25

Mr. Bennet was not likely to recover from his putrid fever; the doctor had explained as much to the family in no uncertain terms. Elizabeth knew it to be true just by looking at her father. He was pale and thin, as she had grown, but in a way that was undeniably deathly. Even the light had gone from his eyes, as if he understood what was coming, though he was not entirely aware of what was passing. He was scarcely conscious at all.

The day after Elizabeth returned home, Jane and Mr. Bingley; Olly had come up from his post in London and was hosting the Bingleys and Gardiners at Netherfield. Charlotte had come to reside with him there, and would act as hostess should they remain after Olly was obliged to return to his duties in London at the Office of the Admiralty.

It was a kindness to Elizabeth, as much as a logistical necessity. “I know things are not well between you and your sister,” he told Elizabeth on the morning of their arrival. “I would like to see you both reconciled, but I know you are stubborn, and things are quite dreadful at Longbourn. Perhaps it will bring you closer, but that would be more likely if she is not residing under the same roof as you.”

Devoted as he was to Elizabeth and her family, he also offered to escort Lydia to Kent, with Maria Lucas to accompany them for the sake of propriety. Though the sobriety of the household had tempered her antics somewhat, Lydia had done nothing really useful, beyond holding her tongue a little oftener. She would do better to attend Kitty in her confinement, as originally planned.

Mr. Gardiner had commended Mr. Collins on electing to soften the truth of Mr. Bennet’s condition to his wife, fearing for the babe should Kitty learn how dire the situation was. However, a servant who Mr. Collins had discovered was also employed as Lady Catherine’s spy had let it slip to Mrs. Collins that her father’s expiration was imminent, and Kitty was in great distress. She was eager for the consolation of her younger sister.

Elizabeth, Mary, Jane, and even Charles all took turns sitting with Mr. Bennet. He was not often awake, and even more seldom coherent, but his attendants placed cool cloths on his brow, adjusted his pillows, and read to him or conversed of idle things when he was able to hear them.

Mrs. Bennet kept to her rooms, lamenting that her daughter should soon supplant her as mistress of Longbourn, and that her least favourite daughter would end an old maid burdening them forever. Mrs. Gardiner, Mrs. Phillips, and occasionally Charlotte and Lady Lucas attended the wailing matron, who could not bear to go herself into her husband’s sickroom.

When she was not with her father or mother, the latter of whom she swiftly learned to avoid, Elizabeth resumed her habit of rambling through the countryside. For several days, her walks were solitary and morose; amidst the yellowing leaves as September turned to October, it was too easy to indulge in the exquisite torture of remembering the previous autumn and her walks with Captain Darcy.

Her heart still ached at the loss of him. He had not come back for her, had not even written, and she refused to pain herself by rereading the letters she kept in the pouch sewn from his handkerchief. But she allowed herself to ruminate in the memories of him that flooded her on every path she frequented. She reminded herself that the love she had felt had been real, and not some fancy of her imagination, even at a time when that happiness seemed so far away. It was easier than thinking of the despair that would inevitably await her when she returned home.

When Olly returned from Kent, he began to join her on her walks. For the first few days, they spoke of idle things; she could see that he wished to distract her from her melancholy, and she allowed him to comfort her. And then one day, when it was evident that she had been weeping since leaving the house, he took her hand in his hand and drew her into his embrace as he said, “I love you, Lizzy.”

It was not a romantic declaration, but deep and genuine affection that warmed her heart. She rested her head on his shoulder, savouring the warmth of his arm around her shoulder. “I know, Olly,” she replied. “I have loved you since we were children.”

“That is not how it seemed when you gave Charlotte frogs to put in my bed,” he teased.

She shrugged. “You have, on occasion, given me cause to love Charlotte more.”

He chuckled, but his face remained serious. “You know that I do not precisely love you in the way that they write about in these romances you read.”

“I do not read romances,” she cried. “At least, not anymore. I have grown too serious for such things.”

“And I am perfectly serious, too – pray, let me speak.” He began to fidget, running his hands through his hair.

Elizabeth was filled with a sense of dread; Olly hated to be serious. But they walked on, and she silently waited for what was coming.

“I fear I shall not be as eloquent as you deserve, but I wish to ask you – to tell you…. Good God, I feel as if I might faint….” He paused, drew in a deep breath, and then rushed all the words out. “I will marry you, happily, if the worst should occur. I… I would like to. To help you, that is – to care for you.”

