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I gripped her wrist. “Elizabeth, wait.”

She halted and angled her head towards me. “What is it?”

Removing my glove, I pressed the back of my hand to her forehead. Good Lord, her skin radiated heat! “You are burning with fever! Why did you not tell me you felt ill?”

Creases lined her brow. “No, I…that cannot be. I am never sick.” Yet her eyelids fluttered and lowered, and she swayed from side to side.

I gathered Elizabeth into my arms, disregarding her faint, mumbled protest, and carried her up the stairs. “You need to rest.” At the next passage, I spotted a young maid carrying a bucket and mop. “You, there.” With my thoughts in a flux, her name escaped me.

“Yes, sir?” She halted, giving us a wide-eyed stare.

“Go now to Mrs. Reynolds. Tell her to send someone for the surgeon, and then I need her to meet me in the mistress’s suite. Make haste!”

“Right away, sir!” The maid dropped her load, splashing a puddle of soapy water on the floor in the process. With a whispered apology, she whirled round and scampered towards the back stairs.

Elizabeth made a feeble attempt to raise her head. “I am sorry to have caused such a fuss.”

“Hush, my love. Anyone may become unwell, even you.”

My wife’s pursed lips curved into a weak smile. “Alas, it seems so.”

I perused her flushed countenance, and my mouth went dry. Blast, I ought to have noticed her fever sooner. With my composure sinking, I scrambled to reason away my growing sense of dread. After all, in a young and hearty person such as Elizabeth, there could be no true cause for concern. She would be back to her usual self in a day or two. Yes, of course she would.

Elizabeth

How did this happen to me? Never before had I been so wretchedly weak—as though my body had been stolen and replaced with an infirm, useless one. Even the simple act of speaking required a significant effort.

Fitzwilliam had changed me into a nightdress, taken my hair down and brushed it, and placed me in my bed. He remained at my bedside as I descended into a state of torpor. Had I the energy, I should kiss away the lines upon his brow and banish his frown with a teasing remark. I resented this confounded illness far more for his sake than mine.

Our housekeeper brought her special tea for me, a bitter-tasting preparation of herbs meant to ease symptoms of ague. Fitzwilliam coaxed me to drink a cup of the disagreeable draught, despite the tenderness in my throat that delivered a sharp, stinging pain with each sip. Soon thereafter, I fell into a slumber.

When I roused, Fitzwilliam leaned over me, stroking my hand. “Elizabeth, Mr. Hunt has arrived.”

“Hmm.” My gaze drifted and settled upon the older man’s slight form.

With a bow, the surgeon tucked a tuft of his sandy mane behind his ear and neared the bed. “Good day, Mrs. Darcy. I am grieved to find you under the weather.”

“As am I, Mr. Hunt, for this is most inconvenient.”

He glanced at Fitzwilliam. “If you will excuse us, Mr. Darcy, I shall determine what ails your wife.”

“I shall remain.” My husband raised his chin.

Mr. Hunt stiffened. “Sir, that is highly irregular.”

Oh dear. Had I been able to muster the strength, I should have assured Mr. Hunt that I did not mind Fitzwilliam’s presence—my husband’s anxiety would increase if the surgeon forced him from the room.

In any case, faced with Fitzwilliam’s unrelenting glare, Mr. Hunt swallowed and lowered his gaze. “As you wish.” The surgeon proceeded to conduct his examination under my husband’s scrutiny.

When Mr. Hunt stepped back from me, Fitzwilliam confronted him. “You will help her, will you not?”

“You may be assured that I shall do my best.” Mr. Hunt grimaced. “At present, however, I am at a disadvantage. The most effective treatment for acute fevers is white willow bark, and I used the last of my reserve last week.”

“Then you must obtain more at once.” My husband employed his most authoritative tone.

Mr. Hunt avoided his gaze. “That may not be possible. My usual vendor has been unable to replenish his supply. A pernicious disease has spread to the white willows in the area, and galls have formed on the trees, rendering the bark unusable.”

“There must be a way to obtain more.” Fitzwilliam paced before the surgeon. “The cost is of no importance.”