The Only Way: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice

by Ola Wegner

  Gazing into his eyes, she prayed that he had understood. Slowly his hand lifted to cup her face. “Such beautiful eyes…uncommonly intelligent,” he whispered. Then his hand dropped and his eyes closed.

  “Fitzwilliam! Fitzwilliam!” she shrieked, shaking him and waking Georgiana in her panic.

  Bingley, who was checking Darcy’s pulse, placed a calming hand on her back. “Do not worry. He has only fallen asleep.”

  Georgiana raced to the foot of the bed. “Was he talking?”

  Elizabeth wiped her tears with the backs of her hands. “He was hallucinating. He did not even remember that we were married.”

  Georgiana moved to sit beside her, pulling her into an embrace. “It does not mean that he loves you any less.”

  For the rest of the night he woke several times, sometimes recognising people around him, and other times not. Once he opened his eyes, staring into the space, and talked to someone only he could see. It took only a moment for them to realise that he was having a conversation with Lady Anne. Listening to him talk to his dead mother sent icy shivers down Elizabeth’s back.

  Often he called for Colonel Fitzwilliam and only calmed when Bingley promised to write to his cousin requesting he come to Pemberley. By early morning Doctor Sharp had returned. Though distrustful of him, Elizabeth allowed him inside. He announced that the fever had dropped a bit, as though she could not tell, quickly adding that it did not mean that the danger was past. She was well aware of that, dreading the upcoming night.

  During the day, even though the fever had decreased, coughs shook him violently and at times he had trouble breathing. The coughing eased by evening, but his temperature rose again. Elizabeth did not know which was worse, the terrible coughing or the burning fever.

  That night was a repetition of the previous one with one difference—Darcy was mumbling incomprehensibly but not talking to anyone in particular as he had the night before. In the morning his fever was down again and his coughing was less strenuous, giving Elizabeth hope that the worst was behind. However, the doctor cautioned that the upcoming night would be decisive. If Darcy lived through the night, then the prognosis was very good that he would recover completely.

  Elizabeth, Bingley and Georgiana took care of Darcy day and night, feeding him and making him drink hot tea and cool water. They changed his sweat soaked bed sheets and talked to him in quiet reassuring voices. But as the sky darkened and night descended, the fourth night of his fever, Elizabeth began to quake in fear. Each time she touched his forehead, it seemed hotter than before.

  It was past midnight. She sat beside him, staring at his face and praying for no new traces of discomfort. Her back was stiff, her head pounded and she was tired, but she was could not sleep. Unlike Georgiana and Bingley, who had dozed off sitting together on the sofa, he with his head on her shoulder.

  A sudden commotion in the sitting room caught Elizabeth’s attention and she looked over her shoulder. A dark figure stepped into the room and her first thought was that it was a death banshee coming for her beloved.

  “How is he?” A familiar voice questioned, coming closer. Finally the figure stepped into the light emanating from the fireplace.

  A ragged sob escaped her throat as Elizabeth recognised Colonel Fitzwilliam. All her pent up emotions from the last few days came pouring out and she began to weep uncontrollably, her body shaking. Her vision blurred as she felt an arm come around her, rubbing her back.

  “He is with us…he is with us,” Colonel Fitzwilliam soothed. “He is fighting.”

  Elizabeth nodded, quieting and accepting the handkerchief he offered. Drying her eyes, she enquired, “How did you get here so promptly? Kent is no short distance.”

  Sitting down next to her on the bed, his eyes on Darcy, he explained. “I almost killed four horses on the way here. The message said that he wished to see me.”

  “He has called for you many times. But he has said nothing for some time now. The doctor said that this is the decisive night. That if the fever does not break...” She could say no more.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam’s brow furrowed. “I see.”

  Crawling onto the bed, she knelt beside Darcy’s worn body. “My love, you have to wake up; do you hear me?” Her voice was sweet as she stroked his face. “Colonel Fitzwilliam came to see you just as you wanted. Wake up, love, please.”

