Page 17 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy
“Mother, we will not be put out on the streets. We have Aunt and Uncle Phillips and the Gardiners. Do not fret.”
But fret their mother would, and Elizabeth knew that no matter the cost of her father’s treatment, it would do nothing to soothe her mother’s nerves.
***
Later that afternoon, as Elizabeth walked along the quiet lanes of Meryton, her thoughts were heavy. The uncertainty of her father’s health plagued her mind, and so did the dismal feeling of helplessness. She had returned from the tense atmosphere of Longbourn earlier, her mind reeling with grim realities.
The letter from Mr Eversham had arrived that afternoon as promised and contained within it a careful summary of treatment options and their associated costs. He noted that traditional remedies could continue, though with limited efficacy, alongside his observation that electrical stimulation might prove more promising. The procedure would require a specialist from Scotland who had experience with apoplexy, a physician of great reputation but significant expense. The specialist would need to remain in residence for several weeks, adding to the costs.
Elizabeth had read the sums with mounting dread. Mr Eversham estimated that the best physician’s treatments, travel expenses, and necessary accommodations would amount to nearly three hundred pounds to cover a physician who could exclusively care for Mr Bennet, along with two assistants to take care of his needs, one for the day and one for the night—a sum so immense for her family that she could scarcely comprehend how they might gather it. Longbourn, already strained withdebts, could not possibly stretch to accommodate this additional burden. However, this was the very best treatment and the treatment that might allow them to properly help their father recover his health. There were much cheaper options, especially when they continued to provide the nursing care themselves and worked with the local surgeon—but their father’s chances of recovery were low.
As she mulled over the figures, a deeper ache settled in her chest. If only her family’s circumstances were less precarious. If only her father had not delayed so long in discussing Longbourn’s inheritance. What pained her most was her own utter inability to help, standing helpless while they tried to scrape together a solution.
Once again, her thoughts slipped unbidden to Mr Darcy. She recalled that day in Kent as vividly as if it had been yesterday—the sharpness of his words, the intensity of his eyes as he declared his affection.
If she had accepted him, her life could be so different now. There would be no sleepless nights fretting over money, no hopeless meetings with physicians tallying sums beyond their reach. Instead, she would be settled, perhaps even proud, as the wife of a man whose fortune alone could shield her family from any number of storms.
The thought twisted her insides. Foolish! Such vanity and bitterness now, after all that had passed between them. Mr Darcy had been insufferable, and she would have been miserable. His arrogance, his disdain for her connections—they could never be reconciled. Hadn’t he insulted her entire family? Insisted on Jane’s unsuitability for Mr Bingley?
“No,” she murmured aloud, shaking her head, her steps faltering on the shaded path. A rush of heat stung her eyes, and she furiously brushed away tears that began to form. How could she even think of him now, much less imagine a life in which she had accepted him? He was proud, overbearing, impossible.
And yet, somewhere deep within, a nagging sense of regret stirred. Could things have turned out differently? Would she have had the strength to temper his arrogance if she had acted differently?
The thought offered no comfort—only pain, like a blade pressed into a raw wound. Elizabeth straightened her back, forcing herself to keep moving forward.
Chapter 10
Elizabeth
5th June 1812
Elizabeth adjusted the wicker basket, which was unbearably heavy. It was beginning to press into her flesh. Beside her, Mary asked, “Do you want me to take it? We can take turns carrying the heavier basket.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I shall manage. It’s not much further, anyhow.”
Mary adjusted her grip on her own basket, which contained a lighter load of yarn and other materials, while Elizabeth carried jars of compote, milk, and eggs.
In an effort to cut down on expenditures—much of which was eaten up by treatments for her father and Mr Eversham’s fees—the Bennets had let go of the maid, keeping only Hill and the cook. Even they were working reduced hours. That left Elizabeth and her sisters to manage the shopping on their own. Usually, they would take the carriage, but Jane had taken it to accompany Lydia to the Forsters’ home. Captain Forster had kindly offered to take Lydia with him to Brighton. This had been presented as an enjoyable excursion to keep Mrs Forster company, but Elizabeth knew it for what it was—charity. Everyone knew the Bennets had fallen on hard times.
“Do you think Kitty will ever recover from not being able to go to Brighton?” Mary asked, drawing Elizabeth out of her thoughts.
“I hope so. She ought to understand. It is kind enough of the Forsters to take Lydia on and cover all her expenses. We can’t expect them to take both girls. Besides, Kitty isn’t truly friends with Mrs Forster.”
“That is true. I heard Mr Collins say he must soon return to Rosings. It will be a shame to lose his company,” Mary said.
Elizabeth looked at Mary. Her sister had always been slightly peculiar, and she genuinely did not understand Mary’s affection for their cousin.
“Mary, do you truly mean it? Do you truly see value in his being here?”
Mary shrugged. “He cares about the family, and he prays for Father diligently. We ought to be grateful.”
“Oh, Mary, sometimes I think you and Jane are more alike than you realise.”
“I think not,” Mary replied. “Jane is hopelessly romantic. She still pines for Mr Bingley, you know? She hopes he will show up in his grand carriage and sweep us all off our feet. I am rational. We must ensure Mr Collins remains favourable towards our family. We must keep people close now. We do not know what will happen—especially if, well… especially if the worst should happen, and Mr Collins becomes master of Longbourn.” Her voice hitched on the word ‘master’, and Elizabeth saw that her feelings ran far deeper than she wanted to admit.
“I do not think that will be necessary,” Elizabeth said. “You heard that Mr Bingley called on our Aunt and UncleGardiner. I think that is a sign he still cares for Jane, though she does not seem inclined to accept him.”
She had been more than a little surprised to hear this news from her aunt when it had arrived by letter a week ago. That Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy should arrive at Cheapside to speak to their aunt had been shocking. In a way, she’d understood that Mr Darcy might, given he kept a home in London and he’d been present when the letter arrived. Charlotte had informed her that he’d kept abreast of the developments. This had surprised her, but perhaps her words had awakened something in him, some kind of empathy he’d lacked thus far. But for Mr Bingley to join him? That had been a true surprise.
