Charlotte Collins was never one to give in to panic, and in this way, she and Darcy were perfect companions. She followed him briskly up the stairs, and asked questions in such a matter-of-fact way, without judgment, that he felt no resistance in answering them.
"Yes, the doctor has been sent for. I was advised to refrain from writing to her family until there was some more news to give, but I defer to your judgment in this regard." This was much easier for Darcy, the methodical back and forth of sensible questions and answers. He felt relieved that he could be of some service and that there was someone he could consult who also cared for Elizabeth.
Darcy paused for a moment at the door to the Blue Room. He was suddenly very nervous to enter. "Miss Elizabeth was not conscious when I last saw her, Mrs. Collins. I do not know her present state. I want to prepare you that the sight of your friend may be shocking."
If Charlotte noticed that Mr. Darcy said this as much for his sake as her own, she made no indication of it, and replied with a curt nod. He knocked.
Mrs. Worthington filled the doorway, blocking sight of Elizabeth. "Mr. Darcy, there has been no change, I understand—" She looked about to reprimand him when she caught sight of Charlotte. "Mrs. Worthington, Mrs. Collins has come to see her friend Miss Elizabeth and she needs access to this room."
"Yes, of course dear, come in. I'll have Jane fix you some tea. I'm afraid there isn't much we can do for your friend until the doctor comes." Mrs. Worthington had taken Charlotte by the arm and was skillfully pulling her into the room while blocking entry to Mr. Darcy.
Though a moment ago he feared seeing Elizabeth, the idea that he would not see her caused him a silent panic. That he would be denied entry because of his aunt's housekeeper's inflated standard of propriety was absurd. That he could advocate for his presence without exposing his feelings for Elizabeth seemed impossible.
"Thank you, Mr. Darcy, for delivering Mrs. Collins. I'll be sure to inform you if there are any changes in Miss Bennet's health." Darcy struggled to respond to this clear dismissal. He blinked, opened his mouth once, closed it, and did not move his feet an inch. His anxiety at the thought of leaving was clear to Charlotte.
"Mrs. Worthington, Mr. Darcy said he would be kind enough to stay with me. I am quite distraught and do not want to be left alone. I would not wish to burden you or any of the staff by having you keep my company." Charlotte glanced at Darcy as she said this, willing him to confirm her tale.
"Yes. I-I have agreed to accompany Mrs. Collins." The housekeeper did not look convinced. "When we left the breakfast room Lady Catherine was asking for you, Mrs. Worthington, and we feared that you would be needed elsewhere."
Mrs. Worthington's suspiciousness changed to alarm at the sound of Lady Catherine's name. "Is her Ladyship aware of the situation?"
"Yes. I informed her of the particulars myself. She seemed very eager to meet with you; I'm sure my aunt wants to make preparations for the care of Miss Bennet whilst she is a guest at Rosings."
Mrs. Worthington was sure that was not what Lady Catherine wanted to speak about, but could waste no more time here. She decided it was not so improper for Mr. Darcy to be in a lady's room after all. He did have a chaperone, and Miss Bennet would do nothing but lie there. Besides, she could keep sending Jane or Ruby in to check on things.
"I'll send Jane up for tea then. Please make yourselves comfortable, and ring if you need anything." With that, Mrs. Worthington ushered Darcy in and closed the door on her way out.
The sound of the door clicking shut seemed to refocus both Charlotte and Darcy on the reason they were here: Elizabeth. Charlotte hastened around the bed to Elizabeth's side and immediately began soothing her non-responsive friend. She held and kissed her hand, pushed locks of hair away from her bandaged brow, and whispered words of affection. Darcy stayed rooted to the spot, staring at Elizabeth. Save the bandages, she looked more peaceful than he had seen her last, as though she were sleeping. She wore a modest nightdress which was much too large for her, likely borrowed from a servant, that made her seem even smaller than she was. Her usually vibrant face was uncommonly pale, and the hand closest to Darcy, which just poked out of the long night dress sleeve, seemed far too frail to belong to Elizabeth.
"Mr. Darcy, forgive me if I misinterpreted your expression. I thought before that you wished to stay, but if you do not, please feel no obligation to remain. I am truly not so distraught as I made out." Mrs. Collins sat in a chair on the other side of the bed, both of her hands wrapped fiercely around one of Elizabeth's own. Her voice was more fragile than Darcy remembered, and she had silent tears rolling down her face.
"I do wish to stay. Thank you, Mrs. Collins, for allowing me to be here." He moved slowly to take the chair on the side of the bed nearest him. He was so close to Elizabeth, mere inches away, and yet he felt as though there were an impenetrable barrier between them. He envied Mrs. Collins' ability to openly show her love for Elizabeth. He longed to hold her hand, to feel the pulse of her wrist, however faint, which would assure him that she still lived.
"Is her pulse any stronger, Mrs. Collins?"
