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Darcy’s stomach turned. He had trusted the arrangements, trusted the weather to hold, trusted that others would see her safely home-and now she suffered for it. He should have seen to it himself. She was fighting for breath in his bed because he had stepped aside, when he should have acted.

Jones pulled out his handkerchief to wipe his brow. “The sprain is painful but will heal with rest. This fever, however…”

“But she will recover?” The words escaped before Darcy could check them, though he maintained his rigid posture.

“I believe so,” Jones said carefully. “But the fever must break - and soon. She’s young, and strong, but I will not pretend there’s no cause for concern.”

He glanced at Bingley. “I understand there has been some… discussion about more suitable accommodations?”

“My sister has expressed concern about the current arrangements,” Bingley admitted, glancing at Darcy.

“The young lady needs warmth and rest,” Jones said firmly, “not to be carried through cold corridors. I would not recommend attempting to transport her home until she’s considerably stronger.”

Darcy’s thoughts returned unbidden to their journey through the rain, to Elizabeth’s trembling form as she’d gripped the pommel with white-knuckled hands. He had attributed her shaking entirely to cold and fear, but now… He pushed the memory aside, maintaining his rigid posture as Jones continued.

“Which reminds me - I will need to prepare more fever powders. And someone should be sent to inform her family of the situation.”

“Riders have already been dispatched to Longbourn,” Bingley assured him.

“Good. Though in this weather…” Jones glanced toward the window where the storm still raged.

“Well, I will return before midnight to check on both patients. Until then, Miss Elizabeth needs complete rest. No visitors except those necessary for her care.” His gaze settled briefly on Darcy.

“Even well-meaning inquiries might disturb her recovery at this stage. ”

Darcy inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment of the apothecary’s pointed words, though his fingers pressed harder against each other behind his back. The restriction was sensible, necessary even, yet the thought of being unable to ascertain Elizabeth’s condition for himself…

“I will have Morris show you out,” Bingley said, rising.

“Of course.” Jones collected his bag, pausing at the door. “I will return before midnight with more fever powders. Should Miss Elizabeth’s condition worsen before then…”

“We will send for you immediately,” Bingley assured him.

As their voices faded down the hallway, Darcy moved to the window.

The rain continued its relentless assault against the glass, obscuring his view of the grounds in the November darkness.

Somewhere out there, two riders were battling this storm to reach Longbourn.

Mr Bennet would need to be informed, arrangements made.

And he himself… what? To be reduced to waiting helplessly while Elizabeth fought this fever in his rooms, rooms he could not even approach?

There must be something useful he could do. The chaise would need to be recovered, properly this time. Thomas’s family would require assistance. His mind seised on these practical matters, desperate for any action that might prove more productive than this enforced idleness.

The sound of Bingley’s return drew him from his thoughts, though he did not turn from his contemplation of the storm.

* * *

Netherfield - Louisa’s Room - Caroline

“Really, Louisa,” Caroline said, pacing Louisa’s room while Louisa’s maid, Davis, adjusted her dinner dress, “the entire household has been thrown into complete disorder. And Mr Darcy’s rooms! Of all the inappropriate…”

“What else could be done?” Louisa replied as she sat down in front of the mirror. “The girl was half-dead when they brought her in. Though I must say,” she added, examining her reflection, “it was most unlike Mr Darcy to act so… impulsively.”

Davis started arranging Louisa’s hair.

“Precisely!” Caroline stopped her pacing to stare out at the rain-lashed windows.

“Mr Darcy, who is always so proper, so conscious of his position…to carry her through the house himself, to install her in his private rooms without a thought for appearances! And now Mr Jones insists she cannot be moved.”

“Perhaps once the fever breaks-”

“The fever!” Caroline turned sharply. “Which she likely caught from traipsing about in the mud to visit Jane. Really, what kind of family allows their daughters to go about the countryside alone? And now we must all suffer the consequences of their lack of propriety. Dinner already an hour late, and who knows if Mr Darcy will even come down…”

“There, ma’am,” Davis said, stepping back from her completed work. “Will that do?”

Louisa examined her reflection with satisfaction. “Yes, thank you, Davis. That will be all.”

“We should look in on Charles before dinner,” Caroline said as Davis quietly withdrew. “No doubt he and Mr Darcy are still in the study, brooding over this unfortunate situation. And someone must ensure Mr Hurst has not fallen asleep in the drawing room again.”

