Page 30 of Grief and Grievances
“Absolutely,” Lucinda agreed, nodding earnestly. “One must never underestimate the importance of mutual understanding and shared values in a union.”
“Of course,” Georgiana added softly, still avoiding eye contact. “A strong foundation is essential for lasting happiness.”
Elizabeth’s mind raced as she considered the implications of this conversation. Was it possible that Lucinda sought a match with Darcy for herself and was now enlisting Georgiana’s support in furthering her aims? The thought of losing Darcy to another woman, particularly one as lovely and accomplished as Lucinda, brought a surge of emotions she could scarcely comprehend.
“Forgive me,” Elizabeth said abruptly, standing up. “I must excuse myself. I shall go and see about some more tea for Anne.” With a hasty curtsey, she departed from their company, her thoughts churning with confusion and heartache.
Elizabeth paced the length of her chamber, her thoughts a tumultuous storm. The possibility of Lucinda de Bourgh being the object of Darcy’s affections was not only plausible but increasingly likely. Compared to Caroline Bingley, Lucinda was far more accomplished and desirable—gracious in manner, beautiful in appearance, and with a fortune to match. Indeed, she would make an excellent wife for him.
“Curse my foolish heart!” Elizabeth muttered under her breath. “Why must I suffer these vexatious feelings?” She had tried to deny her growing attraction to Mr. Darcy, but it seemed as though the spectre of a rival was all that was needed to force her to confront the truth.
“Lizzy?” a soft voice said, and Jane appeared, framed in the doorway to the adjoining chamber. “Is everything all right?”
“I did not mean to wake you,” Elizabeth apologised, feeling a surge of guilt. “Go back to bed.”
Instead, Jane came further into the room, coming to sit on the end of Elizabeth’s bed and look at her perceptively. “Something is troubling you. Will you not tell me?”
Elizabeth sat down next to Jane, her heart heavy with the weight of her feelings. She found herself unable to hold back any longer and poured out her heart to her sister, confessing her growing feelings for Mr. Darcy and her fear that Lucinda de Bourgh might be a rival for his affections.
Jane listened patiently, her gentle hand resting on Elizabeth’s shoulder. When Elizabeth finished, Jane spoke softly. “Oh, Lizzy. I am sorry that you are suffering so. But I cannot help but wonder if your feelings for Mr. Darcy are not reciprocated.”
Elizabeth looked up, startled. “What do you mean?”
“I have seen the way he looks at you, Lizzy,” Jane said, her voice filled with warmth and affection. “And I think that he might feel the same way about you.”
Elizabeth’s heart leaped at Jane’s words, but she was not yet willing to believe them. “But what of Lucinda de Bourgh? Do you not think she might have caught his eye?”
“I cannot say for certain,” Jane admitted. “But I do know that true love cannot be forced or fabricated. If Mr. Darcy truly loves you, then nothing can stand in the way of that. And if not, then it is better to know the truth and move on than to suffer in silence.”
Elizabeth nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of her feelings. She knew that Jane spoke the truth, but it was difficult to let go of her hopes and fears so easily.
“I should go back,” she said with a sigh. “I ran out so hurriedly, Georgiana will be most bemused, and Lucinda has been sitting with Anne all evening. She deserves a break.”
“So do you,” Jane said gently, but Elizabeth shook her head.
“Thank you for your words of wisdom, Jane. I do feel better.”
Jane’s glance was doubting, but she only bade Elizabeth a good night and returned to her own bed.
Elizabeth’s steps dragged as she made her way back to the sickroom. Jealousy was not an emotion she had ever experienced before, and it was an ugly one, she was discovering. She had liked Lucinda de Bourgh at once, but now that she was suddenly seeing Lucinda as a potential wife for Mr. Darcy, everything in her cried out in protest.
Lucinda and Georgiana both looked up with welcoming smiles as Elizabeth re-entered the sickroom, and Elizabeth felt even worse. Lucinda was truly a lovely person; she would make Mr. Darcy a fine wife and mistress of Pemberley. Whereas what did Elizabeth know of running a grand estate? Nothing at all.
“Did you bring the tea?” Georgiana asked, and Elizabeth stared blankly at her for a moment before remembering the excuse she had used to flee the sickroom earlier.
“I...” she began, but was saved from having to invent some excuse of falsehood by sudden, startling movement from the bed.
Anne de Bourgh, motionless for nine days now, suddenly began to thrash and flail, in the throes of a terrible seizure, animal sounds coming from her throat as her eyes snapped open to stare blindly around the room.
All three young women cried out with shock, but it was Elizabeth who had the presence of mind to leap to the bedside, to grasp at Anne’s thin, flailing form, to try to prevent her from thrashing off the bed and possibly injuring herself further.
“Send for the doctor!” Elizabeth shouted, and Lucinda, recovering from her shocked moment of paralysis, shoved Georgiana towards the door. Elizabeth had no time to watch her go, but running footsteps and Georgiana calling for aid assured her that the younger girl was not about to witness whatever was about to happen.
It seemed endless minutes before the seizure ended and Anne went limp again, her eyes closing as she fell back against the bed.
“What just happened?” Lucinda almost whimpered as Elizabeth collapsed to sit on the floor beside the bed, lacking even the energy to get to a chair.
“Convulsions,” Elizabeth said in a hollow, flat voice.
