The Angel of Longbourn Page 2

  A squeal startled Elizabeth. “A man! Perhaps he is an officer!”

  A pair of giggles followed the exclamation, and Elizabeth turned to regard her youngest sisters. By now, the commotion had drawn Jane and Mary, as well as Mrs. Bennet.

  “He is not an officer, that I could see,” replied Elizabeth, her mind still distracted by thoughts of the unconscious stranger.

  “Oh, then why all this fuss?” demanded Lydia. “I could not care three straws for him if he does not wear a red coat.”

  “He might have come as an advance scout for the regiment,” said Kitty. “He may simply not be wearing his regimentals.”

  “It matters not,” said Mary in her usual ponderous tone. “We are, as good Christians, bound to offer assistance to those in need, much as the Good Samaritan.”

  “I hope he will be well,” fretted Jane.

  “I am sure he will be if our father can return him here soon enough and summon the apothecary to see to him,” said Elizabeth.

  Mrs. Bennet, who had, to this point, been listening to the conversation in silence—unusual though that was for her—caught sight of Elizabeth, and her eyes widened in shock and distress.

  “Lizzy! What have you done to your dress?”

  Rolling her eyes, Elizabeth replied: “I could hardly dawdle on my return with a sick man lying by the side of the road, perishing from the damp and the cold.”

  “You should not have been outside at all! Oh, my poor nerves! Whatever shall I do with such a daughter who scampers about the country in such a manner, and in all this mud!”

  “There, there, Mrs. Bennet,” said Mrs. Hill, stepping forward to take control of the situation. “I will put Miss Lizzy in the hands of the maid, who will set her to rights quick enough.”

  Mrs. Hill shot Elizabeth a look of warning, and Elizabeth nodded, refraining from rolling her eyes again as she was sorely tempted to do. She unlaced her boots and managed to pull the wet footwear from her feet. She was soon following the maid up the stairs to change, while Jane and Mrs. Hill attended her mother to calm her hysterics. And though she had once again caused her mother to exclaim in censure, in this instance Elizabeth could not repine it. There had been nothing else she could do under the circumstances, after all.

  In a short period, Elizabeth, having divested herself of her wet garments and left them in the hands of the reproachful maid, was now dressed in new clothes. If the situation were different, she might have felt some embarrassment or regret for making extra work for the girl, but in this instance, she could think of nothing more than the man, lying cold and alone on the path where she had found him. When her appearance had been completely repaired, Elizabeth descended the stairs and made her way to the entrance to await her father’s return. She did not have long to wait.

  Soon, the clatter of the wagon’s wheels against the gravel she had only recently walked on presaged its arrival and it rolled into view down the driveway. The stallion that had stood with such faithful devotion by its master’s side was following behind with her father perched upon its back, while Mr. Hill sat in the back of the wagon, an umbrella held over the unconscious man’s form, protecting him from the drizzle which had once more begun to fall.

  When the wagon rolled to a stop, Mr. Hill stepped from the back, and between himself, her father, the footman, and the stable hand, they managed to manhandle the limp form of the man into the house and up the stairs to Longbourn’s spare bedroom. By this time, their arrival had drawn Elizabeth’s sisters to watch the spectacle, but though the murmur of conversation reached her ears, Elizabeth heard none of it, focused as she was on the scene playing out before her eyes.

  “Mr. Hill, let us get him out of these clothes and into a dry nightshirt. He is so tall that I am certain my shirts shall be tight and short on him, but it will be better than his wet clothes.” Mr. Bennet turned to David, the stable hand. “Put the wagon away and stable the man’s horse, and then go into Meryton and summon Mr. Jones.”

  The stable hand left to do his master’s bidding, and Mr. Hill went to retrieve one of Mr. Bennet’s nightshirts, leaving Elizabeth in the hallway, staring at the closed door. She was interrupted from her contemplations by the sound of her father’s voice.

  “You seem to have an inordinate amount of interest in this young man, Lizzy.”

