A Little Inclement Weather part 2

Join me for a little more inclement weather and an introduction to a very different Caroline Bingley

Part 2

Darcy tried to fix his face into something more neutral and less judgmental. He had been told often enough that even when he was just thinking, his expression was most severe. While that was hardly a problem under most circumstances, sitting under a large tree, whose branches had been drooping increasingly lower under the weight of the rain, in the middle of a storm, with a young woman of insightful and interesting opinions was not most circumstances. And he did not want to scare her off.

What an intriguing idea she had offered: to use the novel as a conversation starter with Georgiana, to draw her out and learn more about how her mind, and more importantly her character were forming. Who would have thought—but yes, it was a very good idea, but how was it to be done? Georgiana had often been—

“Forgive me, sir, but it seems my opinion was rather unwelcome. Perhaps I should not have spoken so freely.” Miss Elizabeth brushed a stray raindrop from the brim of her straw bonnet and drew her shawl more tightly across her shoulders in answer to a sharp gust of wind. Even under these unflattering conditions, she was a very pretty woman, with unusual poise and grace.

He started and blinked hard, intentionally trying to rearrange his features. How did that come so easily to Bingley? “Pray forgive me. I was considering the last point you made. It is an idea I had never considered.”

“I suppose with three younger sisters and one elder, I have far greater opportunity to consider how to make meaningful conversation with them.” The corner of her lips lifted and her very fine, dark eyes sparkled.

Was that flirtation?

No, it did not seem that so much as a genuine pleasure in the conversation. Odd, who would have thought such a thing possible? Georgiana had once said that not every smile from a pretty woman was flirtation. But who was the last eligible woman who had actually conversed with him for the pleasure of it and not for the fortune hunting possibilities?

More important, how might he have it continue?

He peered into the grey and black swirling clouds. “It seems the rain has abated for the moment. But more dark, and I fear dangerous, clouds are on their way. Netherfield is not very far. Perhaps we should try to make our way there while we have this respite?” He glanced at Bingley who was deep in conversation with Miss Bennet.

“I dare say that is a marvelous idea, Darcy. Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, pray would you come to Netherfield with us?” Bingley, with his large sorrowful eyes, looked like a pleading hound.

“I fear it would be most improper. Our families have not been introduced and—” Miss Bennet looked toward Miss Elizabeth as if seeking confirmation, her bottom lip caught in her teeth.

Bingley began gathering the picnic things into the ladies’ baskets. “My sister is keeping house for me. She will be very glad to make your acquaintance, I am sure.”

Ah yes, Caroline. She was not usually good conversation, but neither was she flirtatious. “I do believe he is right. Miss Bingley would be glad for some female company. Several times on the journey here, she remarked that she quite looked forward to meeting the ladies of the neighborhood and was very hopeful for new friendships.” Especially after what had happened in Derbyshire. But the Bennets hardly needed to be acquainted with that affair.

“You have already offered us the hospitality of a picnic meal. Pray allow me to offer our hospitality in return.” Bingley always the right thing to say.

Miss Elizabeth chewed her lip in a thoughtful little expression. Thunder boomed and a sharp wind jostled the upper branches, showering them with cold drops. “With a proper hostess at Netherfield, I think, under the circumstances, your plan is a good one, Mr. Darcy.”

“Quickly then, we do not have much time to beat the storm.” Darcy helped Miss Elizabeth tuck the remaining items in her basket and assisted her out from under the branches now sagging very low under the weight of the water upon them.

The footpath had turned to slick mud surrounded by running rivulets under the storm’s torrent. It took only a few steps before Darcy and Bingley had not only taken the ladies’ baskets but offered their arms for support as well. They would all do well not to lose their footing under the circumstances.

Miss Elizabeth took his elbow a little reluctantly—did she not like him, or did she not want to be considered too forward given the brevity of their acquaintance. Darcy would choose to believe the latter, at least for now.

Halfway down Oakham Mount, the wind picked up, lashing their faces, whipping the ladies’ damp skirts around their legs and pushing them downhill ever faster. He should not stare, but it was difficult to ignore their figures shown off to such advantages even in these adverse circumstances.

Miss Bennet shrieked, tumbling down the slope until the ground leveled. Miss Elizabeth released his arm and ran after her, surprisingly nimble in her anxiety. How did she manage not to fall herself?

“Jane! Jane!” She dropped to her knees beside her sister, Bingley not far behind.

