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“A putrid fever” was the apothecary’s diagnosis that sent Bingley’s sisters fleeing from their new home and barred Jane's mother and remaining sisters from visiting.
Elizabeth proclaimed she had nursed her younger sisters through the illness and had no fear of it. Bingley asserted to be unafraid, desiring to stay under the same roof with Jane, but Mr. Jones overruled him after having questioned him closely and finding no history of his having survived the sickness.
Darcy surprised them all by revealing that he had nursed his mother and taken no infection — and by declaring his intention of staying to aid their stricken visitor.
With Bingley, his sisters and Mr. Hurst went most of the servants, leaving behind a few who declared themselves invulnerable to the contagion.
Darcy’s self-condemnation for having judged Miss Elizabeth for having come unnecessarily compelled him to make this redress.
Of course it was not the prospect of many days spent in close quarters with her, witnessing the care she lavished on her beloved sister, sharing the intimacy of a sickroom with the spirited country girl.
He was much too prudent for that.
Once the house was near emptied, every footstep seemed loud as he lingered near Jane’s room, waiting to be needed. Soon, Mr. Jones was calling for him.
Jane drowsed, nearly insensible and mumbling with fever. Elizabeth hovered over her, her eyes nearly fever-bright.
“Mr. Darcy, please escort this young lady to her room. I have ordered her to rest, and she refuses. If she exerts herself so, she will surely fall prey to this fever, which has a dangerous quality I cannot ignore.”
Elizabeth, though clearly tired, protested that she could not leave Jane’s side.
“You will or I will write your father and he will bring you home, himself,” Jones threatened.
With tears in her eyes, Elizabeth submitted and took Mr. Darcy’s proffered arm, allowing him to escort her from the room.
As the door closed behind them, she gave way to tears.
“Your sister is in capable hands,” Darcy said comfortingly, offering his handkerchief. “Please, do not over worry yourself.”
She stemmed the tide of tears with his flawless linen, then, clutching it, looked up at him.
“You do not know my sister, sir, or you would not wonder at my care for her. She is the best person I know, and I cannot bear that Mr. Jones will not let me be of service to her.”
“We must accept his judgment that the best way you can serve her now is to rest. She may be sick for many days, and you must be able to sit long watches, which you cannot do if exhausted.”
His eyes were full of sympathy as he looked down on her. Keenly he remembered having made a similar plea when sent to bed during his mother’s illness.
He considered the concern on her countenance. She did not look like she could sleep, even if bidden.
“Shall you sit out here in the hallway?” he offered. “You would be closer at hand, and perhaps you might doze a bit.”
“The very thing,” she cried. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”
She entered her room and brought out a chair. As she maneuvered the awkward object through the doorway, Darcy hastened to help her and position the chair to her need.
She settled into the seat, fixing her gaze on Jane’s door.
“Do you stand watch here long?” she asked him.
“I offered my help, and Mr. Jones has not yet dismissed me,” he replied.
She nodded and spared him a glance. He was so much more… human, under these circumstances than in the drawing room.
“I believe Mr. Jones has long served your family,” he observed.
“Yes, Papa knew him from school. He saw us all through everything, from teething to falling off a horse.”
“Which of you fell off a horse?” he asked.
“All of us, at one time or another, save Jane,” she replied. “But it was I who sprained my ankle so badly that he wouldn’t allow me to walk out for a month. It vexed me so that to this day I never ride if I can help it. I much prefer to walk.”
“That explains how you are such an accomplished walker,” he observed, smiling slightly.
“Does your sister prefer to ride or to walk?” she asked.
“She likes both. Her mare is exceptionally gentle, so we never feared her being thrown, but we have so many favorite walks at home that we are always afoot as well.”
She smiled at the picture of sibling concord.
“Did you train her mare, yourself?” she asked.
“I did,” he admitted.
“I thought so,” she said.
“I wonder why,” he replied.
She considered for a moment before replying.
“I’m not sure what it is about you that says you are a good and dutiful brother, but it is unmistakable now that I look,” she declared.
He smiled.
“I try. She is a dear girl.”
“I hope she has never been seriously sick,” she said.
“Never dangerously so,” he replied.
“Jane has never been so ill before, which is why I worry so,” she confided.
“It is fortunate that her long-time attendant is by her side,” he observed. “And that her sister is ready to be of service to her.”
“Is that a reminder that Mr. Jones said that I ought to be asleep?” she inquired.