  Shaking her head, Elizabeth turned a displeased eye on her father. “Should I not? It was I who found him, after all.”

  Mr. Bennet chuckled. “Perhaps it was. Regardless, I would ask that you wait in the sitting-room with your mother and sisters. I will inform you the moment I have any news of his condition.”

  Elizabeth nodded, looking at her father, wondering at his thoughts. Normally Mr. Bennet loathed any interruption in his routine, particularly if the disruption prevented him from immersing himself in his beloved books. But Elizabeth could find no hint of annoyance in her father’s manner. In fact, she thought he was as interested in this man as Elizabeth was herself, though she doubted he would stir himself to sit in the sickroom with him. But if he did not, who would?

  Though uncertain, Elizabeth decided that now was not the time to consider such matters. Directing a weak smile at her father, Elizabeth turned and made her way down the stairs to the sitting-room, following her father’s suggestion. Mr. Jones was always prompt, so long as he did not have some other emergency preventing him from coming. Consequently, Elizabeth thought the wait would not be a long one.

  Chapter II

  As Elizabeth had expected, Mr. Jones attended them directly, and was closeted upstairs with her father in the sick room for some time after his arrival. Though Mr. Jones was not anything so exalted as a physician, he had practiced his craft as an apothecary for many years and was experienced in all manner of illness. Elizabeth knew that if anyone could effect the improved health of the unconscious man, it was Mr. Jones.

  At length, Mr. Bennet and Mr. Jones joined the Bennet ladies in the sitting-room, where they were immediately inundated with questions concerning the state of their visitor. Mr. Jones, familiar as he was with the characters of the ladies present, held his hand up and laughed, saying:

  “One at a time, please. I do not possess the ability to answer so many questions at once.”

  “Perhaps you should allow Mr. Jones to share his findings before you bombard him with questions,” rumbled Mr. Bennet.

  “Aye, that would be for the best,” agreed Mr. Jones. “The young man is suffering from typhoid fever, and I expect his convalescence will be of some duration.”

  “Typhoid!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. “How can we keep him in the house, knowing he might kill us all with his disease?”

  “Care must be taken, of course,” agreed Mr. Jones. “But though we do not understand how such illnesses are passed from one person to the next, I believe the spread of the disease may be contained with little difficulty.”

  “And if you remember,” said Jane in her diffident tones, “Lizzy had typhoid as a child, and neither Mary nor I became ill.”

  “That is a good sign,” agreed Mr. Jones. “It may be that your daughters have some natural resistance, and likely Elizabeth’s resistance would be formidable, as she has already been ill with this particular malady.”

  Mrs. Bennet, however, remained unconvinced. “Perhaps Lizzy may nurse him, but for the rest of her sisters, I believe they must stay clear of the man.”

  “That would be wise,” said Mr. Jones.

  The apothecary stayed for some few more moments, speaking of what they must do to return the gentleman to health, and then departed, citing other matters to which he was required to attend. His departure brought no end to Mrs. Bennet’s complaints.

  “I do not see why the young man should stay here,” said she. “We should discover from whence he comes and send him away.”

  “It is our duty to give succor to the infirm,” said Mary in her usual pious tones.

  “Our Mary is correct,” said Mr. Bennet with a brie
f smile at his middle child. “We cannot turn the man out and put his health further at risk.”

  “I suppose we cannot, when you put it that way,” muttered Mrs. Bennet. “But as soon as he is hale, we should send him on his way. I would not have an uncouth man, one who puts himself in such danger, in the house to influence the girls.”

  “I cannot say how our guest came to be in this state,” said Mr. Bennet, “but I can tell you that he is not uncouth. Far from it, in fact.”

  “What do you mean, Mr. Bennet?” asked his wife.

  “From the man’s clothes and his mount, I suspect that he is a man of some property, Mrs. Bennet. His clothes are far too fine for him to be a servant, or even of the same level of society which we inhabit, and the animal he was riding was well-trained and of a prestigious pedigree. If I were to guess, I would say that he is the proprietor of a large estate.”

