Page 15 of Grief and Grievances
“Of course,” Charlotte acknowledged, her voice steady despite the weight of the situation. “You will find them in the drawing-room, Doctor.”
As the doctor moved towards the door, Elizabeth found herself contemplating the gravity of their task; they had been entrusted with the fragile life of another, and there was no room for error.
“Doctor,” she called out just as he reached the doorway, causing him to pause and glance back at her. For a fleeting moment, she hesitated, wondering if her words would sound like an empty platitude. But as she looked into the doctor’s eyes, she knew that he too understood the importance of hope in such trying times.
“Please convey to Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Lady Catherine our utmost dedication to Miss de Bourgh’s care,” Elizabeth said, her voice steady. “We will do everything within our power for her.”
The doctor offered a solemn nod, appreciating the sincerity behind Elizabeth’s words. “I shall, Miss Bennet,” he replied, before stepping out into the hallway and closing the door softly behind him.
In the quiet aftermath of the doctor’s departure, the sombre atmosphere of Anne’s chamber weighed heavily upon Elizabeth and Charlotte. The silence was broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the ornate clock on the mantelpiece, each second a reminder of the precious time slipping away.
“Dearest Charlotte,” Elizabeth murmured, her voice barely a whisper as she reached out and clasped her friend’s hand. Her lips quivering with suppressed emotions, Charlotte met Elizabeth’s gaze, and in that instant, a torrent of unspoken feelings passed between them.
They embraced tenderly, drawing strength from one another as they shared their grief for the tragic fate that had befallen Anne. In this moment of vulnerability, Elizabeth’s thoughts strayed to Mr. Darcy, wondering how his heart must ache for his cousin even as he bore the weight of responsibility for Rosings Park.
“Charlotte,” Elizabeth said as they separated, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, “we must make a solemn vow, you and I, to do everything within our power to care for Anne.”
“Indeed, Lizzy,” Charlotte agreed, her voice strained yet resolute. “We shall devote ourselves entirely to her needs, ensuring that she is afforded every comfort possible.”
“Then we vow together,” Elizabeth declared, her words carrying the gravity of their commitment. She squeezed Charlotte’s hand once more, sealing their pact with a determined nod.
Their resolve fortified, the two women set about preparing the tea that the doctor had prescribed. As Elizabeth stirred the steaming liquid, she pondered the daunting task ahead. Would their ministrations truly make a difference? Was it possible that Anne might awaken, or were they merely prolonging an inevitable tragedy?
“Elizabeth,” Charlotte called softly, her voice pulling her friend from her introspection. She handed Elizabeth a small spoon, indicating the tea that awaited administration. “We must remain hopeful, for Anne’s sake.”
“Hopeful, yes,” Elizabeth concurred, setting aside her doubts for the moment as she dipped the spoon into the fragrant brew. The aromatic steam wafted upward, a tangible reminder of the responsibility that now rested upon their shoulders.
“I cannot help but feel responsible for what has befallen her,” Charlotte confessed quietly as they worked, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her guilt.
“None of us could have foreseen these tragic events,” Elizabeth reasoned. “We must focus on the tasks at hand, ensuring that Anne receives the best possible care while we navigate this trying time.”
“Indeed,” Charlotte agreed, her own resolve strengthened by Elizabeth’s unwavering spirit.
In the dimly lit chamber, Anne’s shallow breaths echoed softly like whispers of a fading spirit, their rhythm punctuated by the quiet rustling of Elizabeth’s gown as she adjusted the blankets that swaddled the invalid.
A moment of silence passed before Charlotte spoke again, her voice tinged with both sadness and determination. “I will ensure that the household staff is prepared to assist us in any way necessary, and I will make certain that all preparations for Mrs. Jenkinson’s funeral are seen to. The poor woman had no family, so Mr. Collins and I must ensure she is properly laid to rest.”
“Thank you, Charlotte. Your practicality and dedication are invaluable in this time of crisis,” said Elizabeth, meeting her friend’s eyes with a look of sincere gratitude.
As they stood side by side in the dim chamber, their hands clasped together in solidarity, an unspoken vow passed between them—a pledge to support one another through the trials that lay ahead, and to face whatever challenges arose with unwavering determination and unity.
“Come, then,” said Charlotte, her voice firm yet gentle. “Let us begin.”
With renewed purpose, the two women set about their respective tasks—Elizabeth attending to Anne’s every need, while Charlotte managed the myriad responsibilities that now fell upon her shoulders.
Chapter Eight
Thesundippedlowover the horizon, casting a melancholy glow through the windows of Rosings as Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam stood side by side in the drawing-room. The doctor, an elderly gentleman with kind eyes and a solemn demeanour, stood before them, his medical bag clutched tightly in one hand.
“Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” he began with a heavy sigh, “I’m afraid my news is not what you may have hoped for. Miss de Bourgh’s condition is indeed as dire as I feared.”
Darcy clenched his jaw, unable to suppress the roiling storm within him. He had known this moment was coming, but that did little to quell the helplessness clawing at his chest. Beside him, Fitzwilliam remained stoic, though the grim set of his lips betrayed his own deep concern.
“Is there nothing that can be done, Doctor?” Fitzwilliam inquired, his voice steady despite the gravity of their discussion.
“Regrettably, I have done all that is within my power,” the doctor replied, shaking his head. “I will continue to provide her comfort and monitor her condition, but I fear it is only a matter of time now.”
“Thank you for your efforts, Doctor,” Darcy said quietly, feeling the weight of responsibility settle upon his shoulders. It was his duty to care for Anne and ensure her comfort during these final days; yet, he could not shake the gnawing guilt that he should have done more.
