One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy Read online

  “Can I take the carriage, Papa?” Jane asked as her father crossed the hallway at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Jane, no!” Mrs. Bennet interrupted. “You will take the horse. It must be upon horseback that you go, for the carriage will not do.”

  “But you said it was to rain....” Jane looked at her mother strangely.

  “If it were not for me, you girls would never marry!” Mrs. Bennet declared. “You must go on horseback to increase your chance of encountering the hunting party on your way. They will be nowhere near the road, so you must take the shorter route through the woods. I daresay Mr. Bingley will see what a fine figure you are upon the horse and quit the hunt altogether.”

  “Mama, I do not think that plan is safe.” Elizabeth, who stood upon the landing interjected. “They could accidentally shoot Jane.”

  “Nonsense!” Mrs. Bennet shrieked. “They are shooting at birds, not at women on horseback. You know nothing, Lizzy, and it is nothing to do with you.”

  “If I take the horse, how am I to return if it is raining?” Jane asked softly.

  “You are beginning to see my plan, you clever girl!” Mrs. Bennet said. “They will be forced to keep you for the night, and then you shall break your fast with Mr. Bingley in the morning!”

  “The Bingleys have a carriage, Mama.” Elizabeth could not hold her tongue. “What makes you suppose they would not transport Jane home themselves?”

  “Because,” Mrs. Bennet looked at Elizabeth as if she were stupid, “Mr. Bingley will see the opportunity to keep her there, and how can he resist this temptation, when such beauty is before him?”

  Jane looked mortified. “Will not Mr. Bingley see this plotting as treacherous?”

  “Treacherous!” Mrs. Bennet snorted. “Miss Bingley invited you. There can be no deceit in accepting her kind offer. If they ask why you did not come in the carriage, you must tell them that only one horse could be spared from the fields. It is a matter easily explained. Treachery indeed! Now go and make ready, Jane.”

  “Mama, this is folly.” Elizabeth tried to reason.

  “Hush, child, I will hear nothing more of the matter. It is settled.” Mrs. Bennet sniffed indignantly at her daughter. “I know what is best here, for I am your elder by many a year. I daresay when you are my age, you will do the same for your own daughters. Until then, you can have nothing more to say.”

  ~*~

  Elizabeth watched from the window as Jane rode away. She had to acknowledge to herself that even though the mount was merely a farm horse, Jane's seat upon it was so elegant and graceful that she was indeed a lovely vision.

  Jane's thoughts as she rode along were full of Mr. Bingley. Although it was only his sisters she was to see, anything connected with Charles (as she permitted herself to think of him) was a pleasure worth seeking. Since she hoped to someday be related to Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, this visit alone with them was a welcome opportunity to cement the friendship.

  She noted, with unease, the gathering storm clouds in the distance but calculated that she would arrive at Netherfield before they were overhead; so she permitted herself to daydream, only guiding the horse in the general direction of the Netherfield estate.

  She was within half a mile of the house and able to see the chimneys above the trees when, suddenly, a brace of pheasants rose noisily from a small pond ahead of her, followed within seconds by several loud gunshots. She saw no birds fall, for the sudden thunderous sound spooked the mare and she found her full attentions focused on her efforts to stay in the saddle. She clung to the reins, with insufficient leverage to pull on them. Finally losing her seat, she found herself upon the ground, the sound of the horse’s hoofs fading in the distance.

  Mr. Darcy saw the riderless beast first, barreling past the group. He whistled loudly, and the horse slowed to a stop as the hunting group all turned together to see what was the commotion. “Bingley!” he shouted. “It has a side-saddle!” Darcy raced to where the horse stood, its sides heaving and its eyes wide with alarm. “Settle down, girl.” He whispered as he approached. He was comfortable with horses, so they were generally responsive to him as well, and the sweet white mare was no exception. “Who was your rider?” he asked, and as if in answer, the horse looked in the direction she had come from, shaking her head as she took one step in that direction. Darcy stopped to get his bearings and said to Mr. Bingley, “This horse has come from Longbourn.”