  When there was no reaction, she grabbed hold of his nightshirt, trying to lift and shake him. “Wake up! Do you hear me!? Look at me!” she began to scream, her voice hoarse. “You cannot do this to me! You must fight! You cannot leave me alone! Listen to me! Fight, Fitzwilliam! Fight! You must!”

  Someone was saying something, but she did not recognise who it was as she kept shaking Darcy, ordering him to open his eyes. Suddenly strong arms wrapped around her and even though she fought as hard as possible, they effortlessly removed her from the room.

  As in a dream, she saw the doctor press something against her mouth while she was being held. Soon sleepiness came over her as though she was powerless. The last thing she saw before closing her eyes was the face of Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  ***

  Eyelids heavy, her head feeling as though it was made of stone, Elizabeth opened her eyes with great effort and glanced around. The room was familiar, though dark, because the curtains had been drawn tightly to prevent the sun from peeking through.

  Slowly she slid to the floor, supporting herself on the bedside table as her legs threatened to collapse. She was still wearing the same dress she had worn the day before and memories of last night came rushing back, flooding her heart with fear. Why was it so quiet? Why was she not hearing any voices?

  Gathering all the courage she could muster, she walked to the door, opened it, and stepped into their private sitting room. The day was sunny, blinding light coming from tall windows. Glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece, she saw that it was four o’clock. She had slept the entire night and most of the day and no one had bothered to wake her! What was the meaning of this?

  The door to their bedroom was closed and with trembling hands she reached for the handle.

  As the door fell open with ease, she saw Colonel Fitzwilliam sitting in a chair, his back to her. His slightly too long, dark blonde hair rested against the collar of his coat. Hearing her enter, he stood up instantly which gave her an unobstructed view of the bed.

  “Oh, God,” she cried, collapsing to the floor as silent sobs shook her.

  Leaning down, Colonel Fitzwilliam helped her to stand then led her to the bed.

  “No need to cry, my love,” she heard Darcy say clearly.

  He sat there, propped against numerous pillows, his complexion pale but otherwise looking quite well for the ordeal he had been through. He was shaved and his hair was neatly combed away from his face.

  He opened his arms and she climbed onto the bed and crawled over to him, hiding her face in his chest. As his arms tightened around her, she knew that she would thank God for the rest of her life for answering her prayer.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “I do not want any more,” Darcy turned his head away from the spoon Elizabeth directed to his mouth, wrinkling his nose. “I dislike the broth, and there are carrots in this one,” he complained, as he sat comfortably in bed, supported by numerous pillows.

  Elizabeth put the spoon back into the bowl with a sigh, stirring the soup. “Carrots are healthy. A few more spoons,” she pleaded. “It is good for you and will make you feel better.”

  “I am feeling quite well,” he grumbled.

  “It has only been three days since your fever broke. You are still very weak and you were coughing last night,” she reminded, pushing a fresh spoonful into his mouth.

  He shook his head. “I want cold ham with bread, cucumbers and some chocolate cake.”

  “You will have sandwiches and cake when you finish this bowl of broth.”

  Seeing she was adamant, he opened his mouth, swallowing obediently.

  A light knock on
the door caught their attention. It was Mr. Bingley, back from his morning ride.

  “Good God man!” he exclaimed, grinning. “You are allowing to be fed like a child. I understand that you are still weak, but not to the degree that you cannot hold a spoon.”

  Darcy shrugged his shoulders, swallowing another spoonful from Elizabeth’s hand. “You are simply envious of me because Jane does not spoon-feed you.”

  “She would if I asked it of her,” Bingley boasted.

  Darcy was about to give a retort when Elizabeth used the opportunity to put another spoonful of broth in his mouth. “Gentlemen, you are worse than little boys. Should I put you both in a corner?” she asked, attempting to sound strict.

  Bingley hung his head, murmuring a quiet No Ma’am. Elizabeth laughed out loud, shaking her head in amusement as Darcy grinned.

