27th November

Upstairs in Mrs Bennet's room, Elizabeth once more dipped her cloth in a bowl of water and wiped down her mother's arms and neck, as she had done for the last several hours. Beneath the cloth, Mrs Bennet twitched and mumbled nonsense words as she fought her fever demons.

The doctor came over and put his hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. 'Sit down for a while, Miss Bennet. You will do no good exhausting yourself. I have requested fresh tea and something to eat. Doctor's orders!'

Elizabeth smiled wearily up at him and moved away from the bedside to sit beside the fire. The door opened and Mrs Hill came in, bearing a tray.

'There now, Miss Lizzy, I've brought some of your favourites and I'll be staying right here until you eat some of them. You not had a bite since you arrived. How's Mrs Bennet doing?' She put the tray on the table and poured a cup of tea.

Elizabeth leaned forward and rubbed at the ache in the back of her neck. 'She's much the same, Hill.' She accepted the cup and took a sip, just then realising how thirsty she was. 'This is good, thank you.'

Mrs Hill handed her a plate containing a slice of bread covered in fruit preserve. 'I know you love your strawberries, eat up now and I'll leave you in peace.' She poured another cup and took it over to the doctor.

As the soft murmur of their conversation washed over her, Elizabeth took a bite, savouring the sweetness. Slowly she ate the rest of the slice and finished her tea, which Mrs Hill refilled before leaving the room.

The doctor moved away from the bed and sat in the chair across from her. 'I do not think she can last much longer with her fever this high. Soon we will know, one way or the other.'

Elizabeth nodded, finished her tea, and stood, taking a step toward the bed. Hesitating, she turned back to the doctor. 'Should the family be called in?'

'Everyone has been to visit, including the vicar, before you were sent for.'

Elizabeth resumed her place at the bedside, and picked up her cloth. A short time later the door opened and Jane entered.

'Lizzy?'

'Oh, Jane.' She held out a hand and Jane hurried to take it. 'The doctor thinks it will be soon now, one way or the other.' She released Jane's hand to wring out the cloth and resume wiping down her mother's arms.

Jane took another cloth and moved around the bed to perform the same action on the other side. 'I fell asleep and have just woken. Mr Bingley made me promise to lie down and have some rest while he kept Mary and Kitty busy. He had even managed to persuade Mary to play cards. Mr Darcy was in the study with papa, playing chess.'

'They are still here?'

'I believe so. They wanted to stay. I am glad they are here, distracting us from our woes.'

Mrs Bennet's arm twitched, and her head turned toward Jane's voice.

Elizabeth paused and peered closely at her mother's face, her hand reaching out to gently rest on her brow. It was damp, almost clammy, despite no cloth having been near it. Her heart leapt. 'Doctor!'

As he reached the bed, Mrs Bennet's eyes opened briefly, unfocused and weak. She murmured something and her eyes closed again, as Jane caught up her hand, saying, 'Mamma?'

The doctor felt her brow and her wrist, his frown softening into a slight smile. 'I think the fever has broken.'

Jane let out a small cry of relief, and Elizabeth wiped away a tear she realised was trickling down her cheek. She felt under the covers and discovered the sheets were wet with perspiration.

'Come Jane, we must change the bedding, it is damp. I'll call for Hill.'

The doctor nodded, his face showing so much relief that tears again pricked Elizabeth's eyes and Jane wept.

There was a flurry of activity outside in the hall. Mr Darcy raised his head from the chess board and shot an enquiring look at Mr Bennet, who got up and peered out into the hall through the already open door. Spying Mrs Hill and a maid running up the stairs with fresh bedding, he resumed his seat and frowned at the chessboard.

'News?' asked Mr Darcy.

'Something has happened, whether good or bad, I am not yet certain.'

The sound of someone descending the stairs a short time later, again briefly distracted them from their game, but they did not realise there was another person in the room until they heard a short laugh.

Looking up, they saw Elizabeth, with a smile across her face, standing looking down at the board.