  There was a peculiar timbre to Mr. Bennet’s voice and a gleam in his eye, which might have gone unnoticed in one who was not acquainted with his ways. To Elizabeth, who knew her father better than perhaps any other alive, the expectation in his voice and the way he watched his wife suggested that he was amusing himself at her expense.

  As he had expected, Mrs. Bennet received his suggestions with growing astonishment, which gradually turned to expectation, and even cunning. Elizabeth had always known that her mother possessed the ability to ferret out wealthy men with the ease of a badger hunting truffles, and in this instance, her instincts were as finely honed as ever.

  “A wealthy man, Mr. Bennet?” asked she with every hint of composure. Her sudden excitement, which caused her to quiver with expectation, was easily seen.

  “Unless the man is a horse thief,” replied Mr. Bennet with a shrug. “It is possible, I suppose, that he was delivering his master’s horse, or perhaps even exercising it.”

  Mrs. Bennet reacted with a wholly expected gasp of dismay. Then her gaze turned flinty, as if she was coming to understand that her husband was teasing her.

  “Did you not say he was dressed finely?”

  “I did.”

  “Then it seems unlikely that he is a servant. Is it not so, Mr. Bennet?”

  Mr. Bennet shrugged. “I would not suppose so.”

  “Then why did you speak in such a fashion?”

  “Because, my dear,” replied Mr. Bennet, “you seemed determined to disbelieve my assessment.”

  “Oh, Mr. Bennet!” exclaimed his wife. “You take delight in vexing my poor nerves!”

  “Only when you present the opportunity.” Mr. Bennet’s eyes sparkled with amusement, and Elizabeth was forced to turn away to hide a smile.

  Mrs. Bennet chose the prudence of changing the subject. “A wealthy man is occupying our spare bedchamber!” exclaimed she with delight. “How fortuitous his sudden arrival is for our daughters.”

  Lydia and Kitty giggled at their mother’s exclamation, and Jane and Elizabeth shared a glance. But Mr. Bennet only gazed at his wife, a look which bespoke sardonic amusement.

  “How can it possibly affect one of them, Mrs. Bennet? Once our guest bestirs himself and regains his health, I imagine that he will be off to wherever he was going when he found himself in his predicament.”

  Mrs. Bennet regarded him as if she thought him daft. “When we nurse him back to health, do you not think he will be grateful to us?”

  “Not enough to warrant offering for one of our daughters.”

  “He may very well fall in love with one of them.”

  “Except for the fact that you have already stated your desire to sequester him away from our girls, Mrs. Bennet. And though I sometimes question your motivations, in this instance, I cannot but agree.”

  Dismay settle over Mrs. Bennet. It was clear that she had completely forgotten of the man’s illness, though how she could have managed it was quite beyond Elizabeth’s comprehension.

  “Regardless of your machinations, my dear, we must care for him, and our servants have enough with which to occupy themselves.” Mr. Bennet turned to Elizabeth, and she, who knew him so well, knew exactly what he was about to say. “You found the man, and you have already contracted typhoid, so I fear it will be your task to care for him.”

  Elizabeth sighed. It was fortunate that she was not of mind to disagree with him. “Is it proper for me to be in his room, Papa?”

  “Perhaps not strictly proper, Lizzy,” replied he. “But as long as our guest is sleeping, I cannot imagine that he will object. Mr. Hill and the other servants can assist where possible, but we cannot ask them to spend every waking moment at the man’s bedside. And as you are quite able to entertain yourself with a book, I dare say you will hardly even note the passage of time.”

  It appeared there was nothing left to be said, so Elizabeth acquiesced. It was not precisely an imposition, she decided, musing over the subject. She was curious about their guest, and though she might not learn much about him while he slept, the opportunity would be there to make his acquaintance once he woke.

  But Elizabeth had not counted on her mother’s continued scheming. It was quickly decided that as Elizabeth was an early riser, she would sit with him in the mornings, and would spend a good part of each day responsible for his care. The evenings and nights would be shared by their servants, who would wake Elizabeth should anything happen to give them pause concerning his condition.

