Elizabeth worried as she sat next to Jane that night and her sister's fever rose. She spent the next hours anxiously wetting her sister's forehead. Happily, several hours after midnight Jane stopped tossing about and her forehead felt almost cool. Elizabeth still did not leave Jane, but without watching her sister as close, Elizabeth fell asleep in the chair next to Jane's bedside. A housemaid sent by Bingley to inquire after Jane's well-being woke Elizabeth in the morning.
She carefully checked her sister's temperature again and with a chirpy smile said to the maid, "Do tell Mr. Bingley that Miss Jane is sleeping well, and the fever is almost gone. Also say Jane will be very glad to hear about his concern when she wakes."
The maid smiled and replied that she was glad to hear that Miss Jane was well.
Once the maid left, Elizabeth stood, stretched her arms wide, rubbed her eyes, and walked to the window. It overlooked Netherfield's lawn, and the morning was bright and cloudless. A slight breeze ruffled the plants which still had leaves. It would be as warm today as it had been yesterday.
Elizabeth stretched and enjoyed the pull on her muscles. She was sore from the manner in which she had slept. If Jane stayed well, she would take a nap herself this afternoon. A maid could sit by Jane for an hour or two while she did so.
A distant door opened and closed, and Mr. Darcy walked out onto the lawn. He was followed by a large handsome spotted dog. Elizabeth smiled as Mr. Darcy rubbed the dog's ears and then threw a stick for the animal to fetch.
Elizabeth pulled on her pelisse and went down the stairs to speak with Mr. Darcy. She found a maid and sent her to attend on Jane and walked into the nipping air.
Darcy smiled when he saw her. "Is your sister doing well?"
"She has a slight fever, but it is low, and she is sleeping easily."
"I am glad to hear it." Darcy peered closely at her. "Are you not tired yourself? I was informed by a servant that you nursed her the entire night."
Elizabeth waved her hand. "I fell asleep a little, here and there — I am well. The sun and fresh air will do me more good than a nap would."
Darcy smiled at her. She glowed with prettiness. The purple bags below her eyes and the bloodshot look transformed her beauty into something that called up tenderness. She was a good, affectionate woman.
The dog padded up to sniff at Elizabeth, and she knelt down and scratched at his ears. Darcy grinned at the picture of her petting the curious hound. "His name is Runner. Bingley purchased him as a pup during the year in Cambridge when we first met."
Elizabeth smiled and grabbed the stick the dog pushed into her hand. She gave it a strong underhand throw. With an eager bark Runner chased after the stick. "He is a fine animal."
Darcy nodded silently. Elizabeth looked up at him from where she knelt and with a dimpled smile asked, "Are you always out and wandering this early?"
She was such a beautiful picture. Her neck curved swan like, and her hair was loose and disorderly. Elizabeth must know he could never marry her. She would not misinterpret their friendship.
"I am. I try to take as many tasks upon me as I can, and an early start allows me to visit more of my tenants. Besides, the world shows so much beauty in these early still hours."
This time Runner gave Darcy the stick. He took it and threw it a fair distance out. It sailed past the dog, who grabbed it from the ground and trotted back.
Elizabeth stood and asked, "Tell me about your lands. It is clear you love them greatly."
"It is a large estate, the land is hillier and rolling. A great deal of forest and wasteland belongs to me. It is also colder than Hertfordshire, possibly there is snow on the ground at present. My study is on the second floor and has a huge set of windows which lets me see out over the land, for miles and miles. It is beautiful, and every time I study the spectacle I remember again that it is my duty to manage and improve the family legacy."
Elizabeth looked intently at Darcy, while they took turns absently throwing the stick for Runner. In her mind's eye she imagined him sitting behind a sturdy desk watching over a beautiful country landscape. "What do you see from that window?"
"It overlooks the park, which has been turned into meadow for special breeding sheep and cattle. I can see in the distance three villages. The roofs were slated in my grandfather's time, and when the park was expanded shortly after my father inherited, a village was moved, and a row of modern brick cottages were built for them."
"That is rather less picturesque than the thatched roofs on my father's estate."
"Yes, but slate is more practical, if it can be afforded. You would not want to replace your roof every decade. And slate is less likely to burn."
Elizabeth laughed. "It is important to be practical. But while improvements are a good, I mourn the impractical when it was picturesque."
"Pemberley itself, the house, is as picturesque as can be imagined. It has a beautiful marble row of columns and a tall portico with gardens planted along the stairs. The gallery faces out from the side which you see when you come up the drive and it has a grand line of windows. I sold the hung paintings, but many of the walls had been painted directly and are still magnificent."
