When Jane woke a couple hours later, it was to see Miss Bingley showing Lizzy into the room. Jane immediately lifted her arms to embrace her sister and nearly wept again at seeing her, but felt too tired to do so. Miss Bingley left them with a promise to return after breakfast.
Lizzy immediately went about to set all things to right. The curtains, closed by Miss Bingley, were pinned shut. Lizzy was surprised to see ginger candy already but added to the stash. Jane told her how extraordinarily kind everyone had been and how grateful she was for the things done for her.
Eventually, Jane took a brief nap before the apothecary came, declaring she only had a violent cold. The Bingley sisters arrived after breakfast after having shown the doctor out.
"At least you're smiling again, Jane," Mrs. Hurst said. "You looked positively miserable this morning." Jane smiled, though achey, with the room in semi-darkness, with the taste of ginger on her breath. She did feel immensely better with Lizzy and, surprisingly, with the Bingleys.
"How can I not feel better when surrounded by such lovely, caring people?" she said.
"I am flattered you think so," Miss Bingley smiled in a manner not unlike her brothers, "you are probably the only one on the list to call me caring."
"She is a terrible nurse." Mrs. Hurst giggled. "She would force the most vile medicine into Charles and yell at him to stop being such an infant."
"And how old was Mr. Bingley at this time?" Lizzy laughed.
"This was last year, dear," Miss Bingley smirked at Lizzy, "and he called me a devil for doing it."
That just tickled Lizzy to bits, and even Jane had to laugh.
"Mr. Bingley is so amiable," Lizzy said, "to think he becomes so antagonistic while ill."
Their visit progressed in such a manner, with the sisters delighting Jane and Lizzy. Happily, Jane talked until she fell asleep.
OOXXOOXoXXx
When Jane awoke again an hour later, she was surprised to see the three of them still in her room. Unfortunately, her condition had deteriorated, and all the women noticed. They fussed over her for a bit.
But soon, the clock struck three, and Lizzy uttered terrible words.
"Oh dear, it's getting late; I ought to go." Miss Bingley's eyes held a strange gleam of relief as she offered Lizzy the use of the carriage. Lizzy was very close to accepting before Jane spoke.
"Oh, Lizzy, I wish you wouldn't leave!" Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst glanced at each other quickly, almost alarmed, before extending Lizzy an invitation to stay in the room next door. Lizzy smiled gratefully and accepted, writing a quick note to send home.
At around five, the sisters went to get ready for dinner, and Lizzy went down soon after them.
Jane was left alone with her thoughts, but she was in such an elevated mood. She thought back to her ride. It was exhilarating, and she longed to do it more often. If only her mother had let her continue the sport. It was an incredible feeling to gallop through the fields.
However, once her skin started to darken from ethereal to merely mortal, Mrs. Bennet's lamentations pushed Mr. Bennet to sell the horse for peace in the house. Lizzy never liked horseback riding, and so Jane got only mild assistance from that corner. Mr. Bennet sold the horse, and Jane became pale and withdrawn again.
She wondered if Charles would allow her to ride horses. Surely he would; he loved the sport and went almost every morning with Mr. Darcy. He had spoken about wanting to get into horse breeding, and that was one of the reasons for his choosing Netherfield. It was a short distance to town and possessed massive stables. He seemed to have a good eye for temperament more so than ability. Mr. Darcy chose horses for their strength and speed and relied on the sheer force of will to keep the horse in line. Whereas Charles prioritized an amiable companion, even if they weren't as impressive as Mr. Darcy's choosing.
Charles had an openness about him that made her very comfortable. If he is wrong, he's quick to admit it. His mistakes are in the past, but he can still examine them from time to time to learn and sometimes to laugh. Jane didn't really understand this trait. Lizzy would rarely admit to a mistake, and if she had made one, she would take care to never remember it. Charles would openly showcase his failings to help another learn or to make another more comfortable. The man had many flaws, but he seemed to draw confidence from them. Where he is now is quite far from what he was then.
Even though he had a wildly intelligent, eminently powerful friend, he never seemed to care. Jane felt like she compared herself to Lizzy constantly, and she and Lizzy did not have the chasm of situation that Mr. Darcy and Charles had.
"When did I start calling him Charles?" Jane wondered as she drifted to sleep.
OOXXOOXoXXx
When she awoke an hour later, she was deep in the grip of the sickness. Lizzy was there to mop her brow, but she felt so wildly ill. Her bones ached to the point of tears; it was so cold, and a minute later, so hot. She tried to keep these thoughts to herself, but Lizzy saw.
Jane was quite poorly. She was glad when sleep claimed her again.
OOXXOOXoXXx
A few days later, after their mother's mortifying visit, Lizzy was heartily sick of the house. Jane could barely understand it. The sisters to be so underhanded? Mr. Darcy to be so cruel?
Everything she had seen said the sisters were pleasant, and Mr. Darcy is unbearably shy. But she was told again after making these sentiments known: "Jane, you only see the good in people." It made her feel as though her opinion was brushed aside as if it were invalid. That peeved her. She may not have Lizzy's intelligence; in fact, if her father was to be believed, she had not the smallest part. "Admit it, you're a silly, ignorant, stupid girl."
Jane struggled with her thoughts: "No! It might be true, but I wish to grow like Mr. Bingley does." Maybe she could expose herself to teach Lizzy. Lizzy had just finished speaking about how Mr. Darcy sat for a full half hour without speaking a word to her.
"Lizzy," Jane began, "haven't you seen me spend an hour in company without saying a word?"
"That's different; you're just shy," Lizzy scoffed. "Mr. Darcy is hateful. He constantly searches for faults."
"Is it for fault, Lizzy? Or is he like me and watches the world before speaking?"
