Wednesday, 15 June 1814

To my dearest Catherine,

I've just now realised that I have signed each of my journal entries to you nearly the same. How funny is it that we as humans fall into routines so simply without even knowing so... I kept away from you for a few days in fear of upsetting you with my presence, but you had not emerged, so I decided to check on you in your bedchamber...

I gently knocked on the door first, then called your name, but received no answer for either. I then opened the door and gingerly stepped over the threshold, panicking for a moment when I saw that you were neither in your bed nor anywhere in the room. Composing myself, I then noticed that the window was cracked open, so I stuck my head outside and peered around the corner, spotting you seated on the balcony that was connected to my bedchamber. "Catherine!" I called, noting that it was pouring - I was grateful the balcony was covered. "What on the Lord's earth are you doing out here! You will catch your death!"

"I needed a change of scenery, and the room was so stuffy that even opening the window was not enough to clear the air," she told me.

"This damp air is terrible for your lungs, my dear! Do come inside!" I begged of her, but she would not have it.

"I have been out here nearly an hour, Richard. What difference will a few more moments make?" she replied.

"An hour?" I sighed in defeat. "Very well, I shall join you then, but not through this window. My aging body is not nearly as nimble as it used to be." I exited her bedchamber and entered mine, opening the door leading to the balcony and seating myself beside her. "The rain has not lightened up at all since it started up again this morning. Miss Manniard believes it will rain all week. She declares she can feel it in her bones."

"Ah, I do adore Miss Manniard. She is very in tune to the world around her."

"That, and we are in the bloody Kingdom. It always rains here." Catherine chuckled very lightly, then returned to her sad gaze. "What are you thinking about?"

"Mama, mostly. I cannot imagine what she is going through. She must have been so alone."

"Your sisters were there-"

"Just Lizzy and Mary. Jane was recovering from having a child, Lydia probably did not even read a letter written to her by Lizzy - I shan't ever believe that the letter reached us here before it reached her, we are much farther north than she - and I was trapped in here confined to a bed unable to get up. All the while, our father was dying. From a disease I passed onto him." I opened my mouth to speak, but she held up a hand to stop me. "Do not even start, Richard, I beg of you. I know I did not directly cause the death of my father, but he would not have been ill had I not been before him."

"You don't know that to be true, Catherine. He could have caught it from a servant or from someone in town."

"Richard, he was in close quarters with me for a long while. He most likely caught the consumption from me."

"He did not wish you to blame yourself."

"I'm not worried about that. Jane and Lizzy have both recently borne children, Lydia is so far north and Mary - Mama was never even close to Mary and from what I understand, their home is so small - and I am here still ill. It is a miracle Mama never caught ill!"

"I know not where your mother resides currently, as I only received the letter of your father's passing four days ago, but if I were to guess, it would be that she is residing with Mrs. Bingley assisting her with the new baby."

"Mama always worried that Jane would have a troublesome delivery and I am guessing she did."

"It is possible." A moment of silence passed between the two of us as the rain pattered against the roof of the building and hissed as it hit the surface of the nearby lake.

"I dreamt I heard doctors talking over me one day, when I was really bad off. They said the consumption is linked to difficulty bearing children in young women."

"Catherine, it was just a dream-"

"No, Richard, I don't believe it was. It was too clear and too distinct and perhaps not even a dream at all. Perhaps I had regained consciousness long enough to hear it. Or something of the like."

"That doesn't mean it will apply to you."

"Perhaps not... But it still can. They said they don't know how the two things are related, only that somehow, they are."

"They could be wrong. Doctors have been wrong before." Another silent moment passed before Catherine spoke to me again.

"I do miss the sunlight on my face. The warmth of it and a good summer breeze..."

"Hopefully, you will get to enjoy it soon. You do appear to be much better than before-"

"My chest is tight and I have difficulty breathing. As much as I may look well on the outside, I am still unwell on the inside."

"Catherine, I say this out of love as your husband, but you do not look well on the outside." She turned her head to look at me and I could see clearly the sunken look in the face of this recently-ill woman that was still so pale. Her chemise hung off of her like the branches of a willow tree and the fatness in her cheeks was long gone, making her appear rather skeletal. "You have lost much weight and you are the same colour as your chemise, my dear. I am worried that it will fall off of you, you are so thin."

"I thank you for being honest with me," she replied. "I am tired of being here. I wish to go home."

"My dear, if you were not here, you would have died! As for your home, well... Something tells me it is no more your home than this place is."

"I am certain Mr. Collins turned my family out the second my father passed."

"Most likely, the insufferable man. That poor wife of his. I could barely stand being in a room with him at Rosings, let alone imagine being married to him." Catherine chuckled gently, then tapered off into a cough. "Catherine..."

"I'm all right, Richard!" she cried, burying her coughs into a handkerchief. She sat back once the fit was over and attempted to catch her breath, a small drop of blood making its way out of the corner of her mouth.

"Catherine! You clearly are not!" I scooped her up in my arms and ran with her back inside, setting her back down on her bed as she coughed more into her handkerchief and pulling on the string that was connected to a bell downstairs. "You'll be all right, my Catherine, you'll be all right... I hope you'll be all right..." She sat forward as she coughed more into a blood-soaked handkerchief as I rubbed her back. Moments later, Dr. McKinley burst into the room followed by a couple of nurses. "She's started coughing up blood again! I don't know what else to do!"

"Come this way, Colonel, let Dr. McKinley work with her," said Miss Manniard, taking me by the shoulders and leading me out of the room. The last glimpse I got of my Catherine that day was of her pale white face following me before the door closed.

I can only hope that you get better, but it appears that we have been set back yet again. I have written to your family explaining what happened. I will pray to whatever god is still listening to me that your family does not lose another member so soon after they lost your father. Feel better, my love, so that I may take you to our forever home for us to finally begin our married life.

Yours faithful husband,

Colonel R. Fitzwilliam