Chapter 9
Elizabeth watched as Darcy shook the newcomer’s hands and made introductions. She was surprised to see that the doctor was much younger than she had expected—perhaps around thirty years of age.
“Shall I show you to your rooms, Doctor?” Mrs. Hurst asked.
“Yes, thank you. I should appreciate washing before seeing the patient.”
Elizabeth went to Jane’s room to await the man. Jane’s eyes were glazed from the laudanum, but she was calm and happy, waxing at length about the agreeable conversation she’d had the night before with “dear Mr. Bingley.” Elizabeth attempted to explain about the doctor, but Jane’s ability to carry a conversation was limited.
The younger Bennet sister had hoped her father would return before the doctor was ready to see the elder, but those hopes were dashed when the door opened.
Mrs. Hurst entered, followed by two maids and the doctor himself. “Jane, dear, this is Dr. Carson. He’ll examine you now; would you like me to stay, or shall I leave you to your sister?”
“Please stay,” Elizabeth requested quietly. “I would like to have company, and seeing as my father has not yet arrived from Longbourn…” her voice trailed off.
Mrs. Hurst nodded and gave Elizabeth a sympathetic pat on her shoulder. “The foreman at my father’s warehouses had a daughter my age who was much like your sister.”
“Was?”
Her lips turned down. “She, too, had a weak heart. My father made his fortune and sent us to finishing school. Maggie died one winter I was away.”
Tears filled Elizabeth’s eyes; she’d hoped Mrs. Hurst’s story was a miraculous one she could look to for hope. Blinking away the moisture, she gave the married woman a small smile and turned her attention back to her sister.
Dr. Carson had taken Jane’s delicate wrist in his hand, his fingers resting on the inside, while he held a small pocket watch in his other hand.
“Hmm.”
He jotted down a few things in a small notebook—not unlike the one Mr. Jones used—then asked, “Could you please open your mouth and stick out your tongue?”
Jane giggled and obliged. He put on a pair of spectacles and peered into her mouth. “Lift your tongue.”
After a few more notes, he then lifted Jane’s upper lip, causing her to giggle lightly again. He smiled kindly at her. “I know it seems a bit ridiculous. Have you always had such difficulty sticking your tongue out very far?”
Jane nodded.
“Just as I thought. Now, what can you tell me about your courses?”
Jane turned bright red and looked down at the bed, remaining silent. Elizabeth stepped forward. “They come once a month, sir. They are usually only for a day or so, and while there isn’t much blood, she does get painful stomach cramps and a headache.”
“But she does get them?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very good.”
He opened the satchel he had placed near her bed and pulled out a unique horn-shaped object. He placed the large end on Jane’s chest above her heart; then the smaller end went into his ear. Using the pocket watch again, he was silent for a full minute before withdrawing the instrument.
At Elizabeth’s astonished expression, he explained, “I prefer using an ear horn. I know it is typically used by those who have hearing loss, but I’ve found it gives my patients a better degree of privacy than the typical way.”
“That is quite forward-thinking of you,” Mrs. Hurst remarked. “I daresay most men wouldn’t be so thoughtful.”
Dr. Carson frowned. “Yes, well, unfortunately there are many who seek to abuse a system put in place to help those who are less fortunate.”
He stood from his place near Jane’s bed. “Thank you for being such an excellent patient, my dear. You are perhaps one of the calmest patients I have ever treated.”
Jane gave him a sleepy smile, then laid back on the bed. Elizabeth walked over and kissed her sister on the forehead. “We’ll let you rest now, dearest.”
Once Dr. Carson, Mrs. Hurst, and Elizabeth left the room, the latter resumed the earlier conversation, sharing Jane’s last experience with a doctor from London. “Papa found out later that the doctor was receiving money for each person he brought to the asylum, as it increased the facility’s income from donors, and Jane was especially beautiful.”
