcy wanted to encourage his friend’s sense of responsibility to the welfare of not only his tenants, but his neighbors as well.

“But that means we are not leaving!” Miss Bingley displayed her pique at her suggestion being denied.

“I do not see how we can. If I flee from the country now, I would never be able to return.” Bingley explained. “I might even be branded a craven. That would not aid in your plans to advance our prospects. If we are to be landed, we must accept, embrace even, the dangers and duties that come with the privileges and prerequisites.”

“Charles!” Miss Bingley protested, cutting her eyes sharply towards Darcy. He assumed she was upset her brother had alluded to the poorly kept secret that she wanted to advance the family’s status, just as her father had before them. “I … must see the cook. We have delayed dinner until your return, Mr. Darcy. I hope you will join us.”

He considered for a moment. “I am afraid I must draft a report of the events of the last few days for the Royal Magistrate. It will likely take me all evening. I will just have a tray sent to my room.”

“Very well,” said Miss Bingley, her disappointment plain in her tone. “I wish you a good evening.”

After she left Darcy turned to Bingley. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Anything, old man.”

“You can reach London and return much more quickly than an express rider. I must ask if you would be willing to play messenger tomorrow. My report needs to go to Sir Walter and Mr. Bennet has a report for Mr. William Wickham at the Alien Office.”

“Wickham?” Bingley interrupted.

Darcy offered a grimace of distaste, “I believe the relation is very distant. Anyway, either man may have a response. I would much rather trust this task to you than to an unknown royal messenger.”

“Of course. I’d be happy to go. I’ll leave early and stop at Longbourn to collect his missive. I should be in London by nine o’clock. If all goes well, I’ll be back by noon.”

“Thank you. I have a feeling this may just be the beginning of something much larger and more terrible than we have yet seen.” Darcy retired to his chamber.

The next morning Darcy, after seeing Bingley off on his mission, found Miss Elizabeth leaving the house dressed in the same style of sturdy attire she had worn during their recent adventures. “Good morning. Are you out for a patrol?”

“I feel I must. I have been neglecting my duties to Longbourn.”

“I cannot say you have been negligent. These villains threatened your estate as much as all the others. As did the highwaymen, if less directly. Both your bravery and your accomplishments have been exceptional.”

“I … I … Thank you.” Darcy thought her maidenly blush was most becoming.

“Shall I accompany you?” he offered.

“I thank you, but no.” She hesitated for a moment, then continued. “I must admit that I miss my solitary walks. I have been much in company these last days. It is different from being surrounded by my family, but no less …”

“Please. You have no need to justify yourself. I often find I miss my own patrols around Pemberley and the opportunity for quiet contemplation that they offer. I wish you a pleasant morning.” He bowed and turned from her. He was surprised, and a little distressed, at how disappointing her refusal had been.

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Bingley returned with word that the Alien Office would send agents to collect the prisoners for further interrogation. “I’ve informed Sir William, so he may have them prepared for transport. Sir Walter has decided to let the Alien Office have the lead in this issue. He feels it is more a matter of internal security than an immediate gifted threat. Though he stands ready to dispatch his forces if they are needed.”

Darcy frowned. “It sounds more like politics, or personal enmity, than operational consideration driving that decision. I’ve heard that Sir Walter and Mr. Wickham are not the best of friends, but I hope it will not interfere with their professional conduct.”

“Politics is a realm I have no desire to explore.” Bingley grinned.

“You might consider it in the long run. You’re personable enough to get elected.”

“But then I would have to do the job. Please save me from my own likability. Now it is time to eat, I think. I have worked up quite the appetite.”

That afternoon Mrs. Bennet arrived, accompanied by her two youngest daughters. They visited with Miss Bennet for some time than returned to the parlor, Miss Elizabeth in tow. Bingley met them with hopes that Mrs. Bennet had not found Miss Bennet worse than she expected.

“Indeed, I have, Sir,” was her answer. “She is a great deal too ill to be moved. Mr. Jones says we must not think of moving her. We must trespass a little longer on your kindness.”

“Removed!” cried Bingley. “It must not be thought of. My sister, I am sure, will not hear of her removal.”

“You may depend upon it, Madam,” said Miss Bingley, with cold civility, “that Miss Bennet shall receive every possible attention while she remains with us.”

Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgments. “I am sure,” she added, “if it was not for such good friends, I do not know what would become of her, for she is very injured indeed, and suffers a vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world. Which is always the way with her, for she has, without exception, the sweetest temper I ever met with. I often tell my other girls they are nothing to her.”

Darcy had no idea how to respond to such inappropriate censure of Miss Elizabeth. But before he could reply, Mrs. Bennet continued on a completely different tact.

“You have a sweet room here, Mr. Bingley, and a charming prospect over that gravel walk. I do not know a place in the country that is equal to Netherfield. You will not think of quitting it in a hurry I hope, though you have but a short lease.”

“Whatever I do is done in a hurry,” Bingley quipped. “Therefore, if I should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as quite fixed here.”

“That is exactly what I should have supposed of you,” said Miss Elizabeth.

“You begin to comprehend me, do you?” cried he, turning towards her.

“Oh, yes! I understand you perfectly.”

“I wish I might take this for a compliment; but to be so easily seen through I am afraid is pitiful.”

“It does not necessarily follow that a deep, intricate character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours.”

“Lizzy,” cried her mother, “remember where you are, and do not run on in the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home.”

Darcy could see that even Bingley struggled to keep his countenance. His sister was less delicate and directed her eye towards Darcy with a very expressive smile. Miss Elizabeth, seemingly for the sake of saying something that might turn her mother's thoughts, now asked her if she had made any other calls that day.

“Yes. We paid our respects at Haye-Park then visited Lucas Lodge. What an agreeable man Sir William is, Mr. Bingley, is not he? So much the man of fashion! So genteel and so easy! He has always something to say to everybody. That is my idea of good breeding. And those persons who fancy themselves very important and never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter.” Darcy felt her eyes upon him.

“Was Charlotte at home?”

“She was in the kitchen doing something about the mince pies. For my part, Mr. Bingley, I always keep servants that can do their own work; my daughters are brought up differently. But everybody is to judge for themselves, and the Lucases are very good sort of girls, I assure you. It is a pity they are not handsome! Not that I think Charlotte so very plain, but then she is our particular friend.”

“She seems a very pleasant young woman,” said Bingley.

“Oh dear, yes! But you must own she is very plain. Lady Lucas herself has often said so and envied me Jane's beauty. I do not like to boast of my own child, but to be sure, one does not often see anybody better looking than Jane. It is what everybody says. I do not trust my own partiality. Why when she was only fifteen, there was a gentleman at my brother Gardiner's in town, so much in love with her, that my sister-in-law was sure he would make her an offer before we came away. Perhaps he thought her too young, he did not. However, he wrote some verses on her, and very pretty they were.”

“And thus ended his affection,” said Miss Elizabeth impatiently. “There has been many an infatuation, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!”

“I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love,” said Darcy.

“Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away.”

Darcy only smiled. After a short silence Mrs. Bennet began repeating her thanks to Mr. Bingley for his kindness to Jane with an apology for troubling him also with Lizzy. Mr. Bingley was unaffectedly civil in his answer, and forced his younger sister to be civil also, and say what the occasion required. She performed her part, indeed, without much graciousness, but Mrs. Bennet was satisfied, and soon afterwards ordered her carriage.

Upon this signal, the youngest of her daughters put herself forward. The two girls had been whispering to each other during the whole visit, and the result of it was, that the youngest should tax Mr. Bingley with having promised on his first coming into the country to give a ball at Netherfield.

“You did promise,” the girl reminded. “It would be the most shameful thing in the world if you do not keep it.”

“I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement, and when your sister is recovered, you shall, name the very day of the ball. But you would not wish to be dancing while she is ill.”

Lydia declared herself satisfied. “Oh! yes -- it would be much better to wait till Jane was well.”

Mrs. Bennet and her daughters then departed, and Miss Elizabeth returned instantly to her sister’s side. This left her own and her relations' behavior to be the targets of harsh remarks from Bingley’s sisters. The ladies seemed surprised that Darcy could not be prevailed on to join in their censure, in spite of all Miss Bingley's witticisms on fine eyes.

Instead, he was contemplating the importance of family and the total unsuitability of the dangerously fascinating Miss Elizabeth’s nearest connections.