20. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

D arcy leaned heavily against the desk in his room, the laudanum bottle still open beside him. He had taken a draught earlier, hoping for relief from the relentless pounding in his head. Instead, the room seemed to tilt and sway, the edges of his vision blurring. He rubbed his temples, wishing the pain to subside, but it continued to beat a merciless rhythm in his skull.

Through the haze of his headache and the disorienting effects of the laudanum, he could hear faint voices and laughter from outside. He staggered to the window, needing to focus on something, anything, to distract him from the agony.

Peering through the glass, he saw Elizabeth and Jane Bennet walking in the garden, escorted by Bingley. They moved slowly, admiring the dormant maze and shrubs, their voices drifting up to him in soft, indistinct murmurs. Elizabeth's presence drew his eye like a lodestone, her graceful movements and animated expressions focusing his attention as nothing else had done.

Darcy's heart pounded with a different kind of pain now, one that had nothing to do with his physical suffering. His mind, hazy from the laudanum, clung to the sight of Elizabeth like a lifeline. She looked radiant in the afternoon light, her laughter carrying up to him like a soothing balm, cutting through the fog in his head.

His thoughts, usually so sharp and controlled, had been drifting and tangled like a distant echo. But her image wavered before his eyes, a beacon in the blur. His legs felt like jelly, but he pushed away from the window, swaying slightly. His head would be clearer around her —somehow. The idea pulsed with his heartbeat, overriding any remaining logic.

He staggered toward the door, each step a battle against the spinning room. His chest tightened in desperation and longing. What could he have been thinking, planning to leave without seeing her again? Impossible. The laudanum blurred the lines between reason and impulse, leaving only a raw need to be close to her, to feel her presence steady him.

Everything around him felt unreal, his senses dulled yet heightened in bizarre ways. He stumbled down the stairs, gripping the bannister as his vision swam. He had to see her. Hear her voice. Each thought beat in time with the throbbing in his head, the laudanum stripping away his usual reserve, leaving him raw and exposed.

He stumbled to the door, gripping the frame for support. His vision was swimming, and the floor felt uncertain beneath his feet. He made his way down the stairs, the descent feeling like an eternity, each throb of his headache a reminder of his frailty.

As he reached the ground floor, he heard Wickham's voice from the drawing room, discussing the menu with Mrs Bennet and Mrs Nicholls. Darcy clenched his teeth, pushing forward. His head only ached more around Wickham, and Mrs Bennet was another thing altogether.

Outside, the cool air hit him like a shock, momentarily clearing some of the fog from his mind. Bingley was leading Jane Bennet, with Elizabeth following behind, along a path that would be bordered by roses in the spring. Darcy took a deep breath, steadying himself before he approached them.

Bingley noticed him first. "Darcy! We did not expect you to join us. I thought you had something like a hundred letters to write before your departure."

Elizabeth turned at Bingley's words, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of him. Darcy forced a smile, though it felt strained. "I… I needed some fresh air," he said, his voice sounding hollow even to his own ears.

Miss Bennet's hand was resting lightly on Bingley's arm, and she bobbed softly in greeting. "It is a lovely day for a walk. We were just admiring the garden while Mr Wickham and Mama finished with Mrs Nicholls. Would you care to join us?"

Darcy nodded, though the motion made his head throb even more. "I would like that very much," he replied, stepping forward to fall in beside Elizabeth.

She glanced at him, her eyes searching his face. "Are you certain you are well, Mr Darcy? You look… rather unsteady."

Darcy swallowed, his throat dry. "I have been… unwell, but the fresh air is helping. Please, do not let me interrupt your tour."

Elizabeth's brow remained furrowed, but she nodded and continued walking. She even took his arm, though he could not recall whether he had offered it or if she had merely grabbed it to help keep him on his feet. Likely, it was the latter. Darcy sucked in a manful gulp of air and mustered all his equilibrium so as not to fail in his task of escorting the lady properly.

"Mr Darcy, they turned to the left," Elizabeth murmured at his side.

He blinked, forcing his eyes to focus. "Yes, of course." He straightened his spine marginally and guided her after Bingley and Miss Bennet.

Her eyes were darting between his face and the path. "Truly, Mr Darcy, you look… rather worse than when I saw you the other day. Have you thought of seeing a doctor, sir?"

