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“What can he be waiting for?” Elizabeth cried, “Jane has been encouraging him in every-way she can.”

“Maybe I should send her away? A little distance will help him along?”

“Or make him forget her completely.”

“I do not think there is any danger of that. I have seen them together. No one could doubt his affection,” Mr Bennet said, shifting around slightly, trying to get more comfortable. “One of the problems with being unwell is not being able to move around enough and becoming stiff.”

Elizabeth smiled sadly at him, as she moved his footstool and arranged his pillow. A dull ache had settled behind Elizabeth’s eyes, and her movements were slow, deliberate, as if she were wading through molasses.

“Jane tells me that you will be joining her at Netherfield this evening and leaving me to Mary’s care.”

“If you do not want me to go father, I will stay with you.”

“No child, of course you must go. I was merely thinking that Mary enjoys playing so much before company, that she must go as well. Your mother may stay at home with me and keep me company.”

“But Mama said-”

“There is little I can do for Elizabeth to ensure the happiness of my daughters. If this one small act will bring pleasure to my daughters then I will do it. Will you call your mother for me?”

She smiled, “You are too good to us.” After making sure he was comfortable she called her mother and left them alone in his book-room, as she did not want to hear the conversation that took place.

She went to sit in the parlour and to write a letter to Charlotte Lucas.

Elizabeth reached for her teacup, her hand trembling slightly.

She blinked hard, trying to focus on the words before her, but the letters seemed to blur together.

She had finished her letter and started one to Miss Darcy when her mother’s voice reached her ears, “You have no regard for my nerves!”

Elizabeth stood quickly, not wanting to hear her parents argue. When Mrs Bennet’s voice came again, “He is out to ruin us, if he had any interest in her, he would have acted like a gentleman and courted her before-”

Elizabeth didn’t wait to hear more. She bolted from the house, barely remembering to snatch her coat as she fled.

The crisp air stung her cheeks as she burst into the garden, but she welcomed the shock.

Her lungs expanded gratefully with each deep breath, as if she’d been suffocating indoors.

Even as she shivered in the unexpected chill, a weight seemed to lift from her shoulders with each step away from the house.

Elizabeth’s pace slowed, her lungs burning as she gulped in the crisp air. Her legs trembled, and she sank gratefully onto a fallen log, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

The rustling leaves and distant birdsong enveloped Elizabeth, the chaos of the house fading with each passing moment. Her tense shoulders began to relax, the knot in her stomach loosening slightly.

She needed to be away from Longbourn. Away from her mother.

Away even from her father, for as much as she loved him, it was slowly killing her to watch him slip away.

She knew she was watching him die. She had tried to ignore it for as long as she could but the truth was there.

She had tried to tell herself that he was not dying, that he would get better.

But there was a voice inside her who knew better and was smug about it.

Elizabeth’s eyelids felt heavy, each blink a struggle against the weight of sleepless nights. Her shoulders slumped, and she caught herself stifling yet another yawn. She had sat up all night with him.

The memory of last night’s vigil haunted Elizabeth - her father’s pained groans, the acrid smell that filled the room, the endless hours of holding the basin and wiping his clammy brow until the first light of dawn crept through the windows. She had not been able to tear herself from his side.

He tried to put on a brave face, but she had watched the way he moved, flinching in pain more and more. His eyes were slowly turning yellow and he seemed to get smaller with every passing day.

* * *

Tuesday 18th of February 1812

Hertfordshire Countryside - Darcy

As Elizabeth grappled with her family’s turmoil, miles away at Netherfield, Darcy found himself equally unsettled.

Darcy had left Netherfield early that morning, in no mood to sit and be still within doors. His thoughts, constantly drifting to Elizabeth and her inexplicable engagement, drove him to seek solace in physical activity.

Darcy paced the length of his room, his fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against his thigh. Unable to contain his restless energy any longer, he strode to the stables and called for his horse. It was not long before he realised that his path was taking him towards Longbourn.

Darcy’s brow furrowed, his hand tightening on the reins as he glanced back and forth between the path to Longbourn and the open countryside. His horse shifted restlessly beneath him, sensing his indecision.

He still had his sister’s letter in his pocket, a pretext to see Elizabeth. But would she even be there? Mrs Bennet seemed determined to keep her second eldest daughter away from him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he shook his head and turned away from Longbourn. He needed to clear his head before attempting to see Elizabeth again.

He had failed at the first step in his endeavour, to speak to Elizabeth and determine if she was as unhappy about her engagement as he thought she was and if she felt anything like what he did for her.

Darcy’s hand hovered over his horse’s reins, his gaze fixed on the path leading to Longbourn. After a moment’s hesitation, he shook his head and turned his mount in the opposite direction. Instead, he rode further afield, trying to lose himself in the winter landscape.

He dismounted from his horse and walked on, the air was cold but crisp and refreshing.

A rustle in the under-brush ahead caught Darcy’s attention.

His horse’s ears pricked forward, its muscles tensing beneath him as it shifted its weight nervously from hoof to hoof.

Slowly and carefully not making any noise he moved forward, in the hope of seeing a fox or maybe a deer.

As he rounded a clump of trees, movement caught his eye. His heart leapt, irrationally hoping it might be Elizabeth, before reason reasserted itself. Still, he urged his horse forward, curious about what had disturbed the quiet winter morning.