“Oh, Olly, I….” Elizabeth stared at him, holding back tears that would only offend him.

“No, please do not say no. Not yet. I know you still love Will. Of course you do. I understand that, and I could live with it. I still love John, and I think I always shall. And that is… not something I would consider an impediment. You have the luxury of at least hoping – and I would not blame you if you prefer to continue to hold out some hope that he will one day give you the happiness you deserve. But, Lizzy….”

He gestured to her – to her thin frame, her sallow cheeks, the dark circles under her eyes. She was a wreck, had been long before her father’s illness, and she could see he blamed his friend for it. She felt the heat of shame creep across her cheeks. “You must think me a fool.”

“I will never think ill of you,” he said, squeezing her hand. “You are my dearest friend, and I am afraid for you. Afraid of losing you.”

“You will never lose me,” she assured him.

“I am losing you already,” he cried. “You are wasting away! Where is the Lizzy who laughs at everything, whose smile lights up every room she walks into? That is the Lizzy I wish to nurture and care for, before she slips away entirely.”

Elizabeth could no longer hold back her tears. She drew her hand from his to cover her face, but he gently clasped her wrist to pull her hand back before wiping her tears with his handkerchief. When he had finished, he drew her into another embrace. It was so comforting, so desperately needed, that she wept in earnest now. Olly sighed, but continued to hold her until her tears were spent.

“I cannot imagine a worse reaction to a proposal,” he said when she had finally ceased her sobs. He pulled away from her and attempted a smile that did not reach his eyes.

“Oh dear – no – Olly, do not think that I….” Elizabeth began to wring her hands. Words utterly escaped her.

“Do not say no, Lizzy – not just yet. Let it be an open offer, whenever you decide the time is right. You are the finest woman of my acquaintance, and the only one I could ever imagine myself marrying. It would give me unending joy to make you happy, to give you a home. Charlotte could remain with us, too, if you wished it. We would all be comfortable and content all our days, in a home full of laughter and love, which is a great deal more than most people can ever hope for. And your family would want for nothing.”

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath and slowly released it as she looked at her friend. He really was a wonderful man, to offer her such things. And she was truly a fool, for even now pining for what she could not have. What had she done, to lose her chance of having those things with Captain Darcy?

“Oh, Olly,” she murmured. She stepped closer to him and stood up on her toes to place a soft kiss on his cheek, and he rubbed her shoulder affectionately. “You are the dearest friend I could ever ask for. I will not say no, though I cannot say yes. Not yet.”

He nodded. “I understand. Indeed, I share your hope that he will come back to you. Perhaps he did write, and his letter went astray? Perhaps the fallout of his brother’s death has kept him shackled to Pemberley.”

“I have been tormenting myself with a thousand possibilities,” Elizabeth said miserably. “Perhaps his being master of a grander estate has given his family expectations of a loftier marriage for him – or perhaps Pemberley is in some trouble, and he must marry for more material considerations. I have turned over every possibility in my mind, and it has not helped a whit.”

Olly again took her hand in his as they walked on. “John is to be married,” he said flatly.

“Oh,” she let out a little cry at his dejection. “I am sorry.”

“I have let it consume me, as you have done with Will. Well, perhaps not quite so thoroughly, but it weighs on me. He has a distant cousin – an heiress – who has inherited an estate in Scotland, where they shall reside together. I… I do not think I shall ever see him again.”

“Do you think he will be happy?”

Olly stroked his chin as he considered this. “John grew up in very reduced circumstances. He joined the navy to improve his lot in life, and make his own fortune. His cousin could offer him a life beyond his wildest dreams; he may learn to love her for the sake of security alone. Yes, I believe he will be happy. I hope he shall, truly, even if I cannot be the one to have such a life with him.”

Elizabeth nodded, her heart aching for her friend. At least she had not the pain of knowing Captain Darcy bound to another and forever out of reach. “I hope I could feel the same, should I find myself in your position.”

“If ever you are, I know we could make one another happy, Lizzy. But I shall say no more about it, until you decide you are ready for me to get down on bended knee.”

“You would certainly have to, to stand any chance,” she teased, bumping his shoulder with her own.

“And recite poetry, too, I imagine.”

“For an hour, at a minimum.”

“And then I should conclude by ripping open my shirt, to reveal your name tattooed upon my heart,” he said, placing his free hand on his chest with a roguish grin.

