CHAPTER 3 The Evening Before at Hunsford
Elizabeth slept the whole afternoon and awoke that evening feeling much worse. Charlotte came to examine her and pronounced that she felt hot and had a fever. She offered to send for the apothecary but Elizabeth refused, telling her that she would probably be better by morning.
“Shall I at least send up some broth?” asked Charlotte.
“I really am not very hungry.”
“But you cannot live on tea alone. And if you do not have some broth, then I shall send for the apothecary.”
“Very well,” said Elizabeth weakly, “send for the broth and I shall attempt to eat it. But I cannot promise to finish it.”
Once Charlotte left, Elizabeth lay back against the pillows, feeling even weaker than before.
She’d had a sore throat that morning but it was now much worse.
She also felt cold and could hardly keep her teeth from chattering.
She wished that Jane was here, for Jane had various herbal remedies that she made which could take away all manner of symptoms and complaints.
She also thought about Mr. Darcy and felt worse and worse about how badly she had treated him.
True, he had separated Jane from Mr. Bingley.
But he probably had his reasons for doing so.
And she told him she disliked him - right after he’d said he loved her.
He seemed so sad, thought Elizabeth to herself, recalling the expression on Darcy’s face. He must really have loved me.
The broth came a few minutes later and Elizabeth was only able to eat a third of it before collapsing back onto her pillow and falling into a disturbed sleep. She dreamed of Darcy and his sad face and also dreamed of re-living that afternoon and treating him with less hostility…and more kindness.
Later that afternoon she began to dream that the room was spinning.
She saw the bed spinning around and around, and the light from the window coming in and blinding her with its harshness.
She kept wishing for Jane to come. And also kept wishing for a different scenario with Mr. Darcy.
Over and over again, different scenarios played out in her fevered dreams.
“I love you and wish to marry you.”
“I apologise, Mr. Darcy, but I cannot…”
“I love you and wish to marry you.”
“I thank you for your proposal but it is impossible for me to accept…”
“I love you and wish to marry you.”
“But I always thought you disliked me. You were always frowning when you looked at me.”
“I apologise for that…but I was struggling against it.”
“Against what?”
“Why, my love, of course.” He smiled. “But are you not happy I lost the battle?”
At times she even dreamed that she accepted his proposal, and somehow changed his opinion of her family. And they lived happily ever after.
“I love you and wish to marry you.”
“But it was unkind - what you said about my family.”
“I am sorry, I did not mean to hurt you.”
“So how can you love me but still think that way about them?”
“I promise to always treat them well, if only you will marry me.”
“Well then, yes. I shall marry you…”
“I love you and wish to marry you.”
“But what of my family?”
“I apologise for what I said; I am prepared to embrace them…for your sake.”
“Can we be happy?”
“Yes, we can.”
“I love you and wish to marry you.”
“But how can I accept you after what you said about my family? And after being the cause of my dearest sister’s disappointed hopes?
“Do you mean to say she loved him?”
“Yes! Of course she did.”
“Then I shall fix it, Elizabeth. And shall love your family as you do. I would do anything for you…”
“Would you?”
“Yes, you must believe me. Anything - for you.”
“Then…I shall marry you.”
“You will not regret it.”
In her dreams, she would be more gentle.
Less cruel. And she would not see the broken look on Darcy’s face.
Her dream would always end well, a product of her desire to change the past. But she would then half-awaken only to find that it had been all in her mind.
And she would lapse once more into insensibility and play the afternoon over again in her dreams.
Later she began to dream that she was drowning, that an invisible hand was pushing her under a freezing ocean. A cold, dark ocean wherein she could not breathe. She was shivering and struggling to breathe at the same time. But the hand just kept pushing her further downward…
*****
The following morning, Charlotte Collins went into Elizabeth’s room to check on her.
She was shocked to find that her friend’s fever was higher than it was before.
Much higher. She tried to rouse Elizabeth but could only get her to mumble some incoherent phrases.
Sometimes even Mr. Darcy’s name was mentioned, which surprised her.
In fact, Darcy was probably mentioned more than anything else.
She was surprised by this because Elizabeth had always professed to hate him.
And now it seemed as if she wished him here.
As if she were somehow suffering without his presence.
And Charlotte actually did wish that Mr Darcy were here - if only to soothe her friend’s troubled mind.
She sent a servant to fetch the apothecary then began to brew some willow bark tea.
Once done, she prepared a cool compress and went into Elizabeth's room. She helped her friend to sit up for a moment and drink some of the tea. Then she allowed her to lie back down and pressed the compress to Elizabeth’s forehead.
She studied her friend and wondered once more what her relationship was with Mr. Darcy.
About an hour later, the maid informed her that she had guests in the parlour.
“It is Mr. Darcy and the colonel, ma’am.”
Charlotte sighed in relief. Perhaps she could somehow coax Darcy into seeing Elizabeth for a moment.
“Very well, Mary. You stay here and look after Elizabeth while I go down and see to our guests.”
“Yes, ma’am.”