Author's note: thank you, as always, for your kind words! And for pointing out errors or things that pull you out of the story or don't seem to make sense.

Even though the trolls have started coming up from their hovels under bridges again to rant and rave that I should be banned from FFN *insert eye roll*, I'm not going to take it down. (Until it's all finished and then up on Kindle Unlimited a few weeks later, like all my other books.)

I hope you enjoy this chapter! I've gotten some great plot bunnies running through my head that I need to get down. Here's to hoping my kiddos will let me write more than they have all week (4 kids, ages 5 months to almost 10yo)

Chapter 7

Elizabeth arrived at the drawing room at Netherfield and was dismayed to discover only Darcy was present. He turned from where he stood at the window and gave a deep bow upon her entrance, then fixed her with an unsettling gaze.

She halted and looked around before saying, "I thought I would be the last one to arrive."

"I believe Bingley and his family are still accustomed to Town hours."

She thought she heard a faint note of amusement in his tone, but she quickly discarded the notion as ridiculous. Instead, she took a few steps forward and sat on a comfortable chair near the fire.

"Forgive me for not having inquired earlier; how does your sister fare?"

Elizabeth was surprised to discover that his question caused her eyes to fill with tears once again. She blinked furiously and said, "I'm afraid she is still quite unwell. She wished to go home, but Mr. Jones wouldn't allow it."

Darcy came and sat in the chair next to her. "I am very sorry to hear that."

She looked at him with amazement; his tone had almost seemed sincere. A sudden thought struck her and she said bitterly, "Of course you are. You wouldn't wish to be under the same room as my unnatural creature of a sister."

Darcy blanched, his face turning white, then red. He openly gaped at her in silence. Before he could say anything, the door opened once again to admit Bingley, his sisters, and Hurst.

"Oh, my dear Mr. Darcy! I am so sorry to have kept you waiting alone all this time!"

Miss Bingley's voice was shrill as she crossed the room and stood in between Darcy's and Elizabeth's chairs. Elizabeth rolled her eyes at once again being ignored.

"Do not trouble yourself, madam," Darcy replied shortly before standing and crossing to the window.

Miss Bingley made to follow him, but the arrival of the butler prohibited her from reaching her quarry. "Dinner is served."

Once seated, Elizabeth realized that dinner was going to be a rather dismal affair. She was seated between Mr. Hurst and Bingley. The former, upon discovering that she preferred plain dishes, neglected any conversation with her in favor of enjoying his ragout.

The latter inquired after Jane several times, which warmed her heart, but his attention was frequently called away by his sisters. They spent most of the meal in discussions with Darcy about people in town with whom they associated, and Elizabeth - not knowing any of them - was unable to offer anything to the conversation.

At last the meal ended, and Elizabeth excused herself to check on Jane. As the door closed behind her, she heard the two women begin to abuse her to the gentlemen.

"She has the most deplorable manners, Louisa!"

As tempted as she was to remain and listen in, her concern for Jane outweighed all else. Upon arriving upstairs, she was alarmed to discover Jane's fever, which had abated somewhat, had returned with a vengeance. There was now an additional cough, which caused Jane to thrash about restlessly in the bed.

Elizabeth immediately sent the maid to fetch more willow bark tea, then sat next to her sister on the bed to mop her forehead with a cool cloth. All the while she cursed her mother for sending Jane out, and she cursed the maid for not having summoned her during the dinner. But mostly, she cursed herself for even having

It wasn't until the wee hours of the morning that Elizabeth was finally able to return to her own room, having soothed Jane into a deep slumber. She sank gratefully onto the soft mattress and was immediately asleep.

The following day passed in much the same manner. Mr. Jones was again summoned, and he repeated the same process of listening to Jane's heart and taking her pulse.

"I think you may need to have one or both of your parents come," he said grimly. "There is only so much that I can do."

Elizabeth let out a little sob and put her fist to her mouth. "Do you think… is it… will Jane live?"

The elderly apothecary gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Perhaps a doctor from London would have more experience than myself with people like your sister. Unfortunately, we have reached the limits of my capabilities."

After bidding Mr. Jones a numb farewell, Elizabeth sat down at the desk to write a note to her father.

Papa,

Mr. Jones has come to see Jane twice now. He fears the worst and says there is nothing more that he can do.

Please come as quickly as may be.

Lizzy

Ensuring that Jane was fast asleep and that a maid was with her, Elizabeth made her way down the stairs. She gave the note to a footman. He was a young man she recognized as being the eldest son of a Longbourn tenant.

"Please make sure Mr. Bennet receives this directly. Do not leave it with anyone else, not even my mother."

He gave her a knowing look. "Right away, Miss Elizabeth."

His formal bow was followed by a quick wink, and he immediately left for the servants' staircase. Elizabeth watched as her note with the abhorrent news left her possession.

Suddenly, she felt as if she couldn't breathe.

In a panic, she dashed for Netherfield's front door. Down the steps, her feet flew, and she walked as quickly as she could until she was out of sight behind the trees.

Then she began to run.

The house slippers she wore did little to protect her feet from the sticks and stones, but she was unaware of the pain. All she could think about was losing Jane, and the ache in her heart pushed her further and and faster, desperate to get away from the terrible truth.

Jane was going to die.

Elizabeth's lungs burned in her chest, but she kept going. Eventually, she collapsed, her legs unable to carry her any further. Her gasps for breath mingled in the misty air around her, and she began to sob.

"Miss Elizabeth!"

The voice darted through her consciousness like an arrow, piercing the black void that surrounded her. She lifted her head and, through the fog of her mind, saw Darcy above her on a horse.

"Good God! Are you injured? What happened?"

Before she could catch her breath to reply, he swiftly dismounted and came to her side.

"What happened?" he repeated. He immediately followed with more questions: "Did someone hurt you? Were you chased? Are you ill?"

She took long, jagged breaths before finally managing to say, "No, no one hurt me. I am well. Please, leave me be."

He stared at her in shock. "As much as I hesitate to disagree with a lady, I cannot leave you alone in your present condition. Truly, you are very ill."

She looked up at him with scorn. "If you must know, I am only dealing with some dreadful news from Mr. Jones. Although, it may be welcome news to you."

Darcy's brow furrowed, and she continued, "Mr. Jones fears my sister may not have much longer left to live."

Elizabeth's voice cracked on the last word, and she buried her face in her hands.

There was silence for a moment, then Darcy said, "I do not welcome this news at all. Indeed, I am quite grieved and shocked. But is it certain, absolutely certain?"

"As certain as Mr. Jones can be," Elizabeth replied. "As you have guessed, Mr. Darcy, my sister is… unique. There is not much that is known about her condition."

Darcy pressed his lips together and looked away into the distance. After several moments of silence, Elizabeth spoke again, bitterness dripping from every word.

"Now that you know the whole of it, Mr. Darcy, I once again request to be left alone. I am uninjured, and no one has importuned me, either. So please, leave me be."

Elizabeth began to rise to her feet, but the abuse she had put them through in her run finally permeated the numbness. Letting out a cry of pain, she took a few hobbling steps as her weight pushed the pebbles of the path deep into the cuts and bruises.

Strong arms wrapped themselves around her from behind. Before she could protest, Darcy swept her off her feet and lifted her onto the horse as if she weighed nothing.

"Mr. Darcy!" she cried in indignation.

"You will never make it to Netherfield with your feet in that state," he responded firmly. "You should have not worn house slippers if you were going to take a run."

Outraged, she opened her mouth to retort, but suddenly the horse was walking, following behind its master. She clung tight to the saddle-horn as Darcy used the reins to guide them back towards the manor.

The silence between them was deafening.