Author note: thank you again for the kind words! And I really do appreciate it when people let me know if something pulls you out of the story (like the names of the cousins).

Chapter 6

Elizabeth anxiously paced her sister's room at Netherfield, impatient for the apothecary to arrive. When Mr. Jones finally did come with his bag of herbs and treatments, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Sitting down on the bed next to his patient, Mr. Jones placed a hand on Jane's forehead and frowned. "Yes, she does have quite the fever, doesn't she?"

He then picked up her wrist and placed his fingers on the inside. His frown deepened as he counted the seconds tick by on his pocket-watch. Finally, he looked over at Elizabeth and said, "I need to listen to her heart. Do I have your permission?"

Elizabeth smiled at the man upon whom she looked to almost as a grandfather. "Of course, sir."

He chuckled slightly. "I know I have done it dozens of times, but I still prefer to ask permission first when my patient is female."

Mr. Jones turned his head and leaned down until his ear was resting on Jane's chest just above her heart. Once again, he marked the passage of time on his watch. When a full minute had passed, he raised his head and returned the watch to his pocket.

Pulling a small notebook out of his bag, he jotted down a few lines before looking up at Elizabeth. "Her heart still seems to be skipping beats, as it always has, but I don't like how fast it is. She needs to take willow-bark tea, infused with lavender three times a day. She also needs to drink bone broth every hour to keep up her stamina."

Elizabeth pressed her lips together and swallowed hard to get rid of the lump in her throat. "Do you think she will be alright?"

The apothecary sighed. "If it were anyone else, Miss Elizabeth, I would say yes. But there is just so much about Jane that we don't know - and may never know. I've only met a couple of other children with a condition similar to Jane's; none of them lived past the age of ten."

Tears filled Elizabeth's eyes, and she blinked them away furiously. Mr. Jones gathered his things and prepared to leave. As he passed Elizabeth by, he patted her shoulder and said gently, "There now, Miss Elizabeth. Jane is in God's hands, and He may yet again surprise us."

The door closed behind him, leaving Elizabeth alone in the room with her sister. She took a deep, shaky breath, then sat down heavily on the armchair and let the tears finally fall.

Miss Bingley's poor hostessing was of benefit for Elizabeth, as when a maid finally was sent to check on the two eldest Bennet sisters, the only sign of Elizabeth's weeping was the damp handkerchief in her hand.

"Begging your pardon, Miss," the girl said, dipping a curtsy, "but the mistress wanted to know if you would be joining them for tea."

"No, I would like to remain with my sister," Elizabeth said firmly.

She wasn't sure if she was relieved or offended by the fact that it was another two hours complete before anyone bothered to check on them. While it allowed Jane plenty of time to rest - and Elizabeth plenty of time to cry more - it was dreadfully neglectful on their hostess's part to not even have a maid offered to sit with them.

When at last another knock came on the door, it was Miss Bingley herself that breezed through, along with Mrs. Hurst.

"We have come to inquire after dear Jane's health," Miss Bingley said airily. "I see she is awake; how excellent!"

Without waiting for a response, the two women sat down and began conversing with each other and Jane. Elizabeth watched with mild amusement at the way they did their best to exclude her; poor Jane, oblivious to their intentions, continued to draw her sister into conversation, much to the Bingleys' dismay.

The following half hour, however, left Elizabeth feeling a bit more disposed to like Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst; they were all solicitousness and affection towards Jane, and they kept her amused. This inclination was further deepened when the clock stuck three. Elizabeth very unwillingly said it was perhaps time for her to return home. Jane was set to tears upon hearing this, and Miss Bingley immediately pressed Elizabeth to remain at Netherfield for the duration of her sister's stay.

"I am quite grateful," Elizabeth said to Miss Bingley. "I was loathe to leave my sister's care to anyone but myself."

"She would receive every attention, I assure you," replied the woman stiffly. "However, as she so greatly desires your presence, I wouldn't dream of sending you home. I would be a poor hostess indeed if I denied her such comforts that are within my power to give."

Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst then excused themselves to dress for dinner. Seeing that Jane was doing a little better, Elizabeth determined that she should go down as well. She changed quickly and found that a full thirty minutes remained until the dinner-bell rang. She settled into an armchair and closed her eyes, reliving the memories of the last time she was in the presence of the entire Netherfield party in a formal setting.

It was at Sir William Lucas's house, where a large party was assembled for an evening of entertainment. Some of the officers, including a Colonel Forster and his wife, were present. When the party from Netherfield arrived, Bingley briefly greeted his hosts before heading directly to where Jane was standing with her mother.

Mr. Hurst behaved similarly, only the object of his attentions was the punch table, where he surreptitiously opened a flask and poured it into his cup of punch.

For their part, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst clustered around Darcy, who looked around the room with his face impassive and cold.

"What does he mean, Charlotte, by staring at me in such a fashion?" Elizabeth hissed at her friend several minutes later, having once again caught Darcy's gaze fixed upon her person.

"I'm afraid only Mr. Darcy can answer that question," replied Charlotte with amusement.

"He seeks to criticize me, I am sure. Perhaps he ponders on how intolerable he finds my appearance."

Charlotte laughed. "You know that you are quite pretty, Eliza, and anyone who says differently is selling something. Now, it is time to open the instrument, and you know what follows."

"Very well; I will keep my breath to swell my song."

As Elizabeth played, she felt Darcy's gaze burning into her. The intensity with which he stared caused her to fumble a few notes. Then, her courage rising, her playing strengthened, she began to sing. All of the anger and hurt over his words about Jane poured from her mouth as her fingers flew across the keys, crashing down with an intensity that almost overwhelmed her.

She looked up and saw Darcy staring at her, his face as hard as marble. She lifted her gaze to his, and he fiery inferno in his dark eyes revealed the depth of emotion he kept hidden behind his stone mask. Her courage rising, she met his stare with a challenging one of her own.

At last, the song drew to a close, and she played the last few notes with smooth, soft strokes. The room fell silent, then eager applause broke the spell which captivated the pair of them.

Later, Sir William urged Darcy to ask Elizabeth to dance. The heat in his eyes as he made the request seemed to leap into her bosom, and she fought the urge to slap him. She coolly professed no desire to dance, then turned her back on him and walked away.

She never wanted to see the hateful man again.

Elizabeth's musings were interrupted by the sound of the dinner bell.

It seemed she would be see Darcy again after all.