Page 69 of A Most Beloved Sister
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Once all the Longbourn visitors had disappeared at last, Elizabeth returned to the library, this time successful in settlingherself in the cozy chair at the fireplace. A passing maid had informed her that Jane had awoken during her time with the Mr. Collins debacle but had quickly fallen back to sleep.
Elizabeth would have been concerned at the amount of time her sister was spending at rest, but both Mr. Jones and the doctor from London had informed her that the various tinctures and herbal remedies they were prescribing for Jane’s cough would leave her feeling quite drowsy until the doses could be lowered in another week or so.
With all the tumult of the past day—nay, the past fortnight—Elizabeth eagerly sought refuge in one of the new books she had received from Meryton. For the next several hours, she immersed herself in the fantastical worlds of Lilliput and Brobdingnag, where gentle giants, noble horses, and floating islands carried her away until the scale of her problems shrank away like the Emperor in front of Gulliver.
Suddenly, the sharp clang of the dressing bell pierced the mental haze that had enveloped Elizabeth as she read. She shook her head to clear the fog and noted the time with no small amount of surprise. She quickly made her way back to her room and changed for dinner. As she was accustomed to doing so without a maid—for the Bennet girls only shared the one girl Sarah—she had ample time to visit with Jane before the bell rang yet again, this time to call her down to dinner.
After she had secured Jane’s promise to eat all that was served on the dinner tray, Elizabeth went down to the drawing room. She was quite surprised to discover that she was the first one to arrive. Typically, Mr. Hurst was quite eager to begin his meal, and he and Louisa were often the first to enter the room.
Grantham entered about five minutes later. “Dinner is served,” he announced.
“Am I… am I the only one eating?” she asked with surprise.
“Mrs. Hurst requested a tray be sent to her room,” he informed her.
“But what about Mr. Hurst?”
Grantham blinked, then looked around the room in bewilderment. “I assumed he would be dining downstairs as usual. I had not heard otherwise.”
“Perhaps someone should ask his valet,” Elizabeth suggested.
Grantham snapped his fingers at a footman in the hall, who immediately darted off in the direction of the servant’s staircase. “Would you like to wait for him, Miss Lizzy?”
She hesitated. “I think I would actually prefer to take a tray to the library. I’m not entirely certain I would enjoy dining with just Mr. Hurst for company.”
Grantham’s lips twitched. “Very well. I will have it sent there directly.”
“Oh, there’s no need! I can carry it myself.”
He gave her a look of deep indignation. “I could never let it be said that a guest of Netherfield carried their own dinner tray!”
His voice was filled with such offense that it was all Elizabeth could do to hold back her laughter. “I see. I had not thought of it in quite that way, Grantham. I would be more than happy to accept the tray. Thank you very much for taking such good care of me.”
He bowed low, then excused himself to go see to the arrangements. Elizabeth gave a soft giggle, then made her way back to the library, where she once again settled into the snug armchair by the fire to await her dinner.
How long she waited, she did not know, because at some point, the warmth of the fire and the soft comfort of the chair had lulled her into slumber. That peaceful rest ended rather suddenly when the door flew open with a loud crash.
Elizabeth jumped in her seat, startled awake. “Good heavens!” she cried in alarm. “What on earth?”
“Elizabeth! Elizabeth! He’s missing!”
Louisa Hurst came flying into the room, wearing only a dressing gown over her shift, her hair tumbling around her shoulders under a nightcap.
“Who is missing?”
“Reggie! My husband. Mr. Hurst! He went for a ride hours ago, but he still hasn’t returned!”
Elizabeth looked out the window in alarm. Other than the dim light from the half-moon, there was nothing but inky blackness.
In an attempt to cater to both Darcy and Bingley, Netherfield’s schedule was a blend of both town and country hours. Dinner at Longbourn was usually served between three and five in the evening, with a late tea before bed. At her uncle’s house in Gracechurch Street, however, Elizabeth would usually have dinner at around seven or eight at night.
At Netherfield, Bingley was attempting to make the adjustment to country hours. He therefore had requested that dinner be served at six o’clock, and every two weeks, move the meal half an hour earlier. A similar adjustment was being made for his waking times, unless there was a social event.
Since it was late October, the sun was already setting as early as five o’clock, which meant Mr. Hurst had been out in the cold darkness for at least two hours.
“Let us not panic, Louisa,” Elizabeth said in a firm voice, belying the knot of dread in her stomach. “Here, you take my place while I organize things.”
