Done For The Best

An excerpt from Amy D'Orazio's new book, coming May 19

To Darcy’s great pleasure, the food Elizabeth ate improved her enough to satisfy Dr Hughes that her humours were not so dangerously imbalanced and that the leeches were unneeded. Elizabeth’s relief, as well as that of Mrs Collins and Mrs Bennet, was accompanied by an excess of gratitude for his intervention. 

“I told him the same myself,” Mrs Bennet said. “But no one listens to me! A mother does know, no matter what these doctors might think! I knew Lizzy could never survive such a treatment! It would have killed her right there while we all stood by!”

From his position by the window, Darcy offered a faint smile, though Mrs Bennet was not looking in his direction and not likely to see it. She was a silly woman—his opinion of her in that regard had not changed—but in one very important matter they were alike: they both loved Elizabeth.

He had never before thought of it, how a mother’s apparent greed might be rooted in love for her daughters. The Bennet ladies held a precarious position in life; when Mr Bennet died, their status would be lost. Good marriages were their only hope. Was it any wonder Mrs Bennet had rejoiced at the appearance of wealthy bachelors in their little town?

“Dr Hughes was just so certain it was necessary,” said Mrs Collins. “How can one argue against a learned man in such a way? We are grateful you were here, Mr Darcy, to stop him.”

“Oh yes. Yes! Without Mr Darcy, I do not doubt that we would be standing over my poor girl’s grave even now!” Mrs Bennet cried out.

Elizabeth laughed. “Would I have been buried in Kent? Or would we have required Charlotte to come back to Hertfordshire and stare at my grave there?”

Having eaten increasing amounts over the course of three days, Elizabeth’s energy was undoubtedly returning. Her chair had been tugged close to the window by which Darcy stood; together they beheld a brilliant spring morning with birds singing and flowers blooming.

As Mrs Collins and Mrs Bennet continued their discussion on bloodletting and purgatives and Elizabeth’s near demise, she looked up at him and whispered, “I have endured this conversation no less than four times. None of it grows any more interesting in the retelling.”

Darcy smiled down at her, readily perceiving, from the sag in her shoulders, that it pained her to remain indoors as they were. “I am certain your restlessness is a promising sign of returning health.”

“Is it?” She smiled wanly. “Must I start screaming from the tedium before we may pronounce me healed?”

“My cousin Anne hit upon an idea this morning that I think you might like.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“She has a phaeton, and a pair of ponies to pull it. I wonder if a slow drive around the avenue might—”

“Yes!” Elizabeth shot to her feet, her shawls and blankets dropping from her shoulders onto the floor. “Now?” 

“What are you talking of?” Mrs Collins immediately rose and came to them.

“Mr Darcy and I are going to drive out in Miss de Bourgh’s phaeton,” Elizabeth said hurriedly, extricating her skirts from the blankets and shawls which were now at her feet. “I shall need my boots.”

“I do not know if you are ready for that, my dear. Perhaps we ought to ask—”

“Fie on Dr Hughes, Charlotte, I need to get some fresh air.” Elizabeth turned to Darcy, released from her swaddling, her eyes shining and her countenance as happy as he had seen since her accident. “Surely a short, slow drive can do me no harm? Indeed, I think it might do me a lot of good!”

“Absolutely not,” cried Mrs Bennet. “You will certainly catch a fever out there, and that will kill you for sure!” 

A heated disagreement ensued. Mrs Bennet thought Elizabeth ought to remain indoors, while Elizabeth believed that remaining indoors for even one minute more would send her gibbering mad. Mrs Collins, while cautious, tended to agree with Elizabeth, that the fresh air might help her. Darcy himself forbore from offering any opinion, but it mattered not; Elizabeth, having seen a potential for reprieve, would not be dissuaded. Darcy offered many reassurances and promises to the two other ladies before running across the lane to Rosings’s stable. He soon had the phaeton brought up to the parsonage door. 

Elizabeth found a great deal to admire in the ponies as well as Anne’s little conveyance and amid exclamations of delight was soon comfortably situated beside him. He drove them along at a comfortable pace, enjoying the spring sunshine on their faces and the faint scent of apple and cherry blossoms in the air. 

They passed Rosings and then went out on the avenue towards the park. He could tell Elizabeth was enjoying herself; she looked about eagerly, as if every sight was magical and new. He supposed to her, it was. 

“I believe that you, sir, are my hero,” she said at length. “I could not have remained in that room for even one more minute.” 

He laughed. “It does please me to relieve your suffering, in whatever small ways I can.” 

She answered him with a smile that could only be described as loving—it made him catch his breath.

An accident in the Kent countryside leaves Elizabeth with no recollection of the previous year of her life, including meeting Mr Darcy. But a misunderstanding leads her to believe herself engaged to him. When the truth emerges, she has already fallen in love with him. Can she forgive him for the deception?