Mrs. Hurst’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t understand why asylums and poorhouses even need to exist when I know so many people who keep their children at home! I know many families who do so; why, even Lord Byron has a deformed foot, and he is quite accepted throughout society!”
“Only because of his status and works,” Dr. Carson replied. “Besides, a physical defect that is clearly seen is different from an infirmity of the mind. At least, that is the view of many educated people. You would leave a child with a mother who has a missing limb, but you would not leave a child with a madwoman or idiot.”
“A physical ailment often has a cause,” Elizabeth pointed out. “I know Lord Byron’s is from birth, but it only affects one part of him. With people like Jane, some wonder if it is a hereditary condition. Our society places such high value in breeding and blood, and if Jane’s ailments were to be genetic…” Her voice trailed off.
“Which it may be,” Dr. Carson answered. “We simply don’t know enough to know for sure. All we can do is treat the individual as best as we can.”
“I understand you have treated Mr. Darcy’s family for a long time,” Elizabeth said, hoping to gain more insight into the man who was proving to be such a conundrum.
“Ah, yes, I have,” he replied simply.
There was an awkward silence. Curiosity burned inside Elizabeth’s chest, but she could tell by the firm set of the man’s jaw that any further questions would be answered with a similar vagueness.
“What is your prognosis on Jane, then?” she asked instead, redirecting the conversation to her sister.
“I understand from Mr. Darcy that your apothecary, Mr. Jones, has said that Jane’s heart is failing her?”
Elizabeth nodded. “He said she may only have a few months left to live, or even a year. But surely…” She looked at him with wide, hopeful eyes.
The doctor sighed. “I’m afraid he is correct. Your sister’s heart is beating much more quickly than it should be—even for being ill—and there is an unusual rhythm to it. It seems to slow down, speed up, and even skip beats entirely. Additionally, her lungs sound as though she has winter fever—they are filled with fluid. It is why she coughs.”
“Then you can do nothing?” Elizabeth’s voice broke on the last word.
He shook his head. “I am very sorry, my dear. I can provide some receipts for tisanes that Mr. Jones can mix for her that can ease her symptoms and perhaps add a little more time, but I would not anticipate her surviving more than a year, if that.”
Fighting back tears, Elizabeth asked in a wavering tone, “Can I… can I take her back home?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Dr. Carson said, “I think if her cough can entirely subside, she can. Winter is already on its way, and with her lungs already filling with fluid, even a half-hour’s carriage ride breathing the cold air could prove fatal.”
“She is welcome to remain here as long as she needs,” Mrs. Hurst said hastily. “That includes you as well, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Thank you very much,” Elizabeth replied with sincere gratitude. “I promise we will do all we can to be as little burden as possible.”
Mrs. Hurst waved her hand dismissively. “What is the purpose of money if it cannot be used to make life easier for others?”
“That is very good of you.” Elizabeth reached out impulsively to grasp Mrs. Hurst’s hand and place a kiss on it. “I am in your debt.”
Dr. Carson cleared his throat. “I will write up those receipts now and leave them for you to pass on to Mr. Jones; then I will be on my way.”
“Would you not prefer to stay the night, sir, and travel back to London tomorrow?” Mrs. Hurst offered.
He shook his head. “No, I’m afraid I have several patients who need my attention. My family is expecting me tonight as well, and I would hate to cause them worry.”
Elizabeth watched as Mrs. Hurst led Dr. Carson away to the study in search of paper. She gave a heavy sigh, then turned and limped back towards her room, her feet aching from having remained standing on them for so long.
How was she ever going to break the news to her father?
∞∞∞
To Elizabeth’s great frustration, Mr. Bennet was accompanied by his wife and three younger daughters when he returned to Netherfield that afternoon. The Bennet sire kept to the doorway as the women flocked into the room, shrugging his shoulders in resignation when Elizabeth finally was able to catch his eye several minutes after their arrival.
“There was nothing I could do,” he murmured. “She insisted on coming herself.”
While Jane’s cough had eased a bit, Elizabeth was still disturbed to see the tinges of blue on her sister’s lips and fingertips, coupled with her pale face.
