Chapter 27

E lizabeth felt better; the terrible headache that had plagued her for so long had finally subsided. She lay beneath her blanket, extending her hands in search of Jane—a game they had played since childhood. The first one to awaken would tickle the other, and thus, they would begin their day with joyous laughter.

However, when her hands brushed the sheets, she startled in shock as something was not right. The silky sheets were unlike those she knew from Longbourn.She tossed aside the covers in one decided motion, certain that she would return to the familiar sight of her bedroom at Longbourn.

But alas, reality fell on her, mostly on her head, which once more began to throb as she cried out with full force in frustration, “No!”

She was not at Longbourn, and unexpectedly, she found herself in Mrs Gardiner’s arms, sobbing while her aunt murmured, “Lizzy, my dear, my sweet girl, you are awake.”

Elizabeth gently attempted to disentangle herself from her aunt’s arms, for she needed an explanation above all else. The haze that had accompanied her was once again creeping over her, but she fought to keep it at bay this time. She needed answers. What had happened in the past few days? The dreadful headache, the elegant room she remembered waking in and then leaving to return to Longbourn, destroyed by Mr Darcy’s marriage?

All the other memories flooded back as the headache gradually receded, giving way to the pain in her heart from losing the man she loved.

“Stop, stop, Aunt Maddy!” she exclaimed, a manner of address she had never used before. However, it seemed fitting for this distraught woman who regarded her like she was a miracle. A faint smile appeared on her aunt’s face upon hearing her name uttered by Elizabeth.

“Yes, dear, yes. You have returned!”

“Returned?” Elizabeth glanced around, recalling the opulent chamber at Matlock House, yet nothing appeared familiar. “Returned from Longbourn? How can that be? I was there just last night, in my own bed, after a wretched journey home with that awful headache.”

Again, Mrs Gardiner’s countenance darkened with concern. She called for assistance, and two maids promptly arrived. “Fetch the doctor—we need him!” Mrs Gardiner cried, and one maid rushed off.

“No, I do not need a doctor. First, open the curtains so I may see the light,” Elizabeth commanded.

The maid complied, while her aunt inexplicably burst into tears.

“Why are you crying? No! Tell me first why we are still at Matlock House!”

The cries grew louder, and the maid was at a loss as to whom to assist.

“I shall summon Mrs Barstow,” the maid mumbled, and Elizabeth nearly fainted on the exquisite lace cushions.

“Mrs Barstow? What is happening, Aunt? Cease your weeping and explain, or I shall rise and discover the truth myself.” She glanced down at her nightgown but did not recognise it; far from those they had at Longbourn, it looked like a ballgown. “I must be dreaming!” Elizabeth concluded, pinching herself and feeling the pain. “But I am not dreaming. I am utterly bewildered. Last night, I was at home, slumbering in my own bed after a dreadful journey, with that terrible headache.”

She looked again at her aunt, who could not cease her sobbing. She nodded through her tears, further disorienting Elizabeth.

“I need someone to explain,” Elizabeth muttered to herself.

Fortunately, Mrs Barstow entered the room, followed by Miss Darcy, who hesitated to approach, mindful of the doctor’s orders. Nevertheless, she could not stay away, as the last days had been hell for each of them, not knowing what would happen with Miss Bennet.

“I am here, dear!” Mrs Barstow declared, gesturing for her niece to attend to Mrs Gardiner. Then, she sat on the bed, taking Elizabeth’s hands, and some semblance of reality returned with this composed and resolute lady .

“What is happening?” Elizabeth murmured, repeating her question for the tenth time that day. “Where am I?” Her voice carried a heart-wrenching tone, as if trapped in a dream from which she could not escape.

“Your head?” Mrs Barstow asked.

“It no longer aches,” Elizabeth replied.

The only sign of emotion on Mrs Barstow’s face was a faint blush. “That is the best news of these past few days. You fell in the woods and struck your head on a stone. You had a huge swelling.” She paused while Elizabeth felt the still-prominent lump with her fingers.

“Oh,” was all Elizabeth could muster.

“And you brought me to Matlock House,” she continued.

Unexpectedly, Mrs Barstow did not respond, while she cast a wary eye at the maids who had crowded into the room.

