Chapter Five #6
“The blue chamber, excellent, Jane. I selected it myself. Is the fire sufficient? The poor girl will be chilled through. Hill, bring another blanket—the wool one from the press. We shall need a tisane. Something soothing. Chamomile, I think.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Hill said, disappearing again.
Mrs. Bennet surveyed the room with satisfaction. “This will do very well. Very well indeed. Who is this young lady, Jane? Will you introduce me?”
Jane performed the office. “My dear Miss Darcy!” Mrs. Bennet cried, hurrying forward. “What a sad business you have had. To be taken ill upon the road, parted from your brother and cousin, and shuttled from inn to inn—no wonder you are quite exhausted.”
She sat down on the edge of the bed and took Georgiana’s hand between both of her own. The warmth of her grasp could not be mistaken.
“Did you loosen her stays?” Mrs. Bennet asked. “Jane, Lizzy, help me with her coverlet.”
Within moments they had her settled against the pillows, her shoes removed, a light blanket tucked around her.
“There now,” Mrs. Bennet said, patting Georgiana's hand. “You are quite safe here, my dear. You poor thing, it is such a trial to become sick away from home. We shall take excellent care of you.”
Georgiana's eyes opened slightly. “You are very kind,” she whispered.
“We shall soon have you better,” she said.
“You shall have broth, and jellies, and a little wine if the apothecary permits it. Hill will warm bricks for your feet, and Jane will sit with you as long as you please. Nobody understands nursing better than I do. With five confinements and all my children’s fevers, I have seen every complaint in the book. ”
“You are very good, madam,” Georgiana said. The flood of words left her almost breathless, yet the genuine concern beneath them could not be doubted. “I have already been shown such kindness, I hardly know how to thank you.”
“Thank me? Fiddle faddle,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “You are as much under my care now as any of my own girls. Mr. Bennet may talk of old Oxford friendships, but I know when Providence sends a young lady into my house. You are pale still. Have you much pain?”
“Only a little in my head,” Georgiana answered. The rest she left unspoken.
“Then we must keep you quiet and cosseted,” Mrs. Bennet said decisively.
“Which brings me to the point. When do you think you will feel equal to coming down to dinner? The Colonel spoke quite movingly of your brother’s anxiety.
It would look vastly well, you know, if Mr. Darcy found you in our drawing room, settled amongst my girls. ”
Colour drained almost instantly from Georgiana’s cheeks.
“To dinner?” Her fingers gripped Mrs. Bennet’s. “I fear I should not behave well before company yet. I am yet quite easily overcome.”
Jane stepped in at once.
“Mamma, I am persuaded Miss Darcy will recover more quickly if she is not pressed. The journey and the alarm of being separated from her cousin must have tired her excessively.”
“To be sure, to be sure,” Mrs. Bennet said, though she sighed.
“We would not have you faint away at table—that always throws a party into confusion. Very well, my dear, you shall stay where you are. Hill will bring up a tray with everything you like best. Are you fond of goose? Or perhaps you would prefer just a little pudding until you are well. I always find a few sweetmeats a great comfort when I am poorly. When your brother comes, he shall sit with you up here and see for himself how comfortable you are.”
“That would suit me extremely well,” Georgiana said, relief softening her whole face.
The next quarter hour passed in a flurry of activity.
A bunch of dried lavender appeared on the mantle.
Additional candles were brought. Mrs. Bennet fretted over whether the wash basin was fine enough, whether the chair by the window should be moved, whether Miss Darcy would prefer tea or chocolate when she woke.
“You have only to ring, and Hill will come directly,” Mrs. Bennet continued.
“If Hill is busy, one of my girls will do as well. Jane is the gentlest nurse in the world. She never worries anyone into a fever. As for Lizzy—” she glanced up, half fond, half admonitory — “Lizzy is a wonder for talking people out of their low spirits. She will say fifty diverting things before she allows you to be melancholy.”
“I shall endeavour to confine myself to forty,” Elizabeth said. “Miss Darcy may not be equal to more.”
Georgiana gave a small, surprised laugh. Mrs. Bennet beamed.
“There, you see. You will not be dull for a moment. When your head is easier, Mary shall read aloud—something improving, but not too dry,” she added, with a look at Elizabeth.
“Kitty and Lydia shall tell you all the Meryton news. You shall know the neighbourhood as well as if you had spent a season in it.”
“I am sure it will be a very happy neighbourhood,” Georgiana said.
The bustle and noise in the room bore little resemblance to Pemberley, still less to Darcy House.
Yet for the first time since Pemberley, she was surrounded by people whose whole anxiety was that she should eat and sleep and be made easy.
Mrs. Bennet rose at last, smoothing the coverlet as if it had personally offended her.
“You must rest now, my dear. Jane will stay awhile, and Lizzy will see that your pillows are exactly as you like them. Are you certain you do not require another blanket? I think Cook should send up a bottle of hot water for your feet. If there is the least thing amiss, you have only to send. I shall not forgive them if they let you want for any trifle whilst you are in my house.”
With one more emphatic pat to Georgiana’s hand, she swept out, her voice already audible in the passage as she called for Hill and began to issue fresh instructions about broth, coals, and the degree of warmth suitable for an invalid.
When the door closed, the blue chamber grew quiet again. Georgiana looked from Jane to Elizabeth, her eyes bright but no longer wild.
“Your mother is—” She searched for a word that would encompass both confusion and kindness. “Very good.”
“She is,” Jane said, smiling. “Her manner can be a little overpowering when one does not expect it, but her heart is always in the right place.”
“Once she has formed an opinion,” Elizabeth added, adjusting the pillows with practised hands, “nothing on earth will shake it. At present, she has decided you are to be petted and nursed like a princess in a tale. You may depend upon that.”
Georgiana lay back against the linen, a faint colour in her cheeks.
“It is rather odd,” she said slowly. “In London, there were so many rules, yet I was never certain anyone truly cared what became of me. Here, everyone is determined that I shall drink broth and not be fatigued.”
“Longbourn has its own rules,” Elizabeth replied. “They are not always perfectly rational, but they are invariably well meant.”
Georgiana’s eyelids drooped, not with dread this time, but with simple weariness.
“I begin to think,” she murmured, “that there are far worse places in the world than the blue chamber at Longbourn.”
Jane and Elizabeth exchanged a brief look over her head, full of quiet satisfaction. Neither made the least attempt to disturb Georgiana’s new impression of Mrs. Bennet.
“Do not be uneasy about coming down. We can manage Mamma,” Elizabeth said, her voice dry but kindly. “We always do. You shall not be pressed into any of her plans.”
A faint smile touched Georgiana’s lips.
“I begin to believe,” she murmured, “that nothing in this house proceeds quite as your parents suppose.”
“That,” Elizabeth replied, “is the truest thing you have ever said, Georgiana Darcy.”