Page 4

Elizabeth tried to open her eyes. Again, nothing.

No amount of persuasion would allow her to move even her fingers.

The darkness was overwhelming. Her soul ached to be allowed out of this solitary prison.

Fear began to grip her heart once more, until she remembered that sweet, soft voice singing those words.

“The Lord has promised good to me, His word my hope secures;

He will my shield and portion be as long as life endures.”

Yes, she thought, as long as life endures there is still the promise of a future. I must endure. I cannot give up now.

Her thoughts turned to the memory of the child’s voice. Who was singing? Why are they so very familiar and yet still so foreign to me?

Just as she was drifting back into unconsciousness, she heard the voice again.

“Shhhh, she is asweep. We must be quiet.”

A deep voice answered the child, but she did not understand what was said. Someone was now holding her hand. She tried to squeeze her fingers, but she was still unable to do so. The soft humming of both voices lulled her back into a sleepy state, and she was soon resting.

Richard Fitzwilliam sat in the chair next to Elizabeth’s bed.

Darcy was asleep on the cot. Mrs Bingley is truly a saint, he thought.

She has been able to convince my cousin to do what I have spent weeks arguing with him about.

The former Army colonel lifted his stiff arm, trying to alleviate the pain that radiated from an old battle injury, thankful that his days of service to the king were behind him and he was able to be here for his cousin without anything impeding his stay for as long as he was needed.

Today had been a good day, so to speak. Although Elizabeth had not yet moved, she was looking a little better than before.

The doctor even said that he could see her eyes moving below her closed lids, and that was a good sign.

It was this good news, and Mrs Bingley’s strong reproach about his own health, that had convinced Darcy to share a meal with the others earlier.

For the first time since Georgiana left three days ago, he had eaten; and this time he ate enough to fill his belly.

Now Darcy lay on the small cot just a few feet away.

His chest rose and fell with the sound slumber that would allow his body to recover, even if just a little.

Fitz tried to stretch his legs, but the child asleep on his lap did not allow such freedom. James had insisted that he sing to his mother, and so, since Darcy was asleep, he brought the child in himself.

The little head of dark curls moved, and Richard knew James was waking from his rest. It took a few minutes, but eventually smiling brown eyes looked up at him.

“Unca Rickard?”

“Well, there you are. Did you have a good rest?” Fitz stretched larger now that James was awake.

“Where’s Papa?” the boy asked.

Fitz pointed to the cot, “He is still asleep.”

“Jus like Mama?”

Richard did not know what to say to such a question. As he struggled to find the right words, James spoke again.

“I telled Aunt Jane that Mama will be waked before my birfday.”

He couldn’t help but smile at the faith this little child held that his parents would both be in his life forever. He ruffled the curls upon James’ head. “Yes, neither of them would wish to miss the celebration you have been planning.”

They heard Darcy groan from his own bed. “What is this I hear about a birthday?”

“Papa! You waked up already!” James jumped down from Fitz’s lap and went running over to his father, embracing his neck as Darcy struggled to sit up on the edge of the bed.

“Umph. You are getting big,” he struggled to say as James’ arms tightened around his neck.

“That is why my birfday is soon,” the boy said proudly as he let go of his father’s neck and stood beside the bed, his chest puffing out just a little.

Fitz began to laugh at James until he heard a soft reproach from the little one.

“Shhhh, she is asweep. We must be quiet.” His little finger pointed over to the bed where Elizabeth lay.

Fitz stood, stretching his sore back as he answered, this time more quietly, “Yes, we must keep quiet in here. Doctor’s orders. Come – we will see if Cook has some biscuits in the kitchen.”

James bounded over to Fitz and grabbed his hand. When they were nearly to the door, he looked back, “Are you coming Papa?”

“No, I will remain here with your mother.”

James let go of his Uncle Richard’s hand and went to where his father still sat upon the cot. “You have to stay by Mama ‘til the sad goes away?”

He gave a small smile at the boy’s thought process. “Yes, I do.”

James sat down beside him, “Then I will stay wif you.”

Darcy reached over and pulled his son onto his lap as he hugged him. “That is not necessary. I will keep watch for both of us.”

