Jane held Elizabeth’s hand tightly as the carriage slowed to a stop at Longbourn. The skies were already growing dark, but the night had yet to fall completely. The journey had been filled with anxiety and worry for their youngest sister, but they had arrived back home with remarkable speed. The Gardiners’ footman had pushed himself and the horses to the breaking point, and Elizabeth was grateful to both man and beast.
“She shall be fine,” Elizabeth whispered to Jane, wishing she believed her own reassuring words.
Mr. Bennet’s letter had sounded so confident in the light of day, but the long journey had robbed both sisters of the certainty that Lydia would carry through her illness. Pneumonia was particularly frightening—Elizabeth found it impossible not to dwell upon the memories of friends and loved ones falling to the fearsome sickness.
“She will,” Jane agreed, her wavering voice and continued grip upon Elizabeth’s hand betraying her true feelings on the matter.
The sisters sat in silence for a moment when the carriage came to a full stop. Neither wanted to open the door to the mystery that awaited them within Longbourn. However, they were forced into motion when the footman opened the door for them.
Stepping out into the cool evening air, Elizabeth took in the home she had not seen for some weeks. From the outside, the familiar house gave no indication of what transpired within. However, no one ran to meet them—as surely would have happened under normal circumstances. It was still too early for bedtime, and it was a rare moment indeed when one or more of the Bennet girls was not sitting at the window, on the lookout for potential guests.
“We’d best not tarry,” Jane said, moving towards the front door.
Elizabeth stood rooted on the spot, the dread that had been building for hours momentarily robbing her of the ability to walk. Taking a deep breath, she forced her feet to make the agonising steps to the door. Jane pushed into the house, Elizabeth only a few steps behind.
The entryway seemed cold and shadowed, missing the usual warmth brought on by the excitable residents of the house. Elizabeth had never before realised the impact her family had upon their surroundings. But now that it was missing, it was if the house had fallen into some sort of disrepair.
Mrs. Hill, the housekeeper, walked across the hall absentmindedly, not noticing Jane and Elizabeth until she had nearly entered the room to which she was walking.
“Miss Jane! Miss Elizabeth! Forgive me, we weren’t expecting you until tomorrow,” Hill said, dropping quickly into a curtsy.
“How is she?” Jane asked immediately, rushing forward and taking hold of Hill’s hands.
“She is quite ill,” Hill said sadly. Elizabeth saw anguish in the old woman’s eyes, and the dread rose once more.
Hill had served the Bennet family for as long as Elizabeth could remember, and she loved each Bennet girl dearly. Lydia’s illness must have her as worried as any member of the family. To see the sadness on Hill’s face seemed to confirm Elizabeth’s worst fears.
“The doctor is with her now,” Hill continued. “Your mother and father and sisters are with her as well. Even in her illness, Miss Lydia demands the company of others.” Hill gave a small chuckle.
“That is a relief,” Jane said with a smile. “For if Lydia is well enough to demand entertainment, then she cannot be too ill.”
Elizabeth smiled thinly as well, hoping rather than believing Jane’s optimistic words.
“Perhaps we should join them?” Elizabeth said to Jane in a pointed manner. If the doctor was with Lydia, she wanted to know what he had to say. It was worrisome that the doctor was visiting so late into the evening, and Hill’s words had done nothing to ease her fears. A pit was forming in her stomach. She needed to see her sister.
“Of course,” Hill said quickly. “Do not bother yourself about the luggage. I shall take care of everything.”
“Thank you,” Jane said, handing over her bonnet and cloak. “Uncle Gardiner’s footman is outside with the carriage and the horses, so they will need to be looked after as well.”
“It shall be done, miss,” Hill said, turning to take Elizabeth’s outerwear.
Elizabeth handed it over and smoothed her travel-worn dress. She was impressed by Jane’s presence of mind—it had not occurred to her that the carriage and horses would need seeing to as well. Even in crisis, Jane’s first instinct was to ensure everyone and everything was taken care of. Her presence would benefit everyone. Elizabeth was unsure hers would have the same positive impact.
The climb up the stairs felt as if it would stretch on forever. Elizabeth felt like she was at war within herself. Part of her wanted to rush to Lydia’s bedside, to know exactly the situation. Another part took comfort in the mystery of things—so long as there was no confirmation of Lydia’s condition, Elizabeth was free to imagine her vivacious sister as perfectly healthy. However, the mystery also served to enhance the poor picture Elizabeth built, the one in which Lydia fought for every breath and struggled to speak through wracking coughs.