"It is just a megrim, Miss Elizabeth," he hissed, though he had meant to make his voice sound gentle.

"Yes, and apparently, it has not yet abated. Two days? That is not normal, sir."

"Thank you for noticing."

"I was only trying to… Mr Darcy, the path is more to the centre of the way. We are listing off to the right again." She stumbled slightly, for he had gone so far astray that he had somehow pushed her slippered feet into the muddy grass beside the walking path.

He cleared his throat and lifted his arm, and hers with it, as he pulled them back. Perhaps if he looked confident enough, she would think he was only admiring the naked tree branches.

"Sir, truly, you are quite unwell. Would you consider seeing Mr Jones? He is our local apothecary."

"I am afraid there is nothing Mr Jones can do." Darcy sighed and blinked until Bingley's back came into focus ahead of them. "And I mean to return to London tomorrow, anyway."

"Oh." Her voice was quieter now. "Yes, Mr Bingley said something of that. He… he said you regretted not being able to attend the ball."

Darcy whirled to look at her and immediately regretted the speed of the action. He swallowed as his brain sloshed to a dizzy halt inside his skull. "I fear I am… disappointing you, Miss Elizabeth?"

Her lashes shadowed her cheek for a moment, but then she lifted her face to him. "Are you, Mr Darcy?"

The knot that had been pounding behind his eye moved into his throat, and his mouth worked uselessly. "I understand I am. Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth, but it cannot be helped."

"Oh, there is nothing to forgive on my part. No, I should think it will be a tremendous relief for you, not having to play party to a ball which you are sure to despise when there are better amusements in London."

Drat, his voice still felt like it would squeak if he tried to use it, but he made the attempt, nonetheless… and indeed, it did squeak. "Noth…" He cleared his throat. "Nothing of the sort, I assure you. I only mean to attend to some personal matters."

"Is one of them to see a doctor about your headaches?"

"Why do you speak in plural, as if this is a common state for me?"

She paused on the path, her bonnet tilted up to him against a few light raindrops that were just beginning to fall. "I suppose I might be in error there. Very well, shall I guess at other reasons for your departure from Meryton less than a fortnight after your arrival? It cannot be that you do not enjoy your host, surely."

This time, he did not try to fight against the break in his voice. He simply stared at her for a few seconds, refusing to make an attempt at a reply, then resumed walking. As her hand was resting on his arm, she was obliged to either join him, or sever the contact, and walk away.

Naturally, she followed him, the vexing creature.

"Did you know there is to be a waltz at the ball?"

He stopped again. "That is something of a break from convention, but I am hardly surprised."

"You are not scandalised?"

"I have waltzed many times in London. I find nothing scandalous about it, but it is a particularly onerous dance if one does not enjoy one's partner."

"Too true. I suppose I ought to be glad that I shall not be obliged to stand up with Mr Collins for that."

Darcy's head was still floating from the laudanum, but he did manage to pick through his memory of those he had met in Meryton, and that name did not surface as familiar… which meant he was probably forgetting something again. "Ah… Mr Collins?" he asked hesitantly.

"Oh, you have not met him, but Mr Wickham and Mr Bingley did. He is Papa's cousin—his heir, actually, and he came to… I do not care to say what he came to do, but the short of it is that when he met Mr Wickham, of course, he was pressed with an invitation to the ball." She sighed .

Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose and held it tightly for a few seconds, hoping for either ample pain to break through the laudanum haze or sufficient numbness to deaden the piercing inside his head. At least in talking to Elizabeth Bennet, he felt like he could make sense of what she was saying, quick and whimsical though she was.

"I take it you do not relish the thought of dancing with your cousin."

"Oh, I shall have to dance with him, but at least it will not be that dance, for Mr Wickham has already offered."

Darcy tripped.

Hard.

"Mr Darcy, are you quite well?" Elizabeth ducked under his pinwheeling arms to safety, but then tugged at his hand as he was in the process of righting himself.

"I am…" He shook his head, which was a mistake, for his vision shuffled and jiggled about inside his skull. "Egad. What the devil was that rock doing in the path?"

Elizabeth bit her lip and looked back over their shoulders with a doubtful expression. "Yes… a rock," she said slowly. "How very unsporting. Mr Wickham should have words with his gardener."

