“What could have distressed him so?” she murmured to herself. The lively conversation had been nothing out of the ordinary—Mamma chattering, Lydia and Kitty squabbling, Mary pontificating, and her father indulging in his dry humour. Nothing that could have provoked such a reaction.
She released the curtain and began to pace the room. Mr. Darcy’s gaze had been distant, his movements stiff, almost pained. It was not the behaviour of a man suffering from a mere cold. Elizabeth replayed the evening’s events in her mind, searching for some clue that might explain his odd behaviour.
Her thoughts turned to the conversation about baby blankets. It had been lighthearted, even absurd, as her sisters debated the influence of childhood attachments on adult preferences. Yet Mr. Darcy’s reaction, the way his expression had hardened and his complexion paled, lingered in her memory. Could it have unsettled him so badly? But why? It made no sense.
A soft knock at the door interrupted her musings. “Come,” she called, smoothing her gown as Hill entered.
“Miss Elizabeth, your father has asked for you,” the housekeeper said, her tone gentle.
Elizabeth’s concern shifted immediately to her father. “Thank you, Hill. I shall go to him at once.”
She made her way to the small sitting room between the master’s and mistress’s chambers where Papa sat in a comfortable armchair, a blanket draped over his legs and a new cup of tea resting on the side table. He looked up as she entered, his face drawn but his eyes bright with affection.
“Ah, Lizzy,” he said, his voice hoarse but warm. “I fear your mother has determined to nurse me personally. If I am to recover, it will be through your tinctures, not her lamentations and fussing.”
Elizabeth smiled despite her worry. “Jane and I prepared everything we would need for winter illnesses before the wedding.” She leaned over the teacup and sniffed. “I see Hill has brought you some of the peppermint tea already. I shall gather some of the other items we require.”
He nodded, his gaze softening. “Thank you, my dear. You are a capable nurse, though I imagine you would rather be anywhere else than tending to an old man.”
“Nonsense,” she replied, moving closer to adjust the blanket over his knees. “You know there is nowhere I would rather be than ensuring your recovery. After all, you are not justanyold man.”
Mr. Bennet chuckled faintly before a fit of coughing overtook him. Elizabeth placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, her worry deepening. “You must rest, Papa. I shall see to everything.”
“I do not doubt it,” he said, his voice rasping.
She left the room with a heavy heart, her father’s frailty more evident than she wished to acknowledge. The tinctures and powders she had prepared filled her mind once more. She made her way to the stillroom and began to gather what they would require.
When Elizabeth was done, she realized that she had assembled far more than her father would require. Her gaze fell on a basket and then to the wrapped bundles. A decision formed quickly in her mind. If Mr. Darcy was unwell, he would benefit from these medicines as much as her father. When she had nursed Jane, many of the powders she used had come from Longbourn, for Netherfield had long stood empty and the stillroom was not well stocked. There was every chance they would be restricted to the medicines Mr. Jones could provide, and at this time of year there were many patients to serve.
She made certain Papa had everything required before seeking out the butler and requesting that the carriage be made ready. Mr. Hill’s expression briefly registered surprise, but he nodded. “Of course, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth returned to the stillroom and packed a basket with everything she thought Mr. Darcy might require. The Gardinershad left them a number of tinctures garnered from both London and their own warehouses, and she separated the best of those out to share. Then she gathered her cloak and gloves.
Elizabeth felt a sense of purpose steady her fear. Whatever troubled Mr. Darcy, whether it was his health or some unseen burden, she would do what she could to offer aid. She stepped into the waiting carriage and sat upright, the basket resting on her lap. Her thoughts raced, torn between worry for her father and the inexplicable urgency she felt regarding Mr. Darcy’s health.
When Netherfield came into view, Elizabeth took a deep breath, her resolve firm. She attempted to convince herself that it was the same as coming to tend to Jane, better even, for she was not arriving on foot. And Mr. Darcy, though he had positioned himself as her suitor, had not formalized matters, though she thought he had been about to do so. He had only been courting her a fortnight, but they had known one another much longer.
When the carriage came to a stop, she stepped down, the basket of remedies balanced carefully on one arm. She climbed the stone steps and knocked firmly at the grand front door, which was opened moments later by the butler, his expression polite but surprised.
“Miss Bennet,” he said with a bow. “How may I assist you?”
Elizabeth straightened her shoulders. “I have come to inquire after Mr. Darcy.” She lifted the basket. “I have brought remedies that may assist in his recovery.”
The butler’s brows lifted slightly, but he stepped aside. “If you will wait in the drawing room, Miss Bennet, I shall inform Colonel Fitzwilliam that you are here.”
She followed him into the drawing room, where a fire burned low in the hearth. She set the basket on a side table and took aseat, her gloved hands resting in her lap. The quiet of the room and the absence of servants was unsettling.
Minutes later, Colonel Fitzwilliam entered. His expression was both courteous and cautious. “Miss Bennet, what an unexpected pleasure.”
Elizabeth inclined her head. “More of an imposition, I am sure. I am not here to visit, Colonel, only to make certain that you are well supplied. My father was taken ill at much the same time as Mr. Darcy, and while I was preparing for his care, I took the liberty of assembling this basket for you all. The tincture of myrrh is especially good for sore throats.” She gestured toward the basket. “Mrs. Nicholls will know what to do.”
He nodded. “I shall see that she receives it. This is most kind of you.”
She hesitated, then ventured, “Is there nothing else troubling him? He seemed ill, yes, but also truly upset. I do hope no one at Longbourn was the cause of it.”
The colonel’s expression became guarded. “Darcy has much on his mind, as he often does. But rest assured, he is in capable hands. Your thoughtfulness is greatly appreciated.”
Elizabeth searched his face for a clue, but the man’s composure revealed nothing. Frustrated but unwilling to press further, she rose and curtsied. “Thank you, Colonel. Please convey my regards to Mr. and Miss Darcy.”