“Do you think you might sleep?” he asked gently.
She sighed.
“You will wake me, if she needs me?” she said, rising.
He assured her that he would and saw her slip into her room, insisting upon another assurance that he would wake her promptly. He smiled and promised, then sat himself on her chair to wait.
Mr. Jones exited the room silently and his eyes alighted on Darcy still sitting by.
“Miss Elizabeth went to bed quietly?” he asked, somewhat surprised.
“After only a few minutes’ talk about the rigors of nursing,” Darcy explained.
“Good man,” Jones said. “You know how it is at a sickbed, and I’m afraid that Jane is very sick, though stable for the moment. I must send for a nurse to help with her attendance. Would you summon a servant?”
Darcy hastened to obey while Mr. Jones went back to check on his patient.
Elizabeth woke sometime later. The gray November sky seemed unchanged, though it seemed hours since she had lain down. She had slept not at all the previous night, and she felt all the disorientation of thoroughly disrupted sleep.
She poked her head out the door and saw Mr. Darcy, still sitting by.
“All is still well?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied, rising. “Mr. Jones said that your sister’s condition was stable. He has sent for a skilled nurse to assist him.”
She pursed her lips unhappily for a moment. For her aid to be so spurred in favor of a stranger’s displeased her.
“It is difficult to step aside for those more practiced than we to take charge of our loved ones,” he said sympathetically.
“It is,” she admitted, tears starting from her eyes.
She looked so miserable and was standing so near that it was impossible to not close his arms about her and tender her a comforting embrace.
She looked up at him as he drew back.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy, you are most kind,” she said, settling herself into the chair.
They waited in comfortable silence for some time. Darcy looked to see that she had dozed off in the chair, leaning over so that her head drooped. He moved to stand next to her that her head might be supported against his hip and looked down at her glossy hair, escaping from its bands to curl charmingly about her temples.
It was easy to see her as drowsing while she awaited word of her child — their child, his heart insisted. Such thoughts had given him pause once or twice in the preceding days, but now, in her presence, they gave only pleasure. A smile of deep delight curved his lips as he regarded her. With difficulty he restrained himself from laying his hand upon her locks in a comforting caress.
Before he would have wished it, she moved and started to awaken. He quickly stepped to the side as her head left his leg, the spot now feeling cold absent her touch.
“Did I sleep long?” she asked, stretching herself.
“Not at all,” he replied.
She regarded the closed door with unhappiness.
“When Kitty and Lydia were ill, there was always something to be done. This waiting is most wearing,” she complained.
“Mr. Jones must be obeyed as the captain of a ship at sea,” he replied. “Particularly as he has made it clear that mutineers will be marooned.”
She laughed, and his heart leapt in his chest at the sound.
“You must be such a comfort to your sister,” she observed, rising to pace the corridor. He leaned back against the wall to watch her.
“I hope so. She seems content at her establishment south of town.”
“She is not yet out, I understand.”
“Not for at least two more years, but she seems to enjoy the innocent entertainments of Ramsgate, and the air there is thought to be very good.”
“Do you fear for her health?”
“Derbyshire is very cold in the winter, and my father blamed himself for not bringing my mother south the winter she took the illness that claimed her life. He asked me to never make the same mistake with Georgiana.”
“A diligent brother, indeed,” she said. “One can only imagine you will be an exemplary father as well.”
He blushed, her remarks veering too close to his private thoughts — that she would be an exemplary mother and lead him by her example.
Fortunately her pacing had her facing from him, and by the time she turned back, the crimson had fled from his cheek.
“Do you think he might let me sit by her now?” she asked as she made another turning.
He counseled her to wait until called for, that having served him best at other sickbeds.
Fortunately her patience was not tried too much longer and the apothecary emerged, pleased to see Elizabeth looking rested and at the ready.
Eagerly she went to her sister’s side, patiently listening to Mr. Jones instructions on her care at this stage. Darcy moved to her chair, her lingering warmth compensating for her absense.
Jones emerged an hour later to dismiss Darcy to rest and food, saying that as soon as the professional nurse arrived, that he would send Miss Elizabeth out, whereupon she would need to rest herself, as he thought a crisis might come upon Jane in the night, requiring all their strength to overcome.
Though he hungered, Darcy awaited her emergence that they might dine together.