“I shall explain everything after you have had a bath, changed into fresh attire, and eaten,” Mrs Barstow finally suggested.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and nodded, appreciating the plan that allowed her time to come to terms with this new reality. She hesitated to ask about Mr Darcy, and the pain in her heart remained unabated.

Upon finishing her meal, the doctor arrived, and after a long consultation, he expressed his satisfaction with her condition.

“Young lady, you possess remarkable resilience,” he said. “I recommend two more days of bed rest, but you can begin taking short walks. You have a lovely balcony adjoining your room, and tomorrow, you will venture out of doors and stroll.”

Shortly after the doctor’s departure, her uncle entered the room. Tears welled in his eyes, but he managed to smile and kiss her on the forehead. Nevertheless, he bore a tormented countenance that made Elizabeth realise the severity of her injuries, and she felt sorry for her uncle and aunt, who had endured such an ordeal.

“Please, tell me everything,” Elizabeth whispered, and Mrs Barstow exchanged glances with Mrs Gardiner, who shook her head. She had regained her composure but was still unable to speak.

“Why are we at Matlock House?” Elizabeth asked, also casting a glance at Miss Darcy, who remained on the other side of the bed.

“Matlock House?” Mrs Barstow responded, surprised. “We are—”

But she halted abruptly, fearing that Elizabeth had not fully regained her senses.

“What is the last thing you remember?”

Elizabeth gazed at her, somewhat confused, prompting Mrs Barstow to add, “Just tell me…us. What do you recall?”

Elizabeth again found herself shrouded in a peculiar haze that enveloped her thoughts, although she was confident it was no mere dream this time. She had suffered a severe blow, and her sole desire was to swiftly return to her usual state of existence. Little by little, she came to that terrible understanding that some of the things she remembered could have been a dream.

“We did not leave for Longbourn,” she murmured, looking at her aunt, who shook her head.

“No, dear. That, you imagined or dreamt.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed and closed her eyes, while no one in the room dared to speak as they were as confused as she was, uncertain what she remembered or whether she had come back for good.

But she needed to know everything, so she opened her eyes, looking at Mrs Barstow, the only one in the room who seemed capable of telling her the truth.

“You…slept for almost five days,” Mrs Barstow said.

“Slept?” Elizabeth asked tragically. “I remember so much from those days.”

“You slept, my dear.”

“That was no ordinary sleep!” she said.

“No, it was more like fainting and not recovering for five days. But tell me what you remember before…”

“Before?” Elizabeth asked, and even if she seemed lost, she responded with remarkable composure. “We journeyed to Derbyshire.”

She paused, gripped by that well-known feeling that she had made a terrible mistake. “I made a terrible mistake by travelling to Derbyshire before knowing Mr Darcy’s final decision,” she echoed her thoughts.

“No, that is not true!” Mrs Barstow said as she could imagine Elizabeth’s innermost musings. “I know not what recollections you have, but the torment in your face suggests you are not privy to the true story…you did not leave for Longbourn. Let us begin again, Miss Bennet. You journeyed to Derbyshire, and?”

“We slept at an inn and departed early in the morning for Lambton.”

She paused abruptly, in real dismay. As ardently as she wished to recount the events of the following hours, they remained stubbornly concealed within the recesses of her memory. All she could recall was her sojourn at Matlock Lodge. She had finally understood the source of her agonising headache and pervasive dizziness. However, the mysterious gap in her memory concerning the return journey to Longbourn finally was solved, for it seemed evident that she had not left her sickbed for several days. But what about the rest? Matlock House, their discussion in that parlour?

“I dreamt while in that state…that faintness,” she declared, a revelation of such magnitude that it left her further muddled, unable to see the boundaries of reality.

“My dear, you never stayed at Matlock House,” Mrs Barstow said with the utmost delicacy.

“Then what happened…where am I?” Elizabeth asked.

“You suffered an accident. Your carriage wheel broke, and while your uncle and his servants repaired the vehicle, you took a walk through the woods and fell, striking your head upon a stone.”

“No!” Elizabeth cried, her gaze darting about as if the room itself could offer the truth of her existence. “An accident?” she asked. “Why do not I remember anything? Where am I? In your house?” she asked Mrs Barstow.

“Mine? Nay, I possess no dwelling in Derbyshire,” came the reply, accompanied by pauses each time she had doubt regarding Elizabeth’s retrieval of her memories and lucidity.

