Mrs. Rawlings, for the first time since boarding the ship, was eventually well enough to come up out of steerage and repaid Elizabeth’s compassion with some of her own. The two women eagerly and graciously helped Darcy out with his wife’s care. Elizabeth slept a lot, said very little, was growing increasingly pale, and Darcy was concerned.
Between Mrs. Jennings and Mrs. Rawlings, they took good care of her but saw little improvement. Mrs. Rawlings was compelled to repay Elizabeth for all she had done and stopped by at every available opportunity. As Elizabeth’s fever climbed higher, Mrs. Rawlings took damp cloths and applied them to her face and encouraged her to drink plenty of fluids, advising Darcy to do the same with her, as well. When Elizabeth was too weak to do anything but sleep, she brushed out her hair for her and tidied her up.
Darcy was at a loss to know what more to do. He found himself gravely concerned for her health; wondering whether he had been too late in bringing her up out of steerage. He received varied accounts of Mrs. Trimble, and it was apparent that she was not making any sort of recovery. He wondered whether Elizabeth had contracted the same thing she had.
The evening of the third day that they had been married, Elizabeth was at her worst. Darcy awoke in the night to find Elizabeth moaning and thrashing about in her bed. He quickly pulled himself out of bed, lit the oil lamp, and walked over to her, removing the sheet that separated them. He sat down beside her and felt her forehead. Even to his inexperienced touch, he had the unsettling feeling that her fever was higher than it ever had been or should be. He did as Mrs. Rawlings had advised, putting moist cloths across her forehead and trying to get her to drink some fluids.
In the light of the oil lamp, Elizabeth’s face appeared flushed. He gingerly let his hand trail down her cheek, delighted by its softness, disquieted by its scorching heat. As she began again to thrash and cry out, Darcy tried to waken her by gently shaking her and calling out to her. “Elizabeth, do you hear me? Elizabeth, wake up, you are having a bad dream!”
He seriously doubted that it was merely a bad dream, however. He was quite certain she was delirious from the effects of the high fever. She did not respond to his voice or touch, would calm down for a short spell, and then frantically cry out again. He steadfastly stayed by her side as he continued to apply the cloths to her face, hoping the fever would break.
As he sat there, he silently pondered whether her ailment could be the judgment from God on the two of them taking solemn vows so lightly. Could this be a punishment for entering into a marriage covenant without due consideration? He closed his eyes and uttered what he considered a meagre prayer. He was not a man who normally found himself relying on God, but having no other options available to him, he appealed to God’s mercy for the plight he may have brought upon them and beseeched Him for her healing.
Elizabeth began murmuring again and then frantically cried out, “No! No!”
Firmly grasping her shoulders, Darcy drew his face close to hers and called out to her, “Elizabeth, wake up! I know you can hear me!”
She mumbled something unintelligible, tossing her head even more, and then suddenly stopped. Her eyes unexpectedly opened, and he found himself staring into her beautiful, wide eyes, unsure whether or not she was really awake and seeing him. She then cried out, “Mr. Wright, Mr. Wright!”
Darcy took in a quick, sharp breath, fully convinced now that she was not awake, although she seemed to be looking right at him. He briefly wondered who this Mr. Wright could be when she cried out again.
“I did not know… I did not know…”
Elizabeth continued to thrash about while Darcy diligently applied wet cloths to her face, feeling more and more at a loss to know what to do. He wondered what it was that she did not know, and again, who this Mr. Wright might be.
Darcy lingered with her the remainder of the night, keeping watch over her, alternating between attending her and pacing the floor. She cried out a few more times, but in the early hours of the morning, her fever finally broke. She fell into a deep, restful sleep, and relief flooded Darcy, knowing that she was on her way to recovery. He sat with his elbows resting on his knees, and his head buried in his palms. He could do nothing until he offered up another short prayer of thanks to God for bringing her through this. Exhausted, and ever so reluctantly, he walked the short distance over to his bed and crawled in, just as the sign of first light broke through the window. He did not bother to put the sheet back up.
***
After a few days of little more than bed rest, Elizabeth steadily began feeling improved. For those first few days after her fever subsided, she resisted the urge to rise with the sun, prompted principally by Darcy’s strong admonition that she remain in bed to allow her the rest she needed to fully recover. Her more than satisfactory meals from the captain’s private cupboard, although provided only occasionally now due to diminishing supply, strengthened her. She regretted that she was not feeling well enough to go visit the friends she had made, but greatly appreciated the visits from the now healed Mrs. Rawlings. On more than one occasion, she enthusiastically relayed to Elizabeth how Mr. Darcy showed such compassion and concern for her while she was ill. It was apparent to Elizabeth that he had secured Mrs. Rawlings’s approval.
On those mornings while she had been ill, she had been only vaguely aware of Darcy rising and readying himself for the day. She had barely been able to open her eyes, and before she knew it, he would quietly remove the sheet and be gone, followed by either Mrs. Jennings or Mrs. Rawlings, who would come in to help her up.
It was dark one morning and Elizabeth could hear rain pelting the ship. The overcast skies did little to give light to their room. When Darcy arose, he lit the oil lamp and began readying himself. Being the most alert she had been since their marriage, she found herself entranced by the shadows his movements projected upon the sheet.
It was by no means a distinct silhouette of the man, but she continued to watch it in silence. It was when he began walking closer toward her that the shape took on a more definite form, and she was surprised to find her heart had begun to beat a trifle more erratically. When he unexpectedly spoke to her from the other side of the sheet, she practically jumped, reeling from the irrational thought that he must have known she had been watching his shadow through the sheet.
“Elizabeth? Are you awake?”
It took a few moments for Elizabeth to compose herself, and she manufactured a loud, long yawn. “I… I am now,” she answered softly.
“I am sorry to have awakened you. I wondered if you needed me to fetch Mrs. Jennings or Mrs. Rawlings this morning.”
“No, no, I believe I am feeling well enough to take care of myself this morning.”
Darcy smiled. “Good. Unfortunately it looks as though it is raining. I will go to the dining room for a while to allow you to get ready and then bring you back some food if you like.”
“Thank you, no. I should like to partake of my food in the dining room itself. It has been too long since I have seen everyone.”
“I shall return for you shortly, then.”
Later that morning, when she went to the dining room with Darcy, Elizabeth was grateful to renew those acquaintances whom she had not seen since she took ill almost a week ago. Sitting with her, Darcy was more intent on keeping an eye on her to ensure that she did not overdo it rather than be inclined to join much in any conversation. But he did occasionally contribute, and for that Elizabeth was glad. She remained there until early afternoon, but fatigue gradually demanded she return to the room and rest, and she complied.