CHAPTER 7 A Voice in the Ocean
Darcy retired to his rooms that night but was unable to sleep.
He stood at the window and looked towards the parsonage.
Even though it was close to midnight, there was still a light on in an upper floor window.
Was it good or bad that the light was on?
Was it Elizabeth’s room? Was she still just as ill or had the doctor’s remedy worked?
He finally ran his hands through his hair then pulled on it.
He went to the bed and lay on it for a while, staring up at the canopy.
He thought about his proposal and how insulting it must have seemed to Elizabeth.
And it occurred to him that it might actually be Elizabeth’s last impression of him.
She would think that he despised her family and disapproved of everything attached to her…
and might actually die with such thoughts in her mind.
Darcy jumped out of bed and went to the window again. I am sorry, Elizabeth, he said desperately, looking towards the parsonage.
He recalled the fact that Elizabeth had said his name in the midst of her fevered dreams. Why had she done it? Was it a form of accusation? Was she still angry and wished to upbraid him even more?
And yet none of this mattered if she would only recover.
He would let her point out all his faults if she would only get well enough to do it.
He prayed that she would. And, if she did, he promised himself that he would apologise.
He would apologise for every insult and scowl and implication he had ever shown her.
Darcy was just thinking about how to do this when he heard a soft knock upon the door.
He opened it and was surprised to find Dr. Stephens on the other side.
“Mr. Darcy, sir. A servant has just come from the parsonage requesting my attendance on Miss Elizabeth. I saw the light under your door and thought I would inform you that I am going there now.”
Darcy blinked, then said, “I shall go with you.”
The doctor looked surprised but only nodded.
Thankfully he had not yet undressed and was able to quickly don his coat and make his way down the stairs, followed by the doctor.
They left by a side entrance and went immediately to the stables, had their horses saddled and were in Hunsford in less than ten minutes.
The front door opened even before they had a chance to knock.
It was Mr. Collins and he thanked the doctor for coming so quickly after the summons.
“My wife,” he said, as he led them upstairs, “tells me that Elizabeth’s fever is higher and that her breathing is more laboured than before.” He suddenly noticed Darcy and added, “Mr. Darcy, it was quite thoughtful of you to accompany the doctor. You must have come on behalf of Lady Catherine.”
“Lady Catherine? No, I came on my own.”
He followed the doctor into the small room at the end of the upstairs hallway and saw Elizabeth lying in the bed, with Jane Bennet sitting just beside her, pressing a compress onto her forehead.
Charlotte Collins stood just beside her, holding a cup in her hand.
Dr. Stephens came forward and immediately put his hand on Elizabeth’s forehead.
He drew it back immediately and Darcy could tell that even he was surprised by the feel of Elizabeth’s skin.
“She cannot be allowed to continue in this manner,” he pronounced with an urgency that made Darcy’s blood run cold. “We need a tub, forthwith, to be filled with ice water. And then she must be immersed in it as soon as may be.”
“I shall send Mary and John for the tub…” said Mr. Collins. “And then they can bring up some buckets of water…”
“No,” interrupted Darcy, causing everyone to turn their attention to him, “that will take too long. I shall ride to Rosings and have everything brought over straightaway. Mr. Collins, just be certain that a tub is here when we arrive.” He strode out of the room without another word.
Darcy arrived at Rosings only a few minutes later and proceeded once more through the side entrance. Thankfully a few servants, including Mrs. Daniels, the housekeeper, remained in the kitchen despite the late hour.
She looked questioningly at him and he hastened to say, “Mrs. Collins’ friend at the parsonage is very ill and will need to have her fever reduced. I shall require multiple bags of ice and about twenty to thirty buckets of water loaded onto a wagon and brought to the parsonage forthwith.
Mrs. Daniels nodded. “Yes, sir, at once. Thankfully we keep quite a few buckets of water at the ready in case any of Lady Catherine’s guests are in want of a bath.”
She gave orders for all the servants to be roused.
Some were directed to fetch the buckets from the storage room, while others were directed to fetch bags of ice from the ice house.
