Chapter 20 #3
Miss Bingley was still in the house; for reasons of her own, she did not leave as she had declared a few days earlier.
She granted the guests a superior coldness and completely ignored their presence.
Only Georgiana was offered a few polite words; however, Miss Bingley’s admiration of Miss Darcy seemed to diminish with every day of Mr Darcy’s engagement to Eliza Bennet.
∞∞∞
The next three days passed with increasing fear and turmoil for Cassandra’s friends.
Despite the doctors’ continuous efforts and the ladies’ care, Cassandra’s state did not improve. She continued feverish, her body burning and shaken by tremors; all the medicines, though seeming to give her momentarily palliation, were not enough to cure her.
The colonel confessed part of his story to Elizabeth, Georgiana and Mrs Spencer; furthermore, he blamed himself for insisting too vehemently in his proposal of marriage, which had disturbed her greatly.
If neither Elizabeth nor Mrs Spencer believed her refusal to be the reason Cassandra feverishly called the colonel’s name, it was to their credit that they did not pursue the matter.
Georgiana, however, became animated about it.
She was convinced—and told David as much—that beyond any doubt Cassandra did share his affection and, when she was recovered, would declare her true feelings for him.
No matter how much the colonel tried to temper her joyful prophecy, she remained steadfast in her conviction; it was obvious to everyone that the only person to whom Cassandra reacted was the colonel.
The nights were the most difficult time, as her fever seemed to increase dangerously after midnight, and though not conscious, she became agitated, her violent movements jeopardising the healing process.
In those moments, nothing helped her but the colonel’s soothing presence.
He spent hours sitting near her bed, whispering to her in a gentle voice and caressing her hand until she seemed to calm and eventually sleep.
When they needed to give her medicine, David was the one to hold her, and though nobody knew what he was whispering to her, his words allowed her to cooperate with the doctors.
In truth, the colonel was never alone with her; there were also Elizabeth, Mrs Spencer, and Georgiana or at least one of them; and Janey, Cassandra’s maid, never left her mistress’s side for more than a few minutes.
The doctors, Mrs Spencer, Darcy and Bingley—as master of the house—accepted the arrangement without hesitation in consideration of Cassandra’s recovery above the demands of decorum.
Georgiana was simply happy to see the colonel with Cassandra and could see nothing improper in it.
Elizabeth barely slept for the next three days and nights, and she spent little private time with Darcy. Their only moments of peace were spent in short strolls around the garden, arm in arm.
Their wedding day was less than four weeks away, but for both of them it seemed impossibly distant.
Although neither of them actually dared to speak of it, both were terrified at the idea that Cassandra might leave them forever in the coming days.
Their own desire for happiness seemed frightfully selfish compared to such a dreadful possibility, and they could not think of their own felicity when shadowed by their friend’s loss.
The doctor had confessed to them that the more time passed without any improvement, the more reason he had for concern.
At Darcy’s insistence, the doctor informed them of the permanent damage of a high fever that lasted too long, and Elizabeth hardly left Cassandra’s room from that moment on.
She did everything in her power to make Cassandra react: she read to her, spoke to her, asked Mrs Spencer and Georgiana to speak—loudly—of Cassandra’s youth; she even asked Mr Bingley to bring the small instrument from Cassandra’s dressing room for Georgiana to play.
Elizabeth’s obvious exhaustion, paleness, and visible loss of weight increased Darcy’s concern. He tried to defeat Elizabeth’s stubbornness with little success. It appeared that the doctor, Mrs Spencer, Mrs Gardiner and Georgiana supported her decision and offered their unconditional assistance.
On the fifth day after the accident, Elizabeth was resting in an armchair after dinner a short distance from Mrs Spencer.
She felt weary and powerless and briefly considered that she had not slept an entire night since the dreadful evening of Markham’s attack.
She could not believe that only a week had passed. It seemed a lifetime.
Cassandra had just received her medicine; apparently, her fever was down as she seemed to sleep peacefully. Elizabeth allowed her eyes to close for a few minutes, but she was instantly startled by the sound of her name spoken softly.
At first, she thought she was dreaming, but the whisper repeated, and she turned toward the bed to see Cassandra’s hand moving and her weak voice addressing her clearly.
