Two hours later, Elizabeth's throat ached from constantly speaking in a low, soothing murmur, and she was beginning to nod off. She left to refresh herself, and upon returning to Stephen's room, smiled as she saw uncle and nephew sprawled across the bed, both breathing deeply, their faces relaxed and free of pain. Elizabeth sighed, scarcely believing the tangled web she had wound herself in, and departed, briefly leaning her aching head against the door.
A tall, grey figure could be seen walking down the hallway, and Elizabeth started, her tired mind instantly supposing a ghost had joined the many other residents of Pemberley. Sense instantly returned, however, just as she made out Lady Westhampton's familiar features and black hair spilling down her shoulders. Elizabeth straightened, and the younger woman, her dark eyes shadowed, gazed at her in weary confusion.
"Lady Westhampton," Elizabeth said gently, "your son will be well, and Mr Darcy is with him."
Lady Westhampton's shoulders sagged. "You are certain?" she asked, in a bare whisper.
"The doctor said so; and Mr Darcy and Stephen are both asleep, in this room. They are both very tired."
Lady Westhampton's brow creased and she looked away, one hand pressing against her back. "What am I to do?" she asked hopelessly. Elizabeth could not conceal her startled expression at the sudden confidence, but the other did not seem to perceive it. "I love him -- I do!"
She sounded more as if she were trying to convince herself, or someone else, than Elizabeth, so she simply waited. "I should not have -- what should I have done? I don't know. At first -- oh, that wretched, wretched woman! Fitzwilliam says he saw -- do you think he did?"
"I hardly know," said Elizabeth, wondering if she was the only sane people left in this house.
"I suppose it's impossible to know," Lady Westhampton agreed. "Is it because I allowed him to stay here too long? He loved it so much -- from the first -- just like Fitzwilliam. Oh! they are too alike -- it was easier, to let Fitzwilliam take care -- he always does -- and by the time everything was set in order again, it was too late, I suppose. Stephen always preferred Fitzwilliam to everyone else, even Anne -- but he was only a little boy. I do not understand, why could he not adjust? We all do -- but even if he missed it all, there was none of this until she took them." Vindictively, she added, "Oh, I hope she is suffering for what she did to him. He was perfectly fine before she died!" Then she seemed to wilt a little, her expression growing confused and lost once more. "Except -- he was always unhappy. And he could never do anything by halves. He can't help himself, you know."
Elizabeth could make very little sense of all this. "Lady Westhampton, it is nearly dawn, and you must be very tired. You need to keep your strength up, your son will need you, and so will your brother."
"My brother?" Lady Westhampton's brow furrowed, and she laughed humourlessly. "Fitzwilliam? I fear you misunderstand, Miss Bennet -- my brother, he is the one who is always -- strong and determined. He doesn't need anyone, we need him."
Elizabeth's eyes flashed, and she replied sharply, "I fear you misunderstand, Lady Westhampton," before bearing in mind the younger woman's state of mind, and deliberately turning away, recovering herself, then gentling her voice and manner. "Mr Darcy is a remarkable man, but he is also a mortal one, and he is subject to the same fears and temptations and weariness as the rest of us. You have already said that your son and your brother are too alike -- do you not understand what that means?" She searched the other woman's eyes, and added, "Mr Darcy is so very tired, your ladyship -- I am afraid for him."
Lady Westhampton looked horrified. "Fitzwilliam?" Her voice instantly went shrill, and Elizabeth could perceive, with some relief, that beneath the reliance and admiration and gratitude, there existed a deep, sincere, steady affection for her brother. "Miss Bennet, you do not mean -- Fitzwilliam is -- he would not hurt himself in that way, surely!"
Elizabeth touched her shoulder. "You are quite right, he would not hurt himself in that way. You were the one who warned my brother about his fainting spell?"
Lady Westhampton turned white. "Yes -- that -- he pushed himself too far."
"Yes," Elizabeth said patiently.
"You do not think he shall do so again?"
Elizabeth sighed. "I think he already has -- that he has been doing so for longer than I care to think about."
Lady Westhampton tilted her head to the side, considering. "Oh dear," she said, aptly, then seemed to regain her sense of themselves and their surroundings, looking at Elizabeth in some perplexity. "Miss Bennet -- forgive me, but -- what are you doing here?"
"Mr Darcy invited my family," she replied.
"No, no -- here, right now. You know what the doctor said -- and what happened -- and you must have been with my brother when -- why, it must have been quite three o'clock in the morning."
Elizabeth bit her lip. "It was an accident. I could not sleep, and went to the library to find something to read."
"Oh." She actually looked disappointed, then cheered slightly. "But -- he told you -- and you were in Stephen's room -- with them, quite alone?"
"Yes." She could not help but stare, as Lady Westhampton seemed somewhat relieved at this. Smiling tiredly, the young marchioness said,
"I hope you will forgive the impertinence of this, Miss Bennet, but . . . has my brother made you an offer of marriage?"
It was on the tip of her tongue to say "No" or even "Not exactly." However, she considered the situation, and how propriety would keep them apart -- at this time, when he would need her the most -- Georgiana clearly had little comprehension of her brother's state. She hesitated.
"Miss Bennet?" Lady Westhampton inquired softly. Elizabeth took a deep breath, nervously twisting a lock of hair around one finger, and replied, truthfully but not honestly,
"Yes, he has."
---
elen: Thanks. Well, "good" is in the eye of the beholder! The Bennets do have a sort of charm, I think -- in terms of literary characters -- but also as people, all except poor Mary. Jane Austen makes it clear that they are the prettiest and most popular girls around, so it doesn't take much extrapolation on my part -- Well, partly it was just because she was tired! But they do really care about each other.
jenna: To be honest, I wonder occasionally! Sometimes I have to rewrite one or other of the chapters, because the tone of the courtships are, I hope, very different, but if I've been for instance writing SoC, TRAAR will be suddenly -- garishly, really -- light and bright and cheerful. Doesn't work at all. Thank you.
Anna: Not cool? I specialise in "not cool." Thank you. A little disaffected with fanfic? I understand completely -- why I started writing it, to be honest. Thanks, and I don't.
Lukia: Thank you. Yes, it was -- bittersweet, I suppose. I nearly cried, so I probably should have issued a tissue alert.
Lynh: Well -- thanks, I suppose. Yes, my stuff tends not to be scintillating. The first twenty chapters -- huh. That'd be Rosemary and the first half of Darcy. I hardly remember what I wrote, it was that long ago! Well, thank you for the compliment. I'm an acquired taste. And I shall -- and do.