'Black mate in four moves,' she said. 'Papa, your mind must be elsewhere to have missed that.'

Mr Bennet stared down at the board. 'By Jove, she's right. Well played, sir.' He looked back up at his daughter. 'Can I assume, from your expression, that you have good news?'

'The fever has at last broken, she woke briefly and took some water but went back to sleeping peacefully. She knew me, papa. The doctor is being cautious, but he is optimistic she will live.'

At Mr Darcy exhaled, Mr Bennet said, 'Praise the Lord. Have you told your sisters yet?'

'No, I go there now. Jane was above stairs with me when…' She broke off, her smile spreading. 'I will go spread the news now. Will you write to Lydia?'

'I will, child. Come back here when you are done.'

Mr Bennet stood and closed the door after she whirled away, poured himself a drink and threw it back before slumping back into his chair with a deep heartfelt sigh. 'She may be a difficult woman to live with, but she is my wife, the mother of my daughters, and I do care about her.'

'Of course,' Mr Darcy murmured.

A short time later, Elizabeth reappeared, carrying a tray of cakes and pastries. 'Hill forced this on me as I passed. She said you had not eaten today, papa.'

Mr Bennet smirked. 'Did she, now? Well, it will have to wait until my return. I must visit with your mother and see this miracle with my own eyes. Please entertain Mr Darcy while I am away, if you would be so good. I will leave the door open.' He inclined his head at Mr Darcy as he left the room, 'Enjoy the pastries, sir.'

'Can I entice you to anything from the tray?' Elizabeth asked, as her father strode across the hall and up the stairs.

Mr Darcy stood and moved over to examine the tray's contents, pointing at a cream and jam filled pastry. 'One of those looks interesting.'

'Good choice. They are my favourite.' She placed a pastry on a plate and handed it to him, putting another on a plate for herself before moving to a seat by the fire.

He seated himself opposite and took a mouthful. 'Mmm, this is good,' he mumbled, brushing a crumb of pastry from his coat.

Elizabeth nodded, but did not stir. She stared down at her plate; reaction to the day's events finally starting to impact on her.

A sniffle alerted him to the fact she was silently crying. He jumped to his feet, put his plate on the desk and handed her a handkerchief.

'I am sorry, I don't know why I am crying,' she said, her voice muffled through the handkerchief.

He took her plate and placed it on a side table beside her. 'It's a perfectly natural response, considering all that has happened. Relief after a time of great stress can cause almost as many tears as grief itself.' He knelt beside her, taking her hand in his, hoping to provide some comfort.

Before he knew what was happening, she had buried her face in his shoulder and was sobbing, great heartfelt choking sobs. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders while she cried herself out. The smell of lilac filled his nose, drifting up from her hair and he had to restrain himself from pulling her closer. Instead, he contented himself with gently stroking her hair. When he felt her calm and pull back, he immediately released her.

'Do you feel a little better now?' he asked, moving back to his chair.

She nodded, her face turned away. 'I can only apologise, sir. I do not usually make a habit of crying on my friends.'

'What else are friends for, Miss Elizabeth? If they will not provide a shoulder when you need it, then surely they are not true friends.'

She gave a watery gurgle of a laugh and stood. 'I suppose you are right. However, now I must repair the damage I have done to myself.' She moved to a mirror, tutted, then began tucking away stray curls, escaped during her trials, and dabbing at the moisture on her cheeks.

'You will always be beautiful to me,' he murmured under his breath, so quietly she did not hear, or so he hoped. Speaking a little louder, he added, 'If you wish to send a note to Miss Bingley or Miss Lydia, I will take it on my return along with the one from your father. You will soon be wishing us away while you set the house to rights.'

'I am sure you have been wishing yourselves away for some time now. It was good of you to distract my father and sisters at this time.'

'Bingley will soon be your brother, and I… well… I will always be your friend.' He finished his pastry, then stood. 'I will return in a moment; I must speak with Bingley.