Meryton, and the Hursts have no horses to theirs.”
“I had much rather go in the coach.”
“But, my dear, your father cannot spare the horses, I am sure.
They are wanted in the farm, Mr. Bennet, are they not?”
“They are wanted in the farm much oftener than I can get them.”
“But if you have got them to-day,” said Elizabeth, “my mother’s
purpose will be answered.”
She did at last extort from her father an acknowledgment that the
horses were engaged. Jane was therefore obliged to go on
horseback, and her mother attended her to the door with many
cheerful prognostics of a bad day. Her hopes were answered; Jane
had not been gone long before it rained hard. Her sisters were
uneasy for her, but her mother was delighted. The rain continued
the whole evening without intermission; Jane certainly could not
come back.
“This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!” said Mrs. Bennet more
than once, as if the credit of making it rain were all her own.
Till the next morning, however, she was not aware of all the
felicity of her contrivance. Breakfast was scarcely over when a
servant from Netherfield brought the following note for
Elizabeth:
“MY DEAREST LIZZY,—
“I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to
be imputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My kind friends
will not hear of my returning till I am better. They insist also
on my seeing Mr. Jones—therefore do not be alarmed if you should
hear of his having been to me—and, excepting a sore throat and
headache, there is not much the matter with me.—Yours, etc.”
“Well, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet, when Elizabeth had read the
note aloud, “if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of
illness—if she should die, it would be a comfort to know that it
was all in pursuit of Mr. Bingley, and under your orders.”
“Oh! I am not afraid of her dying. People do not die of little
trifling colds. She will be taken good care of. As long as she
stays there, it is all very well. I would go and see her if I
could have the carriage.”
Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, was determined to go to her,
though the carriage was not to be had; and as she was no
horsewoman, walking was her only alternative. She declared her
resolution.
“How can you be so silly,” cried her mother, “as to think of such
a thing, in all this dirt! You will not be fit to be seen when
you get there.”
“I shall be very fit to see Jane—which is all I want.”
“Is this a hint to me, Lizzy,” said her father, “to send for the
horses?”
“No, indeed, I do not wish to avoid the walk. The distance is
nothing when one has a motive; only three miles. I shall be back
by dinner.”
“I admire the activity of your benevolence,” observed Mary, “but
every impulse of feeling should be guided by reason; and, in my
opinion, exertion should always be in proportion to what is
required.”
“We will go as far as Meryton with you,” said Catherine and
Lydia. Elizabeth accepted their company, and the three young
ladies set off together.
“If we make haste,” said Lydia, as they walked along, “perhaps we
may see something of Captain Carter before he goes.”
In Meryton they parted; the two youngest repaired to the lodgings
of one of the officers’ wives, and Elizabeth continued her walk
alone, crossing field after field at a quick pace, jumping over
stiles and springing over puddles with impatient activity, and
finding herself at last within view of the house, with weary
ankles, dirty stockings, and a face glowing with the warmth of
exercise.
She was shown into the breakfast-parlour, where all but Jane were
assembled, and where her appearance created a great deal of
surprise. That she should have walked three miles so early in the
day, in such dirty weather, and by herself, was almost incredible
to Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and Elizabeth was convinced that
they held her in contempt for it. She was received, however, very
politely by them; and in their brother’s manners there was
something better than politeness; there was good humour and
kindness. Mr. Darcy said very little, and Mr. Hurst nothing at
all. The former was divided between admiration of the brilliancy
which exercise had given to her complexion, and doubt as to the
occasion’s justifying her coming so far alone. The latter was
thinking only of his breakfast.
Her enquiries after her sister were not very favourably answered.
Miss Bennet had slept ill, and though up, was very feverish, and
not well enough to leave her room. Elizabeth was glad to be taken
to her immediately; and Jane, who had only been withheld by the
fear of giving alarm or inconvenience from expressing in her note
how much she longed for such a visit, was delighted at her
entrance. She was not equal, however, to much conversation, and
when Miss Bingley left them together, could attempt little
besides expressions of gratitude for the extraordinary kindness
she was treated with. Elizabeth silently attended her.
When breakfast was over they were joined by the sisters; and
Elizabeth began to like them herself, when she saw how much
affection and solicitude they showed for Jane. The apothecary
came, and having examined his patient, said, as might be
supposed, that she had caught a violent cold, and that they must
endeavour