part0007

The carriage raced towards Longbourn as fast as the coachman dared drive it, and Elizabeth closed her eyes as she leaned her head against the cold glass pane. She was able to leave Netherfield much sooner than expected. Fortunately, the ladies of the house were from home, and she was not exposed to their insincere wishes and impertinent curiosity.

She had raced above-stairs to share the grim tidings with Jane, and all her powers of persuasion were required in order to deter her sister from setting off to Longbourn forthwith. They tearfully embraced and Elizabeth promised to send word with the returning carriage about their father’s condition, endeavouring to conceal her guilt – for she knew full well that her insistence to go off alone was fuelled as much by concern for Jane’s health as by her reluctance to delay her own departure by a single minute.

To her great relief, the carriage was already at the door by the time she returned from Jane’s bedchamber, and she could see her host and Mr Darcy in earnest conversation, waiting to see her off. For some reason, Mr Bingley appeared quite put out and, inconsequential as that was to her at the moment, Elizabeth soon learned the reason, when she heard him going as far as to remonstrate with his friend:

“Why should I mind? Of course you can order the carriage whenever it pleases you, but sending her off, Darcy? I should have driven her in the curricle. Whatever were you thinking?”

“That she would rather be alone, otherwise I would have driven her myself,” she heard the other retort sharply, and would have wondered at it, had she been able to spare it a thought.

They both fell silent at her approach, and her host came forward to offer his best wishes and support .

“And above all, pray do not be concerned for your sister,” Bingley added as he handed her in. “She will be well looked after, and I shall see to it myself that she is safely delivered to Longbourn.”

“I thank you, Sir.” Elizabeth smiled weakly at him, before casting a glance towards his friend. “And you, Mr Darcy.”

The latter took a step towards the carriage and bowed.

“Our thoughts and prayers are with your father, Miss Bennet,” he said quietly. “Take heart, perhaps his condition is not as severe as you were led to believe. In any case, the express was sent just over a half-hour ago. Dr Halstone should be with you before dusk.”

Tears came to her eyes when her father’s condition was mentioned, and Elizabeth looked away.

“I thank you,” she repeated.

Darcy nodded without another word; and there was no way for her to know that he clenched his hands behind his back to stop himself from opening the blasted door and joining her in the carriage. Nor could she guess how well he understood her agony, and that he could scarce bear to see her leave and endure it alone, her haggard look tearing at his soul. The gentleman’s solemn countenance gave no indication of just how much he craved the right to escort her to Longbourn, hold her, have her cry in his arms if she would. Nor did it convey his pain when he was forced to remind himself that it was not his place to do so. Not now. Not ever.

She could only see Mr Darcy raising his hand in silent adieu as the carriage set off at Mr Bingley’s bidding, and Elizabeth responded briefly before sinking into the cushions, alone with her fears and her prayers.

The house was eerily quiet as she let herself in through the front door. There was no sign of Lydia or Kitty. Their mother, she knew, must have taken to her bed even before the servants could carry her father to his. Nevertheless, Elizabeth would have expected to hear her voice from the bottom of the stairs. She heard nothing and, gripped by fear, she ran to her father’s chamber.

The door was ajar and she could see Mrs Hill beside the sick bed and, surprisingly, Kitty, wiping their father’s brow with a cloth. He looked pale and very frail as he lay there, and Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears .

“Lizzy!” came Mary’s whisper from behind her, making her jump. “Thank goodness, you are here at last.”

Kitty raised her eyes with a relieved sob and ran to her. Before she knew how it came about, Elizabeth found herself embracing both her sisters, their damp faces pressed against hers.

“How is Papa?” she asked when she pulled away.

“No change, I fear. Mr Jones said he would return in a few hours, and that we should attempt to keep Father as comfortable as possible. He said we are not to speak to him or near him, and we are not to move him at all. He will prepare some draughts which, he hopes, might help him recover his senses.”

“He has not awakened then, since he was found?”

“No, not at all,” Kitty replied brokenly and Elizabeth winced, then forced a smile as she reached to hold her sisters’ hands.

“There is hope, my dears. Mr Darcy sent for his physician and he believes we might be able to expect him before dusk—”

“Mr Darcy?” Kitty and Mary chorused in disbelief, and a flurry of questions followed.

“How does he know our troubles?”