As they reached the top of the stairs, Elizabeth could hear quiet murmurs coming from Lydia and Kitty’s room. Jane did not hesitate for an instant before knocking and pushing the door open to join the crowded bedside.
“Jane!” Mrs. Bennet’s cry cut through the air and all other conversation ceased in an instant. “Lizzy! Thank God you are here.” She immediately burst into tears and Jane hurried to her side. Elizabeth could see that Mrs. Bennet’s favourite chair had been moved into the room and it looked as if she had not left Lydia’s side in days.
Elizabeth looked around and saw their father standing with Dr. Morris at the foot of the bed. Kitty sat on the bed next to Lydia, while Mary sat in the far corner, away from everyone. With so many people in the room, it felt stifling. Mr. Bennet gave Elizabeth a small smile and nodded his greeting.
“Apologies for interrupting,” Elizabeth said, giving Dr. Morris a small curtsy. “We could hear that you were discussing something before we joined. Please continue.”
“Yes,” Dr. Morris said, clearing his throat.
Elizabeth could see the old man looked annoyed, and he eyed Mrs. Bennet warily. Elizabeth had always known that he was not comfortable around people—especially women—when they were distressed. She could see a sweat had broken out across the doctor’s forehead and she pitied the man. Had Mrs. Bennet forced him to come here so late into the day?
“As I was saying, she is quite ill. Her condition does not seem to have improved since my last visit. It has not worsened either, but I had hoped that she would have been doing better by now. As it is, I still have hopes for her full recovery, but she must remain in bed, resting, for as long as it takes for the sickness to leave her and her strength to return. Weeks, at the very least.”
“Oh, Lord,” Elizabeth said softly, covering her mouth with her hand.
She forced herself to look at Lydia, lying in the bed. Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes closed. Elizabeth could hear her rasping breaths, and could almost feel the feverish heat coming off her. Tears fell down Elizabeth’s cheeks. She had never imagined that dear, sweet, silly, energetic, and lively Lydia could be brought so low. Now, she could understand why her mother might have demanded the doctor here so late in the evening. Lydia was in poor health, indeed.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Mr. Bennet said gravely.
He walked over to his sobbing wife, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It will be alright,” Elizabeth heard him murmur softly. “We will do everything we can to make her better.”
Elizabeth could hear the strain in his voice. She could tell her father was trying to remain strong, but she knew him well enough to know his internal struggles.
“You are going to be alright, my sweet girl,” Mrs. Bennet said, smoothing Lydia’s blankets. Tears brimmed her eyes as she took a cloth from a bowl on the side table and gently wiped Lydia’s feverish face. The sight was almost too much for Elizabeth to bear.
“Yes, Mama, I could have told you that,” Lydia said, opening her eyes to focus on her mother. “I’ll be out of bed soon enough, you’ll see.”
The weakness in her sister’s voice—missing the usual laughter and excitement for life—was painful to hear. But Elizabeth took heart that Lydia was able to speak and offer their mother comfort. Surely, she could not be in too much danger if she could do such things.
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Morris said, staring at the ceiling. “I’m sorry I cannot offer more hopeful news.”
Mr. Bennet waved his hand dismissively.
“Thank you, doctor,” he said. “For all that you have done.”
“I shall return next week to check on her,” Dr. Morris replied, closing his bag and readying himself to take his leave. “Call for me if she worsens.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth echoed her father, curtsying to the doctor.
Mr. Bennet left Mrs. Bennet’s side to accompany the doctor out, and Elizabeth took his place beside their mother. She squeezed her mother’s shoulder lightly, hoping to offer her some comfort.
“Welcome home, Jane, Lizzy,” Lydia said softly. “I’m…”
Her words were cut off by a cough that tore through her body. Elizabeth winced at the sound.
Lydia caught her breath, and looked at her sister. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, you heard what the doctor said. I shall be fine so long as I stay in bed.”
Her voice was frail, but Elizabeth smiled nonetheless, impressed that her sister had such an attitude. Usually, when Lydia was ill, she whined and complained without end. However, now she had not uttered a single complaint. It struck Elizabeth that might be the surest sign of how truly sick she was.
