As Lizzie and Mr. Darcy approached Netherfield they saw a large group gathered in the front. At first, they heard only mutters but as they drew closer the voices and faces of those attending the ball became more distinct. The entire Bennet family was at the gathering's center– The entire family, except Mr. Bennet.
"Oh Lizzie," cried Jane upon seeing her sister. Lizzie quickly delinked arms with Mr. Darcy and ran, unconcerned with propriety, toward her sister.
"What's happened?" She asked. "Where's papa?"
Mrs. Bennet was wailing in the distance. "My poor husband," she howled. "Five daughters and he's left us! He's left us!"
Lizzie balked. "What does she mean Jane? What's happened?" Lizzie felt a presence at her side. Mr. Darcy stood next to her looking genuinely concerned.
"He fell." Jane said through tears. "Papa fell in the ballroom. Mr. Bingley called for a physician but Papa won't open his eyes and the physician isn't here yet. Lizzie, I'm so afraid." The two sisters embraced but Lizzie wanted nothing more than to see her father.
Mr. Darcy continued to stand next to the pair awkwardly. To Lizzie it appeared almost as if he, too, wanted to embrace her but instead he stepped backwards and swept away. "Good riddance," she thought. "Where is papa, Jane?" Jane grasped Lizzie's hand and, bypassing an inconsolable Mrs. Bennet, two militia-men comforting Kitty and Lydia, and a silent, near-catatonic Mary, Elizabeth and Jane hurried into Netherfield and up the grand house's staircase.
Mr. Bennet was lying silent and still on a four-poster bed in one Netherfield's many bedrooms. He was pale and barely breathing and the sight of him brought Lizzie to tears. "Oh papa!" She exclaimed, hurling herself onto the bed next to him. She only lay there a few seconds however, before the bedroom door burst open again. Lizzie heard, rather than saw, a slew of men dash hurriedly to her father's bedside. One man wore a formidable mustache and carried an important looking leather bag. He began to examine her father.
"Miss, you should leave," he said calmly but assertively. Lizzie stared at him and refused to let go of her father's hand. "Miss Bennet-" He tried again.
"What's wrong with him?" Lizzie interrupted breathlessly. "What's happened?"
"Miss Bennet you really must leave. I'll inform your family of any –"
"Can someone please just tell me what's wrong?" Lizzie was openly sobbing now, staring around the room for answers. "Just tell me what's happened to him! Please, can someone just tell me?" She saw Mr. Bingley looking concerned in the room's corner, shooting desperate looks at Jane. Other men from the ball filled the room, but none of them would look at her, much less answer her question. "Will he be alright?" Lizzie whispered, burying her head the bed's cover.
"Lizzie, let's go." Jane pleaded tearfully. She attempted to lift her sister off the bed but Lizzie clung even more fiercely. "Lizzie!" She cried, and though Elizabeth could not see it, Jane turned to someone behind her and stared desperately.
Suddenly, Elizabeth felt a set of large, solid hands on her shoulders. "Ms. Bennet," whispered the familiar voice of Mr. Darcy. "We must go." His voice was soft and tender, free of its usual pride and coldness and Lizzie was so taken aback by it that she loosened her grip on her father's arm. Before she had a chance to regroup, Mr. Darcy swept Elizabeth up in his arms and swiftly removed her from Mr. Bennet's side.
At first, Mr. Darcy's embrace was surprisingly comforting. Outside of the bedroom door, Elizabeth inadvertently curled into him and threw her arms around his neck. She sobbed deeply into Mr. Darcy's chest as he stroked her hair tenderly. "Shhh," he whispered into her ear. Lizzie pulled her face away from his chest and stared deeply into Mr. Darcy's eyes. Her hand cupped his check and as she examined Mr. Darcy's kind expression Lizzie was suddenly and unexpectedly overcome with an intense feeling of rage.
"Put me down," she said forcefully, pushing against Mr. Darcy's chest. "Put me down at once. How dare you! How dare you!" Mr. Darcy's face morphed from a look of tenderness into one of surprise before finally his face mirrored Lizzie's own look of anger.
"Fine!" He screamed, unapologetically plopping Lizzie onto a bench in the hallway. He stood over her, fuming, his hands clenched at his side. He looked ready to attack, but Lizzie had her own emotion to vent. As Mr. Darcy turned back toward the bedroom door, Lizzie rose and pushed Mr. Darcy with all her strength.
"You brute!" She screamed, disappointed that all her force had barely moved Darcy. "He's my father. I have a right to be with him!"
Mr. Darcy turned back toward Elizabeth so quickly it frightened her. "Perhaps you do, Ms. Bennet," He growled through a clenched jaw. "You do not, however, have the right to disrupt a medical examination." He was walking toward her and Elizabeth felt the back of her knees hit the bench she'd sat on seconds before. "Unless of course, you're more concerned with your own wellbeing than your father's."
Elizabeth's mouth fell open and she dropped onto the bench as if deflated. Mr. Darcy's face seemed to flash regret, but before he could say anything the bedroom door flew open. "Ms. Bennet," said the man with the mustache, "please come in."
Elizabeth glared up at Mr. Darcy before rising and heading towards the now-open bedroom door. As she entered the bedroom Lizzie thought only two things. The first was that she hoped desperately her father was alright. The second was that she never wanted to see Mr. Darcy again.
