Page 27 of Attempted Compromises
She’s burning up.
“Jane,” she murmured softly, but her sister did not stir.
Elizabeth quickly rose and went to the door, calling for the maid. The young woman who had shown her in appeared promptly, curtsying.
“Please ask Mr. Bingley if Mr. Jones might be summoned,” Elizabeth said firmly, though her tone remained polite. “My sister’s fever seems quite high, and I would feel better if the apothecary could attend her.”
The maid curtsied. “Of course, miss. I shall inform Mr. Bingley immediately.”
The door closed again, and Elizabeth returned to Jane’s side, taking her sister’s hand gently in her own. She spoke softly, hoping her voice might reach Jane even in her restless sleep.
“Rest, dearest Jane,” she whispered. “Help is on the way.”
Elizabeth remained by her sister’s side; her worry tempered only slightly by the knowledge that Mr. Jones would soon arrive. For now, she could do little but keep vigil, her hand resting lightly over Jane’s as she waited.
After what seemed like an eternity, Mr. Jones arrived, his leather bag in hand. His expression calm, yet focused, as he stepped into the room.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, nodding politely. “I came as quickly as I could. Mr. Bingley informed me of your sister’s condition.”
“Thank you for coming, Mr. Jones,” said Elizabeth, unable to keep the worry from her voice. “Jane has been feverish since last night when she arrived on horseback in the rain, and she seems no better today, according to the maid. Her breathing is shallow, and she hasn’t woken since I arrived.”
Mr. Jones set his bag on the bedside table and opened it with practiced efficiency. “Let us see what can be done,” he said, moving to Jane’s side. He placed a hand lightly on her forehead, his expression tightening.
“Her fever is indeed quite high,” he said after a moment. “It’s fortunate she’s been resting, but she’ll need close care for thenext few days. I’ll prepare something to help lower the fever and ease her discomfort.”
He retrieved a small vial and a packet of dried herbs from his bag, carefully measuring a dose into a glass of water that a maid had brought at Elizabeth’s request. “Has she been drinking anything?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “The maid tells me she has been too weak to take more than a few sips of water.”
“It’s imperative she takes regular fluids,” he explained. “She’ll need to remain here until she can move about under her own strength—traveling now would only worsen her condition.”
Elizabeth’s stomach sank at the news, though she nodded in agreement. They roused Jane enough to coax the medicine past her lips. Her eyes fluttered briefly before closing again, but she swallowed the liquid. Elizabeth felt a small measure of relief.
Mr. Jones turned to pack his bag. “I’ll return tomorrow to check on her progress,” he said. “Keep her warm but not overheated and try to encourage her to take some bone broth when she stirs. With care, I expect the fever to break within a couple of days.”
Elizabeth’s hands tightened on her sister’s, but she nodded. “Thank you,” she said softly.
Once the apothecary had departed, Elizabeth returned to her seat by Jane’s bedside. The news that they would need to stay at Netherfield for several more days left Elizabeth with mixed feelings. She was deeply grateful for Bingleys’ hospitality and Mr. Jones’s attentiveness, but the idea of remaining under thesame roof as Mr. Darcy gave her pause, for a reason she could not name.
She gazed down at Jane and resolved to set aside her discomfort. Her sister’s well-being was paramount, and Elizabeth would endure anything to ensure Jane’s recovery. Taking Jane’s hand in her own, she whispered, “Rest well, dear Jane. We will weather this together.”
And with that, Elizabeth settled into her chair, preparing herself for the days ahead.
Chapter 8
The following morning, Jane’s fever had still not broken. Elizabeth sent a note to her mother to request her presence at Netherfield to see Jane, though whether her true motive was to get give Jane the care of her mother, or to force her mother to witness the consequences of her scheming was unknown to even Elizabeth herself.
Thus summoned, Mrs. Bennet descended upon the grand estate like a hurricane, her bonnet slightly askew from the brisk carriage ride and her expression painted with dramatic concern. Mary, Kitty, and Lydia flocked into the house behind her and dutifully followed their mother up the stairs.
“Oh, my poor, dear Jane!” Mrs. Bennet cried at the sight of her daughter. She rushed to her bedside. “Oh, look at you, pale as a ghost! I knew the rain would do you harm, but of course, you insisted on going, didn’t you?”
Elizabeth suppressed the urge to remind her mother whose idea it had been for Jane to ride on horseback in the rain. Instead, shestepped forward. “Mama, please keep your voice down. Jane is resting.”
Mrs. Bennet ignored her, fussing over Jane with exaggerated gestures. “My poor girl. To think of you here, all alone, without your family! But what wonderful care you must be receiving at Netherfield. Such kind and generous hosts!”
Elizabeth sighed softly. “Jane has been well attended to, Mama. Mr. Jones saw her yesterday and advised that she remain here until she is stronger.”
Mrs. Bennet’s face immediately brightened. “Oh, yes, of course. She must stay! It would be unthinkable to move her now. How fortunate we are to have such generous hosts as the Bingleys. They must be utterly devoted to ensuring Jane’s comfort.”