Mrs. Bennet, upon seeing her daughter in such a state, burst into loud wails and threw herself onto the bed, practically smothering the girl with her ample form. “Oh, my dearest Jane! My poor, beautiful girl.”
Startled awake, Jane blinked and looked around. “Mama!” she exclaimed, a beaming smile coming across her face.
“Let’s allow Jane some room to breathe,” Mr. Bennet said sardonically.
Mrs. Bennet straightened up and gave him a scowl. “You don’t know what I suffer.” She sniffed. “You haven’t a mother’s feelings.”
His lips pressed together, and Elizabeth could see a flash of hurt in his eyes before he retorted, “Well, my dear, if Jane dies of this illness, you can be comforted to know it was all in pursuit of Mr. Bingley.”
Elizabeth stifled a small gasp. How can Papa be so cruel? He knows Jane will not survive, yet he turns the matter into a way to aggravate Mama.
She gave him a severe frown, and he winced. Mrs. Bennet—who ignored her husband, as was her custom when he provoked her—began to quiz Jane on whether she had seen anything of Bingley.
“Remember, Mama, that Jane has been too ill to go downstairs but once, and it would hardly be proper for him to attend her in her chambers,” Elizabeth said gently.
Mrs. Bennet’s mouth formed a pout. “Well, we shall just have to make sure you stay here until after you have recovered, then, Jane.”
“But, Mama—” Elizabeth protested.
“No, Elizabeth,” her mother replied sharply. “You have done nothing to further your sister’s cause with Mr. Bingley, and I am quite put out with you. Jane will not leave Netherfield until she has been able to spend more time with him. With her beauty, I predict he will offer marriage within two days of her departure, or my name’s not Fanny Bennet.” Having put her second daughter in her place, Mrs. Bennet turned to Lydia. “Did you bring your trunk, my girl?”
Lydia beamed. “Yes, Mama. Oh, this is so exciting!”
“Her trunk?” Elizabeth asked suspiciously. “Why would Lydia need to pack a trunk to visit Jane?”
“Because she will be staying here to care for Jane, and you will be returning to Longbourn with us,” Mrs. Bennet replied smugly. “This will allow her to be in Mr. Darcy’s company and secure him quickly!”
Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open. “But, Mama, I cannot leave Jane!”
“I would rather—” Jane’s protest was interrupted by a strong fit of coughing, which went unheeded by Mrs. Bennet.
“You will if I tell you to,” the matron retorted. “I am your mother, and I have the final say!”
“I believe I am still the head of the Bennet family,” Mr. Bennet responded dryly. “Unless something has occurred of which I am not aware?”
Mrs. Bennet rounded on her husband. “I insist you bring Lizzy home immediately!”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because a new officer is coming to Meryton tomorrow! He is a particular friend of Colonel Foster. As Jane is for Mr. Bingley, it only makes sense that this new soldier will want the next eldest Bennet daughter to wed.”
Elizabeth gaped at her mother. “Surely you cannot mean for me to marry a soldier whom I have never before met!”
“Why not? It’s not as if you have any other prospects.”
“But, Mama, what if I wanted to marry the officer?” wailed Kitty, who was ignored by everyone in the room.
Dismayed, Elizabeth turned towards her father, who was smirking at his favorite daughter. “You do not wish to follow the drum, my dear, and abandon your mother along with the rest of your sisters?”
Mrs. Bennet blinked at her husband. “What do you mean abandon her mother?”
“Well, when I die, Mrs. Bennet, you will be needing a place to live. If Elizabeth has married a soldier, she will not be able to provide for you when I am gone.” Mr. Bennet looked over at Elizabeth and gave a sly wink. “If Lydia marries Mr. Darcy, she will also be several days away in Derbyshire. You likely would never see her again after the wedding. You will not be able to rely on her, either.”