“And he would truly send for his own physician from town?”

“What does Jane think of this? How is she?”

“How is it that—?”

“Jane is well, and will return home tomorrow. As for Mr Darcy, I happened to be in his company when your note arrived, Mary,” Elizabeth interjected, eager to be done with explanations, “and aye, he kindly offered to send for his physician. Dr Halstone is bound to know more than Mr Jones about what should be done for Papa. Which reminds me, Mrs Hill, would you kindly see that a room is readied for him? It should be close to Papa’s. The amber room should do.”

Hill bobbed a curtsy and left, with a reassuring pat on her young mistress’s arm, and Mary smiled.

“’Tis good to have you back, Lizzy,” she said quietly.

“And Mamma? How is she? And Lydia?”

“Mamma took to her room directly,” came Mary’s even reply. “Mr Jones endeavoured to explain to her that we should all keep our voices down and that Father must not be disturbed, but I fear in the end he had to administer some laudanum… ”

“As for Lydia,” Mary resumed, “I thought it best if she stayed with our aunt Phillips for a while. Our aunt asked Kitty to join them too, but she would not leave me.”

Elizabeth squeezed Kitty’s hand without conveying her surprise at her not following Lydia on the path to amusements, for once. Instead, she urged her sisters:

“You should rest now. You both should. I shall stay with Papa.”

Marry and Kitty nodded, too distraught to argue the point, and Elizabeth walked quietly to the chair Kitty had previously occupied, at her father’s side. She leaned forward to gently brush his face with her fingertips and suppressed a sob as she felt the eerie coldness of his skin. Elizabeth bent her head to lay her cheek against the back of her father’s motionless hand, then brushed her lips against it.

“Papa”, she whispered. “Dearest Papa, return to us, I beg you. Do not leave us yet, Papa.”

With a sigh, she remembered Mr Jones’ injunction to silence and resumed the brushing of his brow with a damp cloth as she had seen Kitty do, keeping her fervent wishes and prayers in the privacy of her heart.

Much to everyone’s relief, Mr Darcy was proven correct in his estimations. Some time before dusk, as Elizabeth and Mary were attending their father, their eyes were suddenly drawn to the window by the sound of a carriage. They could not see much, other than a small equipage pulling up at the door, and Elizabeth rushed downstairs, just as Hill was admitting the visitor.

“I am come to see Mr Bennet at the request of Mr Darcy of Pemberley,” the newcomer said. “I am Dr Halstone.”

Elizabeth advanced towards him, her eyes alight with gratitude and hope.

“Do come in, Sir,” she urged. “We were expecting you. My thanks for arriving so promptly. My father’s sickroom is this way.”

She led him to her father’s chamber where, at Dr Halstone’s request and with Mary’s aid, a brief account of the occurrences of the day was given in hushed whispers .

“You need not be so quiet, you know,” the physician casually observed as he bent over his bag to retrieve some items of necessity in examining his patient.

Elizabeth looked up in surprise.

“Oh? Mr Jones, the apothecary, had instructed us to refrain from speaking to and around my father, and under no circumstances attempt to move him.”

It would have been impolitic for Dr Halstone to overtly dispute the opinion of the local disciple of Asclepius, however antiquated his practices and principles might be, so the good doctor kept his response brief and to the point.

“While I concur regarding attempts to move your father, at least for now, I would not urge you to be silent. ‘Tis my belief that the voices of loved ones soothe the patient, and reach him where my cordials cannot. You have pleasant voices, young ladies. I doubt your father would mind hearing you,” the doctor added with a smile, and then bade them retire and summon Mr Bennet’s man, so that he could examine the patient.

With the injunction lifted, Elizabeth bent to kiss her father’s brow.

“I will go now, Papa, but I will not be long,” she whispered, then followed Mary out of the room.

Mary offered to order refreshments for the doctor and summon the man to assist him, and Elizabeth was just about to make her way into the amber room to see for herself that the guest chamber was prepared to satisfaction, when she was arrested by a call from her mother’s quarters.

“What is the matter? That noise, was that a carriage? Who was it? Are we to be murdered in our beds? I daresay ‘tis better than starving in the hedgerows. Is anyone here? Hill! Hill!”

Elizabeth stepped back to close her father’s door and, with a long, deep sigh, she walked into her mother’s chamber.