  Mr. Bingley paled and began to run down the path toward the Bennet estate. He did not go far before he found Jane. She was still on the ground, although she was attempting to sit up, a trickle of blood trailing down her forehead. “Miss Bennet!” He looked at her desperately then fell to the ground on his knees beside her. “Do not move! Are you well? What has happened?”

  Jane looked at Mr. Bingley as if in a trance. “My horse...,” she began, “… there were pheasants ... I think I have fallen.” She peered at him. “Mr. Bingley, do you have a brother?”

  Charles, taken aback by the question looked mystified as he shook his head and denied it with a simple “No.”

  “But there are two of you, and each is as handsome as the other.” Jane looked back and forth in agitated confusion. “I fear I am not well. The ground here is in constant motion, and if it does not stop its wretched spinning, I am going to be ill.” She closed her eyes and abruptly lay back down in the grass.

  “Bingley.” Charles turned at the sound of Darcy's voice to find Mr. Darcy and the rest of the hunting party gathered in a half-circle behind him. “We must get Miss Bennet to the house immediately, before the rain strikes. We must take care, since we do not know the extent of her injuries.” Darcy removed his coat, and instructing the stable hands who had accompanied them to go and find some long branches, they constructed a makeshift stretcher for Jane while Mr. Bingley tended to Jane’s forehead with his handkerchief. Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, Mr. Hurst and one of the hands carried her while the other hands ran ahead to alert the house.

  Chapter Six

  Summoned to Netherfield

  The Bennet family, but for Jane, had all gathered for tea when the sound of horse hoofs pounding down the drive caused them to suspend their conversation in order to listen more carefully. The steady rain that was falling muffled the sound, but there was no mistaking the neigh of the horse as the rider reined to an abrupt halt. The pounding at the door roused them from their momentary trance, and they collectively jumped up to make their way to the door, which Mrs. Hill had opened to reveal a rain-soaked man in a black cape. Mr. Bennet worked his way past his wife and daughters to accept the letter and invited the man to wait for a response.

  He opened the letter, raising it high; the shadows of the women who had gathered around him blocked his light. With a loud “Ahem,” he began reading the missive silently. He turned to the messenger and said, “Tell them we will come at once.” With a silent nod, the man was gone. The door slammed behind him, the sound of the hooves fading quickly as the man sped away.

  Fear filled the eyes of Mrs. Bennet as she cried out. “What? What has happened? Is it my sister?”

  Mr. Bennet called for Mr. Hill, ordering the carriage to be brought to the front of the house with haste. He then turned to his wife. “Fanny, please sit down.” He took her by the hand and guided her to her chair, and when she was properly settled, he began, his countenance grave. “Jane,” he began slowly, “has suffered a fall.”

  Mrs. Bennet began to wail. “My Jane! Oh no, my Jane! What is to be done, oh, what is to be done?”

  “She was taken to Netherfield,” Mr. Bennet continued, “and is in the care of Mr. Jones, the apothecary.”

  Mrs. Bennet was suddenly silent, and with a sniffle, she asked softly, “Is it very bad?”

  Mr. Bennet considered his words carefully, for he knew that should he phrase the answer badly, his wife's nervous maladies would create havoc at Longbourn. This would most certainly not be conducive to Jane's recovery. “It is serious. She lives, although she cannot
be moved.”

  “I must go to her!” Mrs. Bennet cried out, beginning to weep.

  “You must not go to her.” Mr. Bennet was stern. “Longbourn requires its mistress. Lizzy will come with me to Netherfield, to assist with Jane's care. You and your nerves will remain at Longbourn.”

  “But I am Jane's mother!” Mrs. Bennet protested weakly. “Lizzy will not know what to do for her. I must go, for no one else will do.”

  Mr. Bennet frowned. “I am resolved, Mrs. Bennet. Lizzy, go and get a few things. We will send more to you tomorrow. You may be at Netherfield for some time.”

  Elizabeth did not look at her mother. “Yes, Papa.” She pushed past her sisters and ran to her room, hastily packing a day's worth of clothing in a bundle. Racing back down the stairs, she heard the familiar clatter of the carriage outside as it was brought to the front of the house.

