The Only Way: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice

by Ola Wegner

  “Very well,” she said. “Then move.”

  Taking his hand in hers, she led him through the open door of the sitting room into their bedroom. Lightly, she pushed at his chest, so that he sat down on the edge of the bed.

  “Will you stay in bed for the rest of the day?” she pleaded, “Please, for my peace of mind do as I ask.”

  He regarded her for a moment. “Will you remain with me and not go downstairs to attend our guests?”

  “Of course,” she agreed instantly.

  He seemed content with her response and allowed her to unbutton his waistcoat and remove his neck cloth, along with the rest of his clothing. A quarter of an hour later, Darcy was in bed, dressed in his nightshirt, supported against a mound of soft pillows as Elizabeth drew the covers to his chin.

  Reaching for her hand, he murmured, “Stay. You said you would.”

  “Shush.” She leaned forward, kissing his forehead repeatedly. “Try to rest.”

  His eyes dropped, his hand wrapped tightly around her much smaller palm, resting on his chest. They sat this way for the next half hour until his grasp around her fingers weakened. Removing her hand from his, she tiptoed into the dressing room and brought out another warm blanket and spread it over his body.

  There was a gentle knock on the bedroom and as she whispered for them to enter, Georgiana peeked inside.

  Silently, Elizabeth waved her closer. The girl gazed at her brother with concern written across her face.

  “Mr. Bingley told me what happened in the study,” she explained quietly. “How is he?”

  “He claims to be only fatigued, but I fear that he is unwell. He is far too complacent. He did not resist much when I asked him to lie down.”

  Georgiana glanced at her, her expression changing to panic. “He will recover though, will he not?”

  Elizabeth rubbed her arm. “Of course he will. It is only a cold. He will stay in bed for a few days and will be himself soon enough.”

  Georgiana’s fears calmed with Elizabeth’s assertion.

  “I must ask you to take care of our guests for the remainder of the day,” Elizabeth said. “I promised him I would stay by his side.”

  The girl bit her lower lip, her eyes fearful. “I am not certain whether I am capable.”

  “You are certainly capable and will do an excellent job,” Elizabeth told her. “I truly need your help today.”

  Georgiana nodded. “Of course, Lizzy. I will do my best.”

  Elizabeth leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Thank you, my dear sister.”

  As Georgiana left, Elizabeth rang for the servants to build a fire in the room. It was a warm day, but she thought that it would be best if he sweat out the illness.

  When at last the freshly made broth was brought, she thanked the servant and asked to be left alone.

  “Fitzwilliam, Fitzwilliam…wake up, dearest. You must eat,” she urged, shaking his shoulder until he opened his eyes.

  “Come, you need to sit up.” As he listened to her, she rearranged his pillows supporting his back so he could sit more comfortably.

  Placing the wooden tray on his lap, she stirred the fragrant soup. “Open your mouth,” she prompted, placing a spoonful in front of his lips. He listened obediently, opening his mouth and swallowing the warm liquid. She thought that he might take the spoon from her, saying that he was not a child, but instead he allowed her to feed him until the bowl was empty.

  Putting the tray away, she sat down beside him again. “Is that not better?”

  He curled on his side, again capturing her hand in his, bringing it to his chest. “My throat feels better,” he admitted.

  “Sleep,” she whispered, leaning over him. “You need your sleep to recover. I love you,” she added, kissing his temple.

  She saw him smile as he pulled her hand closer to his chest. Darcy slept without interruption until the evening. Georgiana returned twice, asking for him. Mrs. Gardiner and Jane, hearing of his state, came as well.

  Mrs. Gardiner enquired whether or not they should postpone or even cancel their trip to the lakes. Elizabeth assured her that the illness was merely a trifling cold and there was no reason for them to change their plans. Jane supported her instantly, stating that she was perfectly capable of caring for the children on her own.

