The Secrets of Darcy and Elizabeth

Darcy was shaking his head vigorously. “You have nothing to regret. I told you—”

“No! Listen to me!” Darcy closed his mouth abruptly. “I…am sorry I did not—” If only she could articulate everything she was experiencing, but her heart was so full it seemed to choke her words. “We have wasted so much time! I apologize….I have wasted so much time.”

Confusion creased his brow. “I am afraid I do not—”

She had neither the time nor the energy to be circumspect and ladylike in her words. “I regret that I did not say yes at Hunsford, Mr. D—William.” A brief smile curved his mouth at the sound of his given name on her lips. “I regret that more than I can say….If I had not abused you so abominably – we might be – be….” Her hoarse voice trailed off.

“Married?” He whispered.

“Yes. It is all my fault.” It was so hard to breathe; she struggled to emphasize each word so he would believe she meant what she said.

Darcy was shaking his head. “No, darling, I was the one in the wrong. You were correct to—”

She cut him off with a feeble wave of her hand. “Nevertheless, we have wasted all that time when we could have been happy – together. And I only just realized it. And you knew. I think you have always known deep down. I should have understood it before – even in Paris I did not see.” Her tears had dried, but she could hear the despair in her voice.

“See what?” He asked gently.

“How much I love you.” The words came out almost in a whisper. “I was blind to it before – I was blind!” Tears were shining in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill out. “I am sorry we wasted so much time,” she repeated.

“Thank you for telling me.” His hand gripped hers harder. Even in the midst of sorrow, she could see that he was happy about her revelation. “I am not angry with you. I love you.” He looked down at their hands as his thumb began to caress her palm.

“I do not understand why. Silly man!” She gave him a wan smile and he returned it with such an attempt at cheer it hurt her heart.

“Well, if that is truly how you feel about me,” he said, “then I absolutely forbid you to – to—” The word seemed to choke him.

“I do not believe it is my decision – or yours.”

“Believe me,” he said fervently, “I have said many prayers.”

“Well, if God will do His part, I will do my best as well.” But even as she said this she recognized it was growing more difficult to breathe; her words were coming out in gasps.

“That is all I can ask.”

Elizabeth felt darkness pull her down as the edges of her eyesight were getting foggy and black. “I love you, William.”

“I love you, Elizabeth.” Then all was dark.

Darcy kept holding her hand. Now that she was asleep, he allowed two tears to trickle down his cheeks. He was uncertain if it made it better or worse to know how she felt about him. No, he realized, he was happy he knew she returned his love. Even if the worst happened, it was better to know. At the same time, the thought of losing her caused him to mourn a life with her that might never be. Terror blossomed in the pit of his stomach as he thought about a future without her.

He tried to convince himself that her recent coherence was a positive sign for her recovery, but he understood from past experience that she was usually at her best in early morning. Later in the day she would worsen, he was certain – and released an audible moan at the thought.

The day passed with agonizing slowness. Darcy did not wish to lose one moment with Elizabeth, refusing all offers of meals until Whitmore insisted he at least eat a tray in the room. The doctor visited and perceived no change in his patient’s condition. In the late afternoon, her fever rose to the highest Darcy had yet seen it. She was burning up and thrashing as her breath came in harsh, slow gasps.

It was agony seeing her in such distress. Darcy did everything he could to make her comfortable, applying wet compresses to her warm forehead and propping her up on pillows to ease her breathing. But he could do pitifully little to ease her discomfort. Every gasp of breath pierced his heart as he wondered if it would be her last. If she delayed taking a breath, panic would grip him. At one point, when she was breathing more easily, he leaned in close and whispered into her ear, “I love you, Elizabeth. Remain with me. Do not leave me, please!”

Around dinner time he perceived a change. Sweat started pouring out of every pore in her body. Perspiration soaked her pillow and the bed’s coverings, so much so that Darcy asked the maid to change the sheets and her nightgown twice because they were wet through. Around midnight he was carefully tucked in the soft linen sheets around Elizabeth’s still form when he realized the import of the perspiration. Perhaps the fever had broken! Gingerly, he felt her forehead and then her arms, noting that her skin remained excessively warm, but it was far cooler than in the days past. Hope started creeping back into his breast. Was it possible she had survived the worst of the illness? Still huddled in the chair next to her bedside, he kissed her much cooler brow, fervently hoping and praying. Eventually he settled his head on the bed next to Elizabeth and slept.

Much later he awoke to the sensation of someone stroking his hair. It was very pleasant. No one had done so since his mother had passed away. Then he remembered where he was. What is happening? He straightened up with a start.

Elizabeth yanked her hand away as if burned. “Mr. Darcy, I apologize!”

“No…” He attempted to shake himself into some sort of coherence. The room was still dark, so it was still deep into the night. “Do not be sorry…I….” Capturing her hand, he gently kissed the tips of her fingers and peered earnestly into her face. Her color was definitely better: neither pale nor fever flushed. Suddenly he realized he was simply staring at her. “Would you like some water?” Assisting her into a sitting position, he handed her a glass. This time she was able to hold it, although she needed both hands.

When she was finished drinking, he reca

ptured her hand and asked, “How are you feeling?”

She considered for a moment. “Better, actually. But so tired and weak…” Her voice was stronger, but had a wheezy quality that reminded him she was still far from recovered.