Chapter 6
SIX
NOT JUST A TRIFLING COLD
Elizabeth was gratified to see Mr Darcy’s surprise at how fine and elegant was Gracechurch Street. She observed his raised brow—which was just as quickly lowered—at the sight of the Gardiners’ commodious home.
“I will see you inside,” said Mr Darcy. “Mrs Jenkinson, would you prefer to come with us or wait in the carriage?” To this Mrs Jenkinson allowed she would do just as well to wait in the carriage, and Mr Darcy promised he would not be long.
Mr Gardiner’s manservant, Mr Jacobs, opened the door as soon as the carriage came to a halt. He was every bit as formal and reserved as he ought to be upon perceiving a carriage unknown to him; but when Elizabeth appeared, his countenance broke into a fond smile.
Mr Darcy walked forwards and offered the butler a bow. “Mr Gardiner, I presume?”
Elizabeth could not help herself and giggled while Mr Jacobs himself merely looked taken aback. “Mr Darcy, this is my uncle’s butler, Mr Jacobs.”
“Forgive me,” Mr Darcy said, somewhat stiffly, a rapidly arisen colour on his countenance betraying his embarrassment. “Of course.”
“I have been confused with worse, sir,” said Mr Jacobs kindly.
Mrs Gardiner’s housekeeper then appeared in the doorway, and to tease Mr Darcy a little, Elizabeth said, in a murmur, “And neither is this charming lady my aunt but my aunt’s housekeeper Mrs Miller.”
“With a house this size, it was quite stupid of me to imagine Mr or Mrs Gardiner answering the door,” he said. “I do apologise.”
Mr Jacobs was busily instructing the boy behind the housekeeper on where to go with Miss Elizabeth’s trunks and urged the two travellers into the house. “Pray forgive me, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mrs Miller. “We did not expect you.”
“My plans were altered rather precipitously,” she said, walking into the vestibule. Mr Darcy came behind her, and she wondered if he wished to meet her aunt and uncle. As soon as she thought of it, she heard Mrs Gardiner’s light footsteps hurrying towards them.
“Oh Lizzy,” said Mrs Gardiner. “What a surprise to see you.”
Her eyes took in the gentleman next to her niece, and Elizabeth hastily offered an introduction, pleased to see how respectably her aunt replied to it, respectful without being unduly deferential. Mr Darcy, too, was very agreeable and complimented her on her lovely home.
“May I offer you both some refreshment?” asked Mrs Gardiner.
Her manner was everything it ought to be, but beneath it was evident strain.
Her smile was not quite genuine, and her posture went beyond a lady’s straight back and into the rigidity of anxiety.
Elizabeth believed at once she understood it: Jane must have told her what trouble resided within her house.
She glanced at Mr Darcy, relieved to hear him decline the offer. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said. “I hope that on another occasion I may take advantage of your kindness, but I have a great many tasks ahead of me this morning that will not suffer delay.”
“Another time, then,” said Mrs Gardiner graciously.
With that the time for farewells was upon them, and Mr Darcy was soon on his way. Seeing him go produced a strange melancholic feeling within her that Elizabeth was convinced must be due to her hopes and fears for Jane.
Mrs Gardiner beckoned to Elizabeth to follow her down the hall towards the parlour, and Elizabeth did so.
“I am surprised to see you and even more surprised to know who attended you here,” said Mrs Gardiner over her shoulder.
“But those things aside, I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you. Your sister—”
“I know,” said Elizabeth gently as they entered the parlour. “I have not been unaware of the situation, and receiving Jane’s letter yesterday morning is what brought me from Kent.”
Mrs Gardiner drew back. “Yesterday?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Where is my sister? I long to simply give her a hug.”
“She is asleep,” said Mrs Gardiner. “And I beg you would save your hug, for I daresay sleep is the best thing for her. But how do you mean you had a letter yesterday? In the morning?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth nodded. “The Collinses’ post comes first thing. I suppose Jane must have sent it on Tuesday or Wednesday?”
Mrs Gardiner sat in her favoured chair and gestured Elizabeth towards another nearby. “But she was not ill a few days ago.”
“Ill? She is ill?”
“Is that not why you came?”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, reconsidered, and then enquired, “How is she ill? A fever?”
Mrs Gardiner nodded and then cried out with a fretfulness that was not usual, “I do not know what she was thinking of! We had such a rain as you cannot imagine, and she was gone for an age! Indeed I nearly sent young John out to find her, much as I would have disliked seeing him made ill as well.”
“How long was she gone?”
Mrs Gardiner sighed. “I do not even know. Two hours? I was not worried about her at first for it was only a drizzle. Then it grew into a proper spring shower and I began to worry. Your uncle rode out to find her but could not, and we had just resolved ourselves to sending out some of the servants when she returned. She was positively soaked through, mud all up her skirts! I thought she must have fallen, but she said no, she had only been splashed by a passing carriage or two. She looked ill even then—all she had on was a light pelisse! I cannot think where her head was!—and already shaking with the cold that became a fever within hours.”
“I see,” said Elizabeth, her mind racing. What had Jane been about? It was not her way at all to roam about in sunshine and warmth much less rain. “Did she say where she had been?”
“She said only that she had rambled about, quite beyond her own knowledge, but I suspect…” Mrs Gardiner sighed heavily. “I suspect she went in search of this Mr Bingley fellow she is so heartbroken about.”
“But Mr Bingley lives in Mayfair! That must be—”
“Three miles, maybe four,” Mrs Gardiner concluded. “I know. But now my concerns must be for the fever and the fact that the cold seems to be settling into her chest.”
Elizabeth shot to her feet. “Aunt, forgive me, but I must go to her.”
Mrs Gardiner nodded, worry creasing her pretty brow. “Go then, but pray, allow her to sleep if she remains asleep.”
“I will,” Elizabeth promised as she left the room.
She arrived at Jane’s bedside moments later, aghast at what she saw.
Jane was asleep—thankfully—amid a reek of Mrs Miller’s remedies and the unmistakable odour of contagion.
The fire in the room had been built up to an almost unbearable level, but Jane appeared cool and grey, her parted lips almost colourless.
Elizabeth sighed heavily as she approached her sister.
What had Jane done? Had she indeed gone out into the rain in search of her child’s father? Had she tried to make herself ill? Or was it merely despair?
“Jane, do not fear,” she whispered. “Be well, my beloved sister, for all will be made right. Mr Darcy is…he is to be our salvation, it seems.”
But Jane, insensible and deeply asleep, did not reply. Elizabeth took a seat in the wooden chair by her bedside, watching her, and thinking of what she must do next.
It did not seem that Mrs Gardiner had any inkling of the true malady that Jane suffered.
Much as Elizabeth loathed to break Jane’s confidence—or rather to break Jane’s confidence more—she saw no other way.
Her aunt and uncle must know before Mr Bingley arrived at their door with plans to marry—quickly—their seriously ailing niece.