Assumed Engagement

by Louise, Kara

  "Please, Mr. Darcy, fight. Fight this. I know you can!"

  She soon felt herself perspiring from all her hard efforts and pulled out her handkerchief from her pocket. She drew it across her face and forehead, breathing in the fragrance of the gardenia scent. It helped give her new strength. She set it down on his bed by the pillow as she continued to minister to him.

  Elizabeth knew that she had to get him out of his nightshirt and begin applying the cool cloths to his chest and arms. She tried to remain composed as she reached for the shirt that was clinging to his chest. As she reached for the top button, her fingers intermingled with the curly hair on his chest, and she nervously pulled them back. Shaking, she forced herself to reach out for the button again and struggled to keep her mind focused on the simple task of unbuttoning a button. Finally she took a deep breath, and despite her blush, accomplished her task. The first button was undone.

  The next two buttons were just as difficult, but Elizabeth determined to accomplish it without so much a flinch. As she pulled back his shirt, she let out a gasp as she gazed down at his masculine chest. She watched his chest rise and fall, and with each breath she took in a breath of her own, as if to encourage him to continue breathing and to help ease the laboured effort each breath required.

  Durnham returned within five minutes and informed her that Winston was now on his way to find the doctor. He asked what he could do to help.

  "Take some cloths and dip them in the water. Wring them of all the excess water and then apply it to his face and neck, chest and arms."

  With an even greater struggle now, she dipped the cloth back in the water and applied it to his chest and arms. Durnham looked up and obviously noticed the strain on her face. "Are you sure, Miss, that we should not get anyone else to help? You look a little unstable yourself."

  "No, I am quite well," she lied.

  They spent about a half hour dipping, wringing, and applying the cloths to Darcy. His thrashing diminished slightly and Elizabeth put her hand again to his forehead and was relieved to find that his fever had diminished.

  Elizabeth relaxed a bit, standing at his side. How she wished the doctor would come, but at least she felt that he was now out of immediate danger. She closed her eyes for a moment; feeling the effects of exhaustion.

  When she opened them, she found herself gazing with much incredulity at Darcy. His eyes were fluttering. She stood transfixed as she watched him slowly, but deliberately, open his eyes. His eyes were glazed, looking at her, through her, she could not determine whether there had been any recognition in them. During these moments her heart literally stopped. She wanted to jump, shout, scream, but nothing came.

  But just as suddenly, his eyes closed.

  "Mr. Darcy! Come back. I know you are in there! Durnham, did you see that? He opened his eyes!"

  "I did Miss Elizabeth. I think he may be well on his way back to us!"

  "Mr. Durnham, please stay here. I think I must get Georgiana now!"

  Elizabeth ran through the house. It was now close to three o’clock; she had spent almost four hours with him. She knew Georgiana needed more sleep, but felt she had to give her this encouraging news. She climbed the stairs two at a time, came to Georgiana's room and knocked excitedly at the door.

  "Georgiana, come quick! We believe your brother may be waking up!"

  Chapter 5

  The first thing that Darcy became aware of was how hot he was. He felt as though he was burning up! He did not know where he was, but wherever it was, it was as hot as a fiery furnace. He tried to get away from the heat that flooded his body, but he could not escape. He tried to move, but his body would not obey any commands.

  He suddenly felt himself being drawn... he did not know to where. All he needed to do -- wanted to do -- was give in and his torment would cease. Or did he just want to give up? It would be easier, he felt, to resign himself to those forces that were at work against his body; to let himself be taken to… where? He was not sure.

  His mind was hazy, not even allowing him to grasp who he was. He only knew he was somewhere in the depths of this body, and although he had no particulars, he felt that he had nothing waiting for him at the other side. He knew that to pull himself back up in that direction would require more of an intense struggle. Was there anything for him there? Was it worth the fight or should he just give in? All he knew was that he wanted relief from this heat.

