Chapter 17: Elizabeth
Elizabeth opened her eyes and stared at an unusual ceiling. It took her a moment—the molding, the thick velvet drapes—and then she sat up with a gasp. She was at Netherfield.
She was alive!
At that very moment, Jane stepped into the bedroom and saw Elizabeth sitting up.
"Lizzy!" she shouted, picking up her skirts and running toward her.
"Jane—" Elizabeth just had time to say her sister's name before Jane threw herself onto the bed and onto Elizabeth. "Jane, I'm fine! Jane!"
Elizabeth burst into laughter as her sister hugged her tight, though that laughter turned into a deep cough and Jane immediately extricated her limbs from her sister's.
"Oh no, I've made you cough," she fretted, running back to the open door. "Mama! Papa! She's awake! Lizzy's awake, and we need tea!"
And then her entire family swarmed into the room. Her father came first, his smile beaming like the sun. He grasped her in a huge, warm embrace, overcome with emotion and unable to speak. Mary praised the Lord over and over, but her eyes shone with tears and when she held Elizabeth's hand she pressed it hard against her heart. Jane was crying and even Kitty and Lydia argued over who had been the most worried and who first had noticed that Lizzy had gone missing.
"Missing!" her mother finally said. She pushed through her gaggle of daughters to lean over the bed and pull Lizzy into a tight hug. Elizabeth closed her eyes, overcome with the fierceness of the embrace, and the sweet lemony scent of her mother. She remembered being a child and smelling that exact same smell, when hugging her mother goodnight.
"Missing!" Mrs. Bennet repeated again, pulling Lizzy even closer and then pushing her away. Her relief turned swiftly to anger. "How you worried us all! Walking on a summer's morn is one thing, Lizzy. But to run off, in the middle of a blizzard, for no reason at all. How you scared us! Do you have any idea what you've done to my nerves, you silly, foolish girl?"
Mrs. Bennet began to cry and then motioned wildly for a chair. Kitty pushed one from the corner of the room to the bedside, and Mrs. Bennet sat in it, wailing and demanding tea and a footrest.
"Are you all right, child?" Mr. Bennet said, ignoring his wife and sitting quietly on the side of the bed. "While you were sleeping, we had an apothecary and a physician attend to you."
"Goodness," Elizabeth said, falling back on her pillows. "Was that necessary?"
"Mr. Darcy would have it no other way. I'm surprised he didn't send for a surgeon from London."
"Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth said. And then, like water cresting over her, it all came rushing back. Her falling through the ice, and he had been there, reaching for her, telling her to hold on.
"Oh my—Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy saved me." She felt her eyes well with tears. "I am foolish. I am so, so sorry! I cannot believe I was so insensible. I was upset but I should not have fled the house—and to have fallen through ice." She gasped and looked at her family's faces. "Was anyone else hurt? Oh, I couldn't bear it if my actions caused injury to anyone!"
"Hush. No, no." Mr. Bennet took her hand in his. "No one was hurt, and no one is angry at you."
"No one was hurt?" Mrs. Bennet cried from her chair. "Your mother was hurt! Why, when Mr. Darcy carried you inside and I saw your face white as snow, I nearly fainted! And then you slept all night, and we did not know how or when you would wake! Why, I have suffered terribly. Terribly! To make no mention of Mr. Collins."
"Mother!" Jane said.
"Mr. Collins?" Elizabeth shifted to stare at her mother.
"You refused him most rudely. And what is he to think of you now, after you have run off like a child and very nearly killed yourself—and Mr. Darcy! Though really, it was his own fault, diving in after you."
Elizabeth gasped. "He dove into the water?"
Jane nodded. "He did. You do not remember?"
"I—I remember falling through the ice. I did know that I had left land and walked onto the frozen river. And then suddenly I was up to my neck in freezing water. The only reason I survived was because of another shelf of ice, that must have formed well below the surface. I was able to stand on that underwater ledge for some time." She paused and stared out the window. It was still snowing. "And then I remember Mr. Darcy coming out onto the ice, but I told him to stay back until help arrived. And then the ice beneath my feet broke—apparently I owe my life to Mr. Darcy."
She paused, playing with the embroidered edge of the bed's coverlet. While her memory of what, exactly, had occurred eluded her—one thing had been stamped onto her brain, etched onto her heart.
He called me his future wife.
And he'd held her in his arms, cradling her as the horses pulled them back to Netherfield. She'd been shaking with cold, and he'd wrapped her in blankets, holding her tightly. She now realized—how had she managed to forget?—that he must have been freezing himself. That his valet and Bingley had attempted to care for him, but he'd pushed them off and focused only, solely on her.
Elizabeth put her hand against her chest, feeling an ache there that had nothing to do with her near-drowning.
"Lizzy? Are you hurting?" Her father moved closer, taking her hand. "What's wrong, child?"
She stared up into his kind eyes. "Oh Papa, I've been foolish—so very foolish."
"Of course you have!" her mother shouted from behind him.
"I mean," Elizabeth said, ignoring her mother's outburst. "I have been foolish and very wrong, as it concerns Mr. Darcy."
"That proud, conceited man?" Mrs. Bennet said. "Why, if he had not saved your life, I should not give him the time of day."
"Mama, don't say that." Elizabeth met her father's confused gaze. "He is not the pompous, hardened man I thought he was."
"We all thought that, Lizzy," her father said.
"Yes, but—that was perhaps my fault. If I had not made it such an amusing tale, how he had offended me at the Meryton ball—perhaps we would have felt differently about him. And now that I know—"
"I would feel no differently!" Mrs. Bennet said, pushing her way past her husband to stand at the side of the bed. "Any man who insults one of my daughters is a fool, whether he has ten-thousand a year or not!"
"Ten thousand?" whispered Lydia. "La, I'd forgot that! Why, that's more than Mr. Bingley."
Mrs. Bennet nodded at her youngest daughter. "Yes, well, ten thousand is nothing if he is rude and awful and—"
A man cleared his voice, and they all looked as one to the doorway, where Mr. Darcy stood, looking very proud and very haughty, indeed.
And then he looked at Elizabeth and a wide smile broke out across his face, transforming his features and lighting up the room.
"I—we—that is. Oh dear!" Mrs. Bennet stammered, covering her mouth with her palm. "Mr. Darcy is here, Lizzy!"
"I'm sorry to disturb you all, but I heard that Miss Elizabeth was awake and I—I wanted to see if she needed anything. I can send for the physician again."
"That won't be necessary." Mr. Bennet stood up, groaning slightly and rubbing his knees. "Lizzy is awake and alert."
"And feeling simply awful," Elizabeth said. "For what I put you through, Mr. Darcy. And what I put all of you through."
Mr. Darcy shook his head as if to deny her words, then glanced around the room. Six women and one man stared silently at him, and Elizabeth watched as he grew more still and cold. She knew what was happening. How well she was getting to know him.
He was nervous.
But, so was she.
"I was wondering, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, if I might have permission to speak privately with Miss Elizabeth, later in the day—"
"Later?" Mrs. Bennet shook her head. "Later is not necessary. Why, I was just saying we should all leave Lizzy to rest and go fetch her some tea." She grabbed her husband's arm and began to pull him toward the door.
"Mama," Elizabeth cried, blushing with the impropriety of it all.
Mrs. Bennet glared at her daughter, and then at the heavens. "Fine! She needs to build up her strength, doesn't she? Jane, stay here and help me get Lizzy ready. Elizabeth, you and Mr. Darcy may go for a short stroll together—indoors this time."