Chapter 1.5
After a warm bath, Elizabeth nestled in the comfort of her bed, suddenly tired and dizzy. Though she covered herself with blankets, she could not stop trembling and laughing at the same time. Her mother was right after all: she would have a red nose at the ball.
Hill entered with her special tea, and sleep finally overcame Elizabeth after finishing a cup, closely watched over by a worried Jane.
A couple of hours later, she opened her eyes—or tried to—hardly noticing Jane and Mr Jones standing near her bed.
She heard them talking but could not understand their words.
Her head ached, and even opening her eyes required too great an exertion.
She felt warm—very warm—and waves of perspiration soaked her gown, causing her to shiver.
How can this be? How can I be so warm and yet shiver so violently?
She could not find an answer to her silent queries, but vague recollections played in her sleepy mind—recollections of that day when she frequently had felt the extremes of burning heat and freezing chills.
His eyes, his hair—wet and curled—his lips pursed together suppressing a smile or revealing anger, and his hands lingering on her shoulders as they wrapped her in blankets.
He was strong yet gentle; never had she thought those long fingers could caress her cold hands so tenderly.
She knew the feeling of his thumb on the back of her hand, and her palm resting within the gentle grasp of his—skin against skin.
How could a man’s hand trouble her so? Every man’s hand was the same, was it not?
Yet, his hand alone made her shiver and burn.
Then there was the expression on his face, lightened or darkened by so many feelings. Feelings? What kind of feelings did he possess? His dark, staring gaze—it was not disdain with which he looked at her; she knew that now, but she did not know what else he felt for her.
She had been so cold, and he was correct to insist that she remove her wet clothing.
She felt only a little better afterwards.
Her skin was wet, cold, and scratched by the dusty blanket.
How would his hands feel on her skin? Would he caress it as tenderly as he had caressed her hands?
She was cold and could not find the warmth she longed for.
His hands would warm her, no doubt. If he burned her through the blanket in only a few moments of resting his fingers on her shoulders, how could she abide his hands on her bare skin?
They would burn her; she knew that. They already did.
Her whole body was on fire. Suddenly, with these thoughts raging through her fevered mind, she was no longer cold.
∞∞∞
That whole afternoon Jane did not move from her sister’s bedside.
Mr Jones said he could not be certain whether it was simply a cold or something more grave. They would have to wait until the next day for him to confirm his diagnosis. He gave his patient some draughts and insisted she be supervised. He warned that her fever could become dangerous.
Jane’s desperation reached its peak as she watched her beloved sister remain barely conscious—mumbling, trembling, and sweating profusely.
Many times she and Hill changed Elizabeth’s clothes as they became drenched in the fever’s grip, and to Jane’s utter surprise as she leaned her ear near to her sister’s lips, she could hear Elizabeth whispering Mr Darcy’s name.
Before dinner, Elizabeth finally awoke. She seemed to feel somewhat better, even managing to smile, and asked for water.
She was given soup—with great insistence that she finish it—and another cup of Hill’s tea containing the draught Mr Jones had prescribed.
She fell asleep again, and this time her sleep was restful.
Jane remained close to her as did Hill. Mary joined them quite early in the morning and insisted that both her sister and Mrs Hill retire for at least a couple of hours before breakfast.
The long rest, the draughts, and Hill’s tea proved effective as the patient awoke completely recovered in the morning.
Elizabeth was almost fully dressed when Jane entered, gasping with pleasure at the image of her sister looking so healthy.
“Good morning, dearest Lizzy. Are you alone? Mary promised to stay with you when I left a couple of hours ago! How are you?”
“I am very well. I sent poor Mary to her room. She looked exhausted while I slept very well and feel quite rested.”
“Thank the Lord. I was so worried! You had been feverish since yesterday afternoon and were largely unconscious. I was so afraid…”
Jane embraced her sister warmly, grateful to see that her worst fears were unfounded. She kissed Lizzy’s cheeks, smiling with relief.
“You should remain in bed—you need rest. You cannot feel well so soon, especially after such an awful time yesterday and so many trying hours.”
Elizabeth returned her smile, blushing. “Well, to be honest it was not such an awful day—I mean yesterday.”
“No, of course not, you are right. You were very lucky meeting Mr Darcy when you did.”
