Chapter Twelve
“Jane, thank God you are come!”
Jane’s eyes welled with tears as she saw Charlotte hurrying down the stairs; she put her arms around her friend and hugged her tight.
“Tell me quickly, how is Lizzy?” she begged desperately. “I came as fast as I could!”
“I did not dare to hope that you should be here so soon, Jane, it is truly wonderful,” Charlotte squeezed her hand.
“Lizzy is a little better. The doctor just left a few minutes ago, he has been marvellous, but he was up all last night birthing Mrs. Gorman’s new babe and had no sleep, I made him go home to eat and rest… ”
Jane did not care, she only wanted to get to her Lizzy. Almost tearing her bonnet ribbons in her haste to remove it, she dragged it from her head and rushed after Charlotte, disregarding Mr. Collins’ petulant voice downstairs remarking about late-arriving guests being a sign of great ill-breeding.
“Oh, Lizzy,” Jane whispered when finally she came into her sister’s presence.
Elizabeth looked so pale, so small and frail.
Sinking to sit on the bed beside her, Jane seized Elizabeth’s hands in hers, chafed them gently.
“I am here now, Lizzy. Your Jane is here. I will not leave you, day or night, until you are well again; I want only to nurse you with the loving devotion you showed me at Netherfield.”
Tears trickling down her cheeks, she kissed Elizabeth’s hands, reached to caress her cheek. “She does not wake, Charlotte?”
“She has roused, but she did not seem to know me; her eyes did not see me. The doctor said that she has done very well to rouse so quickly at all, and he hopes that she will do better tomorrow.”
Jane reached carefully to lift the cloth – the very cold cloth, she found – on Elizabeth’s brow, sucked in a sharply horrified breath at the colour and size of the contusion beneath it.
“Lizzy, oh dear Lord.” She firmed her lips, wiped away the tears on her cheeks.
“You have been icing this, Charlotte? Do you have any fresh ice?”
“Maria has just gone down to get some,” Charlotte nodded, and at that moment Maria scratched at the door.
Soon they had a fresh ice-pack prepared; Charlotte sent Maria to her room for a while and went to get fresh tea.
“Thank you, Charlotte,” Jane said softly as Charlotte handed her a cup. “I do not know what we should do without your kindness.”
Charlotte only shook her head, wondering if she should tell Jane the truth.
It was an unbearable burden for her to carry alone, and one person in Elizabeth’s family should surely know.
Charlotte did not think she could quite bear to speak to Mr. Bennet of it, and any of the other Bennet ladies were quite out of the question, even if they were here.
Jane, though, would never tell the secret, would never judge Elizabeth. And while most people thought Jane Bennet soft and weak, Charlotte knew the strength of the other woman’s character. Taking a deep breath, Charlotte said softly, “Jane, there is something I must tell you.”
Poor Jane, who until that moment had not suspected that such wickedness existed in the world!
She listened with an incredulous expression, with mounting disbelief, to Charlotte’s account.
Until as she finished speaking, Charlotte stood, drew back the blanket covering Elizabeth, and gently unlaced the neck of her nightgown to show the bruises and scrapes upon her bosom.
Charlotte had expected more tears, had expected anguish. She hadn’t expected Jane’s exquisite face to grow as still and cold as though she had been carved from finest marble.
“Who would dare touch my sister so?” Jane snapped, enraged.
“She is by no means unprotected – my father and uncle will see that whoever has done this suffers to the end of his days!” She retied Elizabeth’s nightgown with fingers that shook with rage, covered her sister gently.
“We will find the miscreant who has done this foul deed,” she said, her voice ringing with righteous rage. “And we will make him pay.”
Mr. Collins, preparing for bed in his own room nearby, heard Jane’s raised voice, her angry vow, and began to tremble. Crawling under the bedcovers, he closed his eyes tight, but sleep did not come to him that night.
Jane ground her teeth, slowly stilling her rage. In all her life, she had never been one fraction so angry as she felt in that moment. If she could only lay her hands on the fiend who had so injured her Lizzy, she thought that she might have torn him limb from limb her own self!
Charlotte spoke to her, asking how she came to arrive so fast, and Jane managed to gather her wits enough to respond tolerably, explaining how she had caught the post and fortuitously met with Mr. Darcy at Sevenoaks.
“Mr. Darcy was at Sevenoaks?” Charlotte asked in confusion.
“Indeed, which seems odd indeed. He said that he should call here tomorrow morning? But has he not been staying with his aunt? In her last letter Lizzy wrote that you had all dined at Rosings Park with Mr. Darcy and his cousin, a Colonel something or other…”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam, indeed,” puzzled, Charlotte shook her head.
“Well, I daresay that shall be explained tomorrow.” Looking at Elizabeth, resting quietly just now, she reached out and touched Jane’s hand.
“Come, we must pass the time somehow. Will you not tell me of what you have been doing in London?”
They talked until very late, until Charlotte’s eyes grew heavy and she struggled to stay awake. Jane reached out and grasped her shoulder lightly.
“Please, Charlotte, go and get some rest,” Jane roused her friend gently. “I will stay with Lizzy.”
Weary, but unutterably glad to no longer be bearing the burden of her secret alone, Charlotte stood and hugged Jane. “Bolt the door behind me, dear Jane,” she murmured quietly before taking her leave.
Obeying Charlotte’s directive, Jane paused to look around the room.
The fire was burning low, so she added another log, checked Elizabeth’s brow.
It was too warm; but considering what Charlotte had told her, it would be no surprise if Lizzy was to suffer at least a little fever, lying in a cold stream for who knew how long!
Gently, Jane dampened a cloth and wiped her sister’s face and hands, seeking to cool her.
Elizabeth woke a few times in the night, mumbling and tossing about, her eyes opening, but as Charlotte had said she did not seem truly aware of her surroundings. She quieted again when Jane spoke to her gently and stroked her brow, and once she whispered Jane’s name.
A little after dawn, Elizabeth’s fever broke and her skin once again felt cool.
Sighing with relief, Jane stood and stretched wearily, going to peer out of the window.
Exhausted herself, Jane thought that she might just lie down beside Elizabeth for a little while.
Curling a protective arm around her sister, she fell asleep within moments.
Jane woke to find Lizzy muttering in her sleep “No! Mr. Darcy, no!” Tears leaked from beneath her closed eyelids.
“Hush, Lizzy, hush,” Jane soothed gently, stroking Elizabeth’s hair. “It is all right. Your Jane is here with you.”
“You must not, Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth sobbed, and Jane redoubled her efforts to soothe her. Finally, Elizabeth quieted and drifted back into a deeper sleep, leaving Jane unnerved and jittery.
Surely not, she thought, gazing at the slowly brightening window.
Surely Mr. Darcy could not possibly have done this.
But Charlotte had, after all, said that he had been in their company several times and she believed he admired Lizzy.
Had he, perhaps, made a less than honourable offer and become angry when Lizzy refused him?
Jane did not want to believe it, but the inescapable fact was that somebody had done this terrible thing to Elizabeth, and Lizzy herself was the only person who could tell them who.