"What was it you were saying about Wickham offering… was this the supper set, by any chance?"

She tilted her head. "Why, yes, it was. I understand I shall have to ‘make do' with him as my partner since you will be returning to London."

Darcy secured her hand upon his arm once more, and only then did he discover they were nearly out of sight of Bingley and Miss Bennet. Fine chaperons they made. "I did not realise I would be causing you a hardship, Miss Elizabeth."

"It is not—"

"I should hate to disappoint a lady. You may count on my attendance at the ball."

Her mouth drew into a thoughtful bow, and she studied him as she walked, but Darcy looked swiftly away. Too much laudanum in his blood, and too little clarity in his head… if he looked at her for much longer, Bingley and Miss Bennet would be long gone, and Elizabeth Bennet's reputation in tatters by the time he returned her to the house.

"What about your important business in London, sir?" she asked softly.

His chest rose and fell. What was the use? A second surgeon's opinion? A third? His will was in order, save for a few details to update, Georgiana was cared for by Lady Matlock better than he could do. He would only cause distress to his family when he began making his preparations to die sooner than necessary .

And perhaps, just once, he could enjoy the company of a lady he admired on the dance floor. One last ball.

"It will wait, Miss Elizabeth."

" M r Bennet is heedless and does not listen to me," Mr Collins declared as he trudged along behind Elizabeth and her sisters. "Had he only taken my advice, the flooding could have been mitigated by now. Lady Catherine would most certainly have supported my recommendations, I assure you."

Elizabeth traded a glance with Jane, who rolled her eyes in silent agreement. She suppressed a sigh, for there was little hope of deterring Mr Collins once he was on such a topic.

"Indeed, Mr Collins," Elizabeth said, trying to sound patient. "And what was it you suggested to my father?"

"I told him, quite plainly, that the stream should be diverted to avoid the lower fields," Mr Collins replied, puffing out his chest. "A simple matter of engineering, really. Lady Catherine would have had it done in no time."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly would you divert the stream, Mr Collins?"

"With a series of trenches and embankments," he answered confidently. "A plan Lady Catherine herself would no doubt approve."

"Trenches and embankments?" Lydia chimed in, her tone incredulous. "But wouldn't that take ages to build?"

"Nonsense," Mr Collins replied. "With proper supervision, it could be completed efficiently. Lady Catherine once oversaw the construction of a new bridge at Rosings. Quite the feat of engineering, I assure you."

Elizabeth suppressed another sigh. "I see. And what did my father say to your suggestions? "

"He dismissed them, unfortunately," Mr Collins said, shaking his head. "But Lady Catherine would never allow such neglect."

"Perhaps my father has other priorities at the moment," Elizabeth suggested, her voice even.

"Other priorities, indeed," Mr Collins muttered. "Lady Catherine would understand the importance of immediate action."

"Mr Collins," Jane interjected gently, "could you tell us more about Lady Catherine's management of Rosings? I am curious to know how she handles such matters."

Elizabeth arched a brow at her sister. A curious tactic, that—hushing the man on a subject they found vexing while encouraging him to expound on a subject about which they cared almost nothing.

Mr Collins' eyes brightened. "Ah, Lady Catherine de Bourgh! I suppose I have had little opportunity to describe her to you, thanks to the troubles at hand, but I declare, she would have seen through them in a moment. Her wisdom is unparalleled. At Rosings, she oversees every detail with such precision. Her counsel on agricultural matters is particularly noteworthy."

Well… about what she expected, but it was better than listening to him criticising Papa.

"Indeed," she encouraged, "I recall you mentioned her extensive knowledge of estate management. Please, tell us more about her insights."

Mr Collins puffed up with pride, his chest swelling. "Lady Catherine believes in thorough drainage systems, you see. At Rosings, we have the most advanced irrigation channels. She always insists that the ditches be dug deeper and the embankments be reinforced regularly. Such foresight prevents any flooding issues."

"Oh, that will not do," Elizabeth declared. "We can easily surmise what Lady Catherine's advice might be, for it is perfectly reasonable and right. But what of the lady herself? Tell us more about her. Has she much family?"

Jane shot Elizabeth a grateful look, her eyes sparkling with relief at the change in topic. Elizabeth nodded subtly, her mind drifting even as she maintained an attentive expression.

