Page 70 of Her Affections and Wishes

She hurried away, and Darcy was resigned to a day of solitude and recovery. He did not have the heart right now to think about anything other than Elizabeth.

The day passed slowly and dully, but he had strength for nothing. His valet said his own carriage had returned, bringing Henry and Jane. As much as he was desperate to see Elizabeth, he feared disrupting her recovery by reminding her of the attack. Seeing him so soon after it happened might only make Elizabeth’s condition worse. He would disobey the surgeon on his own account, but not on hers.

And whilst he was tempted to send for Jane to learn how her sister fared, he chose not to ask to see her either. Jane’s thoughts could only be with Elizabeth. Hopefully, she would find her sister no worse, and the patient’s spirits would be better for having her beloved sister with her.

On Monday, the walls of his room were closing in. The only person he had seen other than his valet was Henry, who came in parting this morning to say he was going to town to see his half-brother’s child.

“I can take a letter to Longbourn, before I go, if you like,” Henry added.

Darcy tilted his head, his eyes narrowed with confusion. “That is not even close to being along your way. And I am sure Miss Bennet sent a rider to inform her family about Miss Elizabeth’s condition today.”

“Of course,” he muttered. “I only wanted to be helpful.” Darcy held his gaze, feeling there was more to the story. Henry shifted his weight, then relented. “I do want to be of use to Miss Elizabeth, of course, and it is only an afternoon’s ride. I just—I thought I might talk to Miss Lydia again if I went to Longbourn.”

“Miss Lydia?”

“I talked with her a great deal on Saturday night.” Henry turned red. “They were all distressed, of course, but once the shock and clamour of crying was over, most of the family went to their own rooms to cry or write letters, or prepare to leave, in Miss Bennet’s case. And I had the chance to sit with Miss Lydia. She is ever so spirited and pretty. She admired my waistcoat,” he added with a grin.

What a curious development. He would have to bring Lydia to town whilst Henry pursued his law degree. “She is only sixteen, and you have no profession. But,” he added, when Henry turned away, “it is an acquaintance worth keeping whilst you both see what time brings. Give Tessier my best wishes.”

He was too weak to ride, too shattered to write, too weary to read, and there was no one to talk to. He would take a laborious turn in the sad area outside of ostentatious Woodcote that passed for a garden. Thank goodness no one was with him, because anyone used to his company would be appalled at his ambling pace.

“Mr Darcy!”

Jane Bennet came running up to him, breathless, but holding out her hand and smiling. It was her smile that made him not afraid she came bearing terrible news. “I am glad we are to be brother and sister,” she said after greeting him.

“I sincerely congratulate you on your own joyous news. No person rejoices more fervently in it than I.”

She reddened. “I sent for you after Lizzy fell asleep, but your man said you had walked out in defiance of the surgeon’s orders. You are like Lizzy in that way. She has grown tired of being confined to her bed, but she does not yet have the strength to defy anyone.”

“Can I do anything for you, Miss Bennet?” Perhaps she needed him to send for a physician from town, or to go to Longbourn with a message for her mother.

“Jane, if you please,” she corrected. “Lizzy is so dear to me, and Bingley speaks highly of you, so I hope we will be friends. I wanted to ask how you are? Mr Tessier said you were poisoned⁠—”

“I would rather hear how Elizabeth is.”

She did not seem insulted by his abruptness, given her compassionate gaze. “She says the pressure in her head has lessened. The light still bothers her, but she does not have as much trouble concentrating now. She tires easily, however, and is not ready to read herself yet.”

“But she has moments of lucidity?”

“Oh, yes! The intervals of sense and consciousness are much stronger this afternoon than they were even this morning. I do not have to repeat myself as often. But you must tell me how you are,” she pressed. “Lizzy does not remember much about Saturday’s attack, but she knows you were ill, and she remembers my telling her that you were poisoned.”

“I am well enough.”

Jane stared at him for a long moment. Her eyes were not like her sister’s and held a different sort of feeling behind them, but he recognised resolution when he saw it. “You cannot think Lizzy will be satisfied with that. It will ease her mind to hear how you are.”

Darcy looked away, delaying his answer. No one wanted to admit to weakness, but lying to Jane would only hurt Elizabeth. The truth always came out. “The surgeon says the poison will work itself away, but it will take weeks. I am exceedingly tired, but I feel more like myself every day, and can tolerate the draughts and nourishment Mr Hunter deems necessary.”

The chest pains were gone already, and his shortness of breath only bothered him on the stairs. His sore throat lingered, but the pricking feeling in his hands and feet was lessened. Exhaustion and nausea were the strongest and most distracting symptoms.

A shadow clouded Jane’s gaze. She pitied him. He would be met with pity or revulsion whenever the story was told. What would it be like once the world at large understood the events at Epsom? It would be in all the London papers if it was not already. He would marry Elizabeth in Hertfordshire and then hide them both away at Pemberley for months.

“How much did you drink for such an intense effect?” Jane asked softly. There was something about her gentle manner that made one feel she was trustworthy.

“Scarcely a sip.”

“How lucky you suffered no worse effects.”

He scoffed. “I am lucky Elizabeth did not drink an entire cup when it was hot and she wanted to be respectful of someone she thought was showing her a kindness.”