The story begins at the Netherfield ball, but with one change: Elizabeth is sick. She lets down her guard and the misunderstandings between her and Mr. Darcy are cleared up early on.
Elizabeth groaned internally as she entered Netherfield's ballroom. Her and her family had been greeted courteously by the Bingleys and Mr. Darcy, and Elizabeth was happy to see the obvious attention payed to Jane by Mr. Bingley. However, even that joy could not disguise her dread for the evening.
She had been looking forward to meeting Mr. Wickham again, but that too could not make her evening enjoyable.
The fact of the matter was, Elizabeth was sick. She had woken up this morning not feeling well, and it grew worse throughout the day. Only Jane had noticed, since Elizabeth was not one to announce her illness to the world, and her mother and other sisters had been too excited for the ball to notice anything else.
Jane had tried to get their mother to let Elizabeth stay home, but Mrs. Bennet would not hear of it. She insisted that all of her daughter's attend the ball, and dance with as many people as they could.
Elizabeth had been forced to agree to dance the first two sets with her cousin, Mr. Collins, and she was infinitely not looking forward to this. In fact, she was not looking forward to any dances.
Elizabeth's head was throbbing and she became dizzy if she moved too fast. She was afraid that the spinning of the dances would increase this dizziness, but the talking to she would receive from her mother if she did not dance would increase her headache, and so she was determined that she would dance unless it became unbearable.
She was also experiencing a fever and chills, and even in the crowded ballroom, she was shivering slightly. However, she knew that she would soon be hot, and she resolved to enjoy the cool while it lasted, though it penetrated to her bones.
Elizabeth didn't have the energy to look for Mr. Wickham excessively, but she did overhear Mr. Denny telling Lydia that Wickham had been called away to town on business. However, Elizabeth also knew that it was most likely an attempt to avoid Mr. Darcy. Mr. Wickham had told her that he would not be the one to avoid the other gentleman, and so he had most likely lied. And if he had lied about that, what else had he said that had been a lie? After all, why would someone instantly tell a gentlewoman the horribleness of another man? And he had alternated between saying that he could not damage the Darcy reputation, and doing just that.
Elizabeth tried to shake the thought from her head, remembering that Mr. Darcy had been disagreeable and Mr. Wickham gentlemanlike, but then realized that that didn't matter. Mr. Wickham could still be lying. And maybe Mr. Darcy was just shy. Once again, she tried to shake away the thought, telling herself that she just wasn't thinking straight because of her illness. However, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the thought away. She resolved to watch Mr. Darcy more closely, to decide what kind of man he really was.
Having decided this, she went in search of her friend, Charlotte Lucas, who she would converse with until her dance with Mr. Collins.
Charlotte asked if Elizabeth was well, to witch she answered that she was. It would do not good complaining about it, and she would just hope to make it through the night.
As soon as the music started, Mr. Collins was by her side and leading her to the dance floor. Dancing with him was embarrassing and unpleasant, and his constant chatting about his noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourg, did not help with her headache.
However, her dances with him finally ended, and she could take a rest before the next time she had to dance.
Elizabeth had several dances with different men, and as time passed, she felt worse and worse. But she was determined to enjoy herself as much as she could, and try to hide her illness. So she forced a smile, and accepted dance offers when they came to her. As a result, she danced every dance.
Eventually, at a break between dances, when no man had as of yet asked her to partner with him, Mr. Darcy approached her.
Elizabeth had noted his gaze on her several times throughout the evening, but she had not been given much chance to observe him anew. Thus, when he offered for her hand for the next dance, she accepted. That, and the fact that she was too astonished at him offering for her hand, and too exhausted to really argue the matter.
She went back to her previous occupation, chatting with Charlotte, and sipping the punch that she had acquired to cool herself and quench her thirst. It aggravated her sore throat, but the coolness of it was welcome, and it was customary to take a drink when not dancing.
When it came time for the next dance, Mr. Darcy came to lead her to the dance floor. She went with him, and as the dance began, they performed the steps of the dance in silence. She welcomed the chance to zone everything out and focus on staying upright through the dizziness that came with every spin. She had figured out a way to move precisely so that she did not get as dizzy, but it took concentration.
However, she was hoping for some conversation with the man, as she intended to analyze him anew. Luckily for her, it was at this time that Mr. Darcy started to speak.
"Miss Bennet, are you well?" He asked. Elizabeth was touched by the sincerity in his look and in his tone. It was a sincerity that either he had never displayed, or that she had never noticed before.
Looking down, so he could not see the truth in her eyes, she replied, "I am well, I thank you, sir." It was not the actual truth, but it was not exactly a lie. She was well enough, and it was, after all, just a polite inquiry, right?
Mr. Darcy did not seem convinced, but he let the matter drop, trusting her on the matter of her own health.
They continued on with the dance for another while, each preoccupied. Mr. Darcy was busy examining Elizabeth as was his wont, and also watching her to make sure she was indeed as well as she said. Elizabeth was busy focusing on staying upright, and doing the right steps, while trying to ignore the headache that worsened at every loud sound or bright light.
To tell the truth, Elizabeth was becoming miserable, and quite irritated with dancing. As her concentration lapsed and she suffered from another dizzy spell, her steps wavered and she almost fell, and would have, had not Mr. Darcy's hand veered from her own as per the dance, and instead gripped her arm to steady her.
The dance had them close together for some time now, and he spoke, "Miss Elizabeth, are you sure you are quite well? You seem ill." Again, there was no haughtiness or condensation in his voice, just pure concern. Elizabeth would have blushed at his concern had not her cheeks been already flushed with fever and the heat of the room. She was shocked at that acknowledgement, as she did not realize before that Mr. Darcy could affect her so.
She began to wonder whether she truly did dislike the man, or whether her bad opinion had been merely offense taken from his comment at the Meryton assembly. But then she remembered his manners, or lack thereof, and acknowledged that he had indeed been haughty and rude. But yet again, her previous thought that he might just be shy haunted her. She shook of these thoughts yet again, and focused on answering the gentleman she was dancing with.
"I shall be fine, sir." It was not the answer he had required, but it served as a dodge. Mr. Darcy narrowed his brow at this.
"I'm not sure if I believe you, madam."
Elizabeth looked away. "And what makes you such a judge of me and whether or not I am ill, sir?" This again served as a dodge, but she was also curious.
"As a matter of fact, Miss Elizabeth, I have been observing you for quite some time now." Mr. Darcy seemed embarrassed at this piece of information.
Elizabeth was horrified at the impertinence of what she said next, but the sickness was lowering her guard, and she was not in the mood to bandy words politely. "Ah yes, you are looking for faults. Tell me, sir, what faults have you found?" She again would have blushed, and she looked down, trying to hide her embarrassment. Because of this, she did not see the look of shock on Mr. Darcy's face.
The dance kept them separated for a few moments, but when they next met, Mr. Darcy said, "I assure you, I do not look to find fault. And if I did, I am sure I would find none." His gentle and sincere tone gave Elizabeth the courage to look up as she answer him, again impertinently.
"I am afraid I cannot believe you, sir, as I have heard you claim that I am barely tolerable." Elizabeth would have taken more pleasure from the flush that crossed Mr. Darcy's face at this, but she did enjoy having reminded him of that.
