Page 8 of The Cherry Trees of Rosings
“Yes.” Her cheeks coloured. “What was the last thing you remember… before your… current predicament?”
“My predicament?” He frowned. “I do not understand.”
Elizabeth bit her lip.
“You said you keep looking for others but you can not find them.”
She felt as if she was bumbling about like a donkey in a barn, but she hoped she would get wherever the conversation needed to go… eventually.
Why did she have to do this task?! Could not have Mr. Darcy chosen to haunt someone else?
Lady Catherine perhaps?
A distant look appeared in Mr. Darcy’s eyes.
“I was in my carriage with Fitzwilliam,” he said. His brows furrowed. “We had crossed the Dunhill bridge… and there was a… rapidly approaching carriage opposite us…”
Mr. Darcy’s eyes widened. His eyes focused on Elizabeth again.
“There was a loud snap and…” Shock swept across his face. He stared.
“...my God!”
Elizabeth gasped as Mr. Darcy disappeared again.
Chapter 6:
Elizabeth’s Dilemma
“Ido not know what the matter is with you, Eliza!”
Charlotte sat on the edge of the bed and touched Elizabeth’s forehead. The latter moaned and burrowed under the covers as chills swept through her.
“I do not know…” she said, shivering.
Charlotte tsked and poured a generous cup of sweet tea for her. Then she blew on the steam curling over the rim. “Here, drink this.”
Elizabeth accepted the offering, her freezing fingers eagerly wrapping around the warm porcelain. She sighed.
“Charlotte… I think I am losing my mind.”
She took a sip. Once again, the sugar did its trick almost instantly.
“What nonsense! If I can tolerate Mr. Collins’ quirks and keep my wits, surely you cannot be any worse for wear after only a few days.”
Elizabeth gaped at her friend in surprise.
Then, a startled laugh bubbled out of her.
“I’m afraid, Mrs. Collins, that your husband isnotto blame for my lack of wit.”
Charlotte brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Then pray, tell me, what is the matter?” she asked gently.
Her eyes searched Elizabeth's face.
“I am afraid something has befallen you, Eliza, and you do not wish to tell me.”
Tears pricked Elizabeth’s eyes. She tried to blink them away, fixing her gaze on a stray thread on the covers over her knees. Her fingers were beginning to feel cold again, despite the steaming cup in her hands.