  As Elizabeth stood to make her way up the stairs, however, her mother rose with her and followed her into the hall. There, she addressed Elizabeth.

  “I am certain you shall take excellent care of our guest,” said Mrs. Bennet. “You are the best nurse of all your sisters, and I dare say that under your attention he shall wake soon.”

  “I hope so, Mother,” replied Elizabeth. “I would not wish for the man to remain in this state for long. I do not doubt he has beloved family who will be searching for him.”

  “I am certain he has.” Then Mrs. Bennet leaned toward Elizabeth, though not before taking a furtive glance about, making sure no one was near enough to overhear. “Make certain once he does wake that you speak of Jane in the most glowing of terms. Your sister, beautiful as she is, will have no trouble capturing him. But you must give her a good start by ensuring that he understands how beautiful and sweet she is.”

  Knowing she should have expected this, Elizabeth refrained from shaking her head and looking skyward. “You heard Papa. Once he wakes, I will have no further reason to be in the sick room. There will be no way for me to follow your instructions.”

  “Do not worry, Lizzy,” replied Mrs. Bennet. “Mr. Bennet will have lost interest by then. I will make sure that you are able to continue to see to his needs.”

  And with that, Mrs. Bennet turned and walked away, humming softly to herself. Elizabeth watched her go with equal parts exasperation and bemusement. Some things, it seemed, never changed.

  It was the very next day that the Bennets were to learn the identity of the man occupying their guest bedroom. As Mr. Bennet had surmised that he was a gentleman of some property, and furthermore, was likely in the area either due to some acquaintance, or on his way to London, their stable hands were sent around to the neighboring estates to inform them of what had happened and to inquire if anyone knew him.

  “None of our neighbors are likely to know such an important man,” protested Mrs. Bennet. “You are the most prominent gentleman in the district, and you are not acquainted with a man of his consequence.”

  “I shall attempt to restrain my offense on behalf of our neighbors,” was Mr. Bennet’s wry reply.

  “Oh, how you vex me, Mr. Bennet!” cried his wife. “You know perfectly well of what I was speaking.”

  “I do, Mrs. Bennet. But though our neighbors do not, in general, socialize with those of the sphere to which I suspect our guest belongs, it is not impossible that he is acquainted with one of them. Meryton is hardly the sort of place a man would visit if he had no business here, and if he was simply passing t
hrough, he would have kept to the Great North Road.”

  And Mr. Bennet was proven to be correct, though perhaps not in the manner he had expected. It was early the next afternoon during visiting hours when callers arrived to solve the mystery of their guest, and though they could claim residence in the neighborhood, they were not people Elizabeth had ever met.

  Elizabeth had been sitting with Mr. Darcy that morning, watching for the rise of fever which often came and went, when she heard some giggling outside the guest bedroom, and shook her head at the sound of her sisters’ continued frivolity.

  “Can you not restrain yourselves?” came the familiar tones of Mary’s severe voice. “He is naught but a man, a man brought low by illness at that.”

  “Oh, bother,” said Lydia in the exasperated tone she usually used when Mary reprimanded her. “We merely wish to have a look at him. Lizzy said he is frightfully handsome.”

  That was not what Elizabeth said, but she knew that Lydia was prone to exaggeration.

  “I believe you should leave him with his dignity,” was Mary’s stiff reply. “He is not to be gawked at like a lion in the menagerie.”

  “Mary!” cried Kitty.

  But Mary was firm. “Off with you both! You will see him when he awakens.”

  Though they continued to grumble, Lydia and Kitty retreated from the field. Elizabeth went to the door and peered around the corner, catching Mary’s eye, and sharing a shaken head with her sister.

  “Thank you, Mary. I would not have them in here at all hours trying to catch a glimpse of a handsome stranger.”

  “You are welcome,” replied Mary.

  Soon after, Elizabeth recruited a maid to sit with her patient while she went below to refresh herself. Thus she happened to be nearby when a man and his sister were announced into the Bennet sitting-room.