Eventually the gentleman composed himself enough to answer. "I apologize that you had to witness that comment, but I can assure you that I did not mean it. I was not in a good mood, and was merely trying to avoid a dance. I am now capable of honestly saying that you are one of the most handsome women of my acquaintance."
Now Elizabeth looked down again, as she had done several times throughout the dance. She accepted his compliment, and they proceeded to dance in silence. Elizabeth found herself missing their conversation, as it had helped keep her mind off her miserableness. Luckily, the dance ended soon after their conversation ended, and she and Mr. Darcy parted ways.
Elizabeth somehow managed to survive the next few dances until dinner was announced, at which point she sat at a table near her mother and Mrs. Lucas. Luckily for her, she was too distracted with surviving the evening to hear her mother commenting on Jane's having secured a gentleman of 5,000 pounds a year.
She ate a few bites of each course as it was served, and tried to answer any comments made to her, but the heat and noises were starting to make her nauseous, and the rich and fancy food was settling heavy in her stomach. She was so distracted that she did not even notice Mr. Darcy across the table, where he was again silently observing her.
After all the courses of the meal had been served and cleared again, Mr. Bingley suggested that the ladies perform on the pianoforte.
Elizabeth had resolved during the meal that afterwards, since there would be no dancing to which she was obliged, she would go out into the gardens. The ballroom had a doorway into some private gardens where the occupants of the ball could go to cool off or enjoy the flowers. This was commonly done in between dances and after the dinner, so Elizabeth knew that it would not seem odd if she left to go out.
With her stomach still rolling with nausea, and the food sitting heavily in it, she made her way outside and over to a tree at the edge of the garden, away from the torches and in semi darkness. As such, she missed Mary's performance on the pianoforte, Mr. Collins's long speech, and Lyida's flirtatious behavior. Another thing that she didn't notice was Mr. Darcy following her outside a few minutes after she had left.
Elizabeth looked up from where she sat at the base of a large tree as she heard footsteps approaching. It was Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth climbed to her feet, swaying slightly as the dizziness set in, but still somehow managed to curtsy. "Mr. Darcy," she said.
The man bowed and said, "Miss Elizabeth. You should not be here."
Elizabeth, having placed her hand on the trunk of the tree to steady herself, raised her eyebrow and replied, "I am sorry if you do not believe I belong at a ball, sir. However, I was invited."
She could not tell from his expression how he reacted, as it was quite dark where they were. However, as soon as he spoke she could tell that he was embarrassed, yet gentle. "You misunderstand me, Miss Elizabeth. I merely mean that you should be home resting. You are clearly ill, and it pains me to see you suffering so."
Elizabeth longed to answer, but she was forced to cough into her hand, and then leaned her head back against the tree as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Mr. Darcy seemed to realize this.
"Miss Elizabeth, please sit!" He said, reaching forward to grab her hand and assist her as she slid to the ground.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and coughed again, wishing she had something to drink, but not punch. Really all she wanted was water. It would sooth her throat, and help to cool her off at the same time. For, even though it was cool outside, her fever would not let her get comfortable.
She heard Mr. Darcy lowering himself to a crouch in front of her, and she opened her eyes to look at him. What she saw made her eyes open wide, for as if by magic, Mr. Darcy held in his hand a large glass of water, and he was holding it out to her. She reached out for it hesitantly, thanking him quietly, but when she felt the coolness of it against her hand, she quickly brought it to her mouth and took a large-and slightly unladylike-gulp.
It made her cough again as it went down her throat, and she heard Mr. Darcy admonishing her to sip it slowly. She heeded his advice, and was able to swallow it easier.
As she was sipping her water, she felt something cool on her forehead. Looking up from her drink, she was astonished to find that Mr. Darcy had his arm stretched out to her, and it was the back of his hand that she had felt.
Mr. Darcy pulled away after a moment, but Elizabeth's eyes had become more accustomed to the dark, and she saw his look of embarrassment, quickly overridden with concern.
"Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth, I am afraid I am used to caring for my sister, and I cannot control my instincts to help you in some way. You have a high fever," he said. Elizabeth could not quite make out the tone of his voice, for he masked it well. It seemed like everything she had known about him was a mask, and she felt that she wanted to know the real Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth shivered as her chill rushed back in, aided by the cool breeze that passed by. Mr. Darcy noticed this, and immediately started taking off his overcoat. Elizabeth wanted to stop him, to assure him that she was fine, but she couldn't find the energy to do so. All she could do was watch lazily as she tried to get her eyes to focus properly and her muscles to work.
Mr. Darcy held out his coat to her, saying, "Please, Miss Elizabeth, I do not wish for you to catch a chill."
Elizabeth finally focused and looked into his eyes, seeing the care and concern in them, and it gave her energy to speak. She chuckled slightly, saying, "I fear it is too late, Mr. Darcy, and I will only be warm again in a few minutes anyway."
Mr. Darcy hesitated, but seemed to accept her answer. However, instead of re-donning his coat, he merely placed it on the ground next to her.
Elizabeth didn't have much time to think about this, as she started to feel her nausea returning, but this time stronger. She considered drinking more water to force it down, then realized that it was too late.
Her eyes widened as she realized that she was about to throw up in the presence of Mr. Darcy, but then she quickly held out her glass, still half full of water, to the gentleman in question. Feeling Mr. Darcy take hold of the glass, she leaned to the side, and crawled a few feet away, feeling Mr. Darcy standing up from his crouching position.
She heard him start to say her name, but the rest was lost to her as she started heaving up the contents of her stomach. Mr. Darcy must have realized what she was doing, yet he didn't walk away as she would have expected him to do. Instead, he walked towards her-which wasn't very far, as she had not moved much-and knelt down beside her on the ground.
Elizabeth stopped vomiting eventually, but she was shaking, both from the strain and from the chill. As she was kneeling there on her hands and knees, feeling the presence of the gentleman who she had thought she had understood, but she realized now she did not know at all, she started to cry, feeling the humiliation of being sick in front of him deeply.
As the tears rolled down her cheeks, she heard him say, "Miss Elizabeth, are you-" he seemed to realize that asking if she was well was pointless, as she so obviously was not, and instead said, "Is there anything I can do for you? Why are you crying?"
Elizabeth shook her head, feeling the nausea ride up again. She was able to choke out: "I don't want you to see me like this," before she started vomiting yet again. This time, as her body shook with heaving and sobs, and her trying to breathe, she felt his warm hand on her back, rubbing it soothingly. Strangely, it felt good, and seemed to release the tension, and enabling her to relax.
When she was done throwing up, she felt him draw his hand away quickly. She almost whimpered at the loss of the comforting touch, but managed to hold it back.
"I am sorry, Miss Elizabeth," she heard Mr. Darcy saying, "I should not have done that. I fear I am breaching all the rules of propriety tonight." She could hear the hesitation and embarrassment in his voice, but she could not yet get enough breath to reassure him that all was well. Then he began talking again, and she listened, both in the same position on the ground.
"I should not be here with you. Do you wish for me to fetch one of your family, perhaps Miss Bennet?"
As he asked this, Elizabeth realized that she did not want her family, not even Jane. What she wanted was for him to stay with her.
This time she could not hold the whimper back as she felt him prepare to leave. He stopped half way into his act of getting up, and questioned her. "I beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth, I could not hear that."