“Elizabeth…” Elizabeth hurried to her and took her hand, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Dearest Cassandra, I am here…Oh my dear, it is so good to hear you speaking to me—
Her voice was interrupted by a cry of pain, as the lady attempted to move. “Oh Lord, my head hurts.”
“Please lie still! You have been badly injured, but you will be fine! I am going to fetch the doctor.”
Elizabeth moved toward the door, but Cassandra’s insistent call brought her back.
“Elizabeth, how is Darcy? How did the duel end?”
“William? He is well—very well—only quite worried about you. Of what duel are you speaking? There was no duel,” Elizabeth replied, puzzled, certain that her friend was delirious.
“Oh, thank the Lord! So he did not fight Markham after all. I was so frightened that he would be killed. I tried to go to Town after them, but then I cannot remember what happened…Oh God, my head aches,” she said as she tried to bring her left hand to her forehead but cried again in pain.
Elizabeth was unable to move from shock, her lips and hands trembling, struggling to understand Cassandra’s words, and praying that she was merely feverish and confused.
“Mr Darcy is well, and so is our colonel.” Mrs Spencer affectionately caressed Cassandra’s hair.
“David is here?” she asked weakly, her eyelashes closing slowly. “I knew he would come…” Her voice was barely audible as her breathing steadied, and she quickly fell asleep.
“Elizabeth, dearest, please send for the doctor.” Mrs Spencer repeated herself before Elizabeth, deep in thought, heard and answered the request.
Elizabeth sent Janey to fetch the doctor as she moved to the dressing room and leaned against the wall, her knees weak.
Her mind, tormented by fatigue and the distress of the last week, was loath to admit that what she had just heard was true, yet it was too obvious to be denied. Of course, there had been a duel!
So that was the mystery behind Darcy’s sudden departure! He went to fight Markham!
Her heart raced wildly as she struggled to breathe. But how was that possible? Cassandra said something about Town, but Markham was not in London—or was he?
She remembered—vividly—the moment she told Cassandra about Darcy’s trip and the shock on Cassandra’s face. That, undoubtedly, was the moment Cassandra realized the truth.
How was it possible that she, Elizabeth, had been so stupid not to guess the simple fact that Cassandra understood instantly? How could she have been so blind?
All of Darcy’s twisted words, his refusal to confess to her the reason for his hasty decision to leave again—he deliberately put himself in danger and concealed it from her!
Thank the Lord he returned safely, but what if…
? And what happened to Markham? Had he been killed?
If so, what would the earl do? The duel was illegal; any child knew that.
How could Darcy have exposed himself so only a few weeks before their wedding?
And, of course, the colonel was part of his plan—and her father, as well! Now everything was clear as crystal: her own father and uncle were part of the outrageous plot. They conspired together!
She felt exhausted, disappointed, and betrayed by the men she cared for most, frightened by what could have happened, and could no longer fight the tears that rolled down her cheeks. Increasingly, however, her turmoil of emotions grew into anger.
They had showed no consideration for her opinion, her wishes, or her worries! Of course, not—she was only a woman after all! Why should she expect the men to treat her as one of them and ask for her advice? What could a mere woman have to say about the importance of fighting for one’s honour?
Well, this woman does have something to say, and you will hear it all, gentlemen, she whispered to herself as she wiped furiously at her tears and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her.
She hurried down the stairs to the library, where she knew the gentlemen were gathered after dinner, and paused to catch her breath before entering.
“Elizabeth, what a surprise,” said Darcy warmly as she burst through the door without knocking. They were all there with the exception of Mr Hurst who had likely retired early.
“Miss Bennet, please come and sit down.” Bingley spoke politely but was somewhat disconcerted at her unceremonious entrance. “How is Lady Cassandra?”
“I have wonderful news. She is awake and spoke to me clearly; I have great hopes that she will recover.” Elizabeth then took a seat, avoiding Darcy’s eyes.
The gentlemen became excited and asked countless questions, but she tempered them, saying the doctor had just started his examination and would certainly come with fresh news shortly. Her tone was cold and impersonal, and the gentlemen could not fail to notice it.
“Elizabeth, you seem unwell. May I offer you something?” asked Darcy.