A knock at the door sounded. “That must be your Aunt Jane. Why not go and find your cousin Henry, then the two of you can see if Cook has any treats for you both.”

James slowly got down from his father’s lap. “Do you want a biscuit too, Papa?”

He smiled at his son’s thoughtfulness, though the smile did not reach his eyes. “No, I will wait until your mother can join us as well.”

“I tell’d Cook that Mama likes lemon tarts. We will have dem for my birfday,” he said as he bounded off through the door that Fitz had now opened, past his aunt who stood ready to come in, and off down the hallway on the quest to retrieve his cousin and then some treats from the kitchen.

Darcy stood and looked over at Elizabeth’s form on the bed. He did not wish to leave her side, but he knew he needed to get himself cleaned up a bit, so he reluctantly turned to Jane. “I will be back in ten minutes.”

“I shall open the door for you again in an hour,” she said firmly. “We cannot possibly complete what need be done without at least that much time.”

He groaned aloud.

“Charles is awaiting you in the south library. He wishes to talk with you about some estate matters. Perhaps that will keep you sufficiently distracted.”

Darcy reluctantly nodded and walked out of the room towards his own bedchamber.

Fitz looked on with awe at the lady who stood before him. “Does Bingley know what a strong woman he has in you?”

She chuckled. “I am willing to do just about anything to ensure that Fitzwilliam is here when my sister finally awakens. It would not do to have both of them ill. I know all too well how draining grief can be on the body, and I do not wish to lose either one of them.”

“Knowing your own losses, I understand completely.” Fitz turned and walked from the room, his voice carrying back to her as he said, “I need to find a good woman like you for myself.”

When the room was empty of the others, Jane pulled the rope to ring for Mrs Reynolds and then turned to survey the room.

It was a mess, for sure. The linens on the cot would need to be changed and the bed made back up; the table contained the remnants of the last tea service that was brought in, along with the dying petals of the wilting flowers in the vase; the floor would need a good scrubbing very soon.

She made a mental note of it all to tell Mrs Reynolds before she went over to the window and pulled open the heavy drapes to let in as much light as the end of this blustery winter day would give them.

The grey sky was growing dark and the ground below was covered in a new layer of snow.

Elizabeth loves the snow, Jane thought. She could not help but chuckle as she remembered that Elizabeth loved all the seasons equally.

Her sister’s often repeated words were remembered:

I love the winter, until the spring buds appear.

I love the springtime, until summer comes along, bright and cheery.

I love the summer, until one day autumn arrives with its blustery gusts.

And I love autumn, until one day the skies begin to turn grey and drop perfect white flakes that cover the land, washing it anew.

Elizabeth loved all the seasons, as long as she could be outside enjoying the diversity they each brought to the land surrounding her.

Jane turned from the window and walked over to her sister’s bedside.

“We have had more snow today. Perhaps we should take the children out to play in it tomorrow. The sky looks as if it might have more to give though, so we will have to see.” She continued to talk with Elizabeth as she began the task of brushing the knots from her sister’s hair.

“Mama has written again. It is her usual grievances — you know how she gets. She says the attics are simply dreadful at the cottage, and she cannot understand why she cannot go to Purvis Lodge or even Netherfield Park. She simply does not understand how dreadfully bare the coffers were. Charles just ignores her complaints though. He is a patient man. Mary has kept Mama very busy of late, so I must write to her with my thanks. It has kept Mama’s complaints to a minimum since she returned home.

She wrote for nearly half a page about how much she wishes Kitty could be there instead of off in that dreadful America.

” Jane chuckled. “It is just like Mama to think it could be dreadful, when you and I both know Kitty loves every moment of her trip.” Jane continued to gently brush through Elizabeth’s hair.

“Oh, Elizabeth, you should have seen Mama’s face when your husband forced her from your room!

He used the excuse of the doctor ordering a quiet environment so you could rest. Mama was so put out that she immediately left Pemberley with the vow that she would never return, even if he apologized.

As you can imagine, her tone has changed already, as this most recent letter indicated her desire to come to Derbyshire during the summer with Mary, though I doubt she has asked Mary’s opinion on such a plan. ”