Elizabeth summoned up her courage, and managed to whisper, "Stay," in a rough voice. As she said this, she reached out and grabbed his sleeve, not caring about propriety. She wanted comforting, and he was capable of giving it. She didn't take the time to think about why, but she wanted him. She wanted to know him, and to know if what Mr. Wickham had said about him was true. But most of all, she just wanted him here with her right now, to help her feel better.
She sat back on her knees, feeling her hands tingle from where they were pressed into the grass. She also felt Mr. Darcy kneel back down beside her, and heard his hesitant voice say, "If you wish."
Elizabeth tried to take a deep breath, feeling the results of the lack of it, since she had been unable to breathe while retching. However, she started coughing immediately, as she breathed through her dry throat.
She turned towards the tree, where she last remembered having her glass of water, but that action set her head spinning, and she started to sway, even though she was kneeling down.
She felt Mr. Darcy grab her shoulder, and lay his arm around her shoulders for support. She closed her eyes to stop the world from spinning, and when she next opened them, she saw her half full glass of water, resting in Mr. Darcy's hand, right in front of her.
She reached out and took the glass with a shaking hand and, raising it to her lips, took several deep sips. The water helped with her dry throat and cough, and also helped get the taste of vomit out of her mouth. After taking several sips, she held it out again, hoping Mr. Darcy would take it. He got the hint, and grabbed the glass from her hand before placing it back on the ground.
Elizabeth fought to hold her head up, but found it necessary to lay it to the side where it found its way to Mr. Darcy's shoulder, which was near her head as a result of his arm being around her shoulders. She felt him tense slightly, but then he relaxed.
Elizabeth wanted to just go to sleep, but she knew that their situation was not proper, even though they were in view of the ball room, and there were other couples out in the gardens, albeit not noticing them at the moment.
She parted her lips enough to speak, and then said, "Mr. Darcy, I apologize for asking you to stay. I understand that this is not quite proper, and I would not wish to risk your reputation in any way, as I know it is important to you." As she said this she lifted her head and tried to lean away from him. The world swayed a little as a result of her steadying herself, but she found that she could stay upright, as she was sitting.
Mr. Darcy lowered his arm, but he kept his hand planted on the grass behind her, so his arm ran diagonally behind her, in case she was in need of support. "Miss Elizabeth, I appreciate the thought, but maintaining propriety is not as important to me right now as assisting you is."
Elizabeth hummed slightly in response, not having the energy to do more. Mr. Darcy leaned forward and placed the back of his his hand on her cheek, feeling the heat from her fever, which should not have been there normally in the cool breeze at midnight. Elizabeth leaned into his cool touch slightly, and was disappointed when he drew his hand away almost immediately, however she knew that it was best to at least keep to most of the rules of propriety.
Mr. Darcy stood up, and felt Elizabeth tip her head back as she watched him. She did not seem as observant or sharp minded as she normally would have been, and Mr. Darcy accounted it to her fever and exhaustion. He reached his hand down to Elizabeth to help her rise. "Allow me to escort you to a guest room, Miss Elizabeth. You need to get some rest right away."
Under any other condition, he imagined Elizabeth would have argued, but right now she was willing to do almost anything suggested to her if it would make her feel better, and all she really wanted was to sleep. She took his offered hand and tried to rise to her feet. He had to grab her arm-which he did gently-and help pull her up, where she stood swaying for several moments.
Mr. Darcy offered her his arm, which she accepted, and then, after he stopped to grab his overcoat and swing it over his other shoulder, they started to walk slowly out of the gardens and in the direction of the main entrance of Netherfield.
Elizabeth was unsteady on her feet, and was leaning on Mr. Darcy's arm more than would be standard for common courtesy. When they were half way to the entrance of Netherfield, after going at an incredibly slow pace, Elizabeth stopped and released Mr. Darcy's arm, dropping to the ground and retching again. She had already emptied her stomach, and all that came out this time was the water she had drunk.
Mr. Darcy had stopped walking when she let go of him, and he now crouched down next to her, rubbing her back gently. He knew he should not be touching her, according to propriety, but she needed comforting, and she had already asked him to stay and help her.
When she was done dry heaving after a few minutes, she let her head hang as she gasped for breath. She was exhausted from the dancing and keeping up the presence of wellness, and now she was even more drained from the puking. All she really wanted was to sleep, and so, now that she had stopped moving, she just collapsed.
Mr. Darcy watched as Elizabeth stopped holding herself up, and fell to the ground. She rolled over slightly afterwards, so he knew that she was still conscious, but even so, he leaned over her and placed his hand on her forehead again, recognizing the increased temperature.
Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open at his touch, but then they dropped closed again. Mr. Darcy drew his hand back, and instead shrugged off his overcoat from where it hung over his shoulder. He opened it wider, and draped it over her shaking body, then he slid his arms under her back and knees, and lifted her bridal style
He could feel Elizabeth lifting her head and trying to resist the movement, but he forced himself to ignore propriety and instead focused on getting her help.
He stood up slowly, with Elizabeth in his arms, and started walking towards the building they had been heading to before. Elizabeth relaxed against him, and grabbed his vest and shirt in her hands in an effort to steady herself and brace against the pain. Mr. Darcy felt both this, and her head where it lay on her shoulder. He could also feel the warmth radiating from her, despite the cool night.
Mr. Darcy took quick strides towards the entrance to Netherfield, hardly noticing her slight weight in his arms. She moaned slightly as he walked, and he could feel her shivering against him. He quickened his pace, recognizing the great need for a doctor. "Come on, Miss Elizabeth. Don't give up," he whispered to her.
As he burst through the entrance, he was gratified to see the housekeeper walking by, and called her name to gain her attention.
"Mrs. White," he called still walking, until her stopped a few paces away from her. The housekeeper stopped and turned to him, starting with surprise when she saw that the grave Mr. Darcy was carrying a lady in his arms.
"Mrs. White, Miss Elizabeth is unwell. She will be needing a room, if you could direct me to one. Also, please send someone for a doctor, and have a maid come up to the room with an empty basin, and a bowl of cold water and clean cloths."
Mrs. White got over her shock, and realized the necessity of speed. "Of course, Mr. Darcy," she said, and with a quick curtsey asked him to follow her, which he did, still carrying his precious burden in his arms.
Mrs. White led Mr. Darcy up the staircase, and opened the first room she came to which was kept ready. She rang a bell pull on the wall, and then turned back to Mr. Darcy.
"Sir, a maid will be here soon, and you can tell her what you require, I will be off to summon a doctor," she said.
Mr. Darcy nodded at her. "Thank you, and please, could you possibly keep this as quiet as possible?" He asked.
She smiled at him and nodded back, before leaving the room. Mr. Darcy was grateful that she was so collected, and not overly worried about propriety when there were more important things at hand. Although, she did make sure that the door was wide open when she left.
Mr. Darcy placed Elizabeth gently on the bed, and stayed leaning over for a moment to brush some stray hairs from her forehead, where they had been sticking to her sweaty skin.
Her face, while most would have been peaceful in sleep, was furrowed with discomfort, and her head was tossing from side to side. This worried Mr. Darcy, as he knew it was a sign of a high fever. He could tell from the way her eyes were moving beneath her lids that she was almost to the point of delirium, and may already be there.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door that led to the servant's pathways. "Come in," he called, straightening back up, gently grabbing his coat from on top of Elizabeth's form, and stepping back a few steps to keep more with propriety, while hastily donning his coat.