"Oh, indeed!" Mr Collins exclaimed, his enthusiasm undimmed. "She has one daughter, Miss Anne de Bourgh, who is a lady of many talents. Though her health is delicate, she is the epitome of grace and refinement. Lady Catherine takes great pride in her daughter's accomplishments, particularly her proficiency on the pianoforte."

Elizabeth's mind wandered as Mr Collins droned on, her thoughts flitting to the upcoming ball and Darcy's unexpected decision to stay. Perhaps she would take particular care in the styling of her hair… more so than usual, for with both Darcy and Wickham in attendance…

"And then there are the gardens at Rosings. Lady Catherine herself supervises the planting and arrangement. Each season, the grounds are transformed into a veritable paradise of blooms," Mr Collins continued, oblivious to the inward sighs of his audience.

Kitty and Lydia had finally run on ahead, their patience clearly worn thin. Elizabeth caught Jane's eye. At least this conversation was harmless, if tedious.

"How fortunate you are, Mr Collins, to be in the service of such a remarkable lady," Elizabeth said, trying to keep her tone light. "Her attention to detail must be truly inspiring."

"Indeed, Miss Elizabeth, it is the highest honour. Lady Catherine's every word is a lesson in propriety and excellence. Why, she even advised on the correct arrangement of my furniture at the parsonage. Her taste is impeccable."

"Tell me, Mr Collins, is there aught of Rosings or Lady Catherine or even the Hunsford parsonage which you cannot laud with the greatest enthusiasm?"

He sobered. "One thing, my fair cousin, and one thing, only. My house wants nothing but a mistress to make it the most charming, most delightful situation on earth."

Elizabeth groaned inwardly, but an instant later, inspiration struck.

"And… ah… what, precisely, do you seek in such a mistress?" she asked carefully.

"Why, only what is fitting and proper. Lady Catherine advised me to seek a lady who was not brought up too high, so that she would not disdain her position in life, nor too low, so that she would be properly prepared for all her duties as the wife of a parson."

"And you would commend such a lady in public?"

"Oh, to be sure! Why, I can think of nothing finer than to boast of my good fortune, and I am quite certain that Lady Catherine could find no fault in such a creature. Indeed, happy will be the lady who accepts my hand, Cousin Elizabeth." He followed this with such a simpering, winsome look that Elizabeth's stomach flipped over inside her belly.

She smiled tightly. "That, I can believe, Mr Collins."

" I am afraid I cannot sit long with you today, Lizzy," Charlotte sighed, glancing at the clock on the mantel. "There are too many chores to be done—putting up herbs, dipping candles. Mama will be beside herself if they are not finished by evening."

Elizabeth shook her head, leaning forward. "Charlotte, you look exhausted as it is. You need rest, not a mountain of household work."

Charlotte looked about the room vaguely. "Oh. I rest a little too often, I daresay. That is usually the problem, for I cannot manage enough interest in anything to show any bit of keenness when I am about my tasks, so Mama assumes I have done nothing. And that only makes it worse," she finished with a little shrug.

"So… she gives you more to do? Charlotte! Here I thought you were only suffering from a lack of appreciation by those closest to you, but it is also exhaustion atop that? Little wonder you have been a petulant shadow of yourself!"

Charlotte's brow clouded. "Petulant shadow? Truly, Lizzy, I'd no idea I had become so tiresome. I had simply got to the end of my feelings and… no, I do not wish to talk about it."

"I think you must, if only so we know how to keep you from going there again," Elizabeth insisted, taking Charlotte's hand in hers. "I know I have been guilty of not seeing how you feel on occasion, so please tell me."

Charlotte frowned. "I just wanted it all to stop—the demands, the pity, the way I seem to be… invisible, but still so much of a burden that it seems no one can abide my presence."

Elizabeth leaned closer. "That is not true!"

"Is it not, Lizzy?" she asked softly.

Elizabeth swallowed. Good heavens, how many times lately had she been just as guilty of brushing off Charlotte as anyone in her family had been? She gritted her teeth. "Well, whatever has been before, something must change. You cannot be expected to simply bear up under everything without some little pleasantness for yourself. Are you doing all the chores of the household? "

Charlotte gave a tired smile. "It is the duty of the eldest daughter, is it not? Mama depends on me, and Maria and John... well, they are still learning."