  Elizabeth spent the night on the sofa next to their bed, waking up quite often as Fitzwilliam tossed and turned, mumbling in his sleep and kicking the covers to the foot of the bed. The result was that he uncovered himself often throughout the night. But it was not her husband’s restlessness that worried her most. Whenever she touched his forehead she found that he was warmer as the night wore on. Greatly concerned, she wiped his brow with a soft cloth dipped in cool water from a bowl on the bedside cabinet. This she continued all through the night and into the early hours of the morning and by dawn he had begun to cough.

  Finally, by the time the cock crowed twice, she had another bowl of broth brought up which he ate eagerly before falling back asleep. Reassured at last that he was resting comfortably, Elizabeth asked Georgiana to sit with him while she bathed and broke her fast.

  She made an effort to dress in one of her more elegant morning dresses before descending downstairs to eat breakfast with the rest of family. Although becoming more worried, Elizabeth was determined to display a cheerful mien. She wanted very much for her aunt and uncle to have their holiday, and if they knew the truth about her husband, she feared they would not depart for their much needed time alone in the Lake District.

  After their morning meal together, which included Jane, Bingley and the children, they waved their goodbyes to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. Jane had plans to make use of the pleasant weather, planning to take the children for a ride in an open carriage around the park and later a picnic in the meadow. Bingley was to assist her in entertaining her cousins.

  On returning upstairs to their private rooms, Elizabeth hoped to see her husband sleeping or talking with his sister, perhaps even complaining that he had to stay in bed yet another day. She certainly did not expect to find him bent in half, coughing heavily in his hand as though he might spit out his lungs.

  “Oh Lizzy, my brother is not better. In fact, he is far worse than he was before you left,” Georgiana whispered, as they settled him back against the pillows.

  Darcy’s eyes were closed as he rested after his round of violent coughing.

  “Find Mrs. Reynolds,” Elizabeth cried, her eyes wide, the fear in them mirroring Georgiana’s. “Tell her to send to Lambton for the doctor. Tell her to make haste.”

  Georgiana fled from the room in a hurry, knocking over a small table in her haste.

  Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb her husband. Placing a hand on his forehead, she shuddered, alarmed by how hot his skin had become. He was on fire!

  “Lizzy,” he whispered.

  “Yes, my love. I am here,” she said as calmly as possible while choking back her tears.

  “Come lie beside me,” he murmured, his breathing laboured and eyes glazed with fever.

  Crawling onto the bed, she lay down beside him and reached to stroke his cheek gently.

  “All will be well, my love. All will be well,” she whispered more in assurance to herself than to him. After a moment, she added, “You only need to rest.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Doctor Sharp leaned over Darcy with a frown, listening to his chest. His expression was grave as he pulled away from his patient. Elizabeth retied her husband’s nightshirt and pulled the covers over him, then turned to the doctor.

  “Doctor?” she asked, her voice trembling.

  The man’s frown deepened as he looked down at her husband. “Let us step outside,” he said.

  Elizabeth placed a kiss on her husband’s burning forehead, whispering that she would return soon. Stepping into the sitting room, she noticed how pale Georgiana’s complexion had become as she stood watching at the door.

  “Is he very sick, doctor?”
the girl asked, her eyes wide with fear.

  Doctor Sharp, who had been practising medicine in Lambton for the last thirty years, glanced at the faces of those assembled who awaited his answer. Miss Darcy, young Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Reynolds were all waiting anxiously for his prognosis. By now he should have been accustomed to relaying bad news to the families in his bailiwick, having been a doctor for so many years. But still it was difficult, especially when it came to the Darcys who had faced so many deaths over the years.

  “This night will show,” he said at last. “This is a case of a very severe and malicious fever. What is more, his lungs are congested. He has the beginnings of pneumonia which,” the doctor cast a worried glance at the entrance to the bedroom, “is developing fast. This, combined with high fever, makes his chances for survival quite slim. We should prepare ourselves for the worst.”

  Quiet sobbing came from Miss Darcy as she stepped into Mrs. Reynolds arms, who was weeping as well.

  With compassion he glanced at the young woman in front of him, the new Mrs. Darcy. Poor girl, so young, married barely a few months and already facing such a tragedy.

