Sometimes when writing, I surprise myself. In writing this next scene, little did I know I was about to gift the Bingley sisters with a new moniker to proclaim as their own. This snippet is from my Work In Progress, The Wager.
EXCERPT
“I understand you have family
here in Meryton, Miss Hamilton.”
“I do,” Jane
replied. “My mother’s sister is married to Mr. Phillips.”
“How lovely,
and is Mr. Phillips busy with his little shop?” Miss Bingley asked before
raising her fingers to hide a smile.
“My uncle is an
attorney. He is the one who negotiated the lease your brother signed to rent
Netherfield Park.”
Miss Bingley
pursed her lips at being reminded they did not own the estate where she rested
her head at night but rented it from another. Regardless of this annoyance, she
continued with her line of questioning, solidifying Elizabeth’s belief she had
a nefarious purpose for the unexpected invitation to tea.
“Does this same
uncle have his own estate?”
“His eldest
brother inherited the family estate in Surrey.”
“Our dear Uncle
Phillips is a second son,” Elizabeth interjected, not wanting Jane to reveal
their beloved uncle’s father was a baron. “He chose to follow the law instead
of taking orders, which brought him to our corner of Hertfordshire.”
“A choice Aunt Martha
is very glad of,” Mary added before she took a small bite of her cake.
“Your other
uncle,” Caroline continued as though neither Elizabeth nor Mary had spoken. “He
is in trade, yes?”
Jane nodded in
the affirmative.
“Our uncle is
very successful. He and his wife live in London.”
“In Cheapside,
I heard.”
“Near
Cheapside, on Gracechurch Street.”
“I imagine he
lives there in order to keep a watchful eye on his property,” Miss
Bingley tittered and slid a sly glance toward Mrs. Hurst.
Elizabeth’s
anger began to simmer. What was supposed to be a pleasant tea had turned into
an inquisition where the perpetrator believed she had all the answers and only
wished to humiliate her guests.
“Speaking of
property, remind me again Miss Bingley,” Elizabeth began with false sweetness.
“In which county we can find your father’s estate?”
She would have
gone further, but Jane laid a warning hand on her forearm.
“Enough,
Lizzy,” she said in a soft undertone.
An odd sound
came from Mary and both turned their attention toward her.
“Jane,” she
said in a small voice. “I do not feel well.”
Mary then
doubled over and struck her head hard enough on the floor to render her
unconscious. Both Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst emitted tiny screams.
“Miss Bingley, is
there any fish in these cakes?” Jane demanded as she hurried to Mary’s side,
gently lifting her sister’s head to rest on her lap.
“How would I
know?”
“Please find
out if there was.”
Miss Bingley
continued to gape and cast panicked glances toward her eldest sister. Mrs.
Hurst seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation and hurried to the bell
pull. Only when a footman stepped into the room did Miss Bingley snap out of
her stupor.
“You there,”
she demanded and pointed at the footmen. “Have Mrs. Nickers attend us and send
a maid to ask the cook what was in the cakes she sent up for our tea.”
The footman cast
a quick glance at Mary lying on Jane's lap before hurrying from the room.
Elizabeth heard Mrs. Hurst murmur to her sister, “Her name is Mrs. Nicholls.”
“Oh, who cares.
She is just a housekeeper.”
At that moment,
the butler entered the room. Most likely to investigate why some of the ladies
had screamed.
“What may I do
to help, Ma’am,” he queried, addressing Jane, not Miss Bingley.
“Send Jeremy
for Mr. Jones, he is the fastest rider of all the footmen. Tell him Miss Bennet
is having one of her reactions and we need him post haste.” The butler turned
to do her bidding, stopping when Jane called out again. “Cardston, after that,
please find Mrs. Nicholls and tell her I need water for drinking as well
as to wipe Mary’s face, it will help cool and relax her.”
Cardston
withdrew to do her bidding, completely ignoring the gaping mouth of his
temporary mistress.
“Who do you
think you are, to order about our servants as if they are your own?” Miss
Bingley demanded. “It is not as though your sister is dying.”
Jane’s eyes
flashed with anger upon hearing such a callous comment. Elizabeth was not at
all surprised by her sister’s reaction. She and Jane could and did withstand
the barbs and insults of ignorant people, but woe betide the person who
attacked her family. Fortunately, for Miss Bingley, Mary stirred and her eyes
fluttered.
“Relax, dearest,”
Jane soothed as she gently stroked her sister’s cheek. “You hit your head on
the floor and were rendered unconscious.”
