Chapter 17

A Terrible Cold

D arcy paced the length of his bedroom. The house was quiet now, the rest of the guests having retired for the night, but sleep was the last thing on his mind. He had not seen Elizabeth since breakfast, and the hours that had passed since then had been filled with an increasing sense of unease. The doctor had been called and returned to the parlor looking grim. “Tis a bad cold. She is robust and will do well, but you must be vigilant with her care. No heavy foods, no open windows, and she must remain abed until the cough subsides.” His vibrant, energetic Elizabeth confined to a bed! It was unthinkable.

Earlier that morning, Elizabeth entered the breakfast room looking drawn, her usual brightness dimmed by fatigue. He noticed immediately that something was wrong. She moved slowly and he rushed to pull out her chair. “Miss Gardiner, are you well?”

She attempted to smile but the result was ineffectual. “Only a little tired.” It was a lie. He knew it then and was proven correct only a while later, but he did not press her. He had no right… yet.

After helping her into her chair, he signaled the footman to bring coffee. He had noticed her preference for it when she appeared tired. Had she slept ill? He pushed the thought away and moved to the sideboard to gather toast and eggs. He sat her plate in front of her and moved back to his own chair. She did not touch her food, choosing, instead, to sip her drink.

Soon, their solitude was broken when Lady Susan, Richard, and the Gardiners stepped in the room. Mr. Gardiner seated his wife next to his daughter. “Toast again, or do you prefer something more substantial?”

Mrs. Gardiner crinkled her nose. “Tea and toast, dear.” When Mr. Gardiner left, she turned to her daughter who sat with a hand pressed to her forehead. “Elizabeth, darling, are you well?”

Elizabeth pulled her hand from her head and sat a little straighter. “Only a headache, Mama.”

Mrs. Gardiner’s expression tightened. “My dear, you appear flushed. Come here.” She motioned for Elizabeth to lean closer. Mrs. Gardiner touched her cheek to Elizabeth’s. “You are burning up!”

Elizabeth offered a weak smile. “It is nothing. Just a chill from yesterday, I suppose.”

But Darcy had seen the worry in Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes. “Edward, send my breakfast to Elizabeth’s room. She must rest, and I am well aware how little she likes to lie abed.”

Mr. Gardiner came to his daughter’s side. “My Lizzy, are you ill?” As her mother had done, he pressed his cheek to hers. Feeling the heat on her cheeks he exclaimed, “Oh, my darling. You have not had such a fever since you were a babe.”

“I have never seen her such, and I have been her mother since she was six years old.” Mrs. Gardiner’s face was lined with worry, the same worry that burned in Darcy’s stomach. “Off to bed with you.”

Elizabeth nodded faintly, too exhausted to argue, and left the room with her mother’s support. Darcy watched them go, a sense of helplessness settling over him. He wanted to help, to do something, but boundaries of decorum held him back.

Later that morning, the doctor was called. Nicholas and Lady Susan assured him that Dr. Abel was well-educated and capable of seeing to Elizabeth’s needs. Darcy had wished to call for his own man, but it would take days for Dr. Clark to arrive from London.

That afternoon, Lady Susan informed him that Elizabeth was resting, but that her condition had worsened. The doctor had predicted a few very bad days, and it appeared he would be proven correct. Obviously, she had not come down for supper. He had known she would not, yet he missed her anyway.

I need to see her, he thought. Logic told him she suffered only from a cold, but his heart said otherwise. The longer he was removed from her presence, the more restless he became. He knew it was improper to visit her, especially at this hour, but the thought of her lying ill, possibly in pain, was more than he could bear. He had to see her, even if only for a moment.

Making up his mind, Darcy left his room and made his way down the dimly lit corridor toward Elizabeth’s chambers. He knew her mother no longer sat with her, for he had heard Mr. Gardiner insist that she sleep in her own bed. Likely a maid had been assigned to watch over. A few well-placed coins would prevent her from saying anything about his midnight visit.

The house was quiet, the only sound his soft footsteps on the carpeted floor. As he approached her door, he hesitated for a moment, unsure if he was making the right decision. But the memory of her frail appearance at breakfast pushed him forward. He knocked softly.

The door opened almost immediately, and Lady Susan appeared, her expression a mixture of surprise and understanding when she saw him.

“Mr. Darcy,” she whispered, stepping out into the hallway and closing the door behind her. “You should not be here.”

