Chapter 3 A Test of Fire

Mr. Darcy rode back to Netherfield Park after sending word to his physician. He would take his carriage to London in the morning to fetch the man in hopes of keeping Elizabeth alive. His footsteps slid rhythmically on the worn, stone steps leading up to the leased mansion and to his regret, Caroline Bingley stood there at the ready to greet him.

“I’m so glad you are back, Mr. Darcy. We shall have a pleasant dinner tonight, all in your honor, sir,” she offered, batting her eyes at him to elicit a compliment.

“Whatever for?” he asked, immediately regretting encouraging her engagement.

“For your heroism, of course!” she stated, scoffing, but the man held his hands up. 

“I will take a tray in my room. I need to pack and leave for London tomorrow, but I will return the following day. I will speak to your brother.”

“But why must you leave? We should all quit this dreary country and not return! Since the fire, no one will want to entertain and be sociable,” she said, with a pout.

Mr. Darcy battled an intense rage tightening in his chest. “Entertain and be sociable? They’ve lost . . .” he began, turning away from her to choose his words more carefully.

“Darcy! You’re back! Fancy a game of billiards?” Mr. Bingley entered the main foyer from the east side of the house as Darcy ha nearly reached the steps.

“No, I don’t fancy a game. Charles, I must away tomorrow and fetch my physician. But if your hospitality still holds, I should like to return the following day, the day after that at the latest,” Darcy added as a last moment addendum, he considered for a moment that Dr. Stevens may have affairs to put in order before a protracted stay in Hertfordshire. His mind wandered to accommodating the doctor, unclear if Longbourn would have room, or if the man should stay at Netherfield.

“Are you ill? I believed you were not injured in saving Miss Eliza,” Miss Bingley suddenly fretted over Mr. Darcy’s person, approaching him to see more clearly the invisible injury or malady he had kept hidden.

Darcy waved his hand in the air to encourage her to keep her distance.

“No, I am not unwell, the doctor is for the Bennets. Miss Elizabeth awakened from her condition this morning, but she is still gravely injured.”

“Was Miss Bennet well?” Mr. Bingley asked, earning a glare from both his sister and his friend. He stammered, and asked about the others in the household. “And Mrs. Bennet, and the other sisters?”

Darcy sighed, gripping the bannister tightly in his frustrations. “Mrs. Bennet is struggling with the loss of her sister, one of the card players above stairs.”

Mr. Bingley nodded. “Her husband is the man who handled the contract for the lease.”

Darcy suddenly recollected the connection. “Ah, the woman was very kind when we visited the first time.”

“And loud and told us all about her unwed nieces and the entail on the estate,” Caroline added in, not caring how ill-bred it appeared to speak poorly of the dead.

Mr. Darcy shrugged. “It is still a heavy loss for the family, and if I have any resource in my power to prevent additional loss, I shall dutifully extend it,” he said, solemnly to the siblings. Bidding them adieu, he finally walked up the stairs in peace.

Caroline took a step as though to follow him, but Mr. Bingley grabbed her arm.

“I thought you were going to visit the Bennets today, like we agreed,” he whispered, hoarsely.

“I—I—I—”

“I cannot go by myself and you ought to have visited with Louisa to share your condolences and concern. Then I can visit the next time with you,” Mr. Bingley urged.

Caroline stepped away from her brother, looking up the stairs in the direction of the man she truly wished to please, and then back to the annoying older brother she abided until either she married or turned five and twenty to control her dowry.

“Mr. Darcy seemed able to visit on his own,” she scolded, with an accusatory tone.

“He is different.”

“How? Don’t say it’s the money, Charles, it’s not. We have plenty more than the sonless Bennets.” Caroline began to walk away from the stairs back to her more pleasing activity of strolling up and down in the ball room on the first floor. There, she imagined one day being mistress of Pemberley and presiding over many of the best families in England at her first ball. 

“It’s different because he has no designs on any of the daughters. He told me he did not think any of them handsome except for Jane. And I believe Jane to be the loveliest woman I have ever set my eyes upon . . .” Mr. Bingley explained, with a dreamy expression on his face.

“You think Mr. Darcy likes Jane?” Caroline asked, coming to an abrupt halt. When her brother remained silent, she turned around to look at him, expecting an answer.

Mr. Bingley nodded. 

“I don’t believe he will rival me, mostly he is fulfilling his Christian duty. But I don’t want her to become attached to him. I need you to visit, Caro,” he said, with a plea to his voice.

Caroline Bingley stood still as she considered carefully her options. On one hand, doing nothing would prevent her brother from making a terrible match to a penniless, nobody. Yet, it also allowed for Mr. Darcy to possibly fall into the woman’s clutches. While Caroline felt superior to Jane Bennet in every way that mattered, that risk was one she could not take. And once she married Mr. Darcy, it wouldn’t matter who her brother married. She quickly calculated the eldest Bennet daughter was the least repulsive in looks, temperament, and status.

“We should go tomorrow while Mr. Darcy is away fetching his physician,” she said, feeling powerful again. It wouldn’t matter if she was truly kind or not on the visit, just the mere act of doing so would show Mr. Darcy that she, too, took her duty as a member of higher social standing very serious. In fact, she resolved then to always refer to the family as the poor, unfortunate Bennets from now on.