“Jane…”
Whatever it was that Mary wished to say would never be known because she
promptly rolled to her side and vomited onto the carpet.
The outraged
gasps of Miss Bingley would sustain Elizabeth for days, but only after her
sister recovered. Any further outbursts were stymied by the arrival of Mrs.
Nicholls, who bustled into the room with a couple of maids, bringing water and
clean rags.
“Thank you,
Mrs. Nicholls,” Jane said, overriding any comment Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst
may have made. “Prepare the green guest room for Mary and have Cardston direct
Mr. Jones there when he arrives.”
“Right away,
La−, Miss Hamilton.”
“Who are you to
give orders to my servants?”
“I have neither
the time nor the inclination to answer your questions, Miss Bingley.” Jane
caressed Mary’s brow with tender affection. “My sister’s recovery is my only
priority.”
Although she
wished to lend comment, Elizabeth stayed quiet. This was Jane’s fight, not
hers. Two hours later, an exhausted Mary lay sleeping in one of the guest rooms
after a thorough examination by Mr. Jones. Fortunately, she had only taken a
bite of one small cake.
“Will she be
able to come home tomorrow, Mr. Jones?” Jane asked, her attention riveted to
the still form of her sister lying in the bed. Elizabeth sat by the side of the
bed, holding Mary’s hand in hers.
“Miss Hamilton,
your sister has suffered one of her Idiosyncrasy’s. It is as I told you when
she had her last spasmodic symptom, her body reacts in a different manner to
some foods. The last time it was lobster. Do we know what she ingested today?”
“Miss Bingley learned
some of the cakes had crab in them,” Elizabeth offered in reply.
“Ahh…this is
good to know. It seems Miss Bennet must avoid ingesting any type of fish.” Mr.
Jones paused, as if in deep thought. “Has she ever reacted to lake trout?”
“Not that I am
aware of,” Jane said. “We have trout regularly during the summer months. My Uncle
Gardiner is an avid angler and loves to fish our stream, allowing us to enjoy
the spoils of his labor.”
“Fascinating.
It seems Miss Bennet only reacts to oceanic species of shellfish,” Mr. Jones
murmured. “I will write one of my friends in Town and see if he has any further
insight into these types of maladies.”
“So, Mary can
come home tomorrow?” Jane asked.
“As far as her
reaction to food, she is fine. However, she struck her head quite hard, which
is the reason she became violently ill. She must rest quietly, and it is
imperative she is awakened every four hours.”
“I shall stay
with her, Jane,” Elizabeth offered.
“Are you certain?”
“After your
little dust-up with Miss Bingley, I believe a strategic retreat is called for you to regroup your serenity.”
Once Mary rested quietly, the remaining sisters returned to the drawing room. Jane to
say her goodbyes to Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, and Elizabeth to see her
safely off and confer with their hostess about what Mr. Jones had requested
regarding food and drink for Mary. The doors to the drawing room remained
partially open and the strident tones of Miss Bingley clearly carried into the
hall.
“What did Miss
Hamilton mean? Ordering our servants around like this was her own home. I
declare those Bennet sisters are the main reason I wish to quit this horrible
place.”
Quick footsteps
could be heard and a low murmur from Mrs. Hurst.
“I do not care,
Louisa. They are below us, practically dirt farmers with two impoverished
step-daughters and their estate entailed away. We must get Charles away from
Miss Hamilton. She will drag him down into the mud with her and ruin my chances
of making a successful marriage.”
Elizabeth not
only felt Jane stiffen but saw her draw back her shoulders.
“Do nothing you
will regret later, Jane,” she cautioned. “Words may pierce our pride and sting
our memories but they cannot change who we are and the life we will lead once
Trenton comes home.”
“While our lives will alter when our brother returns in a few short weeks, I
am tired of the snide remarks and underhanded comments that perpetually spring
forth from Mr. Bingley’s sisters.” Jane turned cerulean blue eyes toward her sister
and smiled wide enough to crinkle their corners. “I believe it is time for those
two ladies to be schooled in proper etiquette.”
“As you know,
there is no love lost between Miss Bingley and me, and in most circumstances, I
would wholeheartedly agree, but – think on this – if you reveal our rank, are
you prepared for that woman and her sister to grovel and toady for your
attention.”
“Now that I am
aware of their true sentiments, I have no desire to acknowledge them in any
form.” She paused and her expression turned thoughtful. “Unless I continue to
accept Mr. Bingley’s attentions.”
“Is his
affection worth the twin tentacles of doom waiting for us in the next room?”
“I confess I am
uncertain.” Jane took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I suppose we shall
find out over the next few weeks.”
