Bingley did not reply. He had cemented his gaze on Jane’s face, like he was a man in the desert drinking the last water in his jug. After a while he leaned close to Jane’s ear and whispered something that Elizabeth was unable to hear.
This was improper of Elizabeth to allow, but if Jane was dying, what was the harm?
Mr. Bennet returned a little after that with Mr. Thompson and the housekeeper. Mr. Bennet smiled tightly when he saw Bingley sitting there, and he looked at Elizabeth with a question in his eyes. She spread her hands open, and he shrugged.
For her part Jane seemed to be half asleep from the laudanum, and half delirious from the fever, and wholly unable to understand what was passing around her.
They lifted Jane up again, and she was made to drink the ipecac wine.
They quickly replaced the glass with a chamberpot into which she repeatedly vomited, moaning piteously the whole while.
Then once she’d ceased to vomit she sickly lay back down in the bed.
The doctor looked at the amount of fluid in the chamberpot, he frowned and tilted his head consideringly, and looked back at Jane. “I suppose. She is not a large woman. I would have hoped for a little more fluid… in any case, once again in eight hours.”
Mr. Bennet looked at Jane and kissed her forehead. “Come, Lizzy, you need to take leave of your mother before we return home. I’ll be back tomorrow morning — if anything changes during the night, even at midnight, do not hesitate to send for me so I might be here.”
Elizabeth made no motion to move. She just stared at Jane’s face, half of it paralyzed and drooping to the side.
“Lizzy.”
She started up and nodded to her father.
They left the room, bringing Mr. Bingley, who looked back longingly at Jane, with them.
Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Collins sat there speaking loudly to each other in the drawing room about how great of a sad pity it was that Jane was dying. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst attended them without saying anything, though their annoyed frowns spoke volumes.
They were healthy. They had no fears. The tragedy that was occurring within the walls of their rented abode was of no moment to them, except that it brought a group of unwanted guests that they had no choice but to tolerate.
Darcy also sat on a chair by the window with a book on his lap.
But he looked up from it as soon as they entered, and he looked at her with sad comforting eyes.
That look warmed her. She knew that Darcy could do nothing to help Jane — except send for an expensive doctor from London who could diagnose Jane’s condition of dropsy on the brain, and prescribe something that may or may not aid in its treatment — but it still comforted her greatly to have him there.
“You must come home, Lizzy. You must.” Mrs. Bennet put her hand around Elizabeth’s shoulders. “Mary, or even Kitty can come to replace you.”
“No.” Elizabeth shook her head. She felt the tears prickling at the inside of her eyes. “I’ll not return home while Jane is sick here.”
Mr. Collins said, “I ought to go upstairs to comfort my unfortunate cousin and counsel her upon preparing her soul for meeting the Eternal. The Almighty. That which comes after the breath and soul have left the body. She must be ready in her heart for what will come next, should the worst outcome arise, and after she has breathed her final breath, and been loosed from these painful bonds of earthly flesh. It will be a blessing to her in her condition to have her suffering end, which I understand is intense.”
After making this speech Mr. Collins picked a macaroon off a platter of sweets on the table next to the tea and other refreshments, bit into it, and complimented Miss Bingley on the quality of her kitchen. He had seldom tasted a better sweet confection, except of course at Rosings Park, when enjoying the hospitality of Lady Catherine.
Miss Bingley replied with a cold thank you.
For her part Elizabeth wished to claw Mr. Collins’s face. He was healthy, hungry, happy; she hated him for each aspect.
Mr. Darcy spoke loudly, “From what Mr. Thompson said, it is far too early to despair, or lose hope—”
“My dear Mr. Darcy, my benefactress’s beloved nephew. You must realize that it is always best to live life prepared for death. Especially when oneislikely dying, as Cousin Jane is.”
“Mr. Collins,” Darcy’s voice snapped out. “Miss Bennet’s soul and character is such that should the worst come, she will be prepared. But I consider it most unlikely that she shall die. I myself have lived through a worse illness, and I will not allow you to speak further upon the matter.”
“But—”
“You disappoint me. Be silent.” Darcy spoke with a tone that Elizabeth had never heard from him. But it worked. Mr. Collins, for the first time since Elizabeth had met him, was silent.
Mrs. Bennet anxiously stood and pressed her hands against her face. “Lizzy, we will bring Mary here to replace you. You must come home. I need you to come home.”