“He was complaining about the delayed dinner,” Louisa replied, rising from her seat. “Though really, with all this chaos, what else could be expected?”

The sisters made their way downstairs, Caroline already composing what she would say to draw Mr Darcy from his evident preoccupation with Eliza Bennet’s condition.

Morris met them at the bottom of the stairs. “Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy are in the study, miss. Shall I announce dinner?”

“Not yet, Morris,” Caroline replied. “I should speak with my brother first.” She turned to her sister. “Louisa, perhaps you might see to Mr Hurst while I-”

“Of course.” Louisa moved toward the drawing room, no doubt expecting to find her husband dozing by the fire.

Caroline approached the study door, pausing to adjust her dress before knocking.Her fingers lingered a moment too long on the sash - a subtle, silent recalibration. Then, lifting her chin, she knocked. The murmur of male voices ceased at her light tap.

“Come,” called her brother’s voice.

She entered to find Charles standing by the fire while Mr Darcy remained at his position by the window, his rigid posture betraying tension despite his carefully composed features.

“I trust Mr Jones’s report was satisfactory?” she inquired, moving into the room with practised grace.

“Miss Elizabeth’s fever remains high,” Charles replied, “but Mr Jones is cautiously optimistic. He will return before midnight with more powders and instructions. Rest and careful attention, he says, should see her through.”

He glanced at Darcy’s back. “I was just suggesting to Darcy that we might have dinner served-”

“Yes, of course,” Caroline interjected smoothly.

“Mr Hurst has been most patient with the delay, but really, we must maintain some semblance of normal routine, despite these… unusual circumstances.” She moved further into the room, positioning herself where Darcy would have to acknowledge her presence.

“I assume Miss Bennet will remain with her sister?”

“Miss Bennet should rest,” Charles said quickly. “I have already instructed Morris to have a tray sent up to her.”

“How thoughtful of you, Charles.” Caroline’s tone held just a hint of reproach. “Though really, with two invalids now installed upstairs-”

“Miss Elizabeth is hardly an invalid by choice, Miss Bingley,” Darcy said quietly, still facing the window. “Nor is her present situation of her own making.”

Caroline surveyed their day clothes with a critical eye. “Surely you gentlemen intend to change for dinner? The day has been trying enough without abandoning all proper form. Even Mr Hurst has dressed appropriately despite the delay.”

“Of course, Caroline,” Charles said with a sigh. “Though given the circumstances-”

“Precisely because of the circumstances, we must maintain standards,” Caroline insisted. “Mr Darcy, you agree, surely?”

Mr Darcy finally turned from the window, his expression carefully neutral. “I must beg your pardon, Miss Bingley, but I find myself unequal to company this evening. There is correspondence I must attend to.”

“But surely that can wait-”

“I will have something sent to the study,” Charles interrupted, recognising his friend’s need for solitude. “Fletcher can bring you a change of clothes, if you wish.”

“Thank you Bingley, but its not necessary, I will take a tray in my room.” Mr Darcy replied.

Caroline’s lips tightened at this disruption to her plans. “Charles, you at least will join us properly attired? Mr Hurst has been waiting quite patiently.”

“Yes, yes,” Bingley agreed, already moving toward the door. “Give me ten minutes. Darcy, I will have Morris see to that tray.”

Dinner was a subdued affair. Mr Hurst’s complaints about the delayed service were silenced by the first course, though he cast frequent glances at the empty chairs.

Caroline maintained a stream of inconsequential conversation, determinedly avoiding any mention of the day’s events, while Louisa responded with appropriate murmurs of agreement.

“The soup is particularly good tonight,” Caroline observed, as though they were having a perfectly normal evening. “Though I fear it may have cooled somewhat with the delay.”

“Quite cold,” Mr Hurst muttered into his bowl.

Bingley, who had changed but seemed distracted, kept glancing toward the door as though expecting news. Even Caroline’s pointed remarks about the proper organisation of a household failed to draw more than absent responses from her brother.

The empty place settings seemed to mock Caroline’s attempts at normalcy. Mr Darcy’s absence, in particular, cast a shadow over her carefully maintained facade of proper dining room decorum.

* * *

Netherfield - Kitchen - Mrs Winters

The kitchen smelled of bread and damp wool.

