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There were occasions when Lizzy had uncharitable thoughts about her youngest sister and her loud mouth, and this was one of those moments.

“Fell off the balcony?” declared Mrs Bennet. “Jane merely told me you had twisted your ankle! Whatever were you doing? Was he kissing you, Lizzy?”

“Mama!”

“But come now, Lizzy. This is good!” cried Mrs Bennet. “He must have changed his opinion of you! I knew it! He has seen the bliss Mr Bingley is enjoying with Jane and is jealous of his friend’s good fortune! Ooh! Ten thousand a year! And with Mr Bingley’s five thousand, who cares if Mr Collins has no taste! Though he did dance with you once, Mary!”

“Mama,” objected Lizzy, “it is nothing of the sort! We were merely talking while we waited for the supper line to diminish and I slipped. Mr Darcy tried to rescue me but was not successful.”

“Oh, come, Lizzy!” retorted her mother. “Do you really expect me to believe that? But you can tell me all about it in the morning. Lord! I am so tired!”

Mrs Bennet made her way to the front door, which was opened by Mrs Hill, dressed in her nightgown with a shawl wrapped round her shoulders. Kitty and Lydia trailed after her, suddenly enervated by thoughts of the nearness of their beds. Mary and Jane made a chair of their arms for Lizzy and brought up the rear.

“I suppose Mr Bennet has retired, Hill?” asked Mrs Bennet as she mounted the front steps.

“No, ma’am. He’s still in the study, waiting up for you,” replied Hill as she lit more candles to light the ladies to bed.

Mrs Bennet quickly forgot her yawns at this unexpected solicitude on her husband’s part and made straight for Mr Bennet’s refuge to share her news. Her three eldest followed her; Jane and Mary depositing Lizzy at the entrance so that she could lean against the doorpost.

“Oh! my dear Mr Bennet,” Mrs Bennet exclaimed as she entered the room, “we have had a most delightful evening, a most excellent ball! I wish you had been there. Jane was so admired; nothing could be like it. Everybody said how well she looked; and Mr Bingley could not take his eyes off her. I was sure that he was going to announce their engagement, but it cannot be far off! Everyone assured me so!…”

But at that point, Mrs Bennet finally noticed her husband had fallen asleep with a book in his lap and his glasses on the end of his nose. A half-full glass of port stood on a side table.

“Oh, Mr Bennet. Do wake up! We have ever so much to tell you!” she said, and she leant over to give him a shake.

Then, with a shriek, she fainted dead away to the floor, knocking her husband’s glass of port to the carpet.

“Mama!” said Jane in alarm, starting forward.

Before her daughter could reach her, Mrs Bennet revived and promptly burst into a fit of hysterics.

It was then that Jane looked at her father. “Oh dear! Lizzy…”

Ignoring the pain in her chest, Lizzy hopped towards her papa, then reached out to touch his hand. It was cold and clammy. Distraught, barely able to control her facial contortions, she looked at Jane.

The aftermath of their discovery had been painful. With the help of Hill, the sisters had sedated Mrs Bennet. Mary and Jane had taken their mother to her bed and finally managed to encourage her to settle down after giving her enough laudanum to anaesthetise a horse.

After her sisters had gone off, Lizzy had sat down on the floor at her father’s feet, rested her head against his knee, and cried.

Chapter 5: Correspondence

Lizzy stifled her sobs when Hill returned to the study to report she had roused Mr Hill.

“I’m ever so sorry, Miss Elizabeth. I had no idea there was anything wrong. The squire does occasionally wait up for you, and you know he never likes to be disturbed.”

“I blame myself, Hill,” said Elizabeth, pulling her handkerchief from her reticule. “I noticed he had gone so far as to dress in his ball clothes, but he goes out so infrequently that I did not think it strange for him to baulk at the last moment. I think he must not have been feeling well.”

“That was what Mr Hill said as soon as I told him. ‘While the master doesn’t go out often, it was unusual for him to change his mind.’ He suspicioned there was something wrong, but he thought it might have been that Mr Collins that kept him home, the master not being very tolerant of silly gadgers.”

Elizabeth knew she should remind Mrs Hill that ‘the silly gadger’ was now the Master of Longbourn, but she could not bring herself to speak the words. Instead, she said, “I wish Papa had asked me to stay home. I would have done so gladly.”

Lizzy knew this was not entirely true. She had been keen to score her petty points on Mr Darcy. It all seemed so unimportant now.

Refusing to be drawn into such maudlin thoughts, Elizabeth asked Hill how they should go about laying out her father’s body. It was decided they should put Mr Bennet on the floor immediately, lest he stiffen, and this they managed when Hill lifted the master under his armpits as Lizzy pushed the chair out from underneath him. Mr Hill arrived soon after with Sarah, carrying an old door to use as a bier and two stools to place under it. Sarah was sent to pump water so the master could be washed. Jane and Mary returned, having finally managed to settle their mother. The sisters decided that their father should be buried in his favourite waistcoat rather than the ball clothes he was wearing, and Mr Hill was sent off to retrieve his clothes. Meanwhile the ladies washed their father and, with the help of the Hills, dressed him. Finally, the black cloth Mrs Hill had retrieved to cover the bier was drawn under him.

Taking a final look at their handiwork, Elizabeth tried to imagine her father asleep, but the slack muscles of his face spoke the awful truth. All his personality seemed to have drained from his face.

The servants retired, giving the ladies their heartfelt condolences. When Mary wavered on her feet, Jane sent her sister to bed. She knew that Elizabeth, with her injured foot, was the most in need of repose, but she felt the need of her closest sister’s support.