Chapter Twenty-Four
London
Elizabeth’s eyes flickered open, coming into focus on her sister Jane, who was sitting in a chair at her bedside. “Lizzy, you are awake at last!”
She blinked in confusion, and as the fog of slumber cleared from her head, Elizabeth scrambled to sit up. She recalled her petulant refusal to rest, despite her aunt’s repeated suggestions, and she laughed dazedly. “How long have I been asleep?”
Jane gave her a teasing smile. “A full twenty-four hours, which means I owe our aunt a sixpence.”
“An entire day? Surely not!”
“Lizzy, Aunt Madeline says you would not eat a thing, and scarcely slept at all while I was ill.”
As her senses became more focused, realization alighted on Elizabeth, and she sat up straighter. “Jane! You are up – you look very well! How do you feel?”
“Better,” Jane said with a gentle laugh.
“The physician came late in the afternoon yesterday. He suggested I venture downstairs to see if my strength was recovered, and I felt perfectly capable of it. But I was not best pleased to hear that you had wrecked your own health over fear for mine. I have rung for the maid. When your breakfast arrives, I intend to insist upon your eating everything.”
Tears welled in Elizabeth’s eyes. “Oh, Jane! I was so frightened for you!”
“As was I for you, Lizzy,” Jane said evenly. “Our poor aunt has had a very wretched time, worrying over us, and I am ashamed to say we have both been the authors of our own dilemmas.”
“Not you, Jane; you were unpardonably prevailed upon by Edward Ferrars,” Elizabeth said, pronouncing that gentleman’s name as if it were an epithet. “But I am indeed entirely to blame for neglecting myself. And now Lydia – I suppose you have heard?”
Jane’s expression turned serious. “I daresay I have heard more than you, Lizzy.”
“Have you had more news of her?” Elizabeth furrowed her brow, trying to recall with greater clarity the information in the letter her aunt had received the previous morning.
“I fear Mr. Wickham is a desperate man, for he never showed Lydia any greater interest than what was polite in the face of her forwardness. He pursued Mary King for her fortune, and I might have forgiven him the necessity of it, had he not returned to Meryton ready to resume our friendship as if it never happened. And now Lydia – I worry she has exaggerated her share of what our uncle set aside for Mamma. To actually run away together – how thoughtless, how unnecessary! I am sure Mamma would have given her consent, and it would take very little for her to persuade Papa….”
“Lizzy, there is more I must tell you – more you ought to know.” Jane reached into her pocket and handed Elizabeth a small bundle of letters.
“Oh! Our letters from Marianne and Elinor. I had forgotten.”
“As did I. But I think you must read the postscript of Elinor’s first letter.”
Elizabeth did as she was bid, and after reading what her cousins had learned of Mr. Wickham’s character, a few tears spilled down her cheeks. “Good God, I had no idea he was such a villain! I ought to have, for his slander of Miss Darcy was proven false the moment I met her.”
“And his slander of Mr. Darcy.” This was the nearest Jane had ever come to saying ‘I told you so,’ and Elizabeth could only hang her head in shame.
“Now I fear Lydia is in terrible danger,” Elizabeth said at last.
“Lizzy.” Jane shot her a warning glance as a maid entered to bring in a breakfast tray laden with all of Elizabeth’s favorites – coddled eggs, warm muffins with strawberry preserves, sausage, honey cakes, and hot chocolate in place of tea.
Elizabeth’s mouth instantly watered, and it was no great difficulty to remain silent until the maid had gone, for Elizabeth was instantly attacking her repast.
For several minutes, Jane allowed Elizabeth to eat in silence.
When her urgent hunger was sated, Elizabeth continued to eat out of sheer misery.
Finally, Jane asked, “What exactly happened with Mr. Darcy yesterday? Aunt Madeline said she had thought he intended to propose to you, but she heard raised voices and found you weeping before you collapsed.”
Elizabeth groaned as she finished the last of the strawberry preserves.
“Did he… did he say anything to Aunt Madeline about our quarrel? It is a blur to me, but I believed I blamed him for all my troubles. I was completely out of my mind. I know we spoke of Mr. Wickham, and now I am sure I made a complete cake of myself, given what I have just learned.”
“I am sorry I did not show you the letters sooner,” Jane said. “Perhaps it might have made some little difference.”
“I doubt it. I was a deranged harridan; he will never wish to speak to me again. I even blamed him for Mr. Ferrars – who, by the by, I vaguely recall cursing and assaulting at some point in yesterday’s parade of ill-fated morning calls.”
