Elizabeth scarcelyknew where to look. There was no doubting the sincerity in Mr. Darcy’s expression. At that moment, she was certain he would go to any length to help her. A crushing weight of guilt settled over her. She could not allow him to continue in his belief that Mama had been struck down by such a terrible condition. Besides, the longer they continued to dissemble, the more entangled the situation would become.
All her instincts drove her to tell the truth. She could not allow the two gentlemen to exhibit so much concern, knowing full well that Mama, far from being ill, was at present upstairs in perfect health, plotting how to secure Longbourn for Lydia, and feasting on her favorite foods.
But Jane had another view of the matter. She was glaring at Elizabeth, her expression clearly conveying that she would not allow it. Jane – who rarely opposed anyone – had intervened and prevented her from confessing.
It was so rare for Jane to be forceful, Elizabeth wavered. The need to tell the truth was becoming a compulsion, but if Mr. Bingley took offence and left Netherfield, if he did not ask for Jane’s hand, Elizabeth would never forgive herself, and to judge by her warning, Jane would never forgive her either.
She turned her back and walked to the window as she struggled to master her feelings, which were pulling her in two directions at once.
Then the doorbell jingled, and Mr. Collins hurried into the room. The decision was taken from her. Saying anything at this point would not only affect Jane’s chances, but Lydia’s as well.
The truth would have to wait.
***
“ATHOUSAND APOLOGIES.” Mr. Collins was huffing and puffing as if he had been running all the way from Meryton. “I am not familiar with the neighborhood. I could not find my way back and had to request assistance several times. Has the apothecary examined Mrs. Bennet?”
Jane would have to answer that one. Elizabeth was fast becoming tired of this question. If Jane did not want her to reveal the truth, she would have to be prepared to dissemble. Elizabeth was not such an accomplished actress that she would go so far as to pretend an anxiety over her mother she did not feel. Jane was always better at concealing her feelings.
Meanwhile, Mr. Darcy’s gaze was fixed on her in such a compassionate, warm way, Elizabeth could not help feeling flattered. He had always looked at her to find fault. For the first time, she was seeing a different side of him. Under any other circumstances, she might even have found it thrilling.
“Thank you for your concern, sir,” Jane was saying. “Mr. Crompton has been to see her, and he has given her a drought.”
It was all true, though it side-stepped the main point. Jane was quite good at this. Her color was heightened, but otherwise, she looked as serene as ever.
Mr. Collins took up her words immediately.
“All thanks to Mr. Darcy. If it were not for his speedy actions, she may not have survived the worst. You can be sure that I will inform my patroness, Lady Catherine—”
“—You exaggerate, sir,” said Mr. Darcy, interrupting what everyone knew would be a diversion into praising Lady Catherine. “I did nothing more than my duty. I was glad to be of service to Miss Elizabeth – and her sisters.”
He was looking intently at Elizabeth. Had she imagined the hesitation?
Why was he suddenly paying her such particular attention? She felt flustered and hot. She was not accustomed to being the object of Mr. Darcy’s interest.
Now she was being absurd. Mr. Darcy wanted to offer his support, nothing more.
“I will send for my physician to come down from London,” said Mr. Bingley, talking to Jane, wishing to receive some credit in the role of hero.
“I assure you, sir, it is entirely unnecessary,” said Elizabeth, wishing they could talk of something else. “We would be grateful to accept your very generous offer, if it were needed. But it is not. I thank you for your kindness. The apothecary has assured us that it is not serious.”
Mr. Darcy gave her an approving look.
“You are being very brave, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Not at all,” she said, starting to grow vexed. “I am entirely serious when I say I do not think Mama’s condition is dire.”
“Be it as it may be, it is too much to deal with when Mr. Bennet is not here. If you give me your father’s direction, I will send an express to him at once.”
Heavens! This was really going too far! Now Papa would be obliged to abandon his friend and return to Longbourn.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy, but there is no need. Mama is resting and should improve in a day or two. Papa is visiting a friend of his from Oxford who is gravely ill. I would not like to call him back unless it was strictly necessary.”
“Miss Elizabeth does have a point, Darcy,” interjected Bingley. “Perhaps we ought to wait. No need to cause unnecessary anxiety, you know.”
Darcy looked grim. “If I were Mr. Bennet, I would certainly want to know what was happening in my own home.”
Papa wouldnotwant to know what a muddle Mama had created.