  ~*~

  Their arrival at Netherfield was marked by end of the storm, with enormous rays of light breaking through the clouds in all directions as if to defy that anything in the world could be amiss. Elizabeth would normally relish such a sight, but her heart was heavy, and she was anxious to be with her sister.

  Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth were taken immediately to the bedchamber where Jane was resting. Mr. Jones invited Mr. Bennet to speak privately in the outer hall, as Elizabeth ran to her sister's bedside. Caroline Bingley was sitting in a chair near the window of the room and addressed Elizabeth quietly. “I am sorry, Eliza, for dear, sweet Jane. She is not herself, and we are all most distressed.”

  “Not herself?” Elizabeth asked with alarm, for Jane, who had not yet said anything to her sister, appeared reasonably well. Elizabeth scanned Jane again, who had several visible scratches and a large swelling on her head, but was otherwise unmarked by the accident.

  “You will see,” Caroline replied as she stood to leave. “I will have your dinner sent to the room, so you may stay with your sister.”

  “Thank you.” Elizabeth said as Caroline quit the room. “You are most kind.”

  Mr. Bennet entered the room as soon as Caroline left it, and standing at the foot of the bed, addressed his eldest daughter. “Jane, I see that you are awake. How are you feeling, my dear? You have given us all quite a scare.”

  “I am sorry to have caused so much trouble, Papa. I fear that I suffer from dizzy spells, and my head aches most exceedingly, but other than that there is nothing much,” Jane spoke softly but clearly. “I hope this has not distressed Mama too much. Tell me, will our Easter preparations be delayed?”

  “Lizzy, I would speak to you in the corridor for a moment.” Mr. Bennet said as Elizabeth's jaw dropped in dismay at Jane's question. “Jane, we shall return in a moment.”

  Mr. Bennet related to Elizabeth that which Mr. Jones had said to him about Jane's condition. Upon arrival at Netherfield, she had suffered from an attack of some kind, convulsing and vomiting profusely. She had been in a state of confusion from the moment of her fall, which is not uncommon with a blow to the head according to the apothecary; it was important that she be humored in order to keep her quiet.

  She should be awakened every few hours, and plied with as much tea and broth as they could persuade her to take. She was to remain in bed and not be moved until she was recovered. As the swelling on her head lessened, her condition should improve, unless a fever set in. If this occurred, she should send word to Longbourn immediately. The apothecary had brought some preparations to administer for pain, but there was nothing to be done for her other symptoms. When his recitation was complete, Mr. Bennet returned to the room, bid his goodbyes to Jane, and departed, leaving Elizabeth alone with her sister.

  Elizabeth sat by Jane's bedside and tenderly took Jane's hand. “Lizzy,” Jane said, “where am I? This room is most strange.”

  “You are at Netherfield.” Elizabeth said.

  “Oh, then I am at home.” Jane sighed happily. “Send my husband to see me, for I would be in far more comfort if he were here.”

  “Jane, you are not married.” Elizabeth said, frowning.

  “What has become of Charles?” Jane asked drowsily with a childlike pout.

  Charles, Elizabeth knew, was frantically pacing the hallway outside, as agitated and worried as she had ever seen any man; he had hovered close when her father had spoken to her. She had seen the look in his eyes, a look of desperation and regret, and he followed her with a look of longing when Elizabeth had re-entered the room. He had given away much in his vulnerable state. Elizabeth was convinced in those short moments that Charles Bingley had formed a deep attachment to her sister.

  “He is near.” Elizabeth soothed. “He cannot come to you now, but he is near.”

  “Then I shall see him?” Jane closed her eyes. “Tell me when he comes home, Lizzy. A husband needs a proper greeting from his wife.” Jane relaxed and dozed off.

  Elizabeth watched her sister sleep, wondering what Jane had said to Caroline, or to Charles. She set about to tidy up the room when the incessant sound of footsteps in the hallway stopped. She went to the door and opened it a crack. She saw Charles leaning up against the wall, his head against one of his forearms as his shoulders shook. She considered retreating inside the room, pretending she had not seen it, but, overtaken by compassion, she stepped into the hallway.

