"Miss Bingley is right," he said, doing his best to keep the level, determined tone he used with patients and their families. "You may both remain, but you must take turns and rest when you are able. Exhaustion will make you careless."
Elizabeth looked ready to argue, but her gaze fell upon her sister and some of the resistance left her. "I shall take the firstwatch," she said firmly, only for the effect to be ruined by a yawn so enormous that she had to cover her mouth with both hands.
"You have already taken the first watch," Caroline said sternly.
Their eyes met across the bed, both women equally determined. At last, Elizabeth gave a reluctant nod.
"Very well. I shall rest. But only for an hour."
"Two," Caroline replied.
"One."
"An hour and a half."
Then Miss Bennet drew a rough, uneven breath, and Caroline turned back to her at once. Thomas opened his case and began preparing for the long night ahead.
Chapter Seventeen
Elizabeth, October 1811, Netherfield, Hertfordshire
Elizabeth awoke with a start and for several confused seconds had no notion where she was. The room was dim, the curtains drawn against the morning light, and she was still wearing the gown she had on the previous evening. Then the events of the night returned all at once and she sat upright so quickly that the room swam around her.
Jane, she thought desperately. How long had she left her? She reached for the small clock upon the table and stared at it in horror. More than four hours had passed since she had been in her sister’s chamber.
Elizabeth stumbled from the bed, scarcely pausing to smooth her skirts or push back the curls that had escaped around her face. She crossed the room and hurried into the passage, fear rising with every step. Jane might have worsened while she slept or called for her when she was not there.
The sickroom door stood partly open. Elizabeth pushed through it and stopped suddenly. The room was quieter and calmer than she remembered. The fire had burned low, and a narrow gap in the window admitted a cool thread of morning air. Her father sat near the foot of the bed, his elbows resting upon his knees and his face drawn with fatigue. Dr Parodi stood beside Jane with two fingers pressed to her wrist, while Caroline occupied the chair nearest the pillows, carefully squeezing drops of water from a folded cloth between Jane's lips.
"Has there been any change?" she asked, moving towards the bed.
"Her breathing is no worse," Dr Parodi said. "She has swallowed a little water and stirred twice, though she has not fully woken."
Elizabeth reached for Jane's hand. Her sister's skin remained hot, though she thought it did not burn as fiercely as before. She stood there for several moments, studying every shallow rise and fall of Jane's chest, before her father rose and drew the empty chair beside his own a little closer. "Come and sit down, Lizzy."
There was something in his voice that made her obey without argument. She lowered herself beside him, and Mr Bennet rested his palm lightly over hers. "I am sorry, Lizzy," he said after a while. "You were right about the weather and I should have listened. I knew exactly what your mother was hoping for,but I could not face the argument and told myself Jane would be perfectly well."
She noticed both Caroline and the doctor were very still, but if they overheard the conversation they made no sign of it.
His eyes moved towards the bed. There was none of the usual humour in his face and he looked suddenly much older. "I have left too much to you for years," he continued. You see what needs doing and do it, while I sit back and congratulate myself on laughing at everyone’s foolishness. "You walked all the way here alone and have scarcely left Jane's side since. Meanwhile, I remained at Longbourn telling myself there was nothing useful I could do, when the truth was that I did not want to face how badly I had failed you both."
Elizabeth looked down at their joined hands. "You came as soon as you knew she had worsened."
"Which was much, much later than I should have done."
His hand closed more firmly around hers.
"We shall speak of it when Jane is well," Elizabeth said, because she could not bear to say any more without crying.
Mr Bennet looked towards the bed and nodded solemnly. "When Jane is well."
???
Over the next few days, time lost all meaning. Jane continued much as she was, growing no worse but showing no marked improvement. Elizabeth and Caroline took turns beside her, while the Bennets, the Bingleys, the Hursts and, on more than one occasion, Mr Darcy maintained a loose rotation through the sickroom and the adjoining parlour.
There had been no opportunity for Elizabeth to speak privately with Mr Darcy since their walk in the garden. In truth, her mind was too tired and too consumed by Jane's condition to dwell upon what had passed between them. Even so, she was aware of him whenever he entered the room. She caught his gaze upon her more than once, full of concern he made no attempt to disguise, and each time it lingered just long enough to make her feel that he understood how close she was to coming apart.
Mr Bingley scarcely left the upper floor. Dr Parodi permitted him only short periods in the sickroom, insisting that Jane needed quiet, but whenever he was turned out, he stationed himself in the adjoining parlour or paced the passage beyond her door. He carried trays or fetched fresh water before the basin was half empty, continually looking for opportunities to keep his eyes on the woman—and Elizabeth was quite sure of this now—he loved.
