Elizabeth, tried beyond endurance, interrupted. “Mama, please, surely we can talk of all this another time. We need not assume the worst until we see how my father is doing when we get home.” Mrs. Bennet, recalled to her better nature, filled the rest of the journey with her hopes and fears for her husband’s health.
When they arrived at Longbourn, they found the house lit up. The door was flung open before the carriage stopped. As they entered the house, they could hear Mr. Bennet in his library. The deep, rattling cough they had hoped was gone was audible from the hallway. Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth hurried in to discover him lying on his usual couch, his nightshirt gaping at the throat, his arms flailing weakly as he fought for breath.
“Is there any coffee in the house?” Elizabeth had quite forgotten that Captain Darcy was present until he spoke.
“Yes, sir,” answered Hill, absently responding to the voice of authority. She had knelt beside the couch where she was attempting to cool Mr. Bennet’s forehead with damp cloths.
“Then have some made up at once, as strong as may be, and we must get the gentleman sitting up.”
Captain Darcy stripped off his heavy coat and flung it into a chair. Ignoring the servants standing round, he went and bent over the couch. “Good evening, sir. My name is Darcy. I brought your wife and Miss Elizabeth back from Netherfield,” he said. “I am going to lift you up so you can breathe more easily.” With that, he placed a strong arm under Mr. Bennet’s back and lifted him gently into a sitting position. “Open that window! He needs air more than he needs warmth.”
The open window brought a cold wind that fluttered the candles and fanned the fire in the hearth. There were bowls about the room from where the patient had vomited. “Clear all this away, and hurry with that coffee.” He turned to Elizabeth. “If there are wax candles, they will be better for him than all this tallow.”
This, at least, Mrs. Bennet understood. “There! And I told him it was false economy, but no, he would not listen and insisted.” Elizabeth hurried her out of the room.
“Mama, you had best go change out of your good gown. The captain and I will see to my father until you come down again.” She knew that with Hill occupied in the library and Sarah in the kitchen, it would be some time before her mother could come back, as she would have to change unassisted. As Mrs. Bennet bustled upstairs, Elizabeth hurried to the kitchen where the best candles were kept.
When she returned, she found the door shut and Hill on duty outside. “The gentleman and Jessup are putting your father into a clean nightshirt. We shall have to wait.” The coffee arrived shortly afterwards and was passed thought the door.
Mrs. Bennet came down but went back upstairs at once. “I am sure my nerves will not stand this waiting around. Lizzy, you will call me if anything happens.”
Elizabeth was almost dancing with impatience by the time the door opened again, but she could see that the situation had changed for the better. Her father, though pale and exhausted, was breathing much more easily, and the cough that still racked his frame did not, at least to her, appear to be as strong. The window was still open and the air, though cold, was clean and fresh. The heavy blankets about his shoulders apparently protected him from the worst of the chill.
When he saw Elizabeth, he held out his hand. “I am sorry to have spoiled your pleasure, child.” His voice was hoarse.
“I am sorry to find you so unwell, sir.” She dropped to her knees beside him.
“I am feeling more than a little foolish now, for I was sure…my last hour had come.”
“I am afraid you cannot be spared just yet awhile,” she replied. His eyes were drifting shut, even as he coughed, so she kissed his forehead, and they tiptoed from the room, leaving Jessup to replace the candles and keep watch. Elizabeth turned to Captain Darcy. “We are deeply indebted to you, sir,” she said. “How did you know what to do?”
“I had a shipmate afflicted with a terrible cough, poor fellow, every time we exercised the guns and the ship filled with smoke. Strong coffee was the only thing that helped him, and I thought it might do the same here. Come—you must sit down; you look exhausted.”
“Just for a moment, then, for I must go and inform Mama what has happened and make ready for Doctor Wallace, though indeed there seems very little for him to do now. I wonder that he has not tried coffee himself.”
“I am afraid the effects are not long lasting, and our surgeon, Mr. Luscombe, always says coffee puts a strain on the heart if used to excess. However, since Mr. Bennet was having difficulty breathing, I thought it well worth the attempt.”
“Indeed it was, sir.” Having sat down, Elizabeth was starting to feel extremely tired. “I am afraid I am too tired and flustered to say everything I ought, but I am very grateful. We all are.”
“Pray, think nothing of it, Miss Elizabeth. Now, if you wish to go and tell your mother, I will wait here for the doctor.”
It took a long time to calm and reassure her mother, and when that was done, Mrs. Bennet retired for the night, Sarah at last being released from the sickroom. When Elizabeth came down, Doctor Wallace was with her father, and he did not come out of the room until the Longbourn carriage arrived from Netherfield. Jane in particular was consumed with anxiety for her father, and even Kitty and Lydia were frightened into something resembling a respectful silence.
Mr. Collins seemed torn between resentment at having been excluded from the events of the evening and gratification that Lady Catherine’s nephew had condescended to assist. His confused attempt to express his gratitude only succeeded in angering Elizabeth and astonishing the captain, who stood looking down on the shorter man as though at some curiosity in a museum.
