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"You have grown fond of the child," she observed.

"I have. She is unusually brave, and she reminds me of the cleverest people I have known. I wish her circumstances were more secure."

"Thomas Bennet appears sincerely attached to her."

"Yes. But his household is crowded, and his estate is entailed away from his girls. There is little provision for any of them."

Lady Matlock considered this. "We can continue to encourage her. A girl ought to know there are people willing to stand by her."

The Earl took his wife's hand. "Then we are agreed."

Neither suspected how soon Elizabeth would need them.

CHAPTER 5

The Loss of Longbourn

October, 1807

The first indication that anything was wrong came when Mr. Bennet did not appear at breakfast.

He was not a gentleman inclined to leap from his bed in pursuit of exercise. His mornings frequently began with newspapers, coffee, and a decided reluctance to hear Mrs. Bennet's opinions upon household matters. But he seldom neglected breakfast, and when the maid reported that he had asked for tea in his room, Elizabeth looked up from a letter she had been writing to Lord Matlock.

"Is Uncle unwell?" she asked.

"A chill, miss," Hill answered. "He says it is nothing."

Mrs. Bennet sighed. "Your uncle has spent too much time out in the damp. I have told him he will make himself ill with those long walks. If he expects me to manage everything while he is indisposed, I cannot answer for my nerves."

"I shall ask whether he wishes for anything," Jane offered.

"You may carry him a fresh pot of tea. And tell him he ought not to spend the whole day in bed."

Elizabeth went with Jane. Mr. Bennet greeted them from a chair beside the hearth, his dressing gown drawn tightly around him. He looked pale but insisted he had merely caught cold.

"Two daughters at once?" he exclaimed. "I am honoured. I had not thought a little inconvenience would make me so popular."

"You appear rather feverish, Uncle," Elizabeth answered, setting a hand briefly against his forehead.

"An accusation from the daughter of a naval officer. Shall I be put upon half rations next?"

"Only if you refuse the doctor's advice."

"There you are, Jane. Proof that no good deed goes unpunished. Elizabeth once saved a man from a carriage wreck, and now she intends to practice upon every invalid she encounters."

He smiled, but the effort produced a fit of coughing that left him breathless. Jane's face grew grave. Elizabeth exchanged one look with her cousin and understood that they were both thinking the same thing.

The physician was summoned before luncheon.

For several days Mr. Bennet's illness appeared to improve. He was permitted to sit up, complained of the medicinal draughts prescribed to him, and demanded news of the household. Then the fever returned more fiercely. His breathing became laboured, and the physician's expressions grew guarded.

The house changed around the sickroom. Doors were closed softly. Lydia, eleven and restless, was sternly instructed not to play her usual noisy games in the passage. Kitty cried whenever she saw the doctor's carriage. Mary read prayers in an earnest voice that trembled at the end of each sentence. Jane seemed to be everywhere at once, comforting the younger girls, attending their mother, and making certain that the servants were not overlooked.

Elizabeth sat with her uncle whenever she was permitted. She read aloud when he desired it and waited quietly when the effort of listening became too much. Sometimes he slept; sometimes he opened his eyes and looked at her with an affection that made her throat ache.

One evening he asked that she remain after the others had gone.

"Close the door, Lizzy. I have something to say to you."