CHAPTER 13 Elizabeth, Awakening
Elizabeth awoke and continued to think about the lovely dream - that dream wherein he’d said, I love you.
Even if you never accept me. I shall always love you.
She lay in her bed while the household still slept and thought of nothing else.
It felt so real, as if Darcy had been in this very room and spoken to her.
As if…he’d held her against his chest. And fed her broth and put cups of tea to her lips.
She felt his arms around her and heard his declarations of love (despite her atrocious rejection) and had come away from it feeling as if there was hope for them.
But perhaps the whole thing had existed only in her mind.
Perhaps her acute longing for a second chance had brought it about in her dreams. She sighed.
It had seemed so real. How could it not be real?
She tried to sit up but had not the strength to do it.
And she realised that she had become quite weak from all the time she’d spent in bed.
Thankfully Charlotte and Jane soon came into the room and both prepared to assist her.
She was bathed, and her hair was brushed and her beddings changed.
Again she drank tea and ate broth, assisted by her friend and sister.
But she recalled other, stronger, arms holding her up and she missed them.
She missed him, but realised that it must only have been an illusion.
For how could Mr. Darcy of all people even gain entrance into her room, let alone be allowed to feed her and put his arms around her?
Elizabeth realised dismally that she had fallen in love with a dream.
Nevertheless, once she had eaten, Elizabeth felt extremely lethargic and went to sleep again. She awoke several hours later and was told that several people had come to inquire after her health.
“The colonel, Anne and Mr. Bingley called earlier,” said Jane, sitting beside her and working on a piece of embroidery.
“Mr. Bingley is here?”
“Oh! Yes. He was actually the one who brought Dr. Stephens and myself from London - at Mr. Darcy’s request.”
“Mr. Darcy did that - had Mr. Bingley bring you and the doctor from London?”
“Yes, he did. Dr. Stephens is his own physician. It was most thoughtful and kind of Mr. Darcy to have thought of all of that.”
Elizabeth could hardly believe it - that Darcy would send for his own physician after she had berated him so viciously. But she only murmured, “Yes, it was very kind of him.”
Jane, on the other hand, wondered if she should bring up Elizabeth’s rejection of Mr. Darcy’s proposal. But her sister was still so fragile. And she did not wish to distress her in any way.
So she only said, “Perhaps you were wrong…to dislike him so much last fall.”
“Yes, perhaps,” murmured Elizabeth, noticing glumly that Mr. Darcy was not one of the persons who had called that day.
Perhaps he no longer loved her. Perhaps her cruel refusal made him realise that he no longer wished to be her husband.
And yet he had been kind enough to send for the doctor and her sister, and foster a reconciliation between Jane and Mr. Bingley.
“Is Mr. Bingley courting you again, Jane?” she asked, trying to distract herself from thoughts of Darcy.
Jane smiled. “I am not certain if he is courting me but…we did take a stroll in the gardens the other day. He mentioned that he should never have left Hertfordshire. And that he has been miserable the entire winter…”
“He never stopped loving you, then.”
Jane shrugged. “Regretting he left Hertfordshire does not mean that he regretted leaving me. Nor does it mean that he loves me.”
Elizabeth just smiled and shook her head. “You are just too modest, dear sister.”
“We shall see, Lizzy,” said Jane. There was a long pause before she added, “And you, Lizzy? Are you interested in any gentleman?” She looked curiously at Elizabeth, wondering if her sister would bring up the subject of Darcy’s proposal.
“No, no one in particular,” answered Elizabeth.
They were silent for some time till Jane said, “I believe Mamma may be coming here soon.”
“Mamma? Why would she?”
“Because I wrote to our parents while you were quite ill, thinking they deserved to know the truth. I expect that one of them will be coming shortly. And it is likely to be Mamma.”
“Oh…” said Elizabeth, thinking that a great deal of unnecessary fuss was being made over her.
“I know you are well now but…we nearly lost you, Lizzy, and I could not bear the thought that you would die and that I never informed them of it.”
Elizabeth, not wishing for Jane to think her ungrateful, replied, “I understand, Jane. And I am very grateful to you for everything you have done during my illness.”
Jane smiled but said nothing, thinking to herself, But it was mostly Mr. Darcy who cared for you. And he was probably the one who saved your life. However, she said nothing for the present.
After her visit with Elizabeth, Jane went to the back sitting room where Charlotte was working on the household accounts.
“And how is Elizabeth this morning?” Charlotte asked her, putting down her quill.
“She is improving,” said Jane, sitting down and remaining thoughtful for a while.
“Is there anything on your mind, Jane?”
“I was just wondering…have you told Lizzy yet that Mr. Darcy was in her room during her illness and was primarily the one who assisted her? She was barely awake that entire time, you see, and completely unaware of the goings on around her…”
Charlotte nodded thoughtfully and answered, “No, I did not tell her. Do you think we should?”