  Suddenly he was aware of something cool being wiped across his head, face, and neck. What a contrast this cool touch was to the burning sensation that racked his body! It was a very gentle touch, bringing much needed relief. He wanted to cry out for it to continue. He did not want it to stop! It soothed him to his innermost being.

  He did not understand why he could not command his body to move, or his voice to speak out, or his eyes to open. The cooling touch continued and he felt strengthened in his ever weakened bones and muscles. They still would not submit to his wishes, however.

  He then became aware of voices. His mind faltered and could not discern what was being said. He recognized that the voices were hushed, somewhat intense. He knew words were being spoken, but he was unable to comprehend them. He struggled to understand, but to no avail. One voice was low and abrupt, the other voice gentle and soothing. He felt drawn to the gentle voice, feeling strengthened merely by the sound of it. Was he being strengthened enough, however, to fight what was so forcefully trying to pull him down?

  Unexpectedly, there was something else. It was very faint, but what was it? A scent -- some kind of flower. He tried to move his face toward it, but any attempt was futile; the scent was still off in the distance. For some reason he associated the scent with the gentle voice. He made an effort to take in a deep breath. Yes! He was able to inhale more deeply, but knew not from where it came.

  The coolness being applied to his face and neck suddenly moved to his chest and arms. He felt it begin to win the war against the heat in his body. It seemed to pull him closer to the voice; further away from the dark depths in which he had been dwelling. Suddenly he was able to recognize some words, "fever… strength… Darcy."

  "Darcy!" That was who he was! But Darcy who? How he wished he could think! Why was everything such an effort? Darcy… William… Fitzwilliam! That was it! That was who he was! Fitzwilliam Richard Darcy! Then there was that voice again; the cool touch, and that faint scent which seemed to linger around him.

  If only he could see what was going on. If only he could discern who these people were, where he was, and why he was this way. Still nothing seemed to obey his command, except an occasional deep breath as he searched for that gardenia! That is what it is! A gardenia scent!

  Now if his mind only helped him recall how to open his eyes, move his hand, open his mouth to speak. He knew he had to keep trying. As hard as he concentrated, he wondered if perhaps this was just a dream. Maybe he had died. Was this what it was like to be dead? No. He forced himself to rivet his attention on the array of senses he was experiencing. To him, they confirmed this was real and not a dream… and definitely not death. He felt continually strengthened by them.

  As he fought against the continual pull to let himself be drawn back into the abyss, he became aware of something new. He found the muscles that controlled his eyelids. He put every ounce of strength into opening them. They fluttered and finally he succeeded in getting them open. When he opened them, it was to a vision more enchanting than anything he could imagine. Was she an angel? Her eyes… so fine.

  He only had the strength to keep them open for a moment, and uncontrollably they closed on him. But he knew now that he had won the battle. There was no longer any force pulling him down. He would come out of this struggle.

  This vision -- it was familiar -- yet not. He knew she was the source of the voice, the touch, and the scent. He was quite certain that he knew her. His mind would not yet let him remember presently, but he was confident it would come to him. With this knowledge and assurance, he rested and fell into a
real sleep, as he had not slept in five days.

  *~*~*

  "Georgiana, come quick! I think your brother is waking up!"

  When Georgiana realized what Elizabeth was saying, she quickly jumped out of bed and put on a robe.

  "Heavens! Can it be true? What happened?" she asked ecstatically as she made her way to the door.

  "He opened his eyes! He actually opened his eyes!" Elizabeth related.

  "Is he now awake?" she asked.

  "No, but I believe he is in a real sleep; not unconscious as he was."

  They rushed back to the room and found him sleeping. There was a look of peace on his face that had not been present before. Elizabeth and Durnham informed Georgiana of their evening spent bringing down his fever. She was at first upset that they did not waken her earlier, but was later glad to have been spared the distress it most likely would have caused her.

