Chapter 5
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 looked ruefully down at her hem, which was covered in mud at least six inches up from the bottom, then shrugged. There was little she could do about the situation, and she didn't particularly worry about what the Netherfield party thought of her.
A glance at the clock showed 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 the 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. Taking a deep breath and summoning her courage, she went down the stairs towards the drawing room.
Upon arriving at the room, she 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 roof 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 allowed her sister to go at all.
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.