Chapter 24
"Sir?" Mrs. Watson, the housekeeper, tapped on the door, and with a tired sigh Darcy stood and opened to her. "I have brought your breakfast sir, and some broth for Mrs. Darcy, if she will take some." Darcy accepted the tray.
"Thank you, Mrs. Watson."
"Yes sir, will you be going to Chapel today?"
"No, I don't think so," Darcy dragged a hand down his face, feeling the scratch of a days growth on his cheeks. Had Elizabeth been well, she would have told him to get cleaned up immediately and attend the service. But she wasn't she had had a hard night, very restless, though she seemed to have quieted now.
"You should get some rest Master," Mrs. Watson suggested.
"I will rest when she is better," he had no idea how haggard he looked, as the days of nursing and watching wore on him. Yes, he would rest when she was well. And she would be; she had to be.
He prayed hourly, almost minute by minute that she would be restored to health soon. He didn't let the idea that Elizabeth might not recover, ever enter his thoughts, he couldn't. But though he kept it nameless, the fear was still there. It seemed to be a living thing in the room at night, when all was dark and still, it crouched in the corner, a monster waiting to see whom it could attack.
He refused to look at it, to do so would make it that much more real, and he couldn't do that. Elizabeth was still alive, to lose hope now meant he would never make it, never. He had never known anything as hard as sitting by and watching her grow slowly weaker.
Pushing those thoughts away, he determined to consult every book in his library on the subject of medicine and see what could be found. There must be something more he could do.
Sitting down by the bed he carefully attempted to spoon feed her some of the broth; Elizabeth got very little of it down, but every little bit helped.
Hurry children! We must not be late! Punctuality is one of the things that must be impressed into the minds of those beneath us; we must set the example, it is our duty."
Lady Catherine directed them into the carriage with her cane."
"Late?" Peter muttered, "we will be frightfully early!" William silenced him with a look, and Lady Catherine climbed in, settling herself with dignity. "Dive on!" she called, banging the top of the huge gilded carriage with her cane.
"Wait! Where's Bennet?" Emma asked as they started to roll away from Roseings.
Lady Catherine looked about her quickly, to make sure there was no small boy to be found. "Stop the carriage!" she ordered, irritably, opening the door. "Bennet Darcy!" she bellowed in a very unladylike manner that made Anne cringe.
Bennet, looking very cute in his little suit, where he was playing on the ground, jumped up and hurried to join them in the carriage. This delay to their start put Lady Catherine in a bad mood, and she sat in stony silence as they made the short drive.
Emma was glad, the less her aunt paid her mind, the better. Afraid that her kitten would get cold, as William had mentioned, she had smuggled the tiny bit of fur into her muff and was taking him with her. Thankfully the fall day was chilly enough for the muff not to look out of place.
The kitten was only a few weeks old and was content to remain curled in the warm place.
At the chapel, they made quite an entrance following Lady Catherine down the aisle to the best pews that were reserved for the de Bourgh family, Mr. Collins scurrying after them, as best a man of his size could scurry. Lady Catherine and Anne took the front pew, the four children and Mrs. Dawson were told to sit in the one behind the Ladies.
Emma found she didn't enjoy Chapel at Rosings so much as she did at Pemberley. Mr. Collins sermon was much different than the ones she heard back home, and she found it very hard to follow, and to stay awake.
He used lots of big words that she didn't even know, and she couldn't ask William because whispering in Church was very wrong. She felt a little better about almost falling asleep when she saw that she wasn't the only one. Quite a few other people in the ornate Chapel were nodding, and it wasn't in agreement with the sermon. She even thought that Lady Catherine's head might have bobbed a time or two.
About half way through the interminable sermon, she noticed with alarm that Benet, sitting on the other side of Peter held something cupped in his hands. She couldn't tell what it was, but she was sure it wasn't something he should have in Church, rather like her kitten.