“That is the question…” murmured Jane.
After a pause, Charlotte said, “Have you noticed that Mr. Darcy has not yet come to call?”
“Yes, and I wondered why. I would have thought that he would be more likely to call now that she is better.”
“Do you think that he has given up?”
“I do not know.”
“It seems to me,” said Charlotte, “that if we tell her and he does not come back, then she might be disappointed.”
“And if he does call on her,” continued Jane, “and she falls in love with him, then it will not matter anyway.”
“So I suppose,” said Charlotte, “that there is no point in telling her.”
“I suppose not. Besides which, if nothing happens, and Elizabeth finds out that he was in her room, then it may embarrass her.”
“Let us not tell her, then,” said Charlotte.
“Very well,” said Jane.
*****
It rained for close to a week.
Elizabeth remained in her room, now strong enough to walk to the window and to the desk, but not yet strong enough to walk downstairs. Charlotte and Jane took turns keeping her company, but she still slept a great deal and often woke up alone and free to ponder her current circumstance.
She knew that Mr. Darcy was at Rosings and had been responsible for bringing Dr. Stephens, Jane and Bingley to Kent.
But she had not seen him since his proposal, despite the fact that everyone from Rosings had already come to call.
She thought about the dreams she had of him and wished for the hundredth time that she had not been so thoughtless and unkind when she turned him down.
She also wondered if her dreams had anything in common at all with the real Darcy.
She spent a lot of time at the window, not having much else to do.
If she angled her head just so, she could see Rosings in the distance - all grey stone, tall glazed windows and meticulously manicured gardens.
She traced the path of a raindrop against the windowpane and imagined her finger changing its course and becoming wet in the process.
But the rain was on the other side and continued to fall relentlessly - indifferent to anything she did.
And then one afternoon she saw something beyond the Hunsford gardens that she had not seen before.
It was someone standing in the rain, quite a ways off and almost invisible in the darkening shadows.
A gentleman, it seemed, wearing a greatcoat and a dark beaver hat.
The dim light from the late afternoon sky was behind him so she could not see his face.
He was leaning against a tree and seemed to be facing in her direction.
He was very still and could almost be mistaken for a part of the landscape.
But her heart beat faster when she considered that it could be him.
Darcy.
She knelt at the window seat, looking for any signs of movement.
But nothing changed. The dark figure remained still, seemingly attached to the trunk of the tree.
The afternoon grew darker and the raindrops continued to trickle on the other side of the window.
They looked almost like tears and she could practically feel them running down her own face.
She imagined herself crying - a formless spirit, haunting the groves of Rosings, waiting for a man who once loved her but never returned.
Her room was dark, as she had not yet lit a candle.
She closed her eyes momentarily and pressed her palms against them, realising absently that she had actually been crying.
When she looked out the window again, the figure had vanished.
Or perhaps it was never there at all. Perhaps it was just a trick of the light, another illusion brought on by her unfulfilled wishes.
Finally, there was a knock on the door and Jane came in with a candle, followed by Mary who carried a tray in her hand. Elizabeth turned back to the window and drew the curtains closed.
“Lizzy, why are you sitting in the dark?” asked Jane, starting to fuss about her. “Come, let us get you back to bed. Then you may eat this freshly baked bread and roasted chicken…”
“Has no one called today?” asked Elizabeth a little while later, as she ate.
“No,” Jane answered, seeing that Elizabeth looked a little forlorn. “Were you expecting anyone?”
“No…no one.”
Jane nodded. “We could hardly have expected anyone as it has been raining so hard…”
“Yes…of course,” said Elizabeth.
“Mr. Bingley did call the day before yesterday, however. And we talked for a while in the parlour.”
“That is good to hear, Jane. I am happy for you. As I recall, it was raining rather heavily as well...the day before yesterday. And yet Mr. Bingley was able to come.”
Jane looked down at her hands. “Yes, I thought the same thing.”
“I suppose,” said Elizabeth, “that he simply could not keep away from you. That he…missed you. Do you still love him?”
Jane was quiet for a while before finally answering, “Yes, I still love him. He came here quite regularly while you were ill and we were able to converse. He was very supportive and loyal. I never thought that I would see him again and now…here he is - calling on me.”
“I have no doubt that he loves you,” said Elizabeth. “I do not believe he ever stopped.”
“But you have not even seen him, Lizzy. Not since Hertfordshire. How can you know this?”
“Because, Jane, having once known you, I cannot imagine that Mr. Bingley could ever find anyone to replace you.”
Jane smiled but said nothing, then shortly thereafter left to make Elizabeth more willow bark tea.
Once alone and done with her meal, Elizabeth went to the window again and pulled open the curtains. She stared into the darkness for quite some time, though she could not see anything. And then, just when she was about to drop off to sleep, Elizabeth trudged to her bed and closed her eyes.