Jane sighed. “If I must go I would prefer the carriage.”
“Mr. Bennet cannot bring the horses up — they are needed for the farm. Is that not correct, dear?”
“The horses are required more often by the farm than they can be got,” Mr. Bennet replied, “but they are certainly notmorenecessary than on any other occasion — I will happily have them called around.”
“Nonsense. They are not available. Jane, you shall go off on horseback, and you must head off now, so you might arrive before the rain.”
With a sigh Jane obeyed her mother. Elizabeth watched her stand worriedly. She continuously rubbed her forehead and neck, and she held her head at an angle, as though it would be very painful to hold it straight.
Not ten minutes after Jane set off on her horse, the storm that had been threatening burst out.
Elizabeth spent the whole of the afternoon and evening worriedly looking out at the grey, wet grounds. She was scared for Jane.
Mr. Collins constantly insisted on speaking to her, which made it impossible for Elizabeth to escape her worries by reading a novel or busying her mind in some other way. Once Elizabeth nearly snapped at him.
Then the next morning a note arrived early saying that Jane had taken sick with a fever and a severe headache, though the apothecary had said when he called upon her that morning that there was no particular reason for worry, but that she certainly should not be moved until she had recovered.
Elizabeth immediately determined to walk to Netherfield to see her sister for herself.
Chapter Six
Darcy had a presentiment of anxiety for Miss Bennet’s health.
My head feels so odd.
The apothecary, Mr. Jones, said he was sure she would be well and that there was nothing to worry about.
Just like they had insisted there was nothing to fear in his own illness. Darcy, his sisters, and his Matlock relations had been summering at the Lakes, and he had gone out for a swim that afternoon, but he felt rather ill and his back had hurt and he turned to bed early.
When he’d woken he’d been feverish and barely able to stand. Barely able to support himself with his legs. They called a local physician to look at him then, but the physician had assured Darcy that he merely had a bad flu, and that he would be well in another few days.
But… the oddness of the sensation in his legs had told him already that something more serious was wrong.
It was probably nothing.
So far as Darcy knew, there was nothing that any physician could have done for him that would have changed the course of the disease.
Perhaps he should send an express to the physician who had managed his case when they went to London to consult after the immediate crisis was over. Even though it was unlikely that it was both the case that Jane was faced with a serious problem undetected by Mr. Jones, but which might be diagnosed and successfully treated by a superior physician.
The simple fact of the matter was that despite the innovations in surgical techniques developed over the past century, and the great strides in knowledge of the human body, medical science was woefully inadequate for aiding most sufferers in any way but through reducing their pain by the prescription of laudanum.
Mr. Jones had already prescribed that to Miss Bennet.
Anxious, dull and anxious inside.
There was nothing he could do, so Darcy collected his crutches and went out to the park to walk around. He needed to be careful to avoid placing the crutches in muddy patches where they might slip, but despite the inclement weather of the previous day, he was determined to go around the house several times.
What mobility he had, despite his illness and the near complete lack of strength in his legs, was the product of consistent hard work, and he would not ever risk losing it due to laziness, or a distaste for managing a soft and uneven ground.
Darcy did in fact slide once, in a patch of deep mud hidden by fallen leaves that gave way suddenly despite how he’d tested it before putting his full weight on the crutch.
So it happened.
A muddy, painful knee was a small price to be able to tell himself and the world that he was not a cripple, and that he could walk, even if it required the aid of two pieces of wood.
Darcy levered himself up again with the crutches, using carefully practiced motions and a great deal of upper body strength.
As he finished the second circuit of the house, Darcy saw Elizabeth walking up the way. Dusty, her petticoats were three inches in the mud, and she had a ruddy glow on her face from the exercise. She looked lovely to him. Trim, sprightly and mobile. There was a crisp elegance to her appearance in the morning sun.
