Page 40 of Love Among the Shadows
“My dear Mrs. Bennet, considering that you have not ceased these three weeks to insist that Mr Darcy is the very image of a murderer on the loose, one might suppose you would hesitate before urging your daughter into the same house with him.”
Mrs. Bennet, undeterred, sniffed with importance. “Well, they have said he is not the killer. And did he not sleep under this very roof at Longbourn on the night the militia officer was slain? No, Mr Bennet, it cannot be him. Besides, it has been three whole weeks since any fresh calamity. We cannot live in hiding forever and prevent our girls from making the most favourable of connections.”
Thus persuaded, Jane was obliged to prepare for her visit. And so, shortly after the meal was finished, she set out for Netherfield on horseback, her sisters watching anxiously from the window as the first low rumble of thunder stirred in the distance.
As if to support her schemes, Jane had scarcely been gone twenty minutes when the heavens broke, pouring rain in sheets so heavy that even Lydia’s exclamations died into uneasy silence. The Bennet girls clustered at the parlour window, gasping at the force of the storm, while their mother declared with unshaken triumph that Providence itself had conspired on Jane’s behalf.
“See there, my dears! The rain comes at exactly the right moment. She must remain the night at Netherfield now. How fortunate, how exceedingly well-timed!”
No one argued with her, for they knew the futility.
It rained without cease into the night. No rider approached Longbourn’s gates, no message came. Whenmorning dawned, pale and heavy with lingering clouds, they gathered at the breakfast table, still without word of Jane.
By break of day, whilst the household was yet to break their fast, a servant arrived bearing a note from Netherfield. Elizabeth’s hand shook slightly as she broke it open and read aloud:
"My dearest Lizzy,
How right you were about the weather! I confess I was quite thoroughly soaked through before reaching Netherfield yesterday afternoon, and now find myself rather poorly as a consequence. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst have been exceedingly kind in their attentions and will not hear of my departure until I am quite recovered. Pray do not distress yourself on my account, dearest sister, for I am confident this trifling indisposition will pass directly. Mr Jones is expected presently, and I am persuaded that his remedies will see me quite well again by the morrow.
Pray give my fondest regards to Mama and Papa, and kiss our dear sisters for me. I am already counting the hours until I may return to you all.
Yours, etc.”
Elizabeth folded the letter carefully, her brow creasing with concern. "I must go to Jane immediately."
Mr Bennet glanced up from his morning paper with a wry expression. "How convenient that your mother's matrimonial schemes have resulted in our Jane being confined to a sickbed at Netherfield. I dare say she could not have orchestrated it better if she had tried."
"Really, Mr Bennet!” Mrs. Bennet bristled, setting down her teacup with unnecessary force. “A bit of moisture never harmed anyone. Jane is merely delicate, and it is hardly my fault that the weather proved disagreeable."
"Indeed," Mr Bennet replied dryly, "you could have easily persuaded Jane not to venture out when Elizabeth mentioned those dark clouds gathering. But encouraging her to go on horseback when rain was imminent—pure coincidence, I am sure."
Mrs. Bennet had nothing to say to that until Elizabeth repeated herself about wanting to go to Netherfield to see her sister.
She clutched her handkerchief as though Elizabeth had proposed some dreadful enormity. “Go to her? On foot? Certainly not. With a killer still abroad, you could be the very target he seeks! I will not have it, Lizzy. You will not set one foot from this house.”
Elizabeth drew a breath, steadying herself. “Jane is alone, Mama—ill, and among those who care little for her comfort. If she is fevered, she must have someone with her who truly loves her. I cannot remain here while she suffers there.”
"You speak as though Miss Bingley and her sister would neglect her!" Mrs. Bennet cried, dabbing her eyes though they were perfectly dry. "Mr Bingley will see that she is well taken care of. She is in the finest of houses, with every possible attention."
Elizabeth's reply was sharp with impatience. "Miss Bingley's attention serves her own amusement, not Jane's well-being. Moreover, I know Jane's constitution better than they do. When she is unwell, she requires more than mere politeness and fine words."
Before Mrs. Bennet could marshal her forces for another objection, Mr Bennet lowered his paper, again, and spoke with an amusement that belied the keen eye he fixed upon his wife.
"My dear, how curious that you were so easy in dispatching one daughter to Netherfield yesterday, yet prove so reluctant to permit another today."
"Lizzy might well have been a target of this killer but some few weeks past," Mrs. Bennet protested.
"Are we to suppose the murderer preys only upon second daughters?"
Mrs. Bennet gasped, quite affronted. "That is not what I meant at all! But Elizabeth—she is so headstrong, she would walk unaccompanied—"
"Headstrong, certainly," Mr Bennet interrupted, folding his paper with deliberate care. "But no more so than her mother when she has set her heart upon a scheme. Elizabeth shall go."
Elizabeth rose at once, relief mingling with determination. "Thank you, Papa."
Mrs. Bennet made one final, half-hearted protest—"At the very least, wait for the carriage!"—but even she could not deny the obvious. The horses remained engaged with the farm work, and there was no prospect of any conveyance.
"Mama, it is merely three miles on foot. I shall go and return well before dinner," Elizabeth said. "Moreover, we have been confined indoors far too long because of this dreadful affair. Surely a brisk walk will do me considerable good."