  “Mr. Bingley,” she spoke softly. “Jane will be well. You shall see.”

  Charles stood up with a start and turned slowly to face Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet.” The cheer that usually graced his features was gone, replaced with melancholy. “I did not know.” His head sagged.

  Elizabeth mentally rehearsed what Jane had said to her and wondered what Jane had said before she arrived. Had Jane revealed her feelings in her confused state? Elizabeth pressed her lips together as she shook her head subtly. He continued speaking, “I knew, of course, that she was to dine at Netherfield today with my sisters,” Charles explained, “but had I known that she was to come on horseback....” He looked past Elizabeth at the door to the bedchamber, and repeated. “I regret that I did not know.”

  “Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth reassured him again, “Jane shall be well, and you must know that you are not to blame. This is not your fault!”

  Charles nodded. “It is nearly time for dinner. I will check again on Miss Bennet later.” Elizabeth nodded her assent and turned to go back into Jane's room.

  “Miss Bennet.” Mr. Bingley said, as if another thought just occurred to him. “Do you know what your sister wants to name her first child?”

  Elizabeth turned slowly. “Mr. Bingley? Why do you ask such a question?”

  “Do not be alarmed, Miss Bennet, I mean no offense. Your sister said something to me as we carried her to the house after her fall that I have not been able to set aside. I thought perhaps you could help me reconcile it.”

  “I fear that I cannot help you, Mr. Bingley, for I do not know the answer. You will have to ask Jane when she is better.” Elizabeth opened the door and returned to her sister.

  ~*~

  The night was long for Elizabeth. Although Jane slept fitfully, Elizabeth slept not at all. She dutifully roused Jane several times to make her sip some tea and provided tender comfort when Jane muttered and moaned.

  When morning came, Elizabeth went to the adjacent room for just a few moments to wash and change before returning to be with Jane. When she entered the room, she saw that a breakfast tray had been brought but did not at first notice the man standing near the window, for he had pressed himself backwards into the draperies when she had entered the room.

  “Good morning, Jane.” Elizabeth said cheerily as she sat on the side of the bed right next to Jane. “Open your eyes, my dear, for it is time I had a proper look at you.” She combed Jane's hair lightly with her fingers as Jane made a feeble protest to awakening. “You are not nearly so frightful as you could have been—your beautiful face is barely scratched and will heal soon enough, although I can see some bruising today as well. You will undoubtedly make the peacock col
ors of a bruise look so appealing on a person that all the ladies of the neighborhood will wish that they could be injured too.” Elizabeth's teasing tone disguised her concern, for the swelling on Jane's head had not improved.

  “Lizzy,” Jane said softly, “I have such a headache. Close the curtains, I pray you, for I cannot open my eyes in this light.”

  “Of course.” Elizabeth had herself opened the curtains at dawn, knowing how much Jane preferred rooms filled with sunlight. She felt foolish for not realizing that Jane's injuries might cause her to be sensitive to it, and she hastened to amend her error. It was at that point that the figure of a man stepped forward from within the curtains.

  Chapter Seven

  Managing Mr. Bingley

  Elizabeth jumped at the sight of him, startled to see Mr. Bingley in Jane's room, but fortunately she caught herself before she made any sound; although she stared in shock for several seconds before proceeding to hastily close the curtains.

  He stood before her, smiling shamelessly. He looked over at Jane, clearly quite as pleased with himself as a child caught sneaking a spoonful of jam too late to be stopped. Elizabeth put her hand up to her mouth, signaling him to be silent, and quickly crossed to the doorway, hoping to send him away unnoticed by the household. She peered into the hallway and beckoned him to come. He nodded and tiptoed halfway across the room when Jane's eyes fluttered open and she weakly said, “Charles? Charles, you are here at last. Will you not sit with me now that you have come?”

  He stopped walking but looked beseechingly at Elizabeth. Elizabeth shook her head and motioned toward the door, indicating that he should hurry. He hesitated only for a moment before moving to Jane's bedside where he sat in the chair that her sister had previously occupied. He tenderly clasped Jane's hand and, looking earnestly into her eyes, said, “I am here.”