Page 9 of To Go Against Her Heart (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

The night proved harrowing for Elizabeth, as Jane burned with fever until the early hours. At last, when her fever broke around half past three, Elizabeth finally felt a sense of relief as Jane spoke.

“When did you arrive, Lizzy? I do not remember how long I have been in bed.”

“I arrived yesterday morning, and you are getting better; do not worry. Mr. Jones has seen you, and there is nothing to be concerned about,” Elizabeth said as she offered Jane water.

“You look tired. I assume you have not slept.”

“I cannot believe you worry about me now. I am quite well and not tired at all. Would you like to eat something?” she asked.

Jane declined.

“I am so glad you chose to visit, not that I have not been well cared for. Your presence is comforting,” Jane said gratefully.

“And I plan to stay here until we both can leave together. Mr. Bingley has most graciously invited me to stay.”

“That is indeed kind of him. I feel so guilty about ending up sick like this.”

“Good Heavens, Jane. You cannot help it, can you? Mamma is to blame. But you will get better soon once you start eating.”

The sisters conversed for some time, until Jane, overcome with fatigue, drifted into a slumber.

Elizabeth, somewhat eased in spirit after the anxious night, soon succumbed to sleep upon her chair.

Early in the morning, a maid woke her up and requested that she rest. Sensing that Jane was better, Elizabeth left for her room and found it spacious and comfortable in the guest wing.

Knowing that Darcy occupied the same floor, she fervently hoped not to encounter him.

And the moment Elizabeth sat upon the bed, tiredness overtook her, and she soon surrendered to a deep slumber.

Darcy was disappointed not to see her for breakfast and understood from Mr. Bingley that she had retired to her room only in the early hours.

They were to shoot with Sir William that day, and Mr. Bingley reluctantly left the house, still concerned for Jane.

Strangely, Darcy felt the same about leaving Elizabeth alone.

He constantly wondered if the story he heard from Miss Bingley had any credibility to it.

She seems too intelligent to fall for a man who did not return her feelings. I cannot believe she could have been so easily deceived like Georgiana.

As to the hunting, Darcy was pleasantly surprised to find himself enjoying the sport with Sir William and other new acquaintances.

“I am honored you chose to accompany us today, Mr. Darcy. We have enjoyed your company,” Sir William said with delight.

“The pleasure is mine.”

“I hope you shall not leave soon; I assure you our society offers much entertainment until Christmas.”

“Of course, he will not; I still need his assistance at Netherfield, and I have yearned for his company for several months now,” Mr. Bingley said confidently, but Darcy was still undecided about how long he intended to stay.

To his disappointment, upon their return, there was still no sign of Elizabeth.

Meanwhile, Miss Bingley informed her brother that Jane was improving and had eaten a little.

“I cannot tell you how relieved I am to hear that. I hope she recovers soon and will be able to join us downstairs. I have missed her…I mean, I have missed Miss Bennet’s company,” he said, seeing his sister raise an eyebrow.

Darcy saw Elizabeth only during supper and was relieved to see her in better spirits.

Mr. Bingley was happy to learn that Jane had eaten and wanted to give her his utmost attention to aid her recovery.

“I am not certain about what could help her gain strength; my sisters should have a better idea. I will ensure that the cook prepares her meals accordingly,” he said, and it became clear to everyone in the room that he was partial towards Jane.

“Do not worry; I will see to it that she gets the required nourishment,” Mrs. Hurst declared.

After supper, Miss Bingley decided to entertain them at the piano-forte, and Elizabeth could not deny that she played considerably well. Miss Bingley played a couple of songs and then pressed Elizabeth to play, assuming she had no talent.

“I do not play very well, Miss Bingley. I never devote time to it,” Elizabeth said. She hardly played when pressed to and was in no mood to play that evening.

“Why, Miss Eliza? Do not make yourself uncomfortable. I understand that not all have the talent to excel at the piano-forte, but you must play for us. I assure you none of us will slight your performance,” Miss Bingley said graciously.