"But surely, some of these tasks could wait. Or be shared? John is nearly grown."

Charlotte's smile faded. "You know how it is, Lizzy. Family is… well, it is my duty. I do not like to think of myself when..." She lifted her shoulders. "You know. I failed to find a husband, so I must make myself useful somehow."

Elizabeth frowned. Indeed, perhaps it was time to share that outlandish, wild notion that had struck her earlier. "Charlotte, there might be a way to change your circumstances."

Charlotte looked up from her hands, curiosity and a hint of wariness in her eyes. "What do you mean?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath, her heart pounding with the audacity of her suggestion. "You could catch Mr Collins' notice."

Charlotte's head snapped fully up, her hands stilling in her lap. "Mr Collins? Your cousin Mr Collins? But Lizzy, why on earth would I want to attract a man I have never met? A man you say you do not even like!"

"He is not to my taste, to be sure, but he is not a bad man. Not clever or handsome, but neither is he vicious or truly repugnant."

"That sounds like a winning combination," Charlotte replied dubiously.

"It is when you consider that he will be master of his own property someday."

Charlotte's brows raised. "Well. Be that as it may, I have never been skilled at attracting men."

Elizabeth leaned in with a wicked smile. "Mr Collins is not like most men. All that is required to win his favour is an attentive and rapt audience."

Charlotte frowned, clearly puzzled. "But how can that be enough? Surely there must be more to it."

Elizabeth shook her head slightly, choosing her words carefully. "Mr Collins is eager to please and seeks validation. If you show interest in his words and praise his connection to Lady Catherine, you will find him more than willing to return the interest."

"But Lizzy, I am not good at pretending," Charlotte protested. "What if I cannot make myself agreeable to him?"

Before Elizabeth could respond, Lady Lucas entered the room, her expression one of mild exasperation. "Charlotte, Maria needs your help to make over her gown for the ball. She is in a dreadful state. "

Charlotte thinned her lips into a smile, even as she reached for the hem of her gown to stand. "Coming, Mama."

Elizabeth made a face as Lady Lucas left the room and quickly reached out, stopping her friend with a gentle hand on her arm.

"Wait, Charlotte," Elizabeth said. "Do you see, this is just what I was talking about. It is all about Maria, is it not?"

Charlotte blinked, staring at the floor as her throat worked. "Maria is younger and prettier, and—"

"And your mother has already thrown you over, has she? Who is helping you with your gown, Charlotte?"

Charlotte looked uncomfortable, her eyes avoiding Elizabeth's. "Ah… It is my gown that we are making over for Maria. She has grown, and it fits her better now. I have decided not to attend."

Elizabeth's eyes widened in shock. "Not attend? Charlotte, what do you mean?"

Charlotte shrugged lightly, a resigned smile on her lips. "Mama wishes for Maria to be seen. After all, I am eight and twenty years old and have more than had my chance. It is time for Maria to be noticed."

Elizabeth felt a surge of indignation. "That is exactly why I desired for you to make yourself agreeable to Mr Collins. He might not be the most attractive or intelligent man, but anything that belonged to him would only ever be praised. It seems you have had nothing but criticism."

Charlotte's eyes widened, her confusion turning to surprise. "Lizzy, you cannot be serious."

Elizabeth nodded vehemently. "I am entirely serious. Mr Collins is the heir to Longbourn. His standing is secure, and as his wife, yours would be too. No one could criticise you then."

Charlotte sat back down, looking thoughtful. "But what if I cannot make myself agreeable to him? What if he does not choose me?"

Elizabeth smiled gently. "Mr Collins is easily pleased. Just listen to him, nod in agreement, and show admiration for what he says of Lady Catherine. You have the perfect demeanour for it, and thank heaven, you are not half so impertinent as I am. And think of what it would mean for you, Charlotte. No more sharing gowns with Maria, no more being overlooked. "

Charlotte sighed, her expression softening. "Perhaps you are right, Lizzy. It is worth considering."

Elizabeth squeezed her friend's hand. "I know it seems daunting, but you deserve happiness and security. Mr Collins can provide that, even if he is not the man of your dreams."

Charlotte nodded slowly, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "Thank you, Lizzy. I will think on it."