“I know,” Darcy replied, keeping his voice low. “But I could not stay away. How is she?”

Her concern was evident by the small lines that formed around her eyes. “She is resting now, but we are worried for her. Her fever is very high.”

Darcy’s chest tightened. “Please, allow me see her. Just for a moment.”

Lady Susan hesitated, studying him for a second before nodding. “Three minutes and no longer.”

She opened the door slightly, allowing Darcy to slip inside. The room was dimly lit by the glow of a single candle on the bedside table. Elizabeth lay in the large bed, her face flushed with fever.

He sat on a stool near her bedside and took her hand in his. “Elizabeth,” he whispered.

∞∞∞

Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered at the sound of his voice. She smiled to herself. A lovely dream. Speak to me again my love. Come closer so that I can see you.

“Elizabeth, darling, can you open your eyes for me?” She was tempted to snuggle deeper into her pillow. She would accept a fever if it meant Mr. Darcy would invade her dreams. His thumb rubbed circles on her hand. It felt so real. Too real. With effort she opened her eyes.

“Mr. Darcy,” she whispered, her voice was raspy but filled with genuine surprise. “What are you doing here?”

He leaned closer, his eyes never leaving her face. “I could not stay away,” he admitted quietly. “I had to check on you.”

A warmth bloomed in Elizabeth’s chest that had nothing to do with her fever. She had not expected to see him, and certainly not at this hour, but the sight of him sitting by her bedside, his eyes filled with such worry, thrilled her. She looked around the room. It was empty but the door stood open. Suzy must have allowed him in.

“You should not have come,” she said, though her heart was far from reproachful. “What if someone catches you here?”

Mr. Darcy gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. “That is a risk I am willing to take.”

Elizabeth’s heart fluttered at his words, and she found herself unable to look away from him. “Why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why would you risk that?”

He hesitated for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. When he spoke, his voice was low and earnest. “Because I care for you, Elizabeth. More than I can say. When I heard you were unwell, I could not tolerate the thought of you suffering alone.”

“I am not alone. My mother sat with me all day, and Suzy has been here.”

He pressed her hand. “Without me, then. I could not tolerate you here…. without me.”

Her breath caught in her throat at his confession. “Mr. Darcy…” she began, unsure of how to express the whirlwind of emotions his words had stirred within her.

“Please, call me Fitzwilliam,” he interrupted gently, his eyes searching hers. “I need you to know that my feelings for you are real. I have been a fool, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth swallowed, her throat tight. “Your aunt… she wishes for you to be with Suzy. I have seen how she watches you.”

Darcy’s gaze softened. “My aunt will be pleased for me. She only pressed me toward Lady Susan because she believed that is what I would wish for. My father and grandfather both married daughters of earls, and my great-grandfather married the daughter of a marquess. In the eyes of society they made excellent matches. But…”

“But?” She both longed for and feared his response.

He paused, taking a deep breath as if to steady himself. “But they all also married for love. My parents were deeply in love. My father did not marry her for her position in society. He married her because he loved and adored her, and that is what I truly want for myself. And I have come to realize that I love you, Elizabeth.”

Tears threatened in her eyes. “But I am…”

He squeezed her hand once more. “Yes, I know. I thought your father’s connections to trade were insurmountable, but that was before.”

“Before?”

“Before I contemplated a life without you.” He smiled then. “Besides, your father and mother are wonderful people. I would be foolish to reject you because you are the daughter of two such fine individuals.”

“Fitzwilliam…” she whispered, the name felt strange yet comforting on her lips. “I… I have grown to care for you deeply as well. But I dared not hope.”

Mr. Darcy reached out and placed his hand gently on her cheek. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of them.

“Fitzwilliam,” she whispered again, her voice trembling slightly.

A sound at the door drew their attention. Suzy stepped into the room. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of them sitting so close, his hand on Elizabeth’s cheek. “Mr. Darcy, it is time for you to say goodbye.”

Mr. Darcy nodded, his gaze lingering on Elizabeth’s face for a moment longer before he rose to his feet. “Rest well, my love,” he said softly, his voice filled with unspoken promises. “We will talk more when you are feeling better.”

Elizabeth watched him leave, silently willing herself to quickly overcome her illness. Suzy shut the door behind him. “And you said there was nothing between you two,” she snickered.

Elizabeth giggled, then placed her hand against her tender temple. “Do not make me laugh.”