The maid entered the room, and looked surprised at the sight she met. She regained her composure after a moment, however, and walked farther into the room.
"Mr. Darcy, what did you need, Sir?" She asked. Mr. Darcy repeated the instructions that he had given to the housekeeper, and, after saying that she understood, the maid rushed back out, glancing back once with apprehension at the situation.
Mr. Darcy considered leaving to maintain propriety, but he didn't want to leave Elizabeth alone, not in the state she was in. He looked around the room, and noticed a chair that was positioned in front of the writing desk in the corner of the room. He walked over, and carried the chair to the side of the bed, where he then sat to await the return of the maid.
After a minute, Elizabeth's eyes opened slightly, and she turned her head to look at Mr. Darcy.
Mr. Darcy leaned forward slightly, trying to determine if she was in a right state of mind.
"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth murmured quietly. "What happened?"
"Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy replied, talking quietly so as not to disturb her, "if you will recall, you fell ill at the ball. I was helping you back inside, but you collapsed. You are now in a guest room at Netherfield. A doctor has been sent for. I have also sent a maid to fetch some things for you. Your fever is incredibly high, and we need to bring it down."
Elizabeth was startled at hearing this news, and even more startled to find that only Mr. Darcy was in the room with her. She would have called him out on the inappropriateness of this, but then recalled that he had offered to fetch one of her family members, but she had asked him to stay.
"My family will be worried," she finally said, having remembered that she had been gone from the ball for some time now. She raised a hand to her head and closed her eyes, obviously in pain. But there wasn't anything Mr. Darcy could do for that at the moment.
"As soon as the maid returns, I will instruct her to stay with you, and I will go inform your family of the situation. We should also have someone sent to Longbourne to fetch some clothing for you. And as I imagine Miss Bennet will wish to stay with you, her things should be fetched as well."
At this, Elizabeth seemed to snap awake more. "No, we cannot impose upon you more. We already overstayed our welcome when Jane was ill." She tried to raise herself up to a sitting position so she could get off the bed, but only managed to push herself onto her side so she was facing Mr. Darcy, before collapsing back to the bed and succumbing to a coughing fit.
Mr. Darcy jumped forward and pushed her to her back, but slid his arm under her shoulder and lifted her up so she could cough easier. When she was done, he quickly lowered her back down and backed away.
Elizabeth's eyes lowered until they were almost closed, and Mr. Darcy could tell that she was almost asleep. "Miss Elizabeth, when I tell your family, should I ask Miss Bennet to come sit with you?" He asked.
Elizabeth didn't open her eyes any more, and her words came out in a mumble as she said, "No, don't take her away from Mr. Bingley. She loves him so much, and she is so good, she deserves to be happy."
Mr. Darcy didn't show how much he reacted to this, but he truly was shocked, as he had not detected affection from Miss Bennet. He assumed he must just not have noticed it, if Miss Elizabeth was certain it was there. He knew that he wasn't always the best judge of feelings, especially of others.
He was about to respond to her, but found that she had already fallen asleep again. Just a few moments after this, the maid knocked on the door again. Mr. Darcy bid her to come in, and she did so, carrying the basin under one arm with the clothes inside, and the bowl of water in her hands. She had shouldered open the door to enter, but now Mr. Darcy rushed over to grab the bowl of water from her.
As she was thanking him, he carried the bowl to the side of the bed and placed it on the table there. When the maid came over, he took the basin from her gently, and placed it on the floor next to the bed. He took the cloths out of it, and placed them on the table next to the bowl of water, except for one, which he dipped in the cool water.
After the cloth was thoroughly soaked, he wrung it out and draped it over Elizabeth's forehead. Some of the tension left Mr. Darcy when he saw her relax slightly, and sigh in relief at the coolness.
"Make sure this cloth stays cool and on her forehead, and bathe her face if necessary to keep her fever down," Mr. Darcy said to the maid, who was standing by waiting for her instructions. "A doctor has been sent for, in case I do not come back soon. I am off to tell Miss Elizabeth's family where she is, but I will return." Seeing that the maid understood, Mr. Darcy forced himself to trust the maid, and left to return to the ball.
Mr. Darcy walked through the halls of Netherfield until he reached the ballroom, where he was immediately surrounded by heat and dull light, as well as the smell of so many people together in one room.
He took a breath to steady himself, and then walked forwards, scanning for one of two people: Mr. Bingley, or Mr. Bennet. Finally he spotted Mr. Bingley's shock of red hair.
Making his way over to his friend, he pushed past people, until he came upon Mr. Bingley speaking with the elder Miss Bennet during the break between dance sets. Mr. Darcy finally reached the host of the ball, and bowed to each of the two people. He was relieved to find Mr. Bingley speaking with Miss Bennet, as it meant that he could pass on his message to two people at the same time.
"Bingley, Miss Bennet," he said, coming out of his bow. "Charles, I have taken the liberty to lending one of your guest rooms to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, as she is unwell," he leaned closer to his friend as he murmured this, knowing to keep it as private as possible. However, Miss Bennet had heard, it seemed.
Jane gasped and brought her hand up to her mouth. "Oh no, she is ill? I should go to her!" She exclaimed, looking distraught. Mr. Darcy smiled at this, appreciating the care he showed for her sister. He knew that many people of the ton, Caroline Bingley for example, would pretend to be upset, but would not even think of leaving from a party to attend to their sibling.
Mr. Darcy smiled slightly, and said, "Miss Elizabeth requested that you stay at the ball, but, if Bingley agrees, I might suggest that you stay with her in a separate room next to hers."
"Of course!" Mr. Bingley exclaimed. "I will have a carriage go to Longbourne straight away to gather some things for your and your sister, Miss Bennet! If you would wish, of course," he hastily said.
Jane nodded, biting her lip, but smiled at Bingley all the same, and took the arm he offered her. Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet bowed and curtsied respectively, thanking Mr. Darcy, and then strolled off to attend to that.
Mr. Darcy strode farther into the room, intent on finishing his duty and finding Mr. Bennet to inform his of his second daughter's condition.
As his eyes were roving across the room, he saw a most unwelcome sight. Miss Bingley was heading in his direction with her flirtatious look that she always had around him, her brightly colored dress and extravagant feathers noticeable from half way across the room.
Mr. Darcy looked down quickly and turned his head away, luckily catching sight of Mr. Bennet next to the refreshment table, speaking to another gentleman whose name Darcy could not recall. Mr. Darcy made his way quickly to the side of the elder gentleman, and bowed to both of them.
Speaking only to Mr. Bennet he said, "Sir, I wonder if perhaps I could have a word with you." His tone left no doubt as to the fact that he wished to speak in private.
Mr. Bennet nodded once, politely excused himself from his conversant, and followed Mr. Darcy to the side of the room where there was semi-privacy, since most of the people were gathered in the center of the room partaking in the dance set.
Mr. Bennet looked expectantly at the rich gentleman standing before him, wondering what Mr. Darcy could have to say to him that would require privacy. He didn't have to wait long, though, as Mr. Darcy was not one to bandy words. He got straight to the point
"Mr. Bennet, I have come to inform you that your daughter, Miss Elizabeth, has become quite ill, and is in a room upstairs. A doctor has been sent for, and I believe Miss Bennet is intending to stay as well to care for Miss Elizabeth. She and Mr. Bingley have gone to send a carriage to your estate to gather some things for them. I just thought you would like to know."
