Chapter 2 #2
Elizabeth’s lips parted, her mouth suddenly dry. “W-what?”
“It is all right, dearest,” Jane answered with quiet warmth. “You have had a shock. But I am certain you will feel better after a little rest.”
Elizabeth’s breath came shallower as she struggled to make sense of their words. She turned towards her sister, unease settling low in her stomach.
“Jane,” she said carefully, “do you mean to tell me that you are married to Mr Collins?”
Elizabeth could not miss the flush that coloured her sister’s cheeks, but when she replied, her voice was steady. “Of course. We wed in January. Do you truly not remember?”
Her words seemed to knock the breath from Elizabeth’s body, and despite the warmth of the room, an icy chill raced up her spine.
Her thoughts spun wildly, and for a moment she could only stare back at Jane in absolute astonishment before, at last, she opened her mouth to speak, though she knew not what she meant to say.
But before she could summon any reply, a discreet cough came from the doorway, and all eyes turned to Lady Catherine’s butler, who entered with stately precision.
“Her ladyship has callers,” he intoned.
From her place on the opposite side of the room, Lady Catherine sniffed before lifting her chin. “Certainly I do. These are my usual visiting hours, are they not?”
She then turned to Mr Darcy with a narrowed gaze. “See that Miss Bennet is not coddled in her convalescence. A young woman of good health should not remain abed too long—it gives the appearance of indolence.
“And you,” she continued, fixing Dr Latham with a withering stare, “see to it that you do not neglect Anne. I trust you will examine her again before you presume to take your leave.”
Without waiting for a reply, she quit the room, Mr Collins hastening after her with a string of flustered compliments and apologetic bows.
A hush settled over them before Charlotte said softly, “I shall leave you to rest now, Eliza. Colonel Fitzwilliam has been anxiously awaiting news, so I shall let him know that you are recovering before I return to the parsonage.”
Elizabeth could only nod, still numb with disbelief, as her friend departed.
Once again, Jane reached for her hand, her voice heavy with concern. “Lizzy? Shall I ask Lady Catherine whether we might borrow a carriage to take you back to the parsonage, or would you prefer to remain here and rest a while longer?”
Elizabeth murmured something indistinct in reply, barely aware of what she said.
Her heart was pounding. Her head throbbed with a dull, relentless ache, and no matter how she tried, her thoughts refused to take shape. Was she still dreaming? Or had she struck her head so hard that her senses could no longer be trusted?
All at once, a thought occurred to her, and her hand flew to her throat. “My locket!” she cried, her fingers skimming across the fabric of her gown. “It is missing!”
Jane’s brow wrinkled. “Your locket?”
But Elizabeth merely pushed the coverlet aside, continuing to search the folds of her dress. “It was around my neck this morning—I am sure of it.”
Across the room, Mr Darcy and Dr Latham, who still lingered by the hearth in quiet conversation, turned at her exclamation. Jane looked between them uncertainly, then back at her sister.
“I do not recall you wearing a locket,” she said slowly.
Elizabeth looked to Mr Darcy. “Do you remember it? A small golden pendant—oval, with a floral design?”
Mr Darcy’s forehead furrowed. “No,” he answered after a brief pause. “I do not believe you were wearing anything of that sort when I found you. It is possible it was lost when you fell.”
Elizabeth drew in a breath, trying to quell the growing sense of dread that fluttered beneath her ribs. The locket had been around her neck; of that she was certain. She had handled it just as the weather began to change.
Had she not?
Frantically, she turned her attention back to her sister.
“Jane, you know the necklace I am referring to, do you not? The locket I purchased in Bromley, when Maria and I…” Her voice caught.
Except—Maria was not here. Had Charlotte been the one with her at the market? Or had she dreamt the entire encounter?
A shadow of concern crossed Jane’s features. “I am sorry, Lizzy. I do not recall a locket. I have not seen you wearing anything like the necklace you describe.”
Elizabeth’s agitation continued to mount. “But you must remember it! It had an engraving—a pattern of forget-me-nots—and it would not open no matter what we tried. Charlotte even—” She stopped short, her breath catching.
Closing her eyes, she lifted a trembling hand to the bodice of her gown. Slowly, she felt along the lining where she had tucked Mr Darcy’s letter earlier that morning.
A low gasp slipped from her throat. “My letter,” she called out. “It is gone also!”
An uneasy stillness settled over the room. Beside them, Mr Darcy leaned over to say something into the physician’s ear.
Dr Latham moved in her direction, his expression kind. “Miss Bennet, I believe the shock you have sustained may be more severe than we first assumed. I should like to give you a small dose of laudanum. It will help quiet your thoughts and allow you to rest.”
Elizabeth looked from the physician to her sister, confusion and fear warring within her mind.
But before she could answer, Mr Darcy cleared his throat. “I shall speak with the housekeeper,” he said, already turning towards the door. “A guest chamber will be prepared at once.”
He was gone before Elizabeth could summon any protest.