Soon the nurse arrived and Elizabeth was dismissed. She quit the room reluctantly and Darcy escorted her to the dining room. They ate side by side, Elizabeth quietly confiding the proceedings.
Jane was not herself, unable to speak coherently, evidently suffering greatly. She feared the coming crises of fever, and solemnly Darcy assured her that the case was in competent hands. She leaned toward him and he wrapped an arm about her shoulders, feeling a great kindling of warmth within.
She made small sounds of comfort as he held her, which encouraged him to let his arm remain. Almost did she drift to sleep thus comforted, then did she look up at him, smiling, declaring him a pillar of support. His returning smile was so warm that she nestled against him, her cheek against his breast as his arm enclosed her.
She wished the arms of their chairs did not interpose themselves so, but then the next course arrived and they separated, reluctantly.
After they ate, a servant summoned Elizabeth and she reported to Jane’s room. Mr. Jones let her sit for some time, enough that she was assured that Jane was not increasing in danger, before dismissing her to rest ahead of the night to come, when she might be urgently needed.
She left the room, closing the door behind her, to see Darcy, his eyes warm with sympathy upon her, rising from her seat to offer it to her.
“He said I must rest, but I know not how I may,” she confided. “I so dread the coming ordeal that he says Jane must pass through.”
“Then you must rest, Elizabeth,” he said. “I will fetch you when you are needed.”
“Might I sit out here? We could fetch another chair and you could sit by me.”
He bade her sit while he found another chair and placed it as close to hers as he might, settling himself in by her. She leaned her head against his shoulder and he put his arm about her. She sighed and nestled into him as much as the chairs allowed.
Time passed in silence as they waited. Darcy dozed, leaning against her, then awakened, unsure of how long he had slept, to find her crying softly, leaned away from him, bent over the far arm of her chair.
Filled with the need to comfort her, he gathered her to him, bringing her limp form onto his lap to cradle her in his arms. Murmuring her name, he rocked her gently, kissing the top of her head as he pressed her softly to his breast.
Comforted, she fell asleep and he followed her.
When she woke, her cheek was pressed against his shoulder, her arms about his chest, her knees tucked in by his side as he held her to him.
His head drooped over hers, and she felt enclosed in solace. She was placing tiny kisses all over what of his breast she could reach without disturbing him. He suddenly breathed deep, his arms tightening around her and his lips coming to rest on her hair. The moment felt boundless, yet infinitely precious.
“Darling Elizabeth,” she heard him murmur. At what point did he start calling her by her Christian name? It hardly seemed to matter. The sound of her name on his lips was perfect and she relished each repetition.
She knew she ought to get down, to admit herself comforted and go back to sitting beside him, but it was too delicious, to be cradled in his arms with his voice rumbling in his chest by her ear. She bade all else wait while she savored this beautiful warmth.
She raised her head and his kisses found her forehead. His lips against the skin of her face was ecstasy, and her lips ached to know that gentle touch. She lifted her chin slowly, his lips tracing a line down over her eye lid and cheek to find her lips.
She was too wonderful to even attempt to resist. Each kiss he pressed to her lips pledged his honor and soon he found himself inexorably twined with her in every way.
“Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,” he murmured.
“My Mr. Darcy,” she said wonderingly.
What had seemed impossible to him now felt inevitable. She felt his lips curve into a smile against her cheek and again his voice rumbled in her ear.
“Might I count myself yours? May I call upon you, once your sister is well?”
Her hand flew to his forehead, searching for sign of menacing heat.
“I am quite well, Elizabeth,” he said calmly, enjoying her ministrations. “It is not fever that speaks, but my deepest yearning.”
Her eyes grew wide as she comprehended his meaning. The dark and the comfort of his embrace made her speak freely.
“Dear Mr. Darcy, you are too kind. But… I have a near relation in trade, another a lawyer, and Longbourn, itself, is entailed away to a cousin.”
“And I must confess an irascible aunt whom we shall have to visit each Easter and invite to Christmas, when we can’t avoid it. Also a scoundrel god-brother and a wastrel cousin who will doubtless bring shame upon the family when he inherits,” Darcy admitted, holding her closer. “Will you help me bear it?
Pity joined forces with attraction and the marvelous comfort that he had afforded her.
“I will,” she said, sealing her promise with a kiss.
“Good,” he said, then placed his hands on her waist and reluctantly picked her up to set her before him, rising to embrace her briefly.