Miss Bennet grabbed her hands to sit up. Her bonnet had been thrown back from her dripping face, half crushed in the mud. Her gown and shawl were covered with dirt and water, her sleeve and hem torn. “Oh! My ankle!” She drew up her knees and pressed her foot to the ground. “Lizzy, I am sorry, but I do not think I can walk.”

“The house is not far now. With your permission, I will carry you there?” Bingley did not wait for an answer. He scooped her up and headed toward the house. All his time spent fencing was paying off now.

Miss Elizabeth picked up the basket he left behind and hurried after them, her own hem six inches deep in mud.

“I am sure she will be well. We can send for the apothecary or the surgeon if necessary once we are at the house.” Darcy jogged to keep pace with her.

“Thank you for the offer. I pray it will not be necessary.” She peeked at him, worry lining her expressive face.

She slipped, and he grabbed her arm just before she followed the way of her sister. “Pray allow me to help.”

Leaning on his arm, she regained her footing. “Thank you, perhaps I should.”

Yes, she definitely should.

Lighting flashed, so close he could almost feel it prickling the hair on the back of his neck. Deafening, skull shattering thunder. They both jumped, and she clung to his shoulder for just a moment. Buckets of icy rain poured from the clouds.

They trotted the last hundred yards to the house, just behind Bingley and Miss Bennet. Bingley flung open the heavy oak kitchen door and led them in, calling loudly for assistance.

Warm, the kitchen was warm with a blazing fire in the hearth sending up the welcome fragrance of hot food being prepared for dinner. And dry, there was no water assaulting him from every angle, only drops pouring off his hat, his coat, his pants, his sleeves. Miss Elizabeth released his elbow and brushed water from her face and arms.

Several servants turned from their work at the long preparation table to stare at the intruders. A young woman with a pox-marked face gasped and dropped her knife, running from the room. Hopefully it was to find the housekeeper, or Caroline, and not from the shock of seeing them. Another woman in a stained apron hurried around the table and brought a tall stool toward Bingley.

Mrs. Nicholls, the round and good-natured housekeeper, with graying curls peeking out from her mobcap, framing her dark and welcoming face, trundled in. “Gracious! Miss Bennet! Miss Elizabeth!”

Should it be so surprising that the Netherfield housekeeper should know the neighborhood ladies?

“Your mother and my sister Hill will be beside themselves with worry! I will send a boy out to let them know you are well just as soon as it lets up enough for him to see his way there.”

The households were connected through their housekeepers? Interesting. It did explain the familiarity.

“That is very good of you.” Miss Bennet’s teeth chattered, and Bingley helped her to sit on the stool.

The door flung open and Caroline Bingley burst in followed by the young servant who had sought her out. Wearing a stylish plum walking dress, she had obviously been hoping for some kind of company. But probably not like this. “Merciful heavens! I told you it was a bad idea to go walking in this weather. But perhaps something good has come of it, allowing us to offer help to our neighbors.”

“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, may I introduce Miss Bingley?” Mrs. Nicholls gestured at the two sodden women. Not the usual means of introduction to be sure, but there was little ordinary in these circumstances.

“Thank you. We are pleased to make your acquaintance.” Miss Elizabeth tried to curtsey, though she was starting to shiver very hard herself. Miss Bennet merely nodded, unable to form words for her shaking.

“As am I. Pray, accept our hospitality. You—” Caroline pointed at a staring servant. “Get them something warm to drink. And you—fetch towels before they catch their death of cold. Mrs. Nicholls, see rooms made up for them.”

“Miss Bennet has injured her ankle,” Bingley said softly, retreating as he often did when Caroline took charge.

“Nicholls, find someone to help Miss Bennet upstairs. Where are those towels? Quickly now! Do not worry for anything. We will send for a surgeon if you think it necessary. First, you must be warm and dry, though. I am so glad you took refuge here with us. I dread the thought of you having been caught out in that storm without shelter!” Caroline looked over her shoulder. “I will see to our guests. Go find your valets for some dry clothes!”

Bingley shrugged and trudged from the kitchen, leaving a trail of rainwater and mud in his wake. Darcy bowed and followed.

“This was not at all how I anticipated meeting our neighbors.” Caroline laughed behind him. “But I am delighted to make your acquaintance nonetheless.”

The ladies would be in good hands with Caroline. Georgiana liked her very well, and she was right, Caroline was utterly without malice or ill-will. Even if Aunt Matlock had effectively thrown her out of Derbyshire.

So what do you think of Caroline? Tell me in the comments.

Find the first part of the story HERE.