Mr Darcy's Christmas Carol

Part 5

At last, there was a break in the weather long enough to permit the consideration of a walk, and Elizabeth seized her opportunity. She did not care that the day's deluge had left the ground beneath her feet muddy in extreme, nor did she pause in her progress to think of the damage such a surface would do to her petticoats. She recalled, grimly, the last time she had walked with such energy in such conditions: the day of her flight, on foot, to Netherfield to assure herself of Jane's well-being. It had quite scandalised the Netherfield party, she felt sure of that, having been conscious of Caroline Bingley's barely whispered "Six inches!" Referring, she did not doubt, to the level of mud she had tracked into the house. She was sorry for any inconvenience such a bedraggled appearance might have caused her friends, but what concern could she have had for mere mud when her sister's health was in danger? Walking was the only means of transport left open to her, and so she had used it.

Today's expedition was for altogether more selfish reasons. Jane's health was no more assured, but at least she was safely resting in her own home, with her family on hand to offer support and, Lizzy hoped, sensible care. She had impressed upon Mrs Bennet and Lydia the importance of a doctor. When that had not worked, she had taken the matter to Mr Bennet, and when even he had seemed reluctant to order a doctor on account of the cost, she had decided that she, herself, would go. Not right away, and not until she was certain of the need. There was every chance Jane might rally before the day was out. If she is no better in the morning, then I will go, and I shall bear any criticism from my family in incurring such an expense. What price can be put on my own sister's health?

Still unbearably restless, and irritated beyond what was normal by her sisters, Lizzy had haunted the window, waiting for the first glimpse of brightness that might release her from the prison Longbourn had become. She cast a wary glance overhead. The clouds still gathered, and she felt certain this was merely a reprieve, not the end of the downpour promised for the day.

"All the more reason not to let the opportunity pass," she muttered, walking still faster, and ignoring the wet squelching of her boots in the mud. She breathed deeply, relishing the cold sting of the damp winter air, and soon began to feel better. It was amazing how a modicum of activity could work to restore peace to her tormented spirit. She was alone among her sisters in finding this, and for that, she was almost pleased, for it guaranteed she might walk without company and enjoy the peace and freedom to nurse her own thoughts as she walked.

Might Mr Bingley be contacted? Told, perhaps, of Jane's ill-health? Yet what good would such an action serve? Did Lizzy really think he might rush to Jane's bedside, and throw himself down before her, offering the declaration of love that might restore her to full health? It was a fairy-tale and not a very likely one. Lizzy frowned. Did she really wish to guilt Mr Bingley into marriage, if it meant both he and Jane would be miserable? Surely he would resent it in time, and grow to resent her sister in turn. Lizzy frowned still more fiercely. No, she would not encourage that. Jane must be loved - Jane would be loved - by whichever gentleman did marry her. If Mr Bingley was too stupid or weak to do so, in spite of the prejudices of his sister and friend, well, then he did not deserve her.

"Miss Elizabeth!"

It took a second call before the gentleman's voice managed to successfully break through Lizzy's thoughts, and a further moment for the interruption to fully arrest her movements. She stopped, momentarily confused, for she had been so deeply lost in her own tumultuous thoughts that she scarcely noticed where she was.

"Mr Wickham!" The figure of her friend came into view, and he jogged the few steps towards her, closing the space between them in a moment. "What brings you to this part of the county?"

"I might declare it is your own fair self. I felt compelled by some sprite to take a walk in this very direction and thus cross your path quite as if providence herself directed it!" He laughed, a bright, jolly sound that lifted Elizabeth's spirits considerably more than her walk alone had managed. "Alas that would be a falsehood, and I do not doubt you would see right through it, Miss Elizabeth, for you do not strike me as a particularly fanciful lady."

"I am not entirely sure that is a compliment!" Elizabeth admitted, with a self-deprecating smile. "Nonetheless, I will agree with your assessment. I am afraid I have a practical streak within me that deters me from too much daydreaming."

"Exactly as it should be, for you would be not half such an engaging companion if your mind was always away with the fairies." Wickham glanced over her shoulder. "And yet I believe I find you out walking alone, and surely that cannot be. Where are your sisters?"

"At home," Lizzy said, cheerfully. "Not a one of them could be pressed to accompany me. Well, Mary at least is otherwise engaged - she and Mr Collins are in Meryton. And Jane-" She trailed off, suddenly shy of speaking about Jane's deteriorating health with her new friend. "Jane is a little unwell."

"I see." Wickham's features became serious, and Lizzy detected a note of compassion that made her rue her caution. He would take her concern seriously, she knew. More seriously than her family did, at any rate. And it would be good to confide in someone the true nature of her fears for Jane, without needing always to watch her words and tend to the feelings of others less able to bear the truth than she.

"In truth, she is more than a little unwell." Lizzy sighed. "I am quite worried about her health."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Wickham glanced back up the path. "Meryton is not far, might I go for a doctor on your behalf? Or at least accompany you on your errands. Perhaps the apothecary will have some tincture that may help. We might take a carriage back so that speed might be of chief concern."

"You are very kind, Mr Wickham," Lizzy said, touched by his suggestions. "But I have agreed to wait, at least for a little while, before proceeding to the doctor. Father is certain she will rally."

"I dare say he is correct." Wickham nodded, slowly, as if digesting this information and weighing its veracity in his own mind before speaking again. "When someone one cares about is unwell it can often seem catastrophic - more so than the same symptoms in one we did not know well. It is impossible to be impartial in such a case, and so the situation appears far more grave than it may be in actuality."

"Quite right!" Lizzy laughed. "And so, you see, I am perhaps a little more fanciful than you attest. My sister falls ill, and I am immediately convinced she is at death's door."

"Nonsense! I dare say you are right to have such a concern, and righter still to manage it. Perhaps give it another day, and if she still languishes, well, then you might be entirely justified in seeking a medical opinion." He smiled. "On the other hand, she will likely rally and all that will have been achieved by your anxiety is a proof of what a good sister you are. So really, there is no harm to be felt."

Lizzy was suitably cheered by this assessment, and her mood lifted still further when Wickham offered her his arm.

"Perhaps you might permit me to walk a little way with you, Miss Elizabeth? I think you will agree with me that walking is always more enjoyable when it is undertaken with a friend..."