Elizabeth walked up to the instrument without interest; as she sat down, she noticed Darcy’s gaze upon her.

Here goes my tolerable performance to impress you, Mr. Darcy.

She thought and bit her lips to contain her smile, and Darcy understood very well that she was mocking someone in the room and hoped it was not him.

Throughout his life, he had always been partial to his sister’s performance alone.

Darcy had listened to many women play, and though their skill was undeniable, he invariably detected an intention to captivate the audience.

Never had he seen anyone play solely for their own pleasure.

However, now, as Elizabeth played, he was mesmerized.

She had chosen a very simple song, yet Darcy had never heard it before.

Her voice was not excessively sweet, but it blended seamlessly with the music her fingers produced.

There was something unique in her performance, and even when she stumbled on a few high notes, the gentle smile upon her lips made it all the more endearing.

To Darcy, her music was as captivating as her beauty and character.

And Elizabeth was quite surprised at the appreciation she received after the performance, especially from Mr. Darcy.

“You play exceedingly well, Miss Elizabeth, even though you do not believe so,” he said with admiration.

Elizabeth nodded, not finding a reason to question the sincerity of his praise. She realized there was something strikingly honest about Darcy, even when he had been rude and later apologized for it.

That night, she retired to her room after spending a few hours with Jane, and a maid readily took over her position. Depending upon Jane’s condition, she hoped to leave Netherfield in a day or two and looked forward to sleeping in her own room in Longbourn.

The next morning, after visiting her sister, she headed outdoors as she longed for a walk.

She had never explored the woods around Netherfield and ventured out onto one of the trails.

Autumn was fast approaching, and Elizabeth was delighted with the beauty around her.

After about an hour, she returned to the estate and spotted Darcy near the gardens.

He quickly walked up to her and enquired about Jane.

“I believe she is recovering well and is on the mend,” she replied.

“I am pleased to hear that. Well! I was heading for a walk. Would you care to join me?” he asked, looking at the path that ran around the house through the gardens. Though his request surprised her, she agreed without thought, pleasantly shocking Darcy.

He could not help but steal a few glances at her as they walked, but Elizabeth kept her gaze forward.

“How are you faring in the purpose of your visit, Mr. Darcy?” she asked after a few minutes.

“Forgive me; I do not have the pleasure of understanding you.”

“I believe you traveled here to aid Mr. Bingley with the estate, did you not.”

“Yes, of course! I assure you, there is very little to be done now. We have had a few productive weeks, and I am certain my friend could manage quite well even without my assistance.”

“I understand you are anxious to return, then.”

“No, you are wrong, I am quite happy to spend time here, though I cannot deny that I miss my sister, who currently resides in town with my aunt.”

“I see. Am I to believe that our humble society provides a man like you enough amusement?”

“Miss Elizabeth, I am not certain what your opinion is about my preference in keeping myself entertained. You are mistaken if you suppose I take after my friend and delight in parties and assemblies. I have never favored social engagements, not just here but also in town, because I am not at ease like most people in forming new acquaintances,” he admitted honestly.

“I wonder why?”

“I do not possess the talent some do of conversing amiably with a stranger.”

“I do not play the piano-forte as well as I wish to, but I attribute that to my own failing because I would not take the trouble of practicing. You could learn from my failing, Mr. Darcy, and start practicing,” she said with a slight smile.

“I assure you; I have already started doing so.”

“And might I dare to ask whether you find it rewarding?”

“I still do not know; it depends on how the world perceives my efforts.”

“Certainly, you must have some idea by now as to whether you have made progress.”

“What if I have not made any? Would you suggest I keep trying?”

“That must depend entirely upon your own inclination.”

“I do not understand what you mean.”

“You see, I never concern myself with practicing, for I have no wish to impress anyone. If my goal were to astonish every gathering I attend, I assure you I would practice diligently—but that has never been my thought. It all depends upon your own purpose; if you truly wish to impress your acquaintances, and perhaps earn the reputation of a skilled conversationalist, I suggest you do not give up,” she said, smiling once more.