Page 74 of Her Affections and Wishes

“Your body needs rest, and so does your mind,” Jane insisted yesterday when Elizabeth suggested she go down to breakfast with her.

She could admit, at least to herself, that she had needed the quiet of the past few days. She enjoyed moments for reflection, but she had seen no one but Jane and the surgeon since Sunday. All of Mrs Tessier’s guests had left, and Henry had gone to his brother’s in town. Someone had also removed Julia Metcalfe, which eased her mind.

Only Darcy remained at Woodcote—and he had not asked to see her.

Ever since Jane told her that Henry said Darcy had drunk arsenic meant for her, she had agonised over him. At least, she had worried when she remembered that he had been poisoned. Jane had to repeat herself several times throughout Sunday and Monday, as she often forgot things. But Darcy being poisoned was certainly, distressingly committed to memory now.

“How is Darcy?” she asked in a rush when Jane returned from the dining room Wednesday evening.

“He offered his kind remembrance and wishes for your good health.”

“Is he as well as he was this morning? Is he now eating more?”

Jane smiled. “Do you really want to know what he ate?” Her emphatic stare answered, and Jane said, “He ate mostly soup, and dessert, and he refused all wine, but he had much more energy. He was better than he seemed even this morning. And he is as worried about you as you are about him. He is recovering, but he is equally distressed at not being allowed to see you.”

Jane said when she had first seen him on Monday, Darcy looked like he had been ill for weeks rather than days. He had moved slowly—although his mind was clear—and he was frustrated by his own fatigue. It was a feeling she sympathised with. But far more frustrating was that her betrothed had not asked for an interview.

“If he is that distressed about my health, he could ask to see me, or just knock on the door.” Darcy was not the sort of person to let “not being allowed” keep him from something he wanted or thought was right. And it was not as though he had not come to her room before.

Her sister sat on her bed, taking both of her hands in hers. “I have talked with Darcy whenever I am not tending to you. He is reserved about stating his feelings for you, but it is clear he adores you. And he is fearful to set back your recovery. The surgeon said no visitors, no disruptions, no anxiety, so he stays away. It is what is best for you, not what he wants.”

“How unfortunate I am marrying such a selfless, honourable man.”

Jane shook her head at her, but smiled.

“I will have to go find him myself.”

Jane gasped. “Absolutely not, Lizzy! You are to stay in bed until at least Saturday. Then we can discuss sitting up for long enough to have a brief interview with Darcy—if the surgeon approves.”

“But I approve.” She huffed. “Clearly, the vessels in my brain have withstood the concussion. And my insensibility has passed.”

“You must be kept easy.”

“Seeing Darcy would keep me easy. I am more troubled at not being allowed to talk with him than by any weakness or pain in my head. And I want to know what happened. No one will tell me!” Jane hushed her and she blew out a breath. “I remember nothing for certain from the time I said goodnight to Darcy on Friday and when the surgeon saw me on Saturday.”

“You were the victim of terrible violence, Lizzy. You might not want to remember.”

“I need to know!” In a calmer voice, she added, “You cannot deny that I am far and away better than I was when you first arrived. I can handle seeing Darcy and talking about it.”

“No, you need physical and mental rest.” Jane’s tone was unyielding. “Please let me take care of you. You do not know how frightened we were to hear you had been attacked. My father turned white with fear, my mother took to her bed, and we were all in tears. We were desperate to make certain you were well.”

Her indignation fell away, and she hugged Jane. “All I need to recover is you.”

“That is why I was the one from Longbourn to make the journey. Mr Henry Tessier kept his wits about him and suggested it when we were all in a panic and did not know who should do what.”

Her family loved her, but her other sisters would soon think of their own concerns rather than tend to her. They would all find it tedious after a few hours, let alone days. Her father was a laconic man and would not come now that he knew all she needed was rest. And her mother would be much too nervous to be of use. She would only pester Darcy about the wedding.

But as much as she loved Jane, she needed Darcy too.

Jane would never agree to send for him, so Elizabeth asked her about Bingley’s return, and she answered Jane about how she fell in love with Darcy—everything except what happened in Hunsford.

“Do you remember that I told you Darcy apologised for separating us?” Jane asked. “He regrets it very much; he worries about it more than Bingley and I do. And he is more open and amiable than I remember him being in Meryton.”

“He is a good-hearted man, after all. You always had a value for him, and you are gracious not to tell me you told me so.”

“And now, as Bingley’s friend and your husband, there can be only Bingley and yourself dearer to me than him.”

“I must confess that I love Darcy better than I do Bingley. I am afraid you will be angry.”