  They all waited in his room standing around him; Bingley finally joining them as he woke up from the commotion. Winston finally returned with the doctor, who was encouraged by what happened and gave much praise to Elizabeth and Durnham for their help in bringing down his fever. He had been prevented from coming any sooner, as he had not been able to leave his patient in town until now.

  Their eyes were all on Darcy, anxious for another sign of life. The doctor checked his breathing, his temperature, and his heartbeat, announcing that they were all strong and improved. After examining him, he felt it was safe to leave him. He gave strict instructions that when he awakened, he was not to be allowed to overexert himself. He would continue to need plenty of rest.

  "Let him eat and drink what he wants, however just a little at first," the doctor advised them. "Keep him as calm and relaxed as possible."

  He then informed Georgiana that he was required to leave, but would return later in the day. When he left the house the sun was coming up over the horizon.

  Elizabeth suddenly felt all the weight of fatigue upon her, having been up all night, and announced that she would try and get a little sleep. Everyone else felt similarly and decided to retire except Georgiana, who remained by her brother's side. She would not chance missing any developing improvement in him.

  Georgiana eventually fell asleep, as well, with her head coming to rest on the edge of her brother's bed, but she slept lightly.

  The servants were just beginning to move about and begin preparations for a new day when Georgiana was awakened by some rustling. She lifted her head promptly and looked toward her brother. He was stirring a little. Her heart quickened as she gently called out his name. "Fitzwilliam…William. Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?"

  She watched in awe as his eyes flickered and opened. Initially, it seemed they were not able to focus, but she was greatly encouraged. "Oh, William, you are back! Can you hear me?"

  He nodded weakly. Georgiana threw herself across him and hugged him, breaking down in joyful tears. "I have been so worried about you! I was so afraid you would never come back to us!"

  Darcy tried to lift his head to look at his sister, but she was merely a blur. He was barely able to lift it for lack of strength, and he became very dizzy as he did so. He was still not able to find the muscles that would allow him to speak. All he could do was moan.

  To Georgiana, his waking was wonderful indeed! She wanted to inform everyone that he had awakened, but she did not want to leave his side. She would wait until someone came by and give them the grand news.

  Suddenly a mumbled voice came from his lips. "Wha… happened?"

  "You were in an accident. Do you not remember? Your carriage rolled over. You have been unconscious for five days!" She went on to acquaint him with the details of the mishap. His eyes often looked clouded over and confused. He found it difficult to concentrate, and his mind was not fully working. It was a struggle for him to follow her lengthy story.

  He closed his eyes and focused all his effort on moving his hand over to Georgiana's and placed it upon hers. He wanted to squeeze it in reassurance, but had to settle for letting it rest on hers. He took in some deep breaths to give him some strength before he added, "Durnham, Winston?"

  "They are both well. They were able to jump from the carriage before it rolled. Mr. Winston only sustained some minor bruises; Mr. Durnham, however, broke his ankle."

  Darcy shook his head slightly. He began grasping more and more that his sister said, but had questions he could not find the wherewithal to formulate. Georgiana sensed that he wanted to know more, but did not know what more to tell him.

  She sat with him in silence for a while, filled with utter joy in having him back. She held his hand even tighter, as if trying to pass some of her strength on to him. She wanted to tell him so much, but knew she should do so a little at a time.

  Finally she said, "You gave us quite a scare last night. Your fever was terribly high. Normally we have had either the doctor or his nurse at your side, but last night we had neither due to a medical urgency in Lambton. Fortunately, Miss Bennet was by your side and she was instrumental in helping lower your temperature."

  Darcy opened his eyes and looked at Georgiana bewildered. Darcy suddenly had a moment's recollection of a hazy dream. Was it from last night? The heat, the voices, a face. Had that been Elizabeth? What would she be doing here? No, she could not be here. When they had last parted it had not been on good terms at all! She had turned down his proposal and had most decidedly made her case against him. His mind must still not be lucid. He must have misunderstood her.

  "Who…?"

  "Miss Bennet… Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She and Mr. Durnham both were with you most of last night…" She stopped as she saw Darcy's eyes darken, as if he was trying to comprehend something. "What is it?"