  “How can this be?” Elizabeth questioned. “My husband is young…strong and fit.”

  “It was a similar situation with his mother. The illness that took her life also started with a cold and she was gone in the course of a few days,” he kindly reminded her.

  “No! He will recover!” she stated vehemently.

  “Mrs. Darcy,” he said gently. “I have seen such cases as these many times in my life, and I must tell you that only one in ten survives, if that. He has a chance, yes, indeed he does, but you must prepare yourself for the worst.”

  Her large, now almost black eyes bore into him and she spoke purposely. “He will recover. He has people to live for—people who love him very much.”

  It would have been easy to say that the late Mrs. Darcy had had people to live for as well—a young son, husband and a baby girl not even two years of age but it had not helped her. Nevertheless, in the end he bit his tongue as that was not the words she wished to hear.

  Mrs. Darcy turned on her heel and without another word, stomped back into the bedroom. Through the door he could see her sitting beside her husband, his hand in hers, whispering softly to him.

  ***

  “I will not listen to him, my love,” Elizabeth said, clasping his hot hand in both of hers. “You will be well; you will fight this and you will win! I know that. What kind of a doctor he is?” she huffed. “When our first child is born I do not want him anywhere near me; do you hear? You must promise me that, Fitzwilliam. You will secure me another doctor, a more understanding one.”

  There was no response. His eyes were closed and his breath came in short pants. Leaning forward, she lightly kissed a path from his forehead and temple to his cheek and then his ear. “I love you; do you hear me? You must fight! I know that you will not leave me. You must fight and we will help you.”

  Tears blurred her eyes, but she quickly dried them with the backs of her hands.

  “Mrs. Reynolds,” she called in a slightly raised voice and the grief stricken housekeeper entered the room to stare sadly at Darcy. “Mrs. Reynolds,” she said more sharply, commanding the woman’s attention. “Tell the cook to kill more fat chickens so there will be fresh broth always ready. Then we will need more cold water and soft rags, hot tea with fresh raspberries added, and tea with a drop of honey instead of the raspberries, two pints of curd, as well as lemon juice mixed with honey and whiskey for his throat. Please bring all of these to me as soon as possible.”

  Mrs. Reynolds stared at her, unmoving.

  “Should I repeat myself?” she asked, growing impatient. The woman shook her head no.

  “Good; make haste then!” Remembering the little Gardiners she added, “One more matter, Mrs. Reynolds. When my sister returns from the picnic with my cousins, tell her that they cannot enter the house because of the illness. Pack their things and put them in a carriage, and ask Mr. Bingley to drive them into Lambton. He is to rent rooms in the best inn where they will stay until their parents return.”

  Mrs. Reynolds blinked several times before dropping a quick curtsey and dashing out of the room. Alone, Elizabeth looked back at her husband and placed her hand against his cheek. He calmed whenever she did that, and it gave her hope to know that he was aware of her presence. She knew that in his own way, even with the fever, he was doing his best to fight the illness.

  “Lizzy?” the quietest of voices caught her attention as Georgiana walked around the bed and sat on the other side. “What are we going to do without him?” Big tears began to stream down her pale cheeks.

  “Why do you say that?” Elizabeth replied sharply.

  “You...you...heard the doctor,” her sister stuttered.

  “Do not listen to him, Georgiana. You will not have to worry about that for the next forty years or more.”

  She looked hopeful. “Oh, Lizzy, are you certain?”

  “Yes, he will not die, not now,” she declared with all the force she could muster. “Now, will you help me or are you just going to cry?”

  Properly chastised, Georgiana nodded furiously. “I will help.”

  Elizabeth gave her an encouraging smile. “Good; one of us should always be with him.” Her expression softened as she searched his darling face. “He does not like to be alone.”

  The girl dried her eyes with a handkerchief. “Yes, Lizzy.”

  Soon the medicinal items she requested were brought in. So she began by wetting the soft cloth in the cold water and had Georgiana put it on his forehead. Then she opened the wardrobe and removed a large towel from the top self, which she dipped in the large jar of curd.