Charlotte turned Elizabeth's wrist to check. Darcy held his breath as he watched Mrs. Collins' impassive face. When, after an exceedingly long moment, she set down Elizabeth's hand and moved her own to Elizabeth's neck, now more desperately searching for a pulse, Darcy stood in panic.
"She cannot— she cannot be—" Darcy was struggling to breathe, much less think or speak, until he saw Mrs. Collins exhale.
"There is a pulse. She's still here, Mr. Darcy." Charlotte's relief at this momentary panic brought on a fresh wave of tears, but through them she recognized her own feelings, though perhaps better guarded, on Mr. Darcy's features.
When Mrs. Collins heard the news of Lizzy's injury, she faltered for only a moment before making arrangements. She told the housemaid that she would not be expected home for dinner, ordered Maria to distract Mr. Collins for as long as she could, and rode alone, something she had not attempted in years, on the horse the Rosings boy had come on. She had remained calm and collected for as long as she could. She wanted to know more about what happened and planned her questions on the ride over. She pushed aside any feelings of panic until she had taken care of what she needed to do, until she saw her dear Lizzy lying there and could contain herself no longer. Even as she cried, she restrained herself from exposing the real depth of her feelings. Charlotte Collins planned her words and actions; she was exceptionally rational, but when she saw Mr. Darcy with the same look of overwhelming, desperate, confused relief that she felt, she said a most unplanned, irrational thing.
"You love her too." It was not a question.
Darcy's head snapped to meet Mrs. Collins' eyes. He found there only understanding. He could not deny such a true statement, nor, if he was honest with himself, did he wish to.
"Yes." The two held their gaze until roused by Jane with the tea. "Here you are Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Collins. Should you be needing anything else?" The young woman seemed at first oblivious to, and then terrified of the tension in the room.
"No, thank you Jane." Mrs. Collins turned away from Mr. Darcy and took her place beside the tray as Jane scurried away.
"Her pulse. Mr. Darcy, you asked earlier if Lizzy's pulse was stronger than earlier. I had nothing to compare it to and was just relieved to find one. It did seem weak though. Should you check to see if it is different than it was?"
Darcy hesitated. Here was a reason, an invitation, really, to do what he most wanted and feel the comfort of Elizabeth's hand, to feel that she was alive, yet he knew he could not touch her. The impenetrable shield he felt earlier was not due to propriety, but Elizabeth's own expressed wishes. "Mrs. Collins, I do care for—that is, I do—I love Miss Elizabeth. She does not return my regard, to say the least. She would not approve of my touch, I am sure of it. She barely had a pulse before. I struggled to find it, and it sounds as though it is about the same." There was a pause wherein Mrs. Collins evaluated Darcy carefully.
"Cream or sugar, Mr. Darcy?" Mrs. Collins turned to face him with a small, sympathetic smile.
"A bit of each, please."
"Elizabeth is stubborn, Mr. Darcy." Charlotte smiled more fully as she poured the cream and fondly looked at her friend. "Very, very stubborn. She dislikes the trouble of changing her opinions once they've been formed." She handed Mr. Darcy his tea and went to fix her own.
"Thank you." Darcy reflected on how similar this sounded to his own words at Netherfield. "Her good opinion once lost, is it lost forever?"
Charlotte evaluated him as she returned to her seat. "I think dear Eliza is too cheerful a creature to form an immoveable dislike of anyone, though she might like to think herself capable of such a thing. She does not like changing her mind, but she is wise enough to put in the effort when needed."
"I believe I helped her form a rather poor opinion of me." Mr. Darcy looked very grave as he said this, staring down at Elizabeth and speaking more to himself than to Mrs. Collins.
At this, Charlotte surprised Mr. Darcy by releasing a soft laugh. "Yes, Mr. Darcy, I believe you did. I doubt Eliza has forgotten that she was deemed not handsome enough to dance with. It entertained us for at least a week." Charlotte stroked Elizabeth's face fondly, as if assuring her that she was indeed handsome enough, and not to pay heed to the uncharitable Mr. Darcy.
"She overheard me?" Darcy looked at Elizabeth's still face and wished he could retract those disgusting words. Even with her bright eyes and spirit masked, he could not help but think her beautiful. And if she was plain, or even ugly, such words should never have been thought, much less spoken loud enough to be overheard, by a gentleman. Her words from last night flashed back at him. If only he had behaved in a more gentleman-like manner. From the very beginning then, the very first moments of their acquaintance, he had truly given her a reason to be disgusted by his pride and conceit.
"Mr. Darcy, forgive me, I am not myself today, but that is no excuse. I should not have said anything."
"Mrs. Collins, it was I who should have never said those unpardonable words. They were untrue and unjust, and though there is no excuse, I was also not myself that night."
Mrs. Collins looked about to respond with something consoling, when Mrs. Worthington opened the door to announce the presence of Mr. Collins.