Influence & Grace | Mr. Darcy [PPZ]

VIII

eight | 08.

AN INNATE
UNDERSTANDING.

Mary and Elizabeth opted to forgo dinner, their stomachs too tightly wound with anxiety to consider food.

Hours passed in tense silence as they tended to their sister, the room filled only with the soft rustling of blankets and the occasional murmur of reassurance.

Finally, Jane's labored breathing eased, her restless tossing calmed by the physician's medication. The bitter tang of medicinal herbs still clung to the air, but her face had softened into a peaceful slumber.

Mary wiped the sheen of sweat from Jane's brow with a damp cloth, her own breath evening out in relief as the tension in her shoulders began to dissipate.

Elizabeth, sitting at Jane's bedside, gently tucked the covers around her sister's form, her expression softened with tenderness but lined with exhaustion.

With Jane settled at last, Mary and Elizabeth exchanged a weary glance. There was nothing more to be done for now. They could only hope that Jane's condition would improve with rest.

Steeling themselves, they quietly ventured downstairs, the heavy air of worry still clinging to them like a second skin. The house had fallen into a lull, the muffled sounds of conversation and the clinking of glass faintly carrying through the corridor.

When they reached the parlor, the scene that greeted them was one of casual leisure.

The Bingleys, along with Mr. Hurst and his wife, were seated around a table in the center of the room, engrossed in a game of cards. Mr. Darcy sat beside them, his posture as rigid as ever despite the relaxed atmosphere.

The soft glow of candlelight flickered across his features, casting long shadows along the sharp lines of his face.

His fingers toyed absently with the edge of a card, though his gaze seemed far away, distracted.

Elizabeth, beside her, released a quiet sigh, as if the very sight of the carefree game had momentarily loosened the knot of worry that had been coiled inside her.

The two sisters ventured further into the parlor, their presence drawing the immediate attention of Mr. Bingley, who rose from his seat with his characteristic warmth.

His movement prompted the other gentlemen to follow suit, standing as a mark of polite acknowledgment.

"Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary," Mr. Bingley greeted them. "How is your sister faring?"

While Elizabeth engaged in conversation with Mr. Bingley, Mary quietly skirted the perimeter of the room, her attention wandering as her sister spoke.