Jane turned pink and gave a soft chuckle, smiling despite Elizabeth’s recitation of her transgressions. “Oh, no – that was Mr. Willoughby, though I believed he received the share of your wrath meant for his rival.”
Elizabeth tipped her head to one side as she looked at her sister with confusion, but Jane glanced down into her lap as if trying to conceal some private amusement.
“Well, I am glad you think this amusing, Jane, but you baffle me exceedingly. I have been utterly horrid, and I daresay I shall be leaving London in disgrace for how I have acted. Even now, I am still a selfish creature. With Lydia in such danger, I can only think of my own wretchedness; how Mr. Darcy must despise me, and congratulate himself on his lucky escape!”
“I am sure he could not have been cross with you, Lizzy, for he carried you upstairs when you fainted; though my aunt would not tell me what he said to her, I believe I can guess.” Jane looked back up at Elizabeth, chewing her lip as her eyes twinkled with mirth.
“I have long suspected Mr. Darcy admires you for your prickly insolence.”
“Even if he once did, it is a hopeless case,” Elizabeth sighed. “He shall hardly wish to call Mr. Wickham brother, or worse yet, form an attachment to a lunatic with a fallen sister. But I ought to think of Lydia. Has Papa arrived? Has he met with Colonel Forster?”
“He has met with two colonels this morning, for Colonel Brandon was also here, and of great assistance,” Jane said. “Are you ready to come downstairs?”
Elizabeth practically leapt from the bed and promptly burst out laughing when she caught sight of herself in the mirror.
She was still wearing the gown she had put on yesterday, though it was comically rumpled now.
Her hair had been unkempt and hastily braided yesterday morning; presently, it resembled a wild animal perched atop her head.
She arched an eyebrow and met Jane’s eye in the mirror.
“Yes, Jane, I am quite ready to face the day.”
Jane laughed softly and opened Elizabeth’s armoire, retrieving her favorite green day dress.
She helped Elizabeth dress and brush her hair out before pinning it back up.
The two sisters fell into a comfortable silence, though Elizabeth’s mind was in conflicted confusion.
She knew she must devote herself to helping her father however she could in their efforts to recover Lydia, but her mind was constantly tugged back into a miserable reverie of how she had ruined everything with Mr. Darcy.
How Jane could be so serene, even cheerful, at such a time was beyond Elizabeth’s comprehension.
Jane had just declared that Elizabeth looked lovely – which hardly seemed to matter while they were in such a crisis – when the sounds of a carriage in the street below drew Jane to the window.
She let out a little squeal of excitement, then seized Elizabeth by the hand and practically dragged her from the room.
Jane flew down the stairs, and as three guests were admitted to the house, she hurled herself into Mr. Willoughby’s arms as Sophie and Mrs. Hatchard joyously exclaimed their congratulations.
Elizabeth followed her sister at a more sedate pace, careful not to swoon again from sheer confusion.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Mr. Willoughby released Jane from his embrace and took a step toward Elizabeth.
He held up his hands as if afraid of her, and then gave a deep, sweeping bow.
“I acted on your advice, Miss Elizabeth, and traveled in all haste to Meryton yesterday. I returned this morning with Marianne’s blessing and, finding your sister blessedly recovered, I threw myself upon her mercy.”
“We are engaged, Lizzy!” Jane smiled brilliantly as she held up their entwined hands.
“I went to retrieve my mother and sister while Jane set about rousing you, so that they might share in our felicity.”
“Oh!” Elizabeth had never been so thoroughly stunned speechless in her life. “You are not pursuing Miss Bingley?”
“I have no need to distract that lady from her pursuit of the viscount, since my darling Jane no longer desires his attentions for herself,” Mr. Willoughby said with a grin.
He took a step closer to Elizabeth and whispered, “And I say we think no more of yesterday, since I was not the only one to be so shockingly knocked on my arse.”
He gave her a roguish wink and Elizabeth responded with astonished laughter. She turned to Jane, having no need to ask if her sister was truly happy, for her sentiments fairly radiated from her, and she looked so perfectly a part of the Hatchards’ family already.
Elizabeth clasped his hands and smiled warmly as she offered her future brother her congratulations, for never had she seen Jane so happy.
She embraced her sister, Mrs. Hatchard, and finally Sophie, whose excitement was nearly incoherent.
And then the parlor door flew open, and Lydia launched herself into the merry commotion.
“Lydia!” Elizabeth embraced her sister and looked to Jane in astonishment. “How is this possible?”