“Lizzy! You are here? I thought you at Netherfield. And Jane? Is my dear child come too? She has not secured Mr Bingley yet, has she? What are we to do, what are we to do? What is to become of us all if your father passes away? Dear Lizzy, what is to become of us?”

Uncharitably, Elizabeth wished her aunt Phillips had offered to take her mother for a few days, as well as Lydia, and failing that, for a fresh dose of laudanum. Sadly, neither her aunt nor Mr Jones’ laudanum tincture were at hand, so she tried to soothe her mother as best she could, then informed her of Dr Halstone’s arrival, leaving out the details concerning Mr Darcy’s role in the affair.

‘That intelligence will reach her soon enough’ , she thought and sighed, prepared to be as mortified by her mother’s expressions of gratitude as she had been by Mrs Bennet’s open dislike of the gentleman, manifested without restraint since the assembly.

Elizabeth sought to remind herself that her mother’s resentment stemmed from Mr Darcy having slighted her on the occasion, and that Mrs Bennet might be loud and generally devoid of all decorum, but no one, not even her least favourite daughter, could think her lacking in maternal sentiments. She could not forgive her for being more concerned about their future than for Mr Bennet’s condition per se , but at least she had to acknowledge that her mother was distressed about the fate and prospects of her progeny, and not just about her own material comforts.

Elizabeth listened with more patience than usual to her mother’s account of tremblings and flutterings, spasms in her side, pains in her head and beatings of her heart. She wished Mrs Bennet were more capable of restraint and exertion, but wisely resolved not to pine for what could not be had. Her mother had required constant attendance in the face of minor vexations for as long as her daughters could remember, and if she fancied herself nervous, at least now her nerves were more than justified.

As soon as Mrs Bennet’s monologue allowed, Elizabeth assured her that someone would be sent to her room with tea and a cordial but no, not Hill, for she was needed below-stairs to attend the doctor and carry out any instructions he might have regarding her father.

Yet her forbearance was taxed beyond endurance when the lady requested that Dr Halstone attend her too, when he finished treating Mr Bennet. In her answer, Elizabeth endeavoured to put an end to every expectation of the kind, and left the room devoid of all the newly-acquired charitable feelings for her mother.

Elizabeth returned to her father’s room, only to find Mary waiting outside for the doctor to announce he had finished his examination. It was not long before the door was opened and Mr Bennet’s man emerged, carrying a tray with bloodletting instruments and a bowl, half-full with their father’s blood. Elizabeth blanched and looked away.

“Young ladies?” the physician called them into the sickroom, and they hastily made their way within.

“What news, Sir?” Elizabeth breathlessly asked. “Is there anything you can tell us?”

“’Tis perhaps too soon to form a final opinion, but I have some ideas as to your father’s state. It appears he has a slight fever, which with the right treatment should remit before too long. I have also noticed a rumbling in his chest, indicating a condition he has had for some time, presumably as a result of a putrid fever in his childhood. It is also possible that he was born with it. In any case, it made him light-headed, and caused him to fall. I suspect it was largely due to the fall that he lost consciousness. He must have hit his head quite violently, to cause such a shock.”

“So he will be well?” interjected Elizabeth, wild with hope.

“He is in no immediate danger,” Dr Halstone cautiously replied, “but ‘tis too soon to tell. Some people with his condition get to live a long and fruitful life… and some do not. It is not widely known why, nor is it possible to tell in advance whether the condition will worsen swiftly or slowly or not at all. I cannot tell you more at this juncture, but I see no reason why your father should not regain consciousness fairly soon. When he does, he should be spared from exertions of any kind, as well as from irritations and emotions, until we have had the chance to ascertain the true state of his health.”

Having heard worse news than they hoped but better than they expected, Mary and Elizabeth urged the doctor to take some refreshment and rest. The first was gratefully accepted, the latter declined. Thus, the sisters decided that Elizabeth would remain in the sickroom while Mary escorted the doctor below-stairs for his light repast. Then the doctor would return to Mr Bennet’s bedside and Mary would have some rest, before coming to relieve Elizabeth around midnight .

It was some time before midnight that it happened.