"Did you need to sell a great deal?"
Darcy nodded crisply. "I sold everything which had any value. We went through each room, and I spent three months bothering everyone in the neighborhood to purchase the heavier furniture. All the paintings and wines and jewelry were carted to London and auctioned off." He grinned. "I retired thousands from my debt that way."
"It doesn't bother you to have sold so much that belonged to your family?"
"Not at all. It had been foolish to spend so much collecting things while the estate rotted. I was happy to undo my father's extravagance."
Elizabeth smiled. "I am glad you don't miss it. I cannot imagine living in an empty house though. I do not want near so much as my mother, but some quality furnishings and sentimental objects are necessary to a woman. And books. Do tell me you still have a good library."
"The library is much reduced and the collectible books, early editions and such, are all sold. Does that shock you Miss Elizabeth?"
"Surely you are not so unsentimental. I could never sell a beautiful book."
"I am sentimental. But it isn't books I regret. Someday… if I want to repurchase the books, I shall be able to. If I want more paintings, or statues, or furniture… those are just matters of money, and someday my debts shall be gone." Darcy's eyes grew distant. "What hurt most was the trees. The park had many tall old oaks, and I cut them down and sold them to the Navy. They shall not return to what they were in my lifetime. Even though I received a great deal of money for the trees, had my sacrifice not supported the nation and strengthened the timber wall between us and Napoleon, I could not have — even so, I still see where they once were and —"
Elizabeth laid a hand on Darcy's shoulder and squeezed briefly.
"My family has failed its land. I often — with Georgiana — I wonder if what she did was inevitable. It was the nature of my father to seek what he desired without attention to prudence or right. I fear myself. I fear I someday might become like him."
"You could never behave in a reprehensible manner."
Darcy did not reply. He absently scratched at Runner's ears. "I do not know. I fear it. I swore when I inherited the estate I would restore it. I swore I would protect the land and never behave as my father had."
"And you have not. I know you have not. There is no better, more prudent gentleman that I know. You are dedicated, perhaps too dedicated." If she could resurrect his father, Elizabeth would strangle him. "You are nothing like him! Nothing! — Don't fear that."
"I never understood. How could he… how could he decide having five sets of twins as footmen and three carriages was more important than — so many extravagant parties. Why? What fear or foolishness drove him to nearly destroy our legacy?"
Darcy looked at Elizabeth.
She was seated on the brick wall of a raised planter. Runner pushed the stick into his hand again. Darcy took the rough bark into his hand and absently threw it. He never talked about this anxiety. Not even with Bingley.
"If I cannot understand why he behaved so, how can I be sure I shall not as well?"
"You are too good to become like that. I believe in you. Ask your friends, we see you more clearly than you see yourself. You are principled, capable, noble — Mr. Darcy, you are the best of men. Do not doubt it."
He looked at her. The breeze riffled through her hair; it was in a messy bun and some of the locks had fallen free.
"I am not perfect. I am tempted — but, if I give in once, mayhap I shall never stop."
"Trust yourself. You must trust yourself — you will not do wrong. You cannot."
"Do you truly believe that?"
"I do — I do entirely."
"Then I shall do the right thing. Even though I am not such a paragon as you claim, your words make me feel more capable."
Her face lit up, the bright dimple in her cheek showed, and her wide grin displayed her slightly crooked white teeth.
A cold breeze kicked up and blew through them. Elizabeth shivered, still smiling. Darcy said, "It is a chilly morning. I can see that you did not sleep well. You should go inside and try to nap. You must care for yourself."
Elizabeth smiled brilliantly. "I will."
Darcy took her hand and kissed the top of her knuckles. He held her hand too long. Elizabeth felt his strong fingers through her glove. At last he let go. They gazed at each other for a long moment before Elizabeth fled to her room.
That afternoon Elizabeth left Jane napping easily and eagerly went down to dinner. Darcy greeted her with a smile. She and he engaged in quick conversations, and Mr. Bingley occasionally added some further words.
In the evening they sat together, and Darcy attempted to work on a letter of business, but Elizabeth interrupted him with questions about the matter he was writing upon. Miss Bingley tried to catch Darcy's attention, but she did not do nearly so well.
As soon as Darcy saw Elizabeth, every thought but her flashing smile and lively conversation fled. Perhaps he should speak less with her, but he did not stop himself. Miss Bingley was obviously annoyed, but Darcy refused to think about that. She had no right to complain about his friendship with Elizabeth. They were not engaged; at least not yet.