“I think I see first light. Shall we dare to check on your sister?” he asked.
They walked cautiously the few feet to the door and Elizabeth peeked in. Mr. Jones was asleep, fallen back in his chair. The nurse was tending Jane, who slept peacefully. She looked up and came to the hallway, shutting the door behind.
“The crisis Mr. Jones anticipated did not come,” she explained briskly. “Instead her fever has reduced steadily. We anticipate she will soon begin to mend. Mr. Jones will not need you until the afternoon, I think, and you should rest until then.”
She turned and re-entered the room.
Elizabeth turned to Darcy with joy and threw her arms about him. He picked her up against him and walked them away from the door, back toward their chairs.
“Did you hear, Mr. Darcy? Jane will be well!” she cried softly.
He offered congratulations upon the happy announcement.
“Do you now feel safe in seeking repose?” he asked.
“I could not sleep for all the world. Could you?”
He agreed that he could not and proposed that they seek breakfast instead.
They broke their fast in the morning room then sat, side by side on a chaise, their arms about one another, her cheek resting on his breast.
“I do not know when I have ever been so happy,” she told him.
“I shan’t attempt to puzzle out who is more responsible for your happiness,” he replied. “As I am sure to come out second to Miss Bennet.”
“You know me well already, sir,” she replied promptly. “Jane always comes first with me.”
“I would not seek to displace her in your affections, only to make some little room for myself.”
“That would be a challenge, indeed, for already you occupy abundant room,” she said, squeezing him tightly.
He rested his chin atop her head and gathered her to himself more firmly.
“The halls of your heart must rival a palace in spaciousness,” he observed.
“Right now they feel as large as a cathedral,” she declared. “And yours?”
“Only the downs of Derbyshire can provide an apt metaphor, as when one stands upon them, they seem boundless.”
She twisted in his lap that she might kiss him.
“You are quite noble to feel so strongly for me, as you regard me as only tolerably handsome,” she said teasing.
He flushed with embarrassment.
“I spoke both unkindly and untruthfully at the assembly,” he confessed. “I did find you handsome, though not nearly as beautiful as I now find you.”
“Yet then I was most carefully dressed, while now I must be a fright.”
He brushed a stray curl away from her face, his other hand holding her to him firmly.
“To me you are beauty, itself,” he said, his eyes warm upon her.
“That is well, if only so that I might not be such a terrible mismatch for your rather excessive handsomeness.”
“You think me handsome?” he asked, surprised.
“Do you tease me, Mr. Darcy? I know you must possess at least one mirror.”
“I always thought my face rather odd,” he confided.
She allowed her hands to caress his cheeks.
“Then we must seek an expert in vision for you, for you are so gorgeous that I wonder that anyone saw you for your thousands and acres rather than for your masculine beauty,” she declared.
“I always assumed that they did only see me for my possessions,” he admitted.
“What a grand humility to count among them,” she said, smiling at him. “If we also account for your great kindness, your wealth is indeed beyond compare.”
“I find it very easy to be kind to you, Elizabeth,” he said.
“You must. I expected to end your attentions to me when I refused to dance with you at Sir William’s party.”
“You only increased in fascination for me,” he confessed.
“How very fortunate for me, as I’m not sure that I should have come through Jane’s illness tolerably without your kindness.”
“I find myself in the odd position of being grateful that your sister fell ill, else I might not have had the opportunity to get to know you on such an intimate footing.”
She was kissing his brow while he spoke and paused to look him in the eye.
“As she is mending, I shan’t hold it against you. Particularly as you keep holding me against you, which is most marvelously delightful.”
“It is perilously easy for me to think of us as on our honeymoon and the servants carefully leaving us alone,” he confessed.
“I suppose they might not come across us if we remove to the library. But then they might not find us if Jane needs me,” she frowned in consternation, considering, still holding him.
He showered kisses on her temple.
“Darling Elizabeth. We mustn’t think of depriving your sister of your services. We still have some hours before afternoon, though. Do you think you might sleep a little?”
“Only if I am beside you,” she declared stoutly.
“Then we may as well stay here. I am prepared to assuage any servant’s shock by explaining that we are betrothed. Your father and the vicar are but a step away — the bishop only a step further.”
She playfully pushed Darcy’s broad shoulder.
“Are you trying to shock me, Mr. Darcy?” she asked.
“No, to wed with you, Elizabeth,” he answered, bringing her lips to his for another kiss.