Bennet was the furthest away from Mrs. Dawson, so she wasn't going to notice, and Peter was asleep. Emma poked Peter in the ribs, and he jerked awake, she tried to signal him to see what Bennet had, but he was still half asleep and wasn't understanding her head nods.
A moment later she realized what it was Bennet had. It was a caterpillar, a fat, orange and black one, where he had concealed it until now she had no idea, but before she could stop him, he put it to good use.
Suddenly reaching out a pudgy finger he let the caterpillar crawl from his hand onto the back of Lady Catherine's expensive black gown.
Emma watched in horror, trying to decide if she should jump up and grab the bug before it was noticed, or hope it would crawl off of her dress and onto the pew. Of course, the caterpillar didn't oblige her but crawled over Lady Catherine's shoulder and onto her neck.
That esteemed lady reached up to brush the tickle away, and the caterpillar dropped down the front of her bodice. Emma closed her eyes and winced. Lady Catherine might be older, Lady Catherine didn't scream, or even shout, but she stood up very suddenly, and as swiftly as one could in dignity leave a chapel in the middle of the service she did.
What ever happened to the hapless caterpillar, Emma never found out, nor did she dare to ask, but suffice it to say that Mr. Collins sermon was cut short that day.
He stopped speaking abruptly when Lady Catherine stood upright. "My dear Lady Catherine! Whatever is the matter? Please, Madam! Is it something I said?!" Mr. Collins was so upset by the events that he entirely forgot his sermon and couldn't continue. Anne was completely shocked, and Bennet and Peter were taken with a fit of laughter, that even being in the chapel could hardly suppress.
Needless to say, the Darcy children were never allowed to sit behind Lady Catherine again. They sat in the same pew, but a good distance from her, and under a very watchful eye.
Lady Catherine didn't ask who had done it, but Emma guessed she suspected Peter of the trick. Emma took Bennet aside after they had got home and reprimanded him severely, though somehow she didn't think she had done so well as Papa would have.
Nothing else came of the incident besides the fact that they didn't see Lady Catherine again that day. The Darcy children and the staff walked around on egg shells all day, afraid of what might happen. But Lady Catherine seemed to have gotten over it tolerably well when they saw her at breakfast the next day.
"Your mother does no better. She is still very feverish, and the doctor comes once a day. The servants go about on tiptoe, and I heard one say that Mrs. Darcy was quite delirious with the fever for a few days, but now she is mostly quieted."
Your servant,
Charlotte
The night was silent, and Elizabeth had seemed to have settled into a more comfortable rest. Darcy dozed in the armchair the servants had brought up to her room. It was quite late when he was startled awake by the cry from Elizabeth.
"Fitzwilliam!" Awake in a moment he saw she was awake and sitting up in the bed. Darcy stumbled across the room and was at the bedside in minutes.
"Elizabeth! Elizabeth! I'm here!" she was awake!
"Fitzwilliam!" she cried again, and it took him a moment to see she was still in the grip of the fever.
"I'm here Elizabeth!" he took her hand, and she finally seemed to notice he was there.
She turned her fevered gaze on him and asked, almost wildly "is Fitzwilliam coming?" it was then he realized she didn't recognize him. He was unable to get her to quiet and rest, and quite frightened he sent for the doctor again.
The doctor gave her another drought, and eventually, Elizabeth settled, she was no longer restless but sank into a completely still and unresponsive sleep. Even bathing her face as he had done before brought no consciousness.
Darcy slept no more that night, but sat by the bedside, the feverish calls that had so alarmed him hours before would be welcome compared to the still white form lying in bed and looking like death had already claimed her save for the shallow rise and fall of the chest.
Something brushed by his leg and Darcy looked down to see Trousers, Emma's fat cat staring up at him with large yellow eyes. The cat gave a soulful meow and deigned to allow Mr. Darcy to rub his ears. He must be missing Emma, Darcy thought, as the cat ignored everyone else. With an agility surprising to one so large, the cat leaped smoothly onto the bed. Slowly he walked over to Elizabeth's small, white, limp, hand and gave it a few vigorous licks of his tongue, then looked to see if she would get up and scold him for being on her bed and leaving his hair behind.
