Instead, her thoughts wandered to Vauxhall Gardens and to how wonderful it had felt to be held in Mr. Darcy’s arm, held firmly against his masculine frame, as they rose together in the balloon. She remembered the scent of his shaving cream, his clean linen, and the masculine fragrance that was uniquely Mr. Darcy.
She recalled the marked civility he had shown her when they had dined at his home, quietly deflecting Caroline’s barbed remarks. Her mind’s eye summoned his compelling presence at the theatre, attired in black evening dress, and her heart stuttered. But now he was in the north, and she herself was leaving London to care for her father. Unless Mr. Bingley purchased the estatein Hertfordshire, she doubted she would ever see him again, for their social circles were so unequal. Elizabeth grieved the loss, knowing well that nothing could ever have come of that connection.
Her thoughts then moved to more urgent matters. If Papa were to succumb to this inflammation, what would become of her and her sisters? What ill-advised schemes was her mother even now devising for them? And what of Mr. Collins? He had also taken the influenza. Had he recovered from it, or was his life also in danger?
And her sisters? How were Mary and Kitty faring?
Elizabeth brooded over these questions, and many more besides, until three hours later she found herself seated in the gig beside Mr. Hill.
He was a taciturn man, and Elizabeth had been unable to draw any information from him. At last, she gave up entirely, sitting in frustrated silence as the countryside rolled past, wondering what awaited her at Longbourn.
When she entered the house, Mary immediately fell upon her neck, and Mrs. Hill hovered close by. Both appeared so distressed that Elizabeth began to tremble.
“What is it, Mary? Have we lost Papa?”
Mary drew herself up at once. “Forgive me, Lizzy. We have frightened you. Come, sit down, and Mrs. Hill will bring you some tea. You must be thirsty after traveling these three hours.”
Elizabeth sank into a chair, and Mrs. Hill went to prepare the tea tray.
Mary sat down and began recounting all that had passed at Longbourn.
“Mr. Collins fell ill only two days after his arrival. He had sat at the bedside of a parishioner who succumbed to influenza and brought the illness with him. Mamma meant to call you home, but when he became sick, she decided to leave you in London until he recovered. The poor man was very ill. I nursed him through the worst of it, and now he is able to sit up for two or three hours at a time.”
Elizabeth searched her face. “And what of Papa? And where are Kitty and our mother?”
“Papa spent the first two days of Mr. Collins’s visit closeted in his study, going over the entail and the ledgers with him. He fell ill two days after the rector did.”
Her voice faltered.
“But our father has grown worse. Dr. Edgerton says he requires hot fomentations to the chest and percussion to help him cough up the phlegm that is making it so difficult for him to breathe. Our mother has not allowed me near him, for she has set her eye upon my marrying the rector, so all my time has been spent tending to him.”
“And you accept this decision?”
Mary smiled for the first time since Elizabeth’s arrival.
“Oh yes, Lizzy. He is an attractive, well-spoken man. Though he has been very ill, he never complains, and he is exceedingly grateful for any small kindness or service I perform on his behalf.”
She colored slightly. “I have fallen in love, Lizzy.” She smiled with earnest delight. “We are in love. It is a most extraordinary thing to feel so deeply.”
Elizabeth embraced her, her eyes bright with feeling. “Mary, I am very happy for you. I only hope Mr. Collins will recover fully from this illness.”
“I do not fear for him now. He no longer suffers from fever, his appetite has returned, and as I mentioned, he is able to sit up for a few hours at a time.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Lydia has always boasted that she would be the first to marry, being the tallest and the most handsome. Now you will be the first, even before Jane. Is that not a triumph?”
Elizabeth listened for several minutes while Mary happily enumerated all of Mr. Collins’s virtues. Then she asked, “And Kitty? She has not come to welcome me home.”
“Kitty caught the influenza and is still laid up in her bed. Mrs. Hill has been attending her. I fear she fell ill on my account. I sent her to sit with our mother, and she did not cover her face, and so she contracted the illness.”
“Is she on the mend?”
“She is. You need not fear for her. She already sits up in her room, and her appetite is improving. She did not suffer to the extent of the others, but she is still very weak.”
Just then, the tea tray was brought in. Mary poured, and Elizabeth ate three small sandwiches, grateful for food after her journey home.
Mary continued, her voice lowering.
“Sister, Mamma has fallen ill as well, and you know how she can be. She complains about everything. She refuses to eat or drink. She will not allow me to place cool cloths upon her forehead or to soothe her limbs. I am quite beside myself.”