Elizabeth, in all the bustle, managed a brief word with Doctor Wallace. “I do not apprehend any immediate danger,” said the doctor in his blunt Scottish way. “However, he cannot be said to be improving, nor can I see any hope of such improvement before the good weather comes, if indeed his strength lasts that long.” And with that, he climbed heavily into his gig and trotted off into the night.
It seemed to take an age to persuade everyone to retire. Once assured that the worst had not happened, Kitty and Lydia were full of the ball, and even Mary had apparently enjoyed herself more than usual. Elizabeth had to shoo them upstairs to continue the conversation in their rooms. Jane seemed tired and pensive, and Mr. Collins admitted to some fatigue and eventually drifted off to bed.
Elizabeth went into the library for one last check on her father and was startled to see Captain Darcy sitting beside him. He rose as she entered the room. “Your father’s man has just gone to see to his chamber,” he whispered. “I agreed to stay here until he gets back.”
“Surely, Mr. Hill, our manservant, came back with the doctor?”
“He was caught in a shower on the way there. I sent him to shift his clothes.” They sat for a moment in silence, watching the rise and fall of Mr. Bennet’s chest, both noting the unmistakable hitch in his breathing.
“I cannot thank you enough, Captain Darcy. I do not know what we would have done without you.”
“I have every confidence that you would have managed, Miss Elizabeth. I have always considered you a very capable young lady.”
She smiled. “Not the compliment a lady expects from a dancing partner, but welcome none the less.”
“It is nothing less than the truth; I assure you.”
Jessup and Mr. Hill appeared at the door, and Elizabeth and the captain left the room, the captain picking up his greatcoat as he went. The horses from Netherfield were being walked outside, and at his hail, the coachman hurried to hitch them up once more.
“With your permission, I shall call tomorrow to see how your father does.”
“You will be very welcome.” She remained while he climbed into the coach and it was driven away. She watched until it disappeared fr
om view among the trees then finally closed and bolted the great front door.
Chapter Eight
By ten o’clock next morning, Elizabeth was persuaded that her period of grace was about to expire. Mrs. Bennet was late down for breakfast, and Mr. Collins did not appear at all, but there was an air of determination about her mother, and when Elizabeth heard her telling Hill to ask Mr. Collins to come and meet her in the back parlour as soon as he came down, there was little doubt in her mind as to the probable subject of their conversation.
The sun was out, and while it was cold, it was at least not raining, and Elizabeth decided to seize the chance for a little outdoor exercise while she yet could. She was just about to leave the garden by the gate to the wood, when she saw the Netherfield carriage arrive and Captain Darcy, supported by one of his sailors, climb out and seek admission to the house. By the time she had removed her coat and outdoor boots, the captain had been admitted to the library, the sailor remaining seated in the hall, his broad-brimmed hat with a ribbon reading “Achilles” about it, resting on his knees.
She could hear the sound of men’s voices from within and thought about joining them. However, unwilling to fatigue her father with too many visitors at once, she went into the parlour instead and started on the household accounts, which had been somewhat neglected of late. She felt oddly nervous, and although she would have scorned to listen at the door, she found herself trying to catch some sense of the conversation from the tone of their voices. This, as she told herself impatiently, was ridiculous, even if she could distinguish the captain’s deeper tones from her father’s husky baritone. At least her father’s cough seemed to be under control this morning. Firmly, she turned her attention to the bill for sea coal, which would have been excessive if it had not been essential to keep the fires burning for her father.
She was so engrossed in her search for an errant two shillings and eleven pence, three farthings, that at first she did not hear Mr. Hill coughing to attract her attention. Startled, she raised her head and then got to her feet as he announced, “Captain Darcy to see you, Miss Elizabeth.”
He came into the room, resting on the arm of his man, and bowed carefully. “Good morning,” he said. “I have your father’s permission for a private meeting with you, and if I may have your permission to sit, perhaps Anderssen might have a whet in your kitchen while we talk.”
“Of course you may sit, Captain,” she replied, somewhat flustered. “Perhaps this seat here? Hill, will you see to the captain’s man?” A sudden heat flowed all over her, and to her astonishment, her hands were shaking.
It was obvious that the captain was once more suffering from whatever ailed him, for he needed the assistance of his man to find the chair and, once seated in it, had to sit with his eyes shut for a few moments before recovering something of his colour.
“Is there anything I can get you? A brandy perhaps?” she asked, but he smiled and shook his head, only to wince as this obviously exacerbated his condition.
“I apologise for coming to see you in this state,” he began. “However, after last night, I thought it as well not to waste any time.” He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and sought her gaze with his, removing the green spectacles and tucking them into a pocket. “Pray forgive me if I encroach on matters you would prefer to keep private, Miss Elizabeth, but it seems that we are both in something of a predicament, and it occurs to me that, in helping you, I would also greatly assist myself and vice versa.”
