He took a step back, then another, compelled less by thought than by the certainty that lingering would cost him more than he was prepared to examine.
Darcy turned and left the chamber.
The corridor received him with cooler air and a welcome distance. He drew a steadying breath just as footsteps sounded at the far end. Bingley came toward him at a brisk pace, colour still high from exertion. Close behind followed Mr Bennet, one hand on the banister as though he had taken the stairs too quickly, and Miss Bennet—her bonnet crooked, her face pale with worry.
“Darcy,” Bingley panted, “how is she?”
Mr Bennet did not speak. He simply watched Darcy with a stillness so grave that Darcy felt every word he shaped must be exact.
“She wakes for moments only,” Darcy said. “Not clearly. Her thoughts wander, and she drifts away again. Mr Jones finds no injury to the body, but he believes she may have fallen or taken a sudden fright.”
Mr Bennet swallowed, the sound audible. “May I see her?”
“Of course.” Darcy stepped aside at once. “But gently, sir. She is—” He searched for the right word. “Easily overwhelmed.”
Mr Bennet did not wait for more. He pushed open the chamber door and went directly to his daughter’s bedside. Darcy followed only far enough to be out of the way. Miss Bennet crossed the room quickly, her composure cracking only when she reached her sister’s side.
“Lizzy,” she whispered, gathering her sister’s hand between her own. “We are here, and you are safe.”
Miss Elizabeth stirred faintly, her brow tightening, though she did not wake.
Mr Bennet lowered himself into the chair beside the bed. His hand hovered over his daughter’s on the coverlet before finally resting upon it with a care so tender it seemed almost unrecognizable in the man. Gone was the playful sarcasm, the easy indolence—what remained was a father nearly undone.
Darcy turned away from the intimacy of that moment, his own unease sharp in his chest.
Miss Bennet glanced toward him then. “Papa,” she said softly, “perhaps… perhaps Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley might tell you how they found her. I will stay with Lizzy.”
Mr Bennet did not move.
Miss Bennet tried again, her tone very mild. “Papa, I shall not leave her. Not for an instant. But you must hear all that they know. Please, Papa, at least until she wakes and we can take her home.”
A long moment passed. Then Mr Bennet nodded once—short, jerking, as though agreeing cost him something—and rose. His eyes never fully left his daughter.
Before he could step back, Mr Jones cleared his throat. “She must not be moved today. Not until we understand what brought on this collapse. A journey in a carriage would be ill-advised; the jostling alone could cause harm.”
“Yes,” Miss Bennet said at once. “Of course. She will remain here until she is stronger.”
Bingley straightened with immediate resolve. “Then her comfort must be secured. Miss Bennet, may I send for your things? We shall have a room prepared for you adjoining this one.”
Her eyes softened with gratitude. “You are very kind, Mr Bingley. Thank you.”
At that moment, footsteps clipped sharply in the passage, and Miss Bingley appeared in the doorway, one hand pressed to her chest as though she had run the entire length of the house.
“Is it true?” she said, breath quick. “I am told Miss Elizabeth Bennet is taken ill, and that I am just now hearing of it?” Her gaze flicked at once to Bingley, then to Darcy, as if they had conspired to keep the news from her.
Miss Bennet rose slightly from her seat. “My sister had a fall, I believe. We are not entirely certain what occurred. But she is resting now.”
Miss Bingley swept forward, arranging her expression into something poised and sympathetic. “Then allow me to sit with her. It is the least I can do as hostess. Miss Bennet, you must be exhausted—pray let me relieve you.”
Miss Bennet blinked at her, too polite to challenge her outright but not yielding an inch of ground. “You are very considerate, Miss Bingley, but I cannot leave her.”
A faint crack appeared in Miss Bingley’s smile. “Indeed. Well. If you require anything, I am at your disposal.”
Mr Bennet exhaled shakily and stepped toward the door. Darcy moved at once to assist him, though the gentleman waved him off and steadied himself against the jamb.
“Mr Bennet,” Darcy said quietly, “if you will come with us, we shall tell you everything we know.”
Bingley offered his arm. “This way, sir.”
