Elizabeth's Gratitude: A Pride and Prejudice Variation by Grace Belton

Author:Grace Belton [Belton, Grace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, POV First Person, POV Alternating, Darcy's POV, Read, KindleCoverMissing, Not in Amazon Library
Goodreads: 227785209
Publisher: Grace Belton
Published: 2025-02-06T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7: Elizabeth

Consciousness returns slowly, like morning fog lifting from a meadow. First comes awareness of physical sensation—sheets damp with sweat, a cool cloth on my forehead, the peculiar weightiness of my own limbs. Then sound filters in. I can hear quiet murmuring, the rustle of fabric, and birdsong from somewhere distant.

When I finally manage to open my eyes, the effort feels monumental. The room is dim, though a faint grey light around the edges of the curtains suggests dawn is approaching. I try to turn my head and find even this small movement requires great concentration. My nightrail clings uncomfortably to my skin, and I feel as though I have run for miles, though I cannot remember leaving this bed.

“Miss Bennet?” Mr. Jones’s weathered face appears above me, his expression shifting from concern to visible relief. “Ah, there you are.” His cool hand replaces the compress on my forehead, then moves to my wrist to take my pulse. “How do you feel?”

I attempt to speak, but my throat feels as though I have swallowed sand. A spoon touches my lips, offering blessed water.

“Small sips only,” he cautions, supporting my head slightly.

“Elizabeth?” My aunt’s voice trembles as she appears beside the doctor. Her face is drawn with exhaustion, her usually neat hair escaping its pins. “Oh, thank Heaven.”

Mr. Jones continues his examination with practiced efficiency. “The fever has broken at last,” he announces, relief evident in his tone. “Though you gave us quite a fright, young lady. For several hours last night, I confess I was not at all certain...” He trails off, checking my eyes carefully. “But your pulse is much stronger now, and your skin, while still warm, is no longer burning as it was.”

“Was I...” I manage to whisper, my voice hardly more than a rasp, “was I truly so ill?”

My aunt takes my hand, her own trembling slightly. “We were terribly worried, dearest. The fever rose so quickly, and then when you began speaking without sense...” She breaks off, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief.

“I am so sorry, Aunt,” I whisper, mortified at having caused such distress. “What a spectacle I must have made, falling ill at an inn of all places...”

“Hush now,” she says firmly, though her voice is gentle. “You have been no trouble at all, and you certainly cannot be blamed for falling ill. The only thing that matters is that you are improving.”

“Indeed,” Mr. Jones agrees, mixing something in a small glass. “Though you are by no means fully recovered, Miss Bennet. The fever breaking is an excellent sign, but you are still quite weak. You must promise to remain abed and take your medicines without argument.”

Mr. Jones holds out the glass he has been preparing. “This will help with any lingering discomfort and ensure you get the rest you need to recover your strength.”

I accept the medicine without protest, managing not to grimace at its bitter taste. After all that these good people have done for me, I can hardly complain about a simple tonic.

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