Whatever Mr. Bennet had thought he would hear, this was not it. However, he didn't take too long to think about his. Instead, he focused on the fact that his favorite daughter was ill, and that Mr. Darcy had been the one to tell him.
Mr. Bennet cleared his throat, and then looked at Mr. Darcy's who was waiting for a response. "Mr. Darcy, could I persuade you to take me to my daughter?"
"Of course, Sir," Mr. Darcy replied. He bowed slightly, and then turned on his heels and walked out of the ballroom, and in the direction of the guest's quarters.
Mr. Bennet followed quietly, processing the information he had been given. He realized that he would have to ask either his daughter or Mr. Darcy for more information, to make sure that everything had been proper.
He was brought out of his musings when Mr. Darcy stopped in front of a door three rooms down the first hall on the left. Mr. Bennet memorized this, as he realized he might need to come back here later, or even direct another person there.
Mr. Bennet looked at Mr. Darcy, who gave a small nod in response. They were almost at the door when both gentleman heard a voice from inside.
"Miss Elizabeth! You need to calm down! Miss Elizabeth!" Mr. Darcy recognized the voice of the maid he had left, and the two gentleman rushed the rest of the way and quickly entered the room, shocked into action by the fear in the voice calling out for his daughter.
Mr. Darcy had originally planned to stay out of the room to maintain propriety, but all thoughts of propriety vanished when he heard this exclamation. Mr. Darcy rushed into the room behind Mr. Bennet, his eyes immediately taking in the sight before him, and his brain forcing him to action.
Elizabeth had just stood up from the bed, her eyes unfocused, with the maid reaching for her arms to put her back in bed. The maid looked to the gentlemen as the door crashed open, and as she did so, Elizabeth collapsed, falling to her knees.
Mr. Darcy rushed past Mr. Bennet, and caught Elizabeth's head and shoulders before they too crashed to the floor. Mr. Bennet knelt next to them both, and reached out to place a hand on his daughter's forehead. "She's burning up!" he exclaimed.
Elizabeth's eyes were open, but they looked dull and clouded, so unlike her normal bright and sparkling eyes that it tore at Mr. Darcy's heart to see it. Stray strands of her hair were sticking to her face, which was damp with sweat, and her mouth was open slightly as she breathed heavily.
"Papa, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth murmured, her voice rough, and her dry throat causing her to start coughing, which was a weak attempt. She closed her eyes and her head lolled to the side, her breath coming out in quick pants.
Mr. Darcy looked up at the maid, who had stood to the side, ringing her hands, unsure of what to do. "Please, go fetch a glass and a pitcher of water," he said to her. She nodded her head a few times, looking worriedly at Elizabeth where she lay in Mr. Darcy's arms. She bobbed a quick curtsey, and then exited thought the servant's door once more.
Mr. Darcy slid his other hand under Elizabeth's knees, as he had done when he had carried her inside. This time, however, the trip was shorter, as he had only to lift her onto the bed. Once laying down again, she continued to murmur under her breath, and tossed her head from side to side.
Mr. Bennet rushed to her side and took her hand, smoothing back the stray locks of her hair, and speaking soothingly to her.
Mr. Darcy found that he was slightly envious, but pushed the thought back, recognizing that he had no right to administer to Elizabeth so tenderly, and her father had every right. Instead, he sufficed with picking the damp cloth up off the bed, where it had fallen when Elizabeth had sat up. Mr. Darcy dipped it into the bowl of water, waiting until it was thoroughly soaked and cooled before he lifted it and wrung it out.
He held the cloth out to Mr. Bennet, realizing that he should probably not place it on her himself, but Mr. Bennet just looked at him and gestured for him to go ahead, before turning back to his daughter.
Mr. Darcy only hesitated for a moment before he placed the cloth gently on the forehead of the woman he loved.
The thought startled him, and it took him a moment to realize that it was true. Somehow his admiration for Elizabeth Bennet, which is all he had thought it to be earlier in the evening, had now become a deep love for her. But he then realized that he had fallen in love with her some time ago, and just never realized it until he saw her before him, in pain and begging for his help, and then vulnerable and feverish.
The cool cloth seemed to work, at least, and Elizabeth calmed down, and stopped tossing about as much.
He was brought out of his musings by Mr. Bennet's voice, which was directed at him even though he still faced Elizabeth, holding her hand in his larger ones.
"Mr. Darcy, I find that I must ask you, while we are alone-well, relatively anyway-why you were the one to tell me she was ill, and how she came to be here in the first place." As he said this last bit, Mr. Bennet glanced back over his shoulder at Mr. Darcy, who was quickly readying himself to tell an accurate account of the events to which Mr. Bennet referred.
Mr. Darcy took a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts together, and organized them. Then, letting out his breath he started, keeping his tone level and his face in place, without giving away any emotion. "I noticed during our dance that Miss Elizabeth looked unwell, but when I inquired after her health she assured me, several times, that she was fine. During dinner I noticed that she only took a few bites of every course, but drank quite a bit of punch, even though she seemed to not enjoy it. After dinner, I saw her head out into the garden, looking quite pale and sick." Mr. Darcy paused here, shifting on his feet as he recalled the worry he had felt for her at that time. Mr. Bennet glanced back at him when he paused, but didn't say anything, so Mr. Darcy went on.
"I wished to go after her to make sure that she was well, but I first went to the kitchen to obtain a glass of water, as I thought she might appreciate it. After I did this, I went into the gardens, where I found her sitting in the dark. I gave her the water, which she seemed to appreciate, and..." Here Mr. Darcy paused and cleared his throat again, uncomfortable speaking to Elizabeth's father about this. But he reminded himself that nothing he did was completely improper at this point, and so went on. "She shivered, so I offered her my coat, but she said that she would only be warm again right away. After this, she...she crawled away, and started throwing up." Mr. Bennet squeezed Elizabeth's hand tighter at this, Mr. Darcy noticed.
"I admit, Mr. Bennet, that at this point, I had already felt her forehead to determine whether she had a fever, and when she was vomiting, I rubbed her back to comfort her. I realize that this was not proper, and I apologize. However, we were in view of the ballroom, and there were several other people in the gardens as well." Mr. Darcy paused to see how Mr. Bennet reacted. The older gentleman turned to Mr. Darcy.
"Mr. Darcy, I thank you for telling me this. It is a good thing I have trust in my daughter that she would not willingly do something foolish, even while ill, and I appreciate the comfort that you gave to her. Please, continue."
Mr. Darcy cleared his throat once more, and then continued with his story. "I offered to fetch one of her family, but she asked me to stay. After she was done, she sat up, and seemed unsteady, so I put my arm around her back to steady her. She took another drink of water, and then I offered her my arm, so that I could escort her inside and to a guest room. I know that she normally would have refused, but she was exhausted, I believe, and took my arm readily.
"She was leaning heavily on me, and when we were halfway to the entrance, she let go and fell to the ground, where she threw up the little bit of water she had had. After this, she collapsed. She was shivering, so I lay my coat over her, and...I picked her up. I realize the impropriety, but her fever had gone up, and she was so very ill, I had to do something." Mr. Bennet only nodded at this, still holding Elizabeth's hand.
