Hours later, Elizabeth woke with a vile taste in her mouth and instinctively leaned over as she began to toss up the liquid contents of her stomach onto the bare floor. Her head spun so mercilessly, the creak of the bedroom door took a moment to register in her throbbing head. Once it did, she cried in panic and rolled off the bed to retreat to the far side of the room, an action that immediately flooded her senses with pain once she stopped.
“Miss, miss . . . ” Anna, the maid who traveled with Elizabeth whispered just inside the door jamb. “Come quickly, there's not much time.”
“Where . . .” Elizabeth's voice broke in a sob she managed to silence with a gulp of air, “where is he?”
“He sleeps. Hurry, there's no time.” Anna's hand beckoned her employer's niece to leave as she stood lookout.
Elizabeth tried to stand, but found she could not properly manage. Half crawling, half stumbling, she made it to the door only to find the room and stairs spinning madly out of focus. She blinked and blinked, and could see that Mrs. Plummer, the kind cook, stood by ready to open the front door. Despite the pain and nausea, Elizabeth managed to remember how she traversed the stairs back when her ankle was broken.
Although unladylike, she scooted and slid step by step, holding onto the railing to steady herself though her eyes told her she was as if adrift in the ocean. As she reached the front door, Mrs. Plummer hastily opened it and the noise startled Mr. Collins napping in his study.
As Elizabeth heard his voice call out, adrenaline took over and she bolted out the door, vaguely hearing it slam behind her. For a moment she thought to run to Rosings, but feared Collins would catch up with her assuming she'd go in that direction. Turning around, she ran south.
She fell and got back up what must have been a dozen times. Her hands shook in pain, caked in mud, but she refused to stop. What felt like an eternity brought her to the doorstep of a familiar place and slumped to the ground, she hit the door with all of the strength she had left.
The patting on the door barely registered a sound, and Elizabeth had no voice to call out with. Breathing labored, she kept banging on the door, or so she thought, until her strength and injuries threatened to overwhelm her.
“See Momma, Miss Bennet is here!” a young girl's voice cried out as she opened the door and Elizabeth spilled onto the floor of the Holbein cottage.
“Good Heavens! Petey, run now, fetch Mr. Darcy! Don't stop running, boy, all the way to the big house!” Diana Holbein shouted as she struggled forward though her advancing condition prevented her from moving easily. “Miss Bennet? Miss Bennet? You must wake dear and help me get you to a chair. Come, come, up we go now.”
Elizabeth heard Diana Holbein's voice coming to her as if in a dream. Her mouth tasted funny again, and as she moved to retch, somehow she managed to lift herself with Diana's assistance. She apologized for the insult, but her words came out funny.
“Lord help me in heaven, whoever did this to you deserves a month in stocks!”
“Collins,” Elizabeth spat out his name and she lolled her head, her neck not strong enough to hold her up.
“No, no, now you stay awake. Mr. Darcy will be here soon.”
Elizabeth tried to look at Diana's face but she kept seeing two of the very nice woman. And she was so very tired. Why couldn't she just sleep until Fitzwilliam arrived?
“Elizabeth! Wake up!” Diana called out, keeping her vigil over the young woman. Her husband's career of a lumber jack had long taught her the danger of letting one sleep after a blow to the head. The men would poke and prod to keep a fellow jack alert as long as possible, twas the only chance for survival.
“Dear, you sleep now you may never wake up. It's a right nasty blow to your head from the bump on your brow.” Mrs. Holbein accepted a small pail of cool water carried in with mighty effort by young Mary Jane. Dipping her apron into the water, she dabbed Elizabeth's face and the cold made her jerk in response.
“Ssh, careful, careful now love. Easy does it.”
The sound of a horse outside the cottage announced the arrival of Mr. Darcy who stormed in without invitation. Spying his Elizabeth in a heap in the chair, he collapsed to the floor and took her into his arms just as Mrs. Holbein moved out of the way.
“Lizzie, my Lizzie. My darling, I'm here. I'm here.”
“Fitz . . .” Elizabeth managed before slipping back out of consciousness.