  “Now, all finished,” she declared. Putting the empty bowl away, she reached over and patted Darcy’s chin and mouth dry with the tail of a small cloth. “I will see to those promised sandwiches and cake now,” she continued, giving her husband her brightest of smiles.

  He smiled back, his eyes following her devotedly out of the room.

  Bingley pulled a chair next to the bed. “You are one lucky man to have her.”

  Darcy straightened proudly against the pillows. “I know.”

  “She and Georgiana never left your side.”

  “So I heard. I do not remember much, but I do remember feeling their presence.”

  “Do not look so pleased,” Bingley scolded. “You gave us all quite a fright.”

  Darcy sobered, his forehead creased. “I cannot believe that I became so sick from a walk in the rain.”

  “Most importantly you are now getting better.”

  “You have been riding?” Darcy guessed, glancing at Bingley’s tall boots and short jacket that suggested that was the case.

  “I took one of your horses—Devil is his name. I hope that you do not mind. What a beast!”

  “Naturally, I do not mind. They need to be ridden, especially Devil. I bought him from Collins; he once belonged to Mr. Bennet. Elizabeth fears him though.”

  Bingley nodded. “Good horse, but temperamental, needs a strong hand.”

  Darcy gazed longingly out the window. “How I wish I could join you.”

  “I can tell you now that you will stay in this bed for a while longer, unless you wish to go against your wife’s wishes. That I would not recommend,” Bingley advised, his expression half jesting, half serious. “She ordered everyone about like a general during your illness; even the doctor seemed to fear her. She is very strong willed.”

  “I know how strong willed she is, believe me,” Darcy agreed, amusement dancing in his eyes.

  “One would never guess it,” Bingley continued his observations. “She gives the impression of being so delicate and fragile. Anyway,” he changed the subject. “I invited your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, to join me for a ride earlier today, but he refused. He stated that he had a matter of urgent business in Lambton.”

  “He went to Lambton you say,” Darcy’s voice trailed off as he fell deep in thought. Richard’s urgent business in Lambton had pale blonde hair, dark blue eyes, a pleasant figure and her name was Jane Bennet or his name was not Fitzwilliam Darcy.

  “Yes, he is a strange fellow,” Bingley said with much reflection. “I do not know him well, but I could swear that he is assessing me every time we meet. I feel he does not like me in particular. Have I offended him in some way?” Charles’ expression was innocent.

  “I should not think so,” Darcy said hesitantly.

  He was torn as he deliberated whether to tell his friend the truth behind his cousin’s behaviour. He had promised himself that he would never again intervene in such matters after his last attempt had almost cost him Elizabeth. But Bingley seemed to have noticed nothing in regards to Jane and Richard, entirely oblivious to the fact that he had a serious rival just under his nose. He did not wish to offend his friend’s intelligence, but he wondered how Bingley could be so unaware of what was happening around him. If someone had lusted after his Elizabeth like Richard did for Jane, wanting to steal her away, he would have known. That was irrefutable. And he would have acted accordingly.

  Bingley was a good man, the best of friends, and Elizabeth and Georgiana had praised him for helping them during his illness. And knowing what heartache was, he did not wish it on anyone, Bingley especially.

  “Charles, what I can tell you must stay between us.” His voice was serious, which instantly commanded his friend’s attention. He sincerely hoped that what he was about to say would not come back to haunt him in the future.

  Bingley nodded, as his entire body tensed. “Of course.”

  “My cousin is interested in Jane. His intentions are honourable and very serious.”

  Bingley blinked. “My Jane?”

  Darcy barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “Why are you so surprised? She is a beautiful and desirable woman. Do you think that you are the only man who admires her?”

  “No, no, of course not,” Bingley babbled, at a loss as to what to do with the intelligence he has just received. “I know that Jane is well admired. Is there a man who would not be drawn to her beauty and goodness? Are you certain, however, that your cousin has intentions towards her?”

  “I am not in position to tell you more as I would break the confidence of people close to me, but yes, I am certain of it.”