A footman was sent to the stables to insure that a wagon was readied.
Before long, Darcy and his entourage of servants, as well as the buckets of water and bags of ice, had arrived at the front gate of the parsonage.
Dr Stephens awaited them at the front door, then led the line of servants up the stairs and into Elizabeth’s room.
Darcy looked on as buckets of water and bags of ice were emptied into the tub which had been placed by Elizabeth’s bed.
“And now she must be placed into the tub,” said Dr. Stephens, as the last of the servants left the room.
“I shall do it,” said Darcy.
He met Charlotte’s gaze and she gave a quick nod as Darcy bent over Elizabeth’s sleeping form.
Jane Bennet removed the covers from over her as Darcy put one hand under Elizabeth’s neck and the other under her knees. She was indeed hot. Hotter than he could possibly have imagined.
“Yes, that’s it, Mr. Darcy,” said Dr. Stephens, “lower her into the tub.”
She was in a white nightdress and her dark hair was plastered across her forehead and falling over her face. He knelt down and began to lower her in, feeling the icy water against his forearms as he did so.
She let out a long, agonised scream and began to struggle, as Darcy removed his right arm from beneath her knees while continuing to support her neck and shoulder with his left.
“Good, Mr. Darcy, that’s it,” said Dr. Stephens. “She shall need to remain there for a few minutes.”
He gave a brief nod as Elizabeth continued to half-weep, half-wail while thrashing about in the freezing water.
Eventually the flailing turned into occasional feeble cries.
He absently noted Jane Bennet take a step back and put her hand over her mouth.
Charlotte Collins was a little behind her and had thankfully pushed her husband out of the room.
He turned his attention back to Elizabeth whose thrashing had become less pronounced.
“Mr. Darcy,” she whispered all of a sudden.
It had occurred during such incoherent ramblings and was spoken so softly that Darcy initially thought that he was imagining things. Another minute or two went by wherein she continued to whimper, her pale slender fingers clutching at his sleeve.
And then followed the words, “Do not go.”
He stared at her closed eyes and felt that she had addressed him. But whether in her mind or if she really saw him there he could not tell.
But still, he answered, “No, I shall not. I shall not leave you, Elizabeth.”
It was then that Dr. Stephens broke into his thoughts by saying, “Very well, Mr. Darcy, you may lift her out now.”
He lifted her up then placed her on the bed where Charlotte Collins and the maid immediately covered her with towels. In the meantime, the doctor conferred with Jane Bennet about the next course of treatment. Darcy knew at this point that he was no longer needed and thus left the room.
*****
Elizabeth continued to dream of Darcy, her dreams becoming more elaborate. But there was one underlying theme to them, namely that she behaved more kindly towards him.
She was cold and her entire body ached. She saw flickering lights in a general sea of darkness.
She imagined the two of them in the parsonage together, that he was proposing and that she was asking him to explain himself.
She recalled the words he spoke, I would have loved you with all the ardency and depth of one who has never loved before.
The words struck her in retrospect as one of the most romantic things a man could tell a woman.
He never loved anyone before, she told herself, dwelling on that one fact for quite some time.
And this made her feel infinitely worse when she recalled how badly she’d treated him in return.
In her dreams she would behave better and sometimes accept him.
But eventually - always - ended up losing him.
Sometimes they were swimming in the ocean together and he was trying to hold her up, and then somehow he would let go and she would begin to drown.
Do not let go she would scream to him in her mind.
But her voice was gone. She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out.
However, there was one instance when she’d actually been able to say his name aloud, and then ask him not to go. She felt like ice was running through her veins and that she was actually slipping away from life. But then she’d heard him say, “No, I shall not. I shall not leave you, Elizabeth.”
It seemed so real. His voice, his arms around her.
And she was almost comforted by it despite the aching coldness.
It was the one bright spot that made her believe that there was yet hope for her.
She was in an icy dark ocean but she would not allow it to pull her under.
She wished to live. If only she could hear that voice again.