"Once inside, I had the housekeeper, Mrs. White, show me a free room, and I had her send for a doctor. I sent the maid for the things you see here, next to the bed, and when the maid returned, I instructed her to care for Miss Elizabeth, while I returned to the ball. I informed Mr. Bingley that Miss Elizabeth would be staying with us, and I asked your daughter, Miss Bennet, if she would like to stay with Miss Elizabeth. She and Mr. Bingley went to send a carriage to Longbourne to gather some things for Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth. Then I came to you."
Mr. Bennet once again turned to Mr. Darcy. "Had Elizabeth woken up before we arrived?"
Mr. Darcy flinched, as he realized that he had left out that part. "Yes, while I was waiting for the maid to return. I had laid her on the bed, she woke up and I informed her of what had happened. She did not wish to impose, and insisted that she could not stay at Netherfield. However, I believe I convinced her that she needed to rest here. She had a fit of coughing, but she fell back asleep soon after she woke."
Mr. Bennet nodded along to all of this, stroking Elizabeth's hand with his thumb slightly. He finally forced his eyes away from his daughter, and looked back to the young gentleman in the room with him.
"I appreciate all you have done for my daughter, I truly do. While I realize that all you did was not entirely proper, I also realize that the circumstances required it. If rumors start getting around, however, that could question her virtue or compromise her future, I hope that I can expect you to do the gentlemanly thing, and wed her?" Mr. Bennet raised an eyebrow at Darcy, who hesitated only slightly before speaking.
"Yes, sir. I will take full responsibility for my actions if it is needed."
Mr. Bennet sighed. "I sincerely hope it does not come down to that, both because I would not wish for her reputation to be taken into question, and because I know that she does not like you all too much, and it would not be a happy marriage. Although, if she let you care for her tonight, maybe her opinion has changed."
Mr. Darcy was taken aback with that statement, completely unaware of that supposed mindset of Elizabeth. Mr. Bennet noticed his distress, and smirked slightly.
"I take it that you did not know this? Well, she is good at hiding her true feelings. And apparently she is also good at hiding when she is sick, as I had no idea. Although, somehow you managed to see right through it. But yes, Elizabeth is not overly find of you, after a statement you apparently made at the assembly. I don't know what else had happened between you, but overall I had thought that she disliked you."
Mr. Darcy cleared his throat, and said, "Sir, I am aware that what I said at the assembly was ungentlemanly, and also untrue. In fact, I spoke to Miss Elizabeth about it during our dance tonight, and I think she accepted my apology. As for elsewhere, I cannot think of anything else that would cause her to dislike me."
At that moment, there was a knock on the servant's door, and the maid entered after being instructed to. She was carrying a glass pitcher of water, and a glass cup in each hand, and she gently placed them both on the side table beside the water bowl, then she stepped back and awaited further instruction.
"Thank you, you may go now, " Mr. Darcy said to the girl, and watched as she hurried away, closing the servant's door behind her. He then turned back to the father and daughter. Mr. Bennet had poured some water into the glass, but left it on the table for when it was needed. Luckily the side table was well large enough to hold all the items.
Mr. Bennet then grabbed the cloth from Elizabeth's forehead and re-soaked it, before putting it back in place. When it was settled on her forehead, Elizabeth stirred some, and slowly opened her eyes.
"My little Lizzy, how are you feeling?" Mr. Bennet asked tenderly, stroking her hand again as it rested in his.
"I feel...ill," Elizabeth responded, her voice rough and groggy, as well as weak.
"That is to be expected, my child, for I believe you are ill," Mr. Bennet smirked, his usual sarcastic nature coming out. "I heard that you and Mr. Darcy had an unusual adventure outside, Lizzy," his tone was light, but the implied meaning behind the words could not be missed.
Elizabeth was about to reply, but her father hushed her. "Do not worry about that now, Dear. Mr. Darcy did the right thing in helping you, and we can talk about it later, when you are better. For now, would you like some water?"
Elizabeth nodded her head slowly and carefully, and Mr. Bennet grabbed the glass of water from the table, carefully holding it up to her mouth and filling it so she could drink. When she stopped drinking it, he put the glass back down on the table.
"There now, you just rest, Lizzy," Mr. Bennet said. Elizabeth furrowed her brow and opened her mouth again, ad if to say something, but was shushed by her father again. She finally gave in and closed her eyes, letting out a deep breath as she fell asleep.
Mr. Darcy took a few steps back, and bowed when Mr. Bennet turned to look at him, then strode out the open door into the hallway. After taking a few steps away from the room, he leaned against the wall and heaved out a breath, finally noticing how exhausted he was.
Mr. Bennet came followed him out the door after a few moments, and stopped in front of Mr. Darcy. "She will be asleep for some time, thankfully, and Jane will be back soon to take care of her. I might suggest that you get some sleep as well, young man. There is no sense in worrying about things that can't be helped at the moment."
"Yes sir," Mr. Darcy replied, bowing his head slightly to the older gentleman. "I will wish you a goodnight then, and hope that Miss Elizabeth is faring better in the morning."
Mr. Darcy's room was halfway down the hall, and so just a few doors from Elizabeth's. He entered it and closed the door, but didn't ring for his valet. Instead he just sat on the bed and waited, thinking while he did.
He had intended to leave for London after the ball, and perhaps persuade Bingley to come with him, but this night had changed things. Since Elizabeth had said that Miss Bennet did love Bingley, then Mr. Darcy could see no reason why Bingley shouldn't stay and secure his attachment to Miss Bennet. And regarding Mr. Darcy himself, he realized that he loved Elizabeth, it wasn't just an infatuation anymore. He found that he couldn't possibly think of leaving, not when she was seriously ill. Not to mention that if rumors started, then he would be forced to marry her.
A brief feeling of anger surged over him, but disappeared after. It was more out of habit that he reacted that way, since he had spent years trying not to get entrapped into marriage. However, he was actually pleased that he could be forced to marry her. They could be happy together, and the people of the Ton could not scorn him for his choice as below him, since he would have married her as the honorable thing to do.
These realizations relieved Mr. Darcy, and he started smiling. Just then, he heard footsteps from down the hall. Quietly walking to his door, he opened it a crack and peered out. Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet were standing outside the door to Elizabeth's room.
After knocking, Miss Bennet went inside, but Bingley stayed in the hallway, shifting on his feet nervously, as was his wont, and gazing through the open door.
When a few minutes had passed, Miss Bennet came back out, followed by her father, and then waved both men off down the hall, before walking back in to join her ill sister. She shut the door behind her, and Mr. Darcy accepted that that was all he was going to see that night.
Mr. Darcy closed his own bedroom door, and rang for his valet. Half an hour later he was in bed, but his mind was still with Elizabeth, hopefully asleep in her bed, and with her loving sister looking after her. With this thought, he let himself fall into sleep.
Mr. Darcy was awake early the next morning, and after getting dressed and ready for the day he rushed out of his room, but slowed once he got into the hallway, not wanting anyone to hear his footsteps and wake up, or know that he was impatient.
Pausing outside Elizabeth's door, Mr. Darcy hesitated with his hand in the air, ready to rap his knuckles on the wood. He didn't want to wake anyone up, but after a few moments thought, he decided that Elizabeth wouldn't hear him if he knocked quietly, and if Miss Bennet was in the room to hear, then she must be awake anyway. Having made this decision, Mr. Darcy knocked lightly on the wood of the door, and waited for an answer.