“But when we crossed paths at the theatre, it appeared you were in search of an estate near…”

However, saying that name proved too agonising for her to bear. Nevertheless, those assembled within the room smiled; Elizabeth’s recollection of such details signalled her return to her former self, the only missing part being her memories of after their incident on the road.

“Fitzwilliam arranged a search party,” Mrs Barstow explained, and she observed how Elizabeth changed colour.

“What is it, Elizabeth? Do you remember?”

“No,” she murmured. “Where am I?”

“At Pemberley, my dear. Where else could you be?”

“No!” Elizabeth cried, furious to be in his house. “No!” She huddled against the headboard as if warding off some invisible malevolence.

“Indeed, you are. You were only a short distance from Pemberley, and Mr Gardiner came to the house for help. Fitzwilliam organised a search party and discovered you, and you were conveyed here.”

“No!” she repeated. “Then I imagined I was at Matlock House. I dreamt—”

Matlock House had been but a reverie. But what of the rest?

“I wish to leave at once,” she said vehemently, attempting to rise but ultimately falling back upon the bed.

“Why, in God’s name? Why leave Pemberley, my dear?” Mrs Barstow asked her, sudden trepidation coming from the fear that the accident had obliterated not Elizabeth’s memories but her sentiments.

“He is married,” Elizabeth whispered.

“Who is married?” Miss Darcy queried, speaking for the first time.

“Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said, hiding her face in her hands.

“No, he is not!” Miss Darcy cried.

“Who told you such nonsense?” Mrs Barstow asked, although no one could have done, for Mrs Gardiner had been her sole companion since she had awoken.

“Nay, dear, Fitzwilliam is unwed.”

“Not wed?” she asked, and the world began to spin in a rhythm that made her sick. He had told her he was married…but then Longbourn and Matlock House proved to be only in her imagination. Nevertheless, she could remember his presence close to her, which was more accurate than anything else. Longbourn and the journey home were in a thick fog; Fitzwilliam had been close to her.

“And the child?” she asked and blushed, looking at Miss Darcy, who blushed too.

“My dear, you do not need to worry any longer about the child. When I came to Longbourn, I was only hoping to prove by some means that the child was not his. I still imagined that she only wanted to marry him…but the truth was so much more frightening. By fortune, Lady Matlock had strong connections in London. Helped by the colonel, she found out that Lady Amelia had a plan to deceive Fitzwilliam, and she did not do it by herself. Another man was involved. Step by step, they plotted that terrible deception with the child together. God knows what they intended to do with Fitzwilliam once they were married.”

“My God!” Elizabeth exclaimed, overwhelmed by fear. Hundreds of questions crossed her mind, and the terrible headache returned. She closed her eyes desperately, trying to regain her composure while Mrs Gardiner took her into her arms again.

“Enough, Mrs Barstow,” her aunt pleaded. “Please, enough!”

“That is all you need to know for now. Darcy asked me to tell you this, as he has other matters to discuss with you,” Mrs Barstow said, finally smiling. “Fitzwilliam is free. That woman will never come into your life again.”

“Is it true?” Elizabeth asked with an apprehension that persisted, as she could not imagine what proof would suffice to convince her that this was, indeed, reality. The burden that had weighed upon her heart began to dissipate, yet her uncertainty lingered.

“Mr Darcy is eager to see you. Do you want to receive him?” Mrs Gardiner asked as she drew nearer to the bedside.

“Here?” Elizabeth asked, shocked at the ladies around her, who were all finally smiling, encouraging her to meet a man in those conditions.

“Your apartment boasts a sitting-room. You may put on a robe, a maid will arrange your tresses, and Mrs Gardiner will help you there.”

“And you approve of this?” Elizabeth queried, primarily addressing her aunt.

“Oh, my dear, seeing you smile again, restored to your former self and sound health, makes us eager to fulfil any request you may have.”

“And do you believe my wish is to see Mr Darcy?” she asked slyly, yet offering no resistance as the maids aided her in donning the gown and tying her hair with a green ribbon the colour of her eyes.

“We surmised your sentiments had not changed because of the accident,” Mrs Barstow responded. “Yet, if they have changed, I shall tell my nephew—”

“No!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “I shall see him!”

And so, she ventured slowly into the adjoining chamber, reclining upon a sofa, still grappling with the incredulity that this was her reality.