Of course, Elizabeth didn't respond, the large cat turned to Darcy again and meowed, almost questioningly.
"She'll be back to us soon old boy," Darcy managed, his voice seeming loud in the silence of the sick room. To Mr. Darcy's surprise, Trousers hoped from the bed to his lap and curled up. The cat was his companion through the long night.
Emma folded the latest letter from Charlotte and stuffed it into her chest of drawers. "Is Mama recovering yet?" Peter asked from where he had been hanging in the doorway while she read the note.
"No," Emma said simply, continuing her writing. Peter was determined that his mother would get well, he refused to hear anything different, and Emma saw no reason to tell him that things hadn't changed. William was out riding and didn't know the letter had come; she would perhaps tell him later.
Her writing was interrupted by a knock at the door. One of the maids was there "Miss Darcy; the Misses Collins are here to see you."
Emma was tempted to have a head ache suddenly; she didn't want to see anyone right now, she wanted to finish her letter to Papa, begging him for news and send it off. Surely he would tell her how things really were! Perhaps by the time, her letter reached him Mama would be getting better again.
"Tell the Misses Collins I will be down in a moment," Emma answered reluctantly, wishing she had gone riding with William after all.
William Darcy road when he was upset when things were going wrong when they looked their blackest, a ride would clear your head and make the world seem that much brighter.
But as fast as he rode, he could not escape the cares today. His mother was not doing well, he was sure of it, or else his father would have written that she was recovering. No news was not good news. All they received were the letters from Charlotte, and she wasn't sure what was actually happening inside the house.
William Pushed his mount a little faster as he came out of the trees and onto a road not well traveled. Coming around the bend, he saw another rider up ahead and started to pull back on the reigns, not wanting to spook the other horse.
The cloaked rider up ahead looked back and saw him, then dug his heels into his mount and took off. A race then? William loved to race, he leaned further over his horse's neck and urged him faster. As he slowly gained on the other rider, he saw that he was small and no doubt younger than himself.
He was also an excellent rider! The boy leaned further over the mounts neck, trying to outrace him, but William's mount had longer legs and was younger, and he pulled ahead. The boy, seeing he had been beaten, started to rein in his mount, William pulled back as well, curious to discover who the boy was. Suddenly, the other riders horse stumbled, and by the time William stopped his mount and turned around, the rider was on the ground. And he was a girl!
William overcame his shock and quickly dismounted, afraid she had been hurt. The girl scrambled to her feet quickly, if not gracefully, brushing herself off.
"Are you alright Miss?" William asked, trying to hide his shock at such a display. The girl had not been riding sidesaddle. Emma might do that every once in a while, but she certainly would never do it anywhere she might be seen.
"I'm quite alright, thank you, sir," the girl answered quickly, she now tangled blonde curls bobbing. He couldn't say he had ever seen a girl quite as pretty as her, she looked small and delicate, with high cheekbones and arched eyebrows and long lashes. Even with the smudge on her left cheek from her fall, didn't take away from her natural beauty.
"Are you sure you're not hurt?" he repeated, feeling it was his duty to make sure she was alright and rather embarrassed to have been racing a girl other than Emma.
"Quite as well as I was a minute ago when you asked."
"Shall I walk you home Miss…?" he left the sentence hanging.
"I don't live very close, I would rather ride thank you," she answered quickly, ignoring the inquiry after her name.
"Well then, may I help you mount?" William asked, attempting to be a gentleman even if she was not a lady.
"Thank you," she accepted his help with all the grace of a queen, "good day," nodding to him to wheeled her mount and rode off in the direction from wich she had come.
William's thoughts were more pleasantly occupied on the ride home than before. Better to think of the girl he had run into than his failing mother. She must live in the village, probably one of the shop owners daughters. He tried to remember how fine her clothing had been, but once he had seen her face, everything else about her had escaped him.