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Mrs Reynolds entered with several maids.

The room was soon put back into working order while Jane continued to talk quietly to Elizabeth.

The maids were all dismissed by the housekeeper, and Mrs Reynolds took her place beside the bed awaiting Mrs Bingley’s instructions.

Jane appreciated the patience the housekeeper continually showed.

With a nod of acknowledgment, the two ladies then turned their attentions to Elizabeth.

She was changed into a fresh nightgown, her hair brushed and smelling of the rose water perfume she loved so much, and tucked under clean sheets when Darcy knocked at the door.

“Has it been an hour already?” Jane asked when she opened the door to him.

“Exactly an hour,” he replied as he looked up from the pocket watch he held in his hand past Jane’s shoulder and to his wife’s bed. “Still nothing?”

“No; no change. We will continue to hold vigil and lift Elizabeth’s plight up to God.”

He snapped the watch closed, slipping it back into the small pocket of his waistcoat with practiced ease, and gave a nod of thanks as he crossed the room to take up residence in his usual seat.

Everyone left the Master of Pemberley alone with his wife.

He reached for her hand, winding his fingers through hers, and then he began his nightly prayer ritual.

Someone was touching her hair. Talking. A familiar voice. Jane! It is Jane! She must be at Longbourn and Jane was caring for her. This made her truly happy, for if Jane was by her side, then she felt everything would be well.

What was that? Something about taking the children out to play in the snow tomorrow?

Her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner must be visiting with her cousins.

Yes, that makes perfect sense, she thought.

After all, if I am injured, surely they would want to be near to help care for me.

Her thoughts drifted away from the voice as she began to worry for her mother and father, and her younger sisters as well.

She did not know what could have caused such injuries as she herself had, and it began to worry her that another of her family members might be injured as well.

“Mama has written again. It is her usual grievances — you know how she gets.”

What was that about Mama? Why is she not at Longbourn? Did Papa send her away because of my ill health?

“Charles just ignores her complaints though. He is a patient man.”

Charles… Charles… who could Jane be talking of? The only Charles I remember is Mr Bingley, but surely Jane would not be so familiar with him as to call him by his Christian name, even just in my presence.

“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.”

Oh good, she thought, Papa has seen fit to at least let Mary join Mama wherever she is. I wonder though why Lydia or Kitty have not joined her as well?

“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.””

America! Why has Kitty gone to America? How is it I cannot remember any talk of this trip?

Her mind began to wander as Jane’s words drifted further and further away.

Surely the trip alone takes a month or more, and it is winter now.

I do not remember any news of Kitty being in America.

Did she travel with someone? Maybe I did not hear correctly.

Yes; yes that must be it. Jane could not have said America – surely Kitty is only visiting London with our Aunt and Uncle Gardiner.

Yes, it must be. Mama is with Mary – but, what about Lydia?

If she is not with Mama too, then where could she be?

This trail of thoughts continued on as Jane’s voice faded away.

Elizabeth was growing weary. Jane had stopped talking to her now, and she and someone else were moving her about.

What are they doing, she wondered. After a few minutes she realized they must be changing her nightgown and the bed sheets.

There was really no other explanation for the way they were moving her about.

Who is helping Jane? she wondered. It does not sound like Mrs Hill. Did Papa hire someone to help care for me?

Now they had her settled. Ahhh, yes, the smell of fresh bed linens. Someone was now braiding her hair. It must be Jane. Rose water! Jane must have applied it to my hair, she thought. I do so love rose water.

Elizabeth was beginning to grow too weary to continue listening to what was going on around her.

She did hear a man now though. It was not her father, but she could not determine who it was.

He spoke very low, almost in a whisper, and it sounded as if he were praying.

Perhaps it was the parson come to pray for her?

The man lifted her hand, entwining his fingers with hers.

Even though this seemed an odd gesture, and at the same time one that was way too familiar, it was a comfort to know someone was holding onto her as she drifted off to sleep.