“Yes, I was very lucky. If you only knew—”
“Knew what, Lizzy? Is there something you want to tell me? You know, dearest, last night you mentioned Mr Darcy’s name a few times.”
“I did? Oh dear! Did anyone hear me?”
“No, only I heard—do not worry. But I shall ask you again: Is there something you want to tell me? You seemed to be on friendlier terms with Mr Darcy yesterday. I hope he did not hurt you in any way.”
“Oh no, dearest. And yes, there is something I should like to tell you! To be honest, I shall die if I do not tell you. But please promise not to be upset.”
“Lizzy, how can you even say that? Please tell me. I am so curious.”
“Well, Mr Darcy and I did not meet on my way home. You see…”
Elizabeth recounted for Jane the entire episode, focusing on every detail and every word Darcy had said to her.
Poor Jane listened in astonishment and concern.
Being taken by surprise, she could not hold back a gasp when she heard about her sister being alone with a man in such an improper situation.
She suffered for both of them when told about their misunderstanding.
She was mortified, thinking only of what discomfort her sister must have experienced.
“Oh, Lizzy! I am so grateful to Mr Darcy for all his care. But I can very well understand why you did not reveal the truth earlier.”
“Yes, only think of what Mama would have done! Poor Mr Darcy would have been tied up and dragged to the church in no time—some reward for his chivalry,” said Elizabeth, laughing a little nervously.
“I am afraid he would have been. Dear Mama can be so determined and a little trying at times. Lizzy, you seem to be more inclined to think well of Mr Darcy after everything that happened.”
“Yes, I am. I must confess that I saw a part of his character that I could never have guessed before. He was so caring, so very kind and amiable. Oh, Jane, you would not believe what I discovered! Mr Darcy told me that he admires me greatly. Can that be true, do you think?”
“Dearest Lizzy, do be serious! No, it cannot be. Or can it? I do not mean to imply that Mr Darcy could not admire you, but I know he was not partial towards you, and I know how much you dislike him. Are you trying to laugh at me by deceiving me, Lizzy?”
“I am not deceiving you. He told me that much himself. You can well imagine my surprise on hearing him. And I was amazed at his gallantry and his changed behaviour. Did you notice it?”
“Mr Darcy was indeed very pleasant and polite yesterday except, perhaps, for that comment directed towards poor Mr Collins.”
“Yes, poor Mr Collins! If I still had a remnant of disapproval towards Mr Darcy, it was all gone the moment he changed places with me at breakfast. Now I am sure he must love me madly, for what man in his sane mind would have put himself willingly next to Mr Collins?” Lizzy started to laugh heartily, and Jane could only join her.
“Lizzy, what of Mr Wickham’s story? Do you still believe Mr Darcy capable of such injustice, or have you discovered more about that subject?”
“I confess I did reconsider the whole story, though Mr Darcy did not really say anything about the matter. He did offer to answer any question I might have. Dearest Jane, do you remember when you tried to defend the conduct of each of these men and presumed a mistake or misunderstanding between them occurred? Well, yesterday morning I recalled your words. What puzzled me exceedingly was Mr Darcy’s reaction when I mentioned Miss Darcy.
He seemed to believe that Mr Wickham would spread malicious words about him and his sister.
I must confess: it gave me great discomfort.
I never would have thought Mr Wickham capable of that. ”
“Well, Lizzy, I think we should remember that we have known Mr Wickham only a short time. While he is a very pleasant man and his preference for you is plain, it would be wise to enjoy his company but not trust him implicitly. After all, we do not know anything of his former life.”
“Yes, my sweet Jane, you are wise as usual.”
“Oh, Lizzy, you are teasing me again. I know you have more quickness of observation than do I, but sometimes you are so passionate in your judgments. Now I may confess that I have been a little concerned about your previous decision to favour Mr Wickham so completely after only two days’ acquaintance.
” She blushed saying that—afraid to offend her sister.
Elizabeth began to laugh and was just about to answer her sister when Lydia boisterously entered the room.
“Lizzy, come down at once. Denny, Sanderson, and Wickham are here to call on you. Apparently, they found out about your mad escapade and want to be sure you are all right. Oh, you are so lucky! You will be the centre of their attention at the ball.”
“I sincerely hope you are wrong, Lydia. I have no such aspirations. I should be pleased to have no more attention than usual.”