No sound came from inside, even after a couple minutes of waiting. Holding back a sigh, Mr. Darcy strode down the hall, down the stairs, and into the library. He didn't feel hungry at the moment.
After grabbing a book from one of the sparsely filled shelves, Mr. Darcy sat in one of the comfortable chairs by the fire, and stared into the distance, not even looking at the book.
He did not know how long he sat there, but it must have been quite a while, for he did not come back to reality until Mr. Bingley walked into the room, and Mr. Darcy knew that his friend was not an early riser, especially after a late night at a ball. A quick glance at the clock, however, showed that it was indeed far earlier than his friend should have been up.
"Darcy, how long have you been here?" Mr. Bingley asked as he came in, seeming to be more agitated than usual. He also seemed preoccupied, but Mr. Darcy couldn't think what about. "Quite a while, I should think, knowing you," Mr. Bingley continued, coming to sit in the chair next to Mr. Darcy's.
"Indeed," Mr. Darcy said, then was silent for a few more moments. Mr. Darcy glanced over a few times, watching as Mr. Bingley's leg twitched constantly, a sure sign that his friend was nervous. "Bingley, tell me this instant what had you so bothered, or cease that irritating bounce of your leg!" Mr. Darcy called out, his temper short as a result of his worry for Elizabeth.
Mr. Bingley's leg stopped bouncing, and he looked at it as if he had not known it was doing such a thing, which, in all honestly, he probably had not. "Alright Darcy, no need to get so worked up," he said, his usual cheerful smile in place. A few moments later, however, and it was gone. "Although, I could use some advice. I am unsure what to do, honestly." He leaned forward in his seat, and so Mr. Darcy directed all his attention towards his friend. "I find myself wishing to...propose marriage...to Miss Bennet," Bingley clarified. "however, I am not sure how to go about it, or even if I should. You are more sensible Darcy, do you think it would be well received?" Mr. Bingley looked thoroughly nervous now.
Mr. Darcy opened his mouth, then closed it, remembering what Elizabeth had said the night before. If she was right, then Miss Bennet truly did love Mr. Bingley, and his proposal would be well received, and not just by force of their mother. "Yes, Bingley, I do believe she would accept you, am do do believe you should ask her, if that is what you think will make you, and yourself, happy. Of course, you should wait until Miss Elizabeth is well, as I do believe that Miss Bennet would not feel comfortable receiving you when her sister is ill."
At this admission and advice, Bingley's gave was split with his grin again. "Thank you, Darcy!" He exclaimed. "I shall indeed wait for poor Miss Elizabeth to be better, but in the meantime, I shall plan the loveliest of proposals, which will hopefully be worthy of such an angel!"
Mr. Darcy smiled at his friend, happy that he was so excited, and had found himself someone to love and cherish for the test of his life. Mr. Darcy had found someone that he could, and did, love and cherish as well, and all he had to do was get her to like and accept him, as well. That is, of her reputation wasn't already in need of their marriage to save it.
With such serious thoughts, Mr. Darcy again sank into deep contemplation, and Mr. Bingley also was thinking, although his thoughts were on a considerably lighter matter, though they were both similar.
After another fifteen minutes passed, both men were interrupted by another person entering the room. They both stood politely, one more hurriedly and delightedly than the other. "Miss Bennet," they both said, although Mr. Darcy said it merely politely, while Mr. Bingley said it joyously, and with his ever present from again.
"Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy," Jane said as she entered the room, curtsying slightly to both of them.
"Miss Bennet, how is Miss Elizabeth this morning?" Mr. Darcy asked, since Bingley was too busy staring at Jane to do so.
Jane looked away from Mr. Bingley, blushing slightly. "She has not woken up yet, sir, but I do believe that she is quite a bit better. Her fever has gone down, at least, and she is resting easy."
Mr. Darcy smiled softly at that, relieved to know that Elizabeth was more comfortable than she had been last night.
"And yourself? I hope that you, too, are well?" Bingley asked nervously. He shifted from foot too foot.
"Yes, Mr. Bingley, I am perfectly well," Jane replied, smiling at him. It looked just like one of her normal, and bounteous, smiles, but, looking closer, Mr. Darcy could see the shyness and happiness in it, since it was for Mr. Bingley.
"That's good!" Mr. Bingley explained, grinning. "Shall we make our way to the dining room and break our fast?" He asked, gesturing out the door. At Jane's slight nod, he held out his arm for her to take, and he escorted her to breakfast with the grin on his face matching with the gentle smile on Jane's.
Mr. Darcy followed them out, wishing once again that he could see Elizabeth to make sure she was well, but knowing that secondhand news would have to suffice.
Those three ate breakfast together, where Jane and Mr. Bingley carried most of the conversation, with Mr. Darcy only answering questions when he was asked. After Jane was done eating, she excused herself to return to her sister, leaving just the two gentlemen.
"Isn't she lovely, Darcy?" Mr. Bingley asked, a dreamy look on his face.
"Indeed," Mr. Darcy answered airily, preoccupied himself with the other Bennet girl upstairs.
After the gentlemen finished their breakfast, they each retired to different rooms: Mr. Darcy to the library, where he tried to read a book but never got past the second page, and Mr. Bingley to his office, where he tried to do his work, but ended up thinking about Jane the whole time.
Some time later, Mr. Darcy's reading, if it could be called that, was interrupted by a commotion in the halls. After putting his book down, Mr. Darcy stepped out of the library, intending to see what was causing the disturbance.
Mr. Bennet was stopped in the hallway, talking to the steward. "I am Thomas Bennet, and I want to see my daughter, Elizabeth Bennet."
"Of course sir," the steward replied, looking slightly frazzled. It was not an easy thing to be in the way of Mr. Bennet when he wanted to see his favorite daughter. "However, I have been told that no one is to enter that room, except Miss Bennet."
Shaking his head at the steward, whom he had never liked or approved of, Mr. Darcy intervened. "Matthew, thank you, but I will take it from here." Addressing Mr. Bennet, he bowed, and said, "Sir, if you will follow me, I will show you to her room."
Mr. Bennet looked like he was going to argue, but after a glance at Matthew, who was still standing there nervously, he quietly agreed, and followed Mr. Darcy as he walked farther down the hall, and up the stairs at the end.
"Mr. Darcy, I'll have you know that I know the way to her room perfectly well, as I was there last night," Mr. Bennet sounded slightly amused, and slightly affronted, as he said it, and Mr. Darcy couldn't tell which was the prevailing emotion.
"Of course, sir, but I admit I would like to know how Miss Elizabeth is, myself since I have not heard of her since breakfast, from Miss Bennet" Mr. Darcy replied, having the grace to look slightly sheepish.
"Indeed, sir," Mr. Bennet responded, "if that is your plight, then I shall just have to tell you how she is faring." The older man's eyes danced with mirth, for he was doing one of the few things he loved: teasing. A few moments later, however, his face grew serious again. "Mr. Darcy, I feel you should know now, the news about you helping my Lizzy has spread, for I heard a couple of my servants talking about it this morning when they thought I wasn't listening. And of course, as is the way of gossip, it has turned into a scandal, rather than the chivalrous act it was." Mr. Bennet seemed to draw more into himself as he spoke, looking far older than his years. Glancing at Mr. Darcy and away again, he continued, "If you do not do the honorable thing and marry Elizabeth, as you had said you would, then her good name would be dragged through the mud."