“Well, that’s the family served, at least,” Mrs Winters said, wiping her hands on her apron as she surveyed the kitchen.

The servants’ dinner was laid out on the long table, though several places would remain empty while trays were carried up.

“Though everything’s topsy-turvy with service tonight.

One to Miss Bennet upstairs, Mr Darcy in the blue room-”

“The blue room?” Jenny interrupted, pausing before taking her place at the table. “I thought Mr Darcy was in-”

“Mind your place and not the arrangements upstairs,” Mrs Winters cut in sharply.

“Though I must say,” she added in a lower tone to Meg, who was preparing to take up Mr Darcy’s tray before joining them for dinner, “I have never known such a disruption to proper order. Miss Bingley’s face when Mr Morris told her about the dining arrangements… ”

“It’s not just the dining arrangements causing that face,” Meg replied quietly. “You should have seen her when Mr Darcy carried Miss Elizabeth straight past her to his rooms. I thought she’d swallow her tongue.”

“Less gossiping and more attention to your work,” Mrs Nicholls said briskly, appearing in the doorway.

“Meg, that tray needs to go up, and Jenny, once you have eaten, the bread needs starting for tomorrow. And we will need more hot water taken up through the night. Miss Elizabeth’s fever has not broken yet. ”

“And how is Thomas?” Mrs Winters asked as Meg gathered up Mr Darcy’s tray. “Has anyone checked on him this past hour?”

“Sleeping now,” Mrs Nicholls replied. “His sister’s with him.

Though we will need to arrange for someone to take him home tomorrow, once Mr Jones says he can be moved.

” She cast an eye over the kitchen. “Betty, you will need to take Miss Bennet’s tray up after Meg’s done with Mr Darcy’s.

Martha’s with her now, but she will need relieving for her own dinner. ”

“Poor Miss Elizabeth,” Betty said, unable to contain herself despite the housekeeper’s earlier warning about gossip. “Trapped in that chaise for so long in the rain. If Mr Darcy hadn’t-”

“That’s enough of that,” Mrs Nicholls cut in. “The bread won’t knead itself, and those fires upstairs need tending through the night. ”

The kitchen settled into its familiar evening rhythm, though conversations remained hushed and focused on the tasks at hand. Even Mr Hurst’s usual demands for wine with his dinner seemed subdued tonight. There was little room for scandal below stairs; here, survival came first.

Mr Morris appeared in the doorway. “The riders have just returned from Longbourn, Mrs Nicholls. They’re seeing to the horses now.”

“They will need hot food and dry clothes,” Mrs Winters said immediately. “And we must prepare for Mr Jones’s return later. He will need sustenance too, with such a long night ahead.”

“Thomas’s sister is asking about arrangements for tomorrow,” Mr Morris added quietly. “She’s worried about moving him in this weather.”

“The washing cart would serve if we pad it properly,” Mrs Winters suggested, her experienced eye already calculating what would be needed. “Though it will depend on Mr Jones’s assessment. We can’t risk the journey if there’s danger of the shoulder setting wrong.”

“Speaking of arrangements,” Mrs Nicholls said, her tone carrying years of household management, “we need to organise the night watches properly. Miss Elizabeth’s fever needs constant attention, and Thomas must be monitored for infection. Martha, nursed fever before”

“Yes, she was there during that influenza outbreak at Lady Milton’s a few years back.” Mrs Winters said thoughtfully.

“Good. She’ll take first watch with Miss Elizabeth then. Miss Bennet will need support too - she’s not fully recovered herself.” Mrs Nicholls’s lips tightened slightly. “Though if Miss Bingley had shown better judgement about sending out the chaise in such weather…”

The other servants exchanged knowing looks. They’d all seen Miss Bingley’s satisfaction when Miss Elizabeth arrived mud-spattered that morning, and her barely concealed irritation when Mr Darcy had carried the unconscious girl straight past her to his rooms.

“Meg,” Mrs Nicholls continued briskly, “once you have taken that tray up, see to more wood for the fires. We can’t have them going low tonight, not with two sick-rooms to tend. And James will need to go out again to fetch Mr Jones back - make sure he gets a proper meal first.”

Above stairs, scandal simmered. Below, they simply worked to keep people alive. And for at least one of them, it might not be enough.