When he had finished and quietly excused himself, Jane hurried to the bedside. Elizabeth had curled up on her side, exhausted by a violent fit of coughing.
“Lizzy, how are you? Drink this honeyed tea. It is a mixture the Harpenden apothecary prepared for me.”
“Jane?”
“Yes, my dear. I have come to you.”
“Jane, you are here. And Mary?”
“Mary is here as well.”
Mary drew near the bed. Elizabeth reached for each sister’s hand and held them tightly.
“Am I dying?”
“No, Lizzy, you are not dying. You progress very well. Air moves freely through your lungs. Your lips remain blue, but you are mending. I have no fear for you.”
“It is well then. I am so tired, I can hardly keep my eyes open.”
Elizabeth turned upon her side and fell asleep almost at once.
Darcy returned to the drawing room and settled into a chair beside his cousin.
“Darcy, I wish to marry Annie tomorrow, or the day following. If my aunt does not recover, we must wait at least six months before we may marry. I would remain here with my cousin and support her through what lies ahead.”
“Yes, Richard. If you depart early tomorrow, you may reach London within two hours. The rector can perform the ceremony the following day. I shall stand with you, and Mrs. Collins may attend Anne.”
“I shall go up and speak with her now. She may hesitate out of regard for her mother.”
“Tell her we both judge it best that the marriage take place as soon as possible.”
Richard left him then, and Darcy remained alone. His thoughts returned to Elizabeth. How had he come to love her in so short a time? Never had he felt so for any woman. Fear for her health pressed upon him. When she coughed, he saw the struggle for breath, as if she labored against suffocation. He covered his eyes with his hand.
He wished to marry her, above all else he had ever desired. He longed to sit beside her bed, to care for her and watch over her. He believed she returned his regard. Nothing stood between them now. His Uncle Henry would not approve, yet with Aunt Catherine no longer able to oppose him, his uncle was unlikely to stand in his way.
Hope rose within him. There remained no true obstacle. When she grew strong enough to come downstairs, he would offer for her.
Chapter 23: A Wedding at Rosings Park
Richard tapped upon Lady Catherine’s bedchamber door, then opened it and stepped inside. Anne sat bowed over her mother’s form, weeping.
At the sound of his footsteps, she rose and hurried to him. “Richard, Mamma’s pulse is very weak and grows fainter with time. I am afraid.”
He gathered her against him, his arms holding her fast. “I am here for you, Annie. You are not alone.”
“Richard, do not leave me.”
“I am here. I shall not leave you.”
“You left me for years. I have been so alone.”
“I am here now, Annie, and I shall not leave you. We shall marry and be happy together.”
She wept openly. “We must wait for months. You cannot remain here, for I have no chaperone.”
“We may marry tomorrow, or the day following, and if your mother does not recover from this attack, you shall at least have me beside you.”
She drew back, pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, and dabbed at her eyes.
