Free Into Hertfordshire by Stanley Michael Hurd Page B

Bennet . ” Bingley immediately jumped to his feet and cried, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I am so glad you have come! Your sister, I am sure, will be very relieved to see you.”
    Darcy, with tolerant amusement at his friend’s effusive, if somewhat unpolished, greeting, rose and said with a perfectly correct bow, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet; it is a great pleasure to see you again. I am very sorry that your sister’s illness should be the occasion.” Her modest curtsey in return pleased him, showing as it did that she shared his appreciation of proper behaviour. Hurst barely sketched a bow from his chair and turned his attention back to his sausages. While Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst added their greetings, Darcy took the opportunity to enjoy the picture presented by Elizabeth. She had obviously walked the three miles from Longbourn: her face flushed and eyes shining, and with some wind-blown curls having escaped to frame her face like a wild dryad’s, she made a portrait worthy of a master’s brush. Part of him wished he had been with her; an hour’s walk through the Hertfordshire countryside with her would have been charming, indeed. His practical side wondered, though, at her coming: surely Miss Bennet was not in extremis ; there could be no need for the family to attend her. But the sisters were very close, he knew; therein must lie the reason. He honoured the warm heart that would impel her to make such an effort to comfort a sick sister.
    She was shown up stairs directly and Darcy returned to his breakfast. His attention wandered, though, and he laid the paper aside. While the ladies clattered on about the news from London, he could only stare out the window and let his coffee grow cold.
     

 
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
     
    After breakfast Bingley and Darcy had spent half-an-hour in the library, where Darcy had set up to review Netherfield’s books and school Bingley in the duties of a landowner. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst went up stairs to entertain and care for the invalid. The apothecary having arrived while the two friends were still at their books, he came to them to announce that Miss Bennet had a severe cold and a fever, and that he had prescribed her some draughts. The palpable obviousness of this pronouncement brought to Darcy’s mind one of Voltaire’s exercises of wit on physicians: “Doctors pour drugs of which they know little, to cure diseases of which they know less, into human beings of whom they know nothing.” Bingley, however, was quite distressed, plying the man with question after question regarding the care and ultimate prognosis of his guest. Darcy was forced to admit to himself that the man handled this inquisition with both good humour and a very appropriate degree of earnest attention. He himself was ready to bite off his friend’s head before it was done, and he was not the one having to invent a dozen ways to answer the same question. Mr. Jones assured Bingley repeatedly that Miss Bennet was in no great danger, and he at length released the man. Shortly after the apothecary’s departure, the two men took to horse to inspect some outlying barns and fields.
    In the afternoon they stood looking at some trenching while Darcy was attempting to explain to Bingley some alterations to the system of ditches that he had employed successfully at Pemberley, but Bingley was not attending. “Bingley, where are your thoughts? You have not heard a word I have said.”
    “I do apologise, Darcy,” his friend answered, contritely. His next comment, though, revealed the subject of his preoccupation: “Do you suppose she is going to be all right?”
    Darcy shook his head at his friend. “Good Lord, man, she has a cold, not the pox. Country girls are hardy; she will recover admirably, I assure you.”
    “But her fever—what if it should worsen? I feel I should be doing something more for her.”
    This gave Darcy pause. His thoughts flew to Georgiana; he hadn’t had a letter from her in a month.