  He looked up at Georgiana, trying to sort out what she was saying. Finally with every attempt to draw from his reserve of strength he asked, "What is… she doing here?"

  The look on his face caused Georgiana to withdraw sharply from him. Her hands began to shake and she pulled them from his. Elizabeth had told her, ‘You do not have to worry about disappointing your brother.’ Why then, was she now feeling such great apprehension? The look on his face imparted something that very much alarmed her.

  Georgiana guardedly continued, "After your accident… I immediately wrote to Miss Bennet. I thought she ought to know."

  "Miss Bennet? Why…?"

  The tone of his voice caused a feeling of great dread to come upon the young girl. Georgiana felt anxieties arise in her that she had not experienced in well over a year. She could not determine the reason behind it, but she felt almost faint.

  Georgiana moistened her mouth which was now very dry. "I felt she needed to know because the two of you are engaged."

  Darcy abruptly turned his head away from Georgiana. His words came out slow, deliberate, and with great effort. "Miss Bennet and I are not engaged!"

  Georgiana's hands went to her mouth in shock. She could neither move nor could she utter a sound. She looked down, unable to meet the stern gaze of her brother, but knew, from the tone of his voice that he was very angry.

  She began shaking and was only able to utter a meek, "I do not understand. You wrote to me…"

  "Unfortunately, I did." This was taking more strength than he had, but he had to finish. He took a few more breaths and summoned what little strength he had left. "She refused my offer of marriage!"

  A sudden look of alarm spread across Georgiana’s face. She brought her hands to her face and he heard a smothered, "No!" as she pulled farther away from him. "That cannot be! Why did she not tell me? I do not understand!"

  Georgiana, gasping and dissolving in sobs, turned and fled from the room, almost colliding with Durnham as she ran out the door. Darcy watched in horror as his beloved sister, who had been so grieved over his condition and so grateful for his recovery, was now in a state of anguish and utter shock.

  Durnham rushed in and asked if anything was the matter.

  "Get one of the maids and have her se
e to Miss Darcy; make sure she is all right. Then come back immediately. I have some questions."

  His heart pounded, both from the exertion of these last few minutes and his confused emotions. Why had Elizabeth come? Why was she here? What was he missing? He could not get his mind to come up with any logical answers. Think, man! Even if Georgiana had a misunderstanding about whether or not they were engaged, Elizabeth certainly did not. He shook his head, trying to sort things out; his brain refused to cooperate.

  He brought his hand to his forehead and rubbed it. This was no good! He turned his head to the side, and suddenly caught a scent that drew him back to recollections of last night. The heat, the cold, the voices, the scent! His hand slowly reached back as if searching for something, behind his head, under the pillow. He felt something and pulled it out.

  It was an embroidered handkerchief. He looked at the colourful embroidery that occupied one corner and his heart stopped as he noticed the initials, EB. He brought it to his nose and breathed in the gardenia scent. He recalled the vision of the woman in the night, the fine eyes. As the vague memories became clearer, he now knew they were of Elizabeth.

  He began to dwell on the fact that Elizabeth had been walking the halls of Pemberley these last few days. She had eaten in his dining room; sat in his sitting room. Had she taken her early morning walks out in the grounds of Pemberley? How many times in the previous months had he imagined her thus, and now, while he had been completely oblivious, she had been there. But why?

  He had more questions than answers and was anxious for Durnham to return. As he heard him hurry back down the hall, Darcy stuffed the handkerchief back under the pillow.

  "I have sent Mrs. Reynolds to look after Miss Darcy, Sir."

  "Thank you." Darcy took a deep breath. "Durnham, was Miss Bennet standing over here last night?" he asked pointing to the left side of the bed.

  "Miss Elizabeth Bennet was. She spent most of the time with you last night doing all she could to bring down your fever. I came in to assist, but she did most of the work. She certainly seemed to know what to do!"