  “Do you think that he has gone to Lambton this morning to see her?” Bingley asked. Before Darcy managed to answer, he stood up abruptly causing the chair to jolt. “I will go there this instant.”

  “Charles, keep a cool head, please—if only for my wife’s sake,” Darcy cried after him. “Elizabeth does not need any burdens added to those she has already borne.”

  “I only wish to look after what is mine,” Bingley said defensively. “Do not worry though, I will control myself.” Then he stormed from the room.

  Darcy’s head sank as he considered whether he had done the right thing in telling Bingley. In truth, he had given Bingley very little information—only a clue. He had said nothing about the letters, the kisses or Elizabeth’s suspicions concerning the delayed date of their wedding.

  “What has happened to Mr. Bingley?” Elizabeth asked as she and Georgiana walked in carrying trays with sandwiches, biscuits and tea, as well as slices of cake.

  “He ran past as if he did not even notice us,” Georgiana added. “So very odd for him not to stop and chat.”

  “He was in hurry to see Jane,” Darcy replied, studying Elizabeth. “He is on his way to Lambton.”

  Elizabeth’s dark brown eyes locked on his as she clumsily dropped the tray on the side table causing the china to shake and clang against one another. “Oh, my,” she whispered as if speaking to herself. “Colonel Fitzwilliam has not returned from Lambton yet, has he?”

  Darcy stared at her, hoping to reassure her with his gaze and ease her apprehension. The three drank tea together; Elizabeth and Darcy ate sandwiches and biscuits, but Georgiana refused anything to eat. She spoke little and soon excused herself from their company.

  “What is the matter with her?”Darcy enquired.

  “Have you not noticed anything?” Elizabeth’s voice held slight exasperation.

  He shot her a blank look. “No.”

  “She was upset because you said that Mr. Bingley was in hurry to see Jane. Have you not noticed the way she behaves in his presence, how she blushes every time he looks her way or speaks to her?”

  “I have noticed nothing of the kind,” he answered, bewildered at Elizabeth’s observations. “Bingley and Georgiana? That cannot be! He is like a brother to her.”

  “Perhaps in the past, but I think that her feelings for him have changed, matured if you will.”

  Allowing a few moments to evaluate the idea, only one clear thought came to mind. “She is too young for marriage!” he exclaimed.

  “Naturally
,” Elizabeth agreed, then added, “but in a few years...”

  “I will not allow her to marry earlier than one and twenty,” Darcy announced. “And as for Bingley, he is too old for her.”

  “No, he is not! He is but four and twenty.”

  “Four and twenty to her sixteen,” Darcy grunted disapprovingly.

  She raised an eyebrow. “The same as my one and twenty to your eight and twenty, soon to be nine and twenty.”

  Darcy crossed his arms over his chest, staring off into space.

  After a moment, she prodded gently, “I thought you would be pleased with such a possibility.”

  “If I have to trust her with anyone, one day in the distant future…” he sighed. “Bingley would not hurt her, I know that. It would be easy to convince him to buy an estate close to Pemberley so I will be able to watch over her.” As he started to think about it he began to like the idea of Bingley as a match for Georgiana. “But we should not forget that for now Bingley is engaged to Jane.”

  “We should also not forget that Colonel Fitzwilliam is quite determined to have Jane for himself. I only hope that Mr. Bingley will not meet your cousin while he is calling on Jane. I do not wish to be involved in any new drama.”

  Darcy gulped. “I might have hinted to Bingley that Richard is interested in Jane.”

  “You told me that we should not intervene.” To his relief the tone of Elizabeth’s voice was not angry but only surprised.

  “I felt sorry for him. He had absolutely no idea. No details were revealed I assure you. I said nothing about the letters. Are you angry with me?” He wished to hear that she was not displeased.

  She shook her head. “No. I am not. He is your friend and you do not wish to see him hurt.”

  “After what you have told me I am now more concerned for Georgiana. I do not wish her to suffer from unrequited love.”

  “You cannot stop her from falling in love; if not Mr. Bingley, there will be someone else.”