  “What are you doing, Lizzy? Georgiana asked curiously.

  “I read in a book once that curd placed on the chest pulls the illness from the lungs,” she explained. She gestured to Georgiana to open his nightshirt then placed the wet material soaked in curd over the area from his collarbone to his stomach.

  “Are you certain? I have never heard of such a thing...” the girl’s voice trailed off as she wrinkled her nose in disgust at the scent. She cleared her throat. “It smells unpleasant. What kind of book was that?”

  “It may smell bad, but it will not hurt him, I assure you,” Elizabeth reasoned. “The book was about the customs and traditions of Russian peasants living in the outer limits of civilization. We must do everything we can to help him.”

  An hour later she and Georgiana removed the curd plaster from Darcy’s chest and cleaned his skin with cool water. “Let us change his nightshirt,” Elizabeth said wearily.

  “I will bring the clean shirts,” Georgiana offered, moving to the door.

  “Thank you,” Elizabeth whispered, not taking her gaze from her husband. His eyes were closed, but he did not sleep peacefully. And when she spoke to him, he did not respond. Every few moments his head moved from side to side, as though he was having a bad dream. Sometimes his hands shifted under the covering, but the movement was unnatural, a jerking motion.

  Georgiana returned with the nightshirts in her hand, Mr. Bingley following behind her. Elizabeth rose to talk to him while Georgiana took her place beside Darcy.

  “I rented the entire floor at The King’s Clock in Lambton for Jane and the children. They should be comfortable there.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Bingley. I appreciate all your help in this matter. I would be very uneasy knowing the children could be in danger should they remain here.”

  “What more can I do?” he asked, gesturing towards the bed.

  Seeing the deep concern in his eyes, Elizabeth responded, “We will need someone strong to lift him while we change the bedding and his shirt. Georgiana, dear, can you pass me one of the clean shirts?”

  Elizabeth pulled the covers down, while Bingley lifted his friend. Quickly they stripped off the sweat dampened nightshirt and pulled on a clean one while Georgiana turned her back.

  The rest of
the day passed in the same manner. They fed him broth and hot tea with honey interchangeably with a whiskey, honey and lemon mixture, changed the compresses, and every so often placed a curd plaster on his chest.

  In the evening they heard a bell tolling and Mrs. Reynolds came in to explain that people from the village were now gathering in the church to pray for their Master’s health. As the evening wore on they tried to feed him the warm broth and raspberry tea but with little success. He seemed to gag on everything Elizabeth put in his mouth, gasping for air.

  Sometime around midnight Darcy calmed down, falling asleep and allowing those who took care of him to sleep a little too. Georgiana was curled on the sofa while Elizabeth lay on top of the covers by his side. Bingley slouched uncomfortably in the armchair. Suddenly, Elizabeth was awakened from her light sleep.

  “Miss Bennet, Miss Bennet, pray tell me what are you doing here?”

  Blinking, she tried to focus on Darcy. He was sitting up in bed, seemingly alert and conscious.

  “Are you feeling better?” she murmured, her heart filling with hope. Reaching out to touch his cheek, she found it burning hot. He was looking right at her, but his eyes were unseeing and glazed with fever.

  “What are you doing in my bed, madam?” he answered haughtily. “I believe that you should be in your room or nursing your sister.”

  Mr. Bingley rose from the armchair and stepped to bed. “I believe he thinks that he is at Netherfield—as we were last October.”

  Elizabeth was certain that if she had been standing at the moment, her knees would have given way. Her husband was hallucinating and not only did not know where he was, he did not remember that they were married.

  “Darcy, my friend,” Bingley moved closer to the bed putting his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We are at Pemberley.”

  Darcy lay back down, focusing now on Bingley. “What is she doing here with us?”

  “She is your wife. You were married this past spring.”

  Darcy’s turned to look at Elizabeth. He stared at her for a long moment before asking shyly. “Kiss me?”

  Blinking away her tears, Elizabeth scooted closer and placing one hand over his chest, she leaned in to touch her lips gently to his. “I love you,” she whispered. “Stay with me.”