Would he leave her behind at Longbourn since he did not return her feelings? Or would they live miserably together in a large house because he resented being forced into a lifelong union? As she walked into the garden behind the house, Elizabeth wondered was it better tofirst demand that Darcy explain his silence or instead tell him that she was not suffering from a fatal disease?
When Darcy returns tomorrow, do I withdraw with dignity, or do I persuade him to live with me as husband and wife?She hated the thought of his resignation and her partiality as being the only reason for his willingness to live with her. She felt a sharp stabbing pain in the middle of her chest, and her heart beat irregularly.
Mr Jones said to consider what might have been the cause of her distress.It is no wonder what is making me anxious now!
Elizabeth sat on the bench in the garden where she had passed many mornings with Georgiana and tried to calm herself. Her chest still burst with pain, but she slowed her breathing and tried to put her mind to what Mr Jones had said. The pain had begun after her father died, not long after Mr Collins and Mary married, but it was not grief over her father’s death that plagued her. She sometimes felt pain while under Mrs Cuthbert’s criticism, but it was worse at Longbourn, and it had even continued after she married Darcy.
Was it being at Longbourn with the Collinses or moving constantly that first brought on the episodes?
She had had an attack at another dull party at Lucas Lodge, and in Meryton after Mary refused to invite the Darcys, and another episode after the mortifying encounter with Mary and Mr Collins at the ball. She had thought it was dancing that strained her, but perhaps not if her heart was healthy enough for exertion. Another painful episode followed Georgiana’s funeral. She had not had any pain while her poor sister was dying; it was only when Darcy had to throw the Collinses from the house that her heart gave her any trouble.
She had been happier at Netherfield’s lodge than she had been in Mr Collins and Mary’s home, but the heart pain continued after she married Darcy. But the paroxysms only happened when she had been in the presence of her family. It was not the change from one place that had distressed her and strained her heart; it was being oppressed by her family that had caused her pain.
“Mrs Darcy?”
She cried in surprise, and rose in an awkward motion when shesaw her husband standing in front of her. It was clear he had just alighted from his horse and had been about to walk into the house.
“Are you well?” His voice shook. “I have called your name three times.”
“Darcy, I—you are here!” He stared at her, and she recognised how she had addressed him and felt embarrassed. “Mr Darcy, good afternoon. I did not expect you until tomorrow.”
She was afflicted by too many things to say and too many questions to ask, and did not know where to begin. At first, she could not speak, and Darcy gently led her inside. Once they had settled her into a seat in the parlour, he began to talk on about going to the Lakes.
“Everything has been arranged in Grasmere, so I see no reason why we cannot leave in two days. However, before we do, I must... my dear Mrs Darcy, we must have an unrestrained conversation.”
The need to confess the truth built within her, and while Darcy was pacing and saying something about needing to speak to her about some matter that could no longer be put off, at not being able to ease the shock of it, Elizabeth had to interrupt him.
“Stop, I can hear no more. I beg you to listen to me.”
“What is the matter? How is your heart?”
“I am perfectly well, and if you have any concern for me at all, you will never ask me that again.”
He appeared to catch her seriousness, and he sat slowly and looked at her with grave concern. “Yes, I am sorry, I did promise not to mention it. However, your mind must be very busy for you to say such a thing. What is the matter?”
“I have made a dreadful, terrible mistake. It was unconsciously done, and you must understand that I never intended to entrap you or lie to you. I genuinely believed I had little time left.”
Darcy opened his mouth, and Elizabeth rose and pointed at him before he could speak. “No, no, you must let me finish! I have been to see Mr Jones. After what happened at the toll gate, I could not understand why the fear and the tax on my heart did not kill me. I learnt from Mr Jones that I read the wrong letter.”
This was not enough of an explanation for Darcy, who only stared. “Mr Darcy, Mr Jones examined me in the spring, and wrote his diagnosis to Mr Lynn. Do you remember reading that letter?”
“Yes, how could anyone forget?—”
“It was not meant for me!” His eyes narrowed, not understanding. “I must make myself intelligible.” Elizabeth took a deep breath and began again. “I took that letter from the apothecary shop thinking it was about me. That letter was intended to diagnose another woman, an older woman with a mean temper, who never followed Mr Jones’s advice, who drank more than she ought. Mrs Baker died in the beginning of June of angina pectoris. The letter was regarding her, not me.”
“What”—she watched Darcy swallow and turn his gaze to the carpet—“what then is your proper diagnosis?”
She could not read his expression, but his tone was entirely flat. Would he be relieved or appalled? He would likely be both. He would be relieved for her sake because he was not an unkind man, but he would then be appalled to learn their union was permanent. “I am not ill.”
Darcy was normally an astute man, but his head was still bowed to the floor and he was shaking it. “That is impossible. You have suffered crippling paroxysms since I have known you.”
“There is something the matter with my mind and how it affects my heart. Although the chest pain and all the other symptoms are perfectly real, Mr Jones believes I am only suffering from anxiety.”
Darcy stood and took two steps toward her. Had he caught her words with resentment? The thought of that wounded her. “That apothecary has made a mistake, and your health will suffer for it. How can he believe that you do not have a heart condition?”
“No, I mean that anxietycausedthe heart condition. Mr Jones has the idea that extreme agitation does my body as much harm as fatigue or illness may injure someone else’s. I was considering it all in the garden before you came home. When I was most troubled by my saddest thoughts, I was oppressed by my family—primarily by being at Longbourn.”
His astonishment was obvious. “That is hardly the cause of your illness!” He then took a calming breath. “I trust that it could be true,but it cannot be the only cause. You continued to sufferafteryou left Longbourn.”