Elizabeth began to feel a little sick. Her mother’s indiscretions of the previous evening had obviously caused the captain to see her as some sort of charity case. She opened her mouth to protest that she required no such pity, when his next sentence silenced her entirely.
“You have probably gathered that I was obliged to remove my sister from my brother’s care at very short notice. To put it bluntly, and I beg your pardon for being obliged to do so, when I got to Pemberley, I found that he had turned it into something not very far from a…a…disorderly house. Never an abstemious man, he is now a confirmed drunkard. Never a generous man, he might now be considered almost a miser. Never an affectionate man, he has treated my poor sister and her mother as little better than unwanted lodgers.”
He sighed and looked down. “In all this, he is, I regret to say, accompanied and encouraged by the local clergyman. This man was my father’s godson, and he owes his position entirely to a legacy in his will. Not content with joining my brother in his debauchery, he has so wormed himself into my brother’s affections that he has persuaded him that it would be an excellent joke to marry my sister to this Mr. Wickham and split her fortune of £20,000 between them, regardless of my sister’s wishes in the matter.”
Elizabeth gasped in horror. He looked up at her, and she could see his distress. “You have met Mrs. Darcy. I can conceive of no one less likely to prevent such a match. Moreover, my father, having little respect for her understanding, ignored her as a trustee for her daughter’s fortune, appointing instead my brother and my cousin, who is currently abroad with his regiment. While I doubt that Colonel Fitzwilliam would consent to such a match in advance, if presented with a fait accompli, he would have little alternative save to agree to the release of her fortune to her husband.
“I have begun proceedings to have my sister declared a Ward in Chancery, so that my brother would have no further influence over her.” Until now, his voice had been firm and almost dispassionate, but for the first time, he sounded uncomfortable. “It has been represented to me that I would have a much better chance of obtaining custody of my sister’s person if I had a family home in which to accommodate her. As a bachelor, I am in no better state than my brother when considered as a guardian. Any interview with her mother would soon reveal her unfitness to be charged with Georgiana’s welfare while I am at sea.”
While horrified by the narrowly averted fate of a young lady she had come to consider as a friend, Elizabeth had no idea what he expected her to do. Surely, he was not offering her a position as companion or housekeeper?
“I understood last night from your mother that you were expecting to receive an offer from Mr. Collins. Your father informs me that no such offer has yet been made, and I wonder whether you would consider me as a husband instead.”
She could almost feel the colour draining from her cheeks. Whatever she had been expecting, it had not been this.
“I admit that I cannot offer you Longbourn,” he continued. “However, I have been fortunate with prize money. I could settle £10,000 on you immediately, for your own use, with say another £5,000 if I get knocked on the head. This would surely be enough for you to support your mother and sisters somewhere until your sisters are settled. I would, of course, be responsible for all the household expenses including those of my sister and Mrs. Darcy.”
There was a roaring in her ears as he catalogued the financial arrangements. She had never been a romantic girl, but this almost mercantile conversation was oddly distressing.
“I thought to take a small house in, say, Hatfield, for you. I would leave Anderssen and another man for the outside work and because I will feel better if there are a couple of strong men to protect a houseful of ladies. Then, with two or three women for the house, I am sure you could all be very comfortable.” He was beginning to sound a little desperate, and she realised she had not looked at him for several minutes.
“I am afraid I am not much of a hand at pretty speeches. You must know that I have come to esteem you as a young lady of compassion and good sense—just the sort of lady I should wish my sister to become.”
Still she could not speak.
“You must not think I would make any…demands upon you right away. I realise we are almost strangers, and the speed at which we would need to act will make it difficult for us to become better acquainted before I must set sail.” He smiled wryly. “I have been awake much of the night trying to
decide what to say, and I fear I have not said everything I wished to. I have been at sea most of my life, and my acquaintance with ladies has been slight. So I feel woefully unprepared for this conversation, but please believe me when I say you may always count on my gratitude and trust if you will do me the great honour of consenting to be my wife.”
She stared at him and tried to think. My sisters, my mother, Mr. Collins, Longbourn, a shining face smirking, “Lady Catherine is always happy to give advice,” brown eyes in a brown face, a loving embrace for a sister, gratitude, trust. Her thoughts whirled. A little house in Hatfield, calm, order, a chance to be generous without those wet hands forever and ever, but then Longbourn, my mother, Jane. She could see he looked worried and opened her mouth to ask for a little more time to consider, but before she could speak, the door to the parlour was flung open.
“Oh, there you are, Lizzy. Mr. Collins wants to talk to you.” That round, unctuous face was just behind her mother’s shoulder, a look of satisfied possession all over it.
Elizabeth could not bear it, and she realised with a surge of relief that she did not have to. “Mother,” she said, “Cousin, you may both congratulate me. Captain Darcy and I are to be married.” She saw her intended’s face relax into a most becoming smile before they were both overwhelmed by her mother and her complaints.
Fair Stands the Wind Page 7