Dr Halstone was dozing in a wing-chair, having spent the past hours keeping a close watch on Mr Bennet’s condition. At regular intervals, he would stir and feel the patient’s pulse and peer under his eyelids for signs known only to him. Elizabeth would watch in awed fascination as he performed his tasks then, as soon as Dr Halstone went back to his chair, she would return to her father’s side, hold his hand and talk to him.

At first, she had considered speaking of her time at Netherfield, thinking that as her father had always been greatly entertained by follies and inconsistencies of any kind, he might in some way hear her and be diverted by Miss Bingley’s relentless pursuit of Mr Darcy, by Mr Hurst’s propensity to fall asleep in company, or Mr Darcy’s deeply-held opinions of his own superiority of mind and ability to keep his pride under good regulation. Her father would see the diverting side of that , just as she did.

Yet she could not tell him anything of the sort. Not only because she could not recount such tales in the presence of Mr Darcy’s personal physician, who might or might not be asleep at the time, but quite unexpectedly, she came to see that she could not deride the man, not even for the amusement of her beloved father.

It was exactly as she had told Mr Darcy in the library. Yes, he had been offensive, overbearing, arrogant and prideful. ‘No, I did not tell him that, thank goodness,’ Elizabeth thought with a smile, knowing full well she had let slip more than enough. Still, there clearly was more to him than met the eye. Although she could not even begin to reconcile his different facets, Elizabeth was willing to acknowledge that perhaps he was not quite as bad as the whole of Meryton would have him. And as for herself, she was prepared to forsake past grievances, and just remember the gratitude she owed him for his assistance to her father.

As she could not divert Mr Bennet with tales of Netherfield, Elizabeth chose to bend close to his ear and tell him of the past. Follies and scrapes he already knew of, and some he did not. Little treasures, little secrets, memories of a time which would never return, and all in the hope that he would. And later, when the second set of candles began to gutter, he did .

Elizabeth saw his eyelids flutter and would have dismissed this for idle hope and the play of flickering light on tired eyes, had she not felt his fingers twitch feebly under hers.

“Papa?” she asked quietly, yet with all the hope she could muster, and all the love she felt for him.

“Lizzy?” came the faint whisper. “I thought you were a dream… I am so happy you are back …”

“So am I, Papa. So am I.”

Sunlight streaming through the bedroom window fell on Elizabeth’s face and woke her in the early hours of the morning, just as she hoped it would when she left the curtains open. She stretched and rubbed her eyes. She must have had less than four hours’ sleep, but that was of no consequence. Taking as little time as possible, Elizabeth readied herself for the day and left her bedchamber.

She stopped in her father’s room to see how he was faring. In a quiet whisper, Mary told her that the doctor said Mr Bennet was now in a restful sleep rather than in an unconscious state, before repairing to the room prepared for him, for a few hours’ rest.

Kitty had not stirred yet, and neither had their mother, and Elizabeth decided she would not rouse them, not even for the good news. Kitty was too tired, and she was full young for all the pain and anxiety she had endured lately. As to Mrs Bennet, once she awoke the entire household would, and Elizabeth saw no reason for that.

She went below-stairs to see to a light breakfast, to be served as soon as Dr Halstone felt equal to it. As for herself and Mary, she took a tray for both of them into her father’s bedroom.

They remained there in companionable silence until the doctor came in to check on the patient, then Mary escorted Dr Halstone to his breakfast, and Elizabeth was left to guard their father’s sleep.

Much to her joy, they were still alone when he awoke, so she could come and quietly embrace him, kiss his brow and not have to share him either with her sisters or with the doctor’s professional concern. The only effort required of her was to stem the tide of tears.

“There, there,” Mr Bennet patted her head affectionately, his own eyes moist. “Have I given you a great deal of trouble, then? ”

“Not overmuch,” said Elizabeth, laughing through her tears. “You are well now, thank goodness, and that is all that matters.”

“What happened?”

To that, Elizabeth gave as brief and placid an account as possible, trying to abide by Dr Halstone’s instructions and spare her father from excessive displays of anxiety and emotion.

They spent a happy half-hour together, talking but little and simply enjoying each other’s company, then the doctor returned and, most reluctantly, Elizabeth left them and went to her mother, to rouse her and share the news of their good fortune.