“You shall see,” Lydia declared tiredly. “I will be up and about soon, for I cannot miss my birthday! And the ball. I shall be well enough for those.”
Now Elizabeth understood why Lydia was trying so hard to remain strong. Her birthday was only weeks away, and she was clearly determined to be well by then.
“You heard what the doctor said,” Elizabeth countered. “You need to stay in bed until you get your strength back. Perhaps it would be better to accept that you might be abed for your birthday this year. And the ball.” Although Elizabeth had no idea what ball Lydia was speaking of.
“No!” Lydia said angrily. “I am fine!” Her statement was marred, somewhat, by the coughs that accompanied it. It took her a full minute to recover this time.
“There will be other balls,” Jane said soothingly.
“But not so near my birthday!” Lydia said, sounding more fragile than ever. Elizabeth could tell that she was close to tears.
“Girls,” Mrs. Bennet said harshly. “This is not the time to have this discussion. Lydia needs her rest.”
Elizabeth blushed, her mother’s reproach hitting her deeply. She was quite right—Elizabeth could not imagine why she had begun to argue with Lydia at that moment. It was foolish. Elizabeth saw that Lydia’s eyes were drooping. She leaned over and kissed her hot forehead lightly.
“I pray you are correct,” Elizabeth whispered. “Now sleep well.”
“We will make sure your birthday is special, no matter what,” Jane added, kissing Lydia as well. Lydia only nodded once before falling into a fitful slumber.
“Jane,” Elizabeth said quietly. “I am going to speak with our father.”
Jane nodded in acknowledgement, but looked meaningfully at Mrs. Bennet. Elizabeth took the hint and turned her attention to their mother before she left.
“Mama?” She said, kneeling beside her mother’s chair and taking one of her hands. Mrs. Bennet turned to her, but Elizabeth could see that her mother could not focus upon anyone but Lydia for long.
“Lizzy, I’m glad you are here,” Mrs. Bennet said. Elizabeth could hear the exhaustion in her voice.
“Mama, when was the last time you slept?” Elizabeth asked, her concern spreading from Lydia. “You will get sick too if you do not take care of yourself.”
“I am resting,” Mrs. Bennet promised, her gaze shifting back to the sleeping Lydia.
“That is not true,” Mary said from the corner. “Mama, you have not moved from that chair in days. You are not sleeping.”
“How about this?” Jane suggested. “You go to bed for a few hours, while I sit with Lydia. Elizabeth will join me later and we shall take care of her.”
“Perhaps that would be a good idea,” Mrs. Bennet said slowly. “But let me sit here a few more moments.”
Elizabeth and Jane looked at their other two sisters. Kitty had not spoken the whole time since they had arrived, and her face was drawn. She was clearly in shock at seeing her closest confidante in such poor condition. It was evident that she too needed some distraction.
“Kitty,” Elizabeth said. “You and Mary take Mama to her room. Perhaps stay with her until she sleeps?”
Kitty nodded her agreement, giving a last, sad look at Lydia before climbing down from the bed. Mary was already standing and ready to go.
“Come, Mama,” Kitty said, holding out her hand to Mrs. Bennet. “If we want Lydia to rest, we must show her a good example.”
“Quite right,” Elizabeth said, standing and pulling Mrs. Bennet to her feet.
She handed her mother to Kitty and Mary, and the three of them practically dragged Mrs. Bennet out. As they were leaving, Elizabeth saw Jane move into Mrs. Bennet’s chair and take over bathing Lydia’s forehead.
Once out of the room, all of Mrs. Bennet’s resistance collapsed. She leaned heavily on Mary and Kitty, and allowed them to lead her away without any further protest.
Elizabeth had never seen her mother in such a state. Normally, Mrs. Bennet was lively and talkative—she and Lydia were much alike. But just as illness had taken its toll on Lydia, it had upon Mrs. Bennet as well. All the worry and dread that Elizabeth had felt during the quick journey home was not at all lessened by seeing the state of her sister and mother.
She hoped Mr. Bennet could offer some comfort.
“Papa?” Elizabeth said, sticking her head into her father’s study.
Mr. Bennet was exactly as Elizabeth had thought he would be: sitting in his chair, puffing upon his pipe, with an open book in his hands. However, Elizabeth noticed he was not reading, but staring out the window.