"Different again, dear Jane; all the world is good to you, and all the world is despicable to him."
"That seems too harsh, Lizzy; none of us are perfect. You are good, but haven't you had a bad week?"
"Indeed, I have, Jane," Lizzy laughed. "I know it's difficult to comprehend, angelic as you are. But us mortals usually have a bad week; it is very infrequent to have a bad month and a half."
Jane grew irritated at this. Here she was, having a terrible week, and Lizzy couldn't see it. Jane saved that train of thought for later, when she wasn't feeling so sick or frustrated. But her frustration, she blurted out:
"Perhaps the man is shy, and his shyness caused the neighborhood to dislike him, which has made him close in farther around himself!" Jane thought that was a good argument. But to Jane's growing annoyance, Lizzy only laughed.
"Finding the most happy explanation again. No, if he were truly shy, he wouldn't have called me tolerable so loudly," Lizzy said with a grin of triumph and also of finality.
Angry, Jane feigned going to sleep. Lizzy eventually left. How could she not take Jane's point of view? She was so good at it while debating their father. Why was this so much more difficult? "Why are you so sure you're right? You are never right. Lizzy is always right. That's why you turn to her, because you are silly and ignorant."
Jane's anger dissipated, and she felt sad once more.
OOXXOOXoXXx
Jane was nervous; she was feeling well enough to go downstairs after dinner. She needed to observe Mr. Darcy. Surely, she was correct about the man.
Mr. Bingley knocked on her door, smiling a smile she felt unique to her. He asked her how she fared as he led her down the stairs, hardly looking at the stairs for his gaze on her. He settled her in a chair near the fire. Fortuitously, the chair directly across from her held Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley relinquished her to collect food and drink for her but was caught up in a conversation with Lizzy and Miss Bingley.
Jane took this opportunity to secretly examine Mr. Darcy. His eye held a far-away gleam. His mind was not in the room at all. Jane felt she could shatter a tea cup next to him, and he wouldn't start. A minute went by with the laughter of the group behind them.
Then, Mr. Darcy cringed, in a manner unfortunately very familiar to Jane. The grimace had no cause, and he quickly smoothed it, darting his eye about to check if anyone saw. He locked eyes with Jane, and they both swiftly looked back into the fire. Her face burned with embarrassment at being caught so openly. She darted a glance at him and saw his temples pulse as he ground his teeth. Normally, Jane would chastise herself, but she was on a mission. To prove she could read people as well as Lizzy and to help the man. "I know his struggle."
"Mr. Darcy," Jane began softly, hesitantly. His dark eyes jerked to her, his mouth pinched in a thin line, but worry and shame seemed etched around his eyes. "If you're wrong, you shall make yourself into the biggest fool yet." She shook her head and pushed forward.
"Mr. Darcy," she began again, "whatever thought you had, do not give it credit. It will only bring you down and poison your confidence." Mr. Darcy's eyebrow rose, but he remained silent. Jane, staring into the fire, continued, "Lizzy tells me to only think of the past as it gives me pleasure. I'm sure you can imagine how difficult that mantra is to follow, but I try nonetheless. I try to think of Lizzy and some silly memories we've had together. Her sunny disposition, even as a memory, can sometimes shake the darkness of my thoughts. Don't you have a sister yourself, Mr. Darcy?"
Jane's pale eyes moved to meet Darcy's dark ones. Mr. Darcy swallowed down a turmoil of emotions, merely responded with "indeed," and went back to looking at the fire. Mr. Bingley and Lizzy were still locked in an animated conversation with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst voices ringing in some response. Charles and Lizzy's laughter would occasionally bounce about the room, but in the dark corner near the fire, Jane watched Mr. Darcy. After several moments of silence, Mr. Darcy spoke:
"Why tell me this?"
Jane felt a streak of horror that she might have been wrong, but when she glanced sideways at him, his eyes were misty.
"Like recognizes like, sir. We are more similar than you think. And I couldn't bear to watch your struggle when I know how heavy the weight is."
Mr. Darcy looked down for a minute before nodding silently and gazing back into the fire, still misty-eyed.
Charles returned a minute later, holding out a glass of rum to Jane. Lizzy's voice rang over Charles shoulder, not wanting to go near Mr. Darcy.
"Drink it, Jane; it may help your cold!"
Jane sighed and accepted the glass. She liked alcohol for its ability to quiet her mind, but she hated the taste. She drank some and scrunched her nose in momentary distaste before hurriedly rubbing the wrinkles from her nose. Her mother's words rang through her head: "Wrinkles! Wrinkles! Then, where would you be? Where would we be?" Mr. Bingley's chuckle broke through her thoughts.
"I don't care for it much either. Darcy here can tell you how much of a lightweight I am. Sometimes, Darce, I can hear you in my head saying Be a man." Mr. Bingley laughed at the thought, while Mr. Darcy looked at him with deep affection before he smiled. Mr. Darcy had dimples!
"Your faces on our drinking nights at university were so vastly different, yet each one would convey your thoughts so strongly on each drink. Every time you drank, you would gag and cringe. But you kept up, drinking just as much as me." Mr. Darcy chuckled at the thought, a deep rumble. Mr. Bingley's bright laugh rang out, and Jane turned her gaze towards him. He was so full of joy.
"From what I remember of those nights, it was great fun!" he said, smiling at Mr. Darcy, clapping him on the shoulder, and handing him a tall glass of rum. He turned his attention towards Jane, smiling that special smile at her, which made her heart flutter and a blush grace her cheeks.
Mr. Darcy looked at her and then at him with deep reflection. Like Charles, he wasn't above admitting he was wrong. But, like Elizabeth, he didn't think he was wrong much at all. But maybe, this time, he had misjudged.