Mr. Darcy set his jaw, angry at how the world of gossip could blow things so out of proportion, although if he wasn't so upset, he would be impressed with how quickly the news had spread. Pushing his anger aside for the moment, he responded to Mr. Bennet with a nod, and said, "Of course, sir, I will do the honorable thing."
What he didn't say was how happy it made him feel to know that he would be married to his Elizabeth soon. He knew that he would have proposed eventually anyway, but he hadn't been certain if she would have received his suit positively.
At that thought, Mr. Darcy became tense and nervous, thinking about how miserable Elizabeth could be at the news. He determined that he would have to convince her of how much he loved her, and how he believed that they could be happy together.
With these thoughts circulating through his head, Mr. Darcy led the way to the room Elizabeth was staying in, hardly without noticing it. When he looked up at where they were, he started a bit. Quickly recovering, he gestured to the door, and said, "This is Miss Elizabeth's room."
Mr. Bennet nodded his head, thanked Mr. Darcy, and knocked on the door. A few moments later it was answered by Jane, who opened it further with a cry of, "Papa!" When she saw who was on the other side.
After Mr. Bennet entered the room, the door closed behind him, leaving Mr. Darcy standing alone in the hall, with only his thoughts for company.
Not knowing how long he waited there, Mr. Darcy became absorbed in his thoughts once more, imagining what his life would be like with Elizabeth as his wife, and how good a companion she would be for Georgiana. He just knew they would get along well.
He was broken out of his reverie by the door opening once more. Mr. Bennet stepped out and closed the door gently behind him.
"Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth is feeling much better," he said before Mr. Darcy could ask. "She has a strong constitution, and always did recover quickly whenever she became ill. I have explained the situation to her, and she has agreed to marry you. However, I believe that it would do you both some good to have a talk about it. After that, I expect you to come see me, and we can talk about marriage settlements, and obtaining a special license."
"Thank you, sir," Mr. Darcy said with a grateful nod. He shifted from foot to foot, anxious to see Elizabeth.
Mr. Bennet gave a slight smile at the antics of the young man in front of him. He could remember what it was like to be young and in love: always so hasty. "Jane is making Lizzy a bit more presentable," he explained.
Just at that moment the door opened again, and Jane stepped out calmly. "She is ready to see you, sir," she addressed Mr. Darcy.
With a quick "thank you" in her direction, and a nod in Mr. Bennet's, he gently pushed the door open and stepped inside the room, suddenly anxious about talking with Elizabeth. He had no idea how she was taking it, and she was still ill. It was an unknown minefield, and he needed to tread carefully.
Elizabeth was propped up against the pillows in her bed, with her blankets settled over her lap, with her hands resting atop, and her hair nicely combed and pleated over one shoulder.
"Good morning, Mr. Darcy," she said as he stepped into the room. He didn't close the door fully, for propriety's sake. Walking over to the bed, he gave a polite bow when he got a couple meters from it.
"Miss Elizabeth, I hope you are feeling better," he said, reverting to his stiff self, which was normal when he was uncomfortable.
Elizabeth gestured to the chair which was placed beside her bed, presumably where Jane had sat to tend to her sister. "Please sit down, Mr. Darcy, I won't bite." She smiled sweetly as she said it, and Mr. Darcy smiled back as well. She was all things lovely.
Sitting himself down on the chair, he looked at her properly. She was still a little pale, but her fever seemed to have mostly gone, and she looked a lot more comfortable than she had the night before.
"And to answer you question, sir, I am feeling much better, thank you. I admit that I cannot remember much of last night after we got in sight of the house." He brow furrowed slightly as she tried to remember. Mr. Darcy was not surprised that her memory of that was foggy, since that was around when her fever had gotten higher, and she had only been semi aware of her surroundings.
Seeing how serious Mr. Darcy was, Elizabeth quickly changed the topic. "I have been told that you have agreed to marry me, to save my reputation," she said. "I thank you, sir."
"Of course, it is what anyone would do in my position," Mr. Darcy replied. Then, realizing how formal he had sounded, he told himself to snap out of it. Lifting his head higher, and leaning forward more in his chair, he began, "Miss Elizabeth, you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. I believe that I have loved you from the first moment I saw you, although I do not think I realized quite how much until last night." Mr. Darcy blushed slightly, unused to confessing his feelings, especially of love. Miss. Elizabeth seemed surprised, but said nothing, just stared at him with wide eyes. "The truth is, I believe I would have proposed to you soon anyway. Please, I know that your father said you did not like me, but I believe that I can show you a better side of myself, the part of myself that I am when I am comfortable. I believe that we can be happy together. I believe that I can make you happy! Please, Miss Elizabeth, would you make me the happiest of me and consent to be my wife?"
Mr. Darcy was practically begging at the end, wanting, no, needing her to accept him for him, not just for her reputation. When he stopped speaking and looked at her, he was surprised to see tears gathering in her eyes. His face took in an anxious look, and he leaned forward even more, reaching for one of her hands, which she let him take in his own.
"Dearest Elizabeth," he said, forgetting the formalities in his rush to see if she was alright, "have I said something to upset you? Please, tell me what is wrong!"
Elizabeth smiled through her tears, and then let out a small laugh. "Nothing is wrong, Mr. Darcy, I am perfectly happy. I had only ever hoped and dreamed that a man could love me. And I must admit, I was slightly surprised when I realized how happy you had made me by saying that." She wiped at a tear, but more came to take its place.
Mr. Darcy, relieved that she was happy, and seemed to be happy because of him, relaxed, but kept hold of her hand, caressing it to try and comfort her.
A few minutes later, when her tears had stopped, Elizabeth looked at him, smiled through her tears stained cheeks, and said, "Yes, Mr. Darcy, I would love to be your wife! I love you." Those words filled Darcy's heart to the brim, and they wore matching grins, looking forward to the future.
Mr. Darcy knew that he would have to leave her soon, to talk with her father and make plans for the wedding and their future together, but for now, he was just happy to share that moment with her, and look forward to what the world had in store for him, with Elizabeth by his side.
The morning after that, Elizabeth was completely recovered, and two days after that, she was walking up the aisle of Meryton's church on her father's arm, and looking forwards with a smile at Mr. Darcy, who would soon be her husband, and whom she loved.
For a brief moment during the ceremony, she wondered how her life would have progressed if she hadn't been sick at the Netherfield ball, and if she would have ever realized that she loved Darcy, but she pushed the thought aside. All she had to focus on was the here and the now, by Mr. Darcy's side, where she hoped to always be.
And there you have it. A very long one-shot of Pride and Prejudice, which just so happens to be a sickfic. Don't know how that happened. *whistles innocently.*
Also, before people go telling me that it was unrealistic, let me just say, I know it was. I know that none of this would have really happened, since Mr. Darcy would not have been touching Elizabeth, and she also would not have doubted Wickham as much as I made her do. Although, I still claim it was the fever making her thoughts run wild, and so she was able to realize how flawed Mr. Wickham's lies were.
And yes, I know that Elizabeth and Jane weren't as close in this one as they normally are in other fanfics, but I honestly don't believe that they could be as close as other people portray them. Of course, I don't have a sister, so what would I know?
Either way, that's the end of this fanfiction, and this very long Author's Note...oops.
I really hope you enjoyed!