Page 90 of The Briar Bargain
She pulled the end of her sleeve over her hand for a better grip, then tried again with greater force. Her eyes were smarting so badly that she could hardly see what she was doing, and her chest ached with each tiny breath. The handkerchief could only do so much, and the volume of smoke was overwhelming her defences.
"Help!" she tried to cry, but her voice came out as little more than a rasp. She coughed violently, the spasms shaking her entire body and making her grip on the window latch slip.
Determined not to give in to panic, Elizabeth moved to the second window. With growing desperation, she managed to work the corroded mechanism loose. The casement swung open with a screech of protest.
The relief was immediate and overwhelming. Elizabeth pulled herself up and through the narrow opening, draping herself over the stone sill so that her head and shoulders were outside in the clean night air. She took large, gulping breaths, feeling her burning lungs expand. The contrast between the smoky interior and the crisp evening air was so stark it left her almost giddy.
From this precarious vantage point, she could see more of the grounds below, though the drop was significant, perhaps twenty-five feet to the gravelled drive beneath. The smoke behind her grew more insistent, rolling over her on its way up into the night sky.
The burning in her lungs was making it increasingly difficult to maintain her position and her eyes streamed constantly. She found herself coughing more frequently, which only made breathing more challenging and sapped her strength.
Looking down, she could see the roof of the bow window below. It was close to half the distance to the ground, and while she could see that the drop was certainly too far to attempt without fear of injury, there was a narrow stone ledge that ran the length of the house about four feet beneath her. Even if she could somehow manage to climb out onto it, however, she would still be trapped, with no way to reach the ground safely.
But remaining here was untenable. The open window was drawing some of the smoke out of the room, but it was also creating a draught that pulled the worst of it directly over her. She was caught between the smoke behind her and the dangerous drop below.
"Please!" she cried into the darkness, putting every ounce of strength into her voice. "I need help!"
The words seemed to dissolve into the night air. Elizabeth's grip on the window frame was growing weaker, her arms trembling with the effort of supporting her weight. She looked down again at the flat roof covering thebow window directly below. It appeared solid enough, though she could not judge its condition with her eyes streaming as they were.
Elizabeth studied the stonework between her window and the roof below, searching for any handhold, any way to make the descent less perilous. The question was not whether she should attempt it, but whether she could summon the courage to try before her strength failed her entirely.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Everyone gathered in the drawing room at Netherfield a little later than custom, awaiting the signal that dinner was ready to be served. Darcy stood near the fireplace, one hand resting on the mantelpiece as he engaged in desultory conversation with Hurst about the servant girl who had been apprehended but was adamant she had stolen nothing. He did indeed wonder at her taking something so valuable. She must have realised it would immediately be missed. It made little sense.
Mrs. Hurst joined them after a time, and the men changed the subject, speaking of the Hursts’ return to London.
Bingley and Miss Bennet stood near the window speaking quietly together.
Darcy found his attention wandering from the Hursts' conversation, his gaze drifting periodically to the door as he waited for the remaining members of their party to appear.
"I wonder what can be keeping Caroline and Miss Elizabeth?" Bingley consulted his watch with a slight frown.
Darcy wondered whether Miss Bingley might send word that she was taking a tray in her room this evening, given all that hadhappened this day, but no sooner had her brother mentioned her name than she appeared in the doorway. She was dressed in an elegant silk gown that would be more appropriate for a ball but complemented her colouring, and she moved into the room with a studied grace.
"My sincere apologies for the delay," she announced to the assembled company, her voice carrying the sort of bright confidence that suggested she was well pleased with herself. "I do hope you will forgive the inconvenience. Shall we proceed to the dining room?"
When Miss Elizabeth did not appear, Darcy felt a small frown crease his brow. "Are we not waiting for Miss Elizabeth?" he inquired, keeping his tone carefully neutral.
Miss Bingley paused in her movement towards the door. "Oh, Miss Elizabeth asked me to convey her apologies to you all. I am afraid she finds herself rather indisposed this evening and will not be joining us."
"Indisposed?" he pressed. "Nothing serious, I hope?"
Miss Bingley's colour rose, and she glanced meaningfully at the gentlemen present before addressing her response primarily to Miss Bennet. "These matters are sometimes delicate," she said with the sort of significant emphasis that was calculated to discourage further enquiry. "I am certain you understand that ladies do not always care to discuss such personal difficulties in mixed company."
"Perhaps," Miss Bennet said carefully, "I ought to step upstairs briefly to ensure Elizabeth has everything she requires for her comfort. It would take only a moment, and I should not wish her to want for anything if she is feeling poorly."
Miss Bingley's expression tightened almost imperceptibly, though she maintained her smile with determined brightness. "How very thoughtful of you, Miss Bennet. I assure you, I have already seen to all the necessary arrangements. There is no need to delay our meal any longer." Her tonesuggested offence, as though Miss Bennet's offer constituted some sort of criticism of her abilities as a hostess. The subtle rebuke was delivered with perfect politeness, but its message was unmistakable.
"Of course," Miss Bennet replied, though Darcy could see the worry that she was struggling to conceal behind her composed facade. "I am sure she is well cared for."
"Excellent. Shall we proceed?" Miss Bingley extended her hand in a gesture that brooked no further delay.
As they crossed the threshold into the dining room, Darcy saw Miss Bennet communicate something silently to Bingley. For his part, Bingley nodded and, after helping her to her chair, stepped over to speak to the butler. As he listened to the man’s quiet response, Bingley looked directly at Darcy, and then over at the door.
“Really, Charles,” Miss Bingley said impatiently. “Do sit down.”
Darcy inclined his head almost imperceptibly and stepped out of the room.