Elizabeth prided herself on being a great connoisseur of human folly, and an even greater one of her mother’s, but even so, Mrs Bennet’s reaction was a surprise. As soon as she heard the news, her mother left her bed and donned her robe in great haste, all the while exclaiming as loudly as only she could, and thoroughly disregarding her daughter’s pleas for calm and silence.

“Lord bless me! Oh, my sweetest Lizzy! And is it really true? Your father is alive and well? My dear, dear Mr Bennet, how good of you! Did I not tell you, Lizzy, that you girls have the very best of fathers? He could not bear to leave you all destitute and has exerted himself. Ring the bell, Lizzy, for Hill. I will put on my things in a moment. Oh, the joy! We shall not be forced to make way for that odious cousin of his. I will go to Meryton as soon as I am dressed, and tell the good, good news to my sister Phillips. Can I do anything for you girls in Meryton? And when I return, I shall call on Lady Lucas and Mrs Long. Lizzy, run down and order the carriage. An airing will do me a great deal of good. But first I must see your father.”

There was no hope at all of Elizabeth preventing her. Not even bodily restraint would have served – and the shameful truth is that her daughter did contemplate, for the briefest of moments, such an extreme measure.

Thus, to everyone’s consternation, not least Dr Halstone’s, a few moments later Mrs Bennet burst into her husband’s chambers, nightgown, robe and frilly cap fluttering about her, and flung herself at him, with a cry of “Oooooh, Mr Bennet!”

“What in God’s name—!” the physician exclaimed in utter shock. “Madam, desist! Desist at once!” he ordered, attempting to rescue his patient from the onslaught. “I demand you unhand my patient, remove yourself immediately from the sick-chamber, and cease this dreadful racket. Miss Bennet,” he asked a mortified Elizabeth, “who is this woman?”

For once in her life, Mrs Bennet did Elizabeth a great kindness and preserved her from having to supply the answer. She squared her shoulders, straightened up to her full height and said:

Before the doctor could reply, Mrs Bennet – who, albeit of mean understanding, was not entirely without perception – remembered that the irate gentleman had asked her to unhand his patient, and her indignation instantly left her. The same, however, could not be said of Dr Halstone. After briefly checking that his patient had not suffered a relapse, he turned to Mrs Bennet and firmly addressed her.

“Madam, I am Dr Reginald Halstone, at your service. As the one responsible for your husband’s health, I deem it of the utmost importance that I speak to you in private as soon as may be. Would you be so kind as to grant me an audience in the morning room at your earliest convenience?”

Subsequently, a number of things happened. A very subdued Mrs Bennet nodded her acquiescence and disappeared to dress. The physician excused himself and proceeded below-stairs. Elizabeth came to embrace her father. And as to Mr Bennet, once the door was closed, he burst into the most violent access of mirth he had experienced in his life – and under the circumstances, it was strange and wonderful that he survived it.

When Mrs Bennet entered the breakfast room, Dr Halstone was pacing with his hands behind his back in an attitude which would have reminded Elizabeth of his illustrious patient from Derbyshire. He bowed and waited for Mrs Bennet to take a seat, which she did, with a great deal of fidgeting.

“Madam,” he began, “pray allow me to apologise for my manner of address in the sick-chamber. I knew not whom I had the honour of speaking to,” he added and, to his credit, not a single muscle twitched at that. “However, I feel it incumbent upon me to tell you that such displays must cease forthwith. Your husband’s condition is a most delicate one. He was fortunate to survive this attack but, if I may be so blunt as to warn you, he might not survive the next. He must be therefore protected from exertion, emotion and anxiety of every kind, not only now, when he is just starting on the path to recovery, but also in the future. It is your responsibility, Ma’am, and that of your daughters, to be as preventive as possible in order to ensure Mr Bennet’s continued state of heath. It may sound harsh, but I cannot withhold the truth from you. Vex him, tease him, even worry him as to his state of health, and you stand a good chance of killing him.”

Frances Bennet née Gardiner had always fancied herself of a nervous disposition, and had indulged in many a fit of vapours in the course of her life. As such, it came as a great shock, on this sunny autumn day and in the autumn of her days, to experience her first real fainting fit.

The good doctor revived her and then, at Mrs Bennet’s request, kindly escorted her to her chambers, whence she did not stir until the following morning. She was then to quietly rouse herself and join the family for breakfast with less disturbance than anyone might have thought possible.