“Lizzy,” he said, turning to see his favourite daughter. “Do come in.”
Elizabeth entered and sat down at her father’s elbow on a low stool upon which he usually propped his feet. She rubbed her face tiredly, the long day over bumpy roads finally catching up with her.
“I feel I must offer you and Jane an apology for cutting your trip short,” Mr. Bennet said quietly.
“There is no need to apologise,” Elizabeth said with a tired smile. “We would have returned within the week in any case. However, I am very glad you called us when you did.” She felt tears come to her eyes. “I have never seen her like this.”
“No,” Mr. Bennet agreed. Elizabeth waited for him to say more, but he did not. She could see a look of powerlessness in his eyes. It was difficult indeed to see someone so loved in such a state.
“How are you, truly?” Elizabeth asked softly.
Mr. Bennet didn’t answer immediately, taking several pulls from his pipe.
“Well, Lizzy,” he finally said. “I will not pretend to be unaffected. Lydia’s illness is quite horrible as it is, but I trust the doctor and I do truly believe that Lydia shall be fine in the end. However, to see your mother in such a state…”
He paused, and took a deep breath, as if to keep himself composed. “Seeing her so distressed—she is wearing herself out. It has been long since any of you were truly ill, and I had not remembered how draining such things could be. Lydia’s illness is affecting us all.”
Elizabeth watched her father’s face take on a countenance she had not often seen. Far too often, Mr. Bennet seemed to merely tolerate his wife and silly daughters. But as he spoke, Elizabeth could clearly see his deep affection for his wife and daughters. She was gratified for the confirmation of her father’s love, but hated that such pain and anxiety was the cause for expression.
“And the household?” Elizabeth continued. “Is there anything that needs to be done? How can I help?”
“Your mother has been in no fit state to see to anything,” Mr. Bennet informed her. “However, Hill has stepped into the gap quite efficiently. I would suggest you speak with her for more details. I’m afraid all of this has done nothing to improve my abilities to run the household.” He laughed to himself. “Lord knows I’ve had enough to deal with. Your mother’s nerves have been quite active these past weeks, and it has taken much of my energy to keep out of their way.”
Elizabeth smiled, glad to hear her father make a jest—even a small one.
“I do hope you had a good time with Charlotte and your aunt and uncle,” her father said after a moment, puffing his pipe. Elizabeth could sense her father did not wish to further discuss his stresses, and Elizabeth allowed him to change the subject without protest.
“I did enjoy my time,” she said. “I discovered a diversion that I quite enjoyed.”
“Oh?” Mr. Bennet said, surprised. He knew his daughter was almost as averse to the city as he.
“Indeed,” Elizabeth continued. “Mr. Darcy took us to the museum at the Montagu House. It was wonderful!”
“Mr. Darcy? Bingley’s friend? The unpleasant fellow?” Mr. Bennet asked, crooking an eyebrow.
Elizabeth blushed, immediately regretting mentioning the man.
“We ran into him while in town,” she said hurriedly. “He invited us for dinner and to the museum. It seems he is not always so unpleasant.”
“Of that I have no doubt,” Mr. Bennet said, putting his pipe back between his teeth. “Humans are rarely one thing all of the time.” Elizabeth could see that he wanted to ask more, but he was not a man that would pry. She was grateful for this restraint.
Now that the crisis of Lydia’s illness had been defined, Elizabeth realised that her anxiety over Mr. Darcy was beginning to return. Her incidental mention of the man confirmed within her that she was glad to have escaped the city without further social interaction. It was too confusing to try and sort through all the new information about Mr. Darcy that prolonged exposure offered.
Elizabeth sat with her chin in her hand, not realising that minutes were passing—she was far too caught up in her own thoughts.
“Perhaps you should get some rest,” Mr. Bennet said kindly, clearly sensing that he would get no more information from Elizabeth.
Elizabeth tried to stifle a yawn, but it overcame her nonetheless. But she could hardly sleep now.
“I promised to sit with Lydia for some time while mother rests,” she said, standing and stretching. She leaned over and kissed her father’s forehead. “I am glad to be home.”
She meant those words wholeheartedly. For as much distraction as Kent and London had offered, there was nothing like the security of sitting in her father’s study, smelling his pipe and feeling the warmth of her family’s presence.