Elizabeth giggled. She knew it was not uncommon for soldiers and sailors to have unique markings inked upon their bodies; she had read that it was done to make themselves more identifiable, should they fall in battle. “Do you have any tattoos?”

He waggled his eyebrows at her. “You shall have to accept my proposal to find out.”

It felt good to laugh, if a little foreign. She let herself enjoy the sensation, feeling the tense muscles in her body relax. Olly felt more like home than Longbourn at present, and she might have walked all day with him, laughing at his nonsense. And he was offering her that comfort forever; she privately resolved that she would indeed think upon it.

***

She had further occasion to consider her friend’s offer later that afternoon. Her father awoke about an hour after she had gone to sit with him after breakfast, and took her hand in his. His touch was cold, but his gaze was warm and loving. “Your friend Olly came to see me yesterday, Lizzy,” he rasped.

“Did he?”

“You were fast asleep in that very chair,” he replied, mirth seeping into his feeble voice. “You twitched and murmured in your sleep, but did not wake as he asked me for my blessing.”

“Oh. I did not know he had spoken to you.”

He managed to shrug from his recumbent position. “He sought my advice on whether or not he should speak to you.”

Elizabeth raised her brows. “And you advised him to do so?” She had thought he liked Captain Darcy.

“Lizzy, I married for what I thought to be love. It was a mad passion, fleeting at best. You have known Olly all your life – there will be no surprises, no infatuation to cool into indifference and disdain. You are happy when you are with him. He makes you laugh, and loves you just as you are, knowing all your faults and foibles as well as he knows your virtues and charms. Few people have the pleasure of growing old with someone whose disposition remains a balm to their spirits. Five and twenty years ago, I thought I would die if the beautiful Miss Gardiner refused me; I am on my deathbed now, and she will not even come to me. I think you know that it would be different for you and Olly.”

Elizabeth nodded sadly, clasping her father’s hand with both of hers. Tears welled in her eyes. “Do you wish me to accept him, Papa?” She realised she hoped that he would answer in the affirmative. She wished him to give her some cause to feel honour bound to marry her friend, and in doing so begin to purge herself of the heartbreak that had consumed her for so long.

Mr. Bennet nodded and reached up to stroke her cheek. “I love you, darling Lizzy. Be happy.” And then his expression became glassy, and he shuddered. His voice was distant as he asked, “Where is Fanny?”

A little shaken at this change in his demeanour, Elizabeth said, “She is coming. Wait but a moment, I will fetch her.” She stood and crossed to the door, turning back to say, “Do wait for her – she is coming, I promise.”

Elizabeth marched down the hall, the sounds of her mother and aunts’ lamentations growing louder. Elizabeth did not knock before she opened the door rather forcefully and strode up to her mother. Mrs. Bennet was dabbing nonexistent tears from her face with her ever-fluttering handkerchief, wailing that the Collinses would turn them into the hedgerows any day now.

Elizabeth extended a hand to her mother, who instinctively grasped it. Then Elizabeth pulled her mother up out of her chair, and led her through the doorway. “You are wanted in Papa’s sickroom, Madam.”

“It is too much! I shall be quite overcome! I am sure I shall faint straight away from the terrible shock of it! I am not well, Lizzy, I cannot bear it,” Mrs. Bennet wailed.

Elizabeth reached into her mother’s pocket, retrieved a vial of smelling salts, and thrust it into the woman’s hand. “Bear it you must, as must we all. But he does not deserve to bear it alone. You married for love; few enough are so lucky. Go in there and tell him so, or I shall never speak to you again,” Elizabeth hissed.

For a moment her mother only stood rigid in surprise, then gave a little whimper and nodded. She took a step toward toward Mr. Bennet’s room and then stopped, met Elizabeth’s gaze, and gave her a tender pat on the cheek before taking several processional steps into the sick room and closing the door behind her.

Mrs. Gardiner came to stand beside her niece and rested a hand on her shoulder. “You are a good girl, Lizzy. That took a lot of courage, but sometimes that is what is needed.”

Elizabeth nodded her head, knowing her aunt was absolutely right – and so too had her father been.

Mrs. Bennet remained sequestered with her husband for several hours. When Elizabeth went upstairs to fetch her mother for dinner, Mrs. Bennet had just emerged from Mr. Bennet’s room. She was white as a sheet, but utterly calm and she informed her second daughter that Thomas Bennet had peacefully passed from this world.