Mrs. Bennet’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening with horror. She gaped at Elizabeth, then at Mr. Bennet, then back at Elizabeth again. Her mouth opened several times, but no words came out. At last, she said, “Perhaps I have been hasty in deciding that Elizabeth should marry a soldier. Or Lydia marry Mr. Darcy. Clearly there is still much to consider.”
Elizabeth sighed in relief. “Then I may stay here with Jane, Mama?”
“Yes, yes,” Mrs. Bennet muttered, her eyes darting furiously between all her daughters.
“A wise idea,” Mr. Bennet said dryly. “Now, I think it best we leave Jane to rest.”
Jane, who had been watching the conversation with a smile on her face—interrupted only by the occasional coughing fit—had begun to doze off once again. Mrs. Bennet gave her eldest a fond look. “Very well.”
“But, Mama!” wailed Lydia. “I wanted to stay here and see Mr. Darcy!”
“No, Lydia,” Mr. Bennet replied with uncharacteristic sharpness.
The youngest Bennet daughter fell silent and settled for glaring daggers at Elizabeth instead.
Mrs. Bennet gaped at her husband. “That’s quite all right, Lydia. We will find another way for Mr. Darcy to spend time with you; that is, if you really want to move so far away to the north. In the meantime, perhaps Colonel Forster’s friend will take a liking to one of your other sisters…”
The matron then bustled out of the room, loudly discussing which would make the best wife for the new officer: Kitty or Mary. Mr. Bennet rolled his eyes at Elizabeth, who responded with a tight smile. “Narrow escape, my dear daughter.”
“Quite. I take it you still haven’t told her about Mr. Collins’s visit, then?”
Mr. Bennet let out a loud sigh, then glanced sheepishly at Jane. Noticing she was fast asleep, he whispered, “Now tell me everything the London doctor told you.”
Elizabeth quietly summarized the man’s findings, including the fact that Jane could not return to Longbourn until her cough had completely gone away. “I do not like the idea of staying at Netherfield indefinitely,” she finished. “It means depending too much on the kindness of strangers.”
“I do not see that we have any choice, my dear,” Mr. Bennet replied. “Not if we wish to have Jane with us as long as possible.”
Their conversation was interrupted when Mary stuck her head back into the room and said solemnly, “Papa, I think it best if we leave now. The time for an appropriate social call has come to an end.”
“Quite right, my dear. Where would we be if we did not have you around to help us maintain propriety?”
Mary beamed at this statement, quite oblivious to her father’s sardonic tone. Elizabeth, anxiety rising within her, asked, “Where is Mama, Mary?”
“She is in the drawing room with Mr. Bingley and his party,” Mary replied. “I believe Mama is attempting to convince him to hold a ball here at Netherfield.”
The disapproval was plain in her inflection, and Elizabeth groaned inwardly. The three of them left a sleeping Jane in the care of a maid and quickly made their way down the stairs. Mrs. Bennet’s resonating voice could be heard long before they reached the door that would take them into the room.
Fortunately, only Darcy appeared to be inconvenienced by the conversation; he stood silently at the window, a cold mask of stone easily seen in the reflection as he gazed at the vista. Lydia kept glancing his way and batting her eyelashes, but his eyes remained firmly fixed in the opposite direction.
For his part, Bingley was delighted with the idea of holding a ball at Netherfield, and Mrs. Hurst was surprisingly as agreeable as her brother about the notion. She was telling an eager Kitty and Lydia about the latest fashions, while Mrs. Bennet prattled on to the attentive young master of Netherfield about what fine dancers her girls were.
“I shall dance with all of them,” he promised, causing Mrs. Bennet to squeal and clap her hands with glee.
Mr. Bennet loudly cleared his throat. “I believe the carriage is just about ready for us, my dear. Let us make sure we still have Lydia’s trunk. The servants may have unloaded it prematurely.”
Mrs. Bennet exclaimed in dismay and ushered her three youngest daughters out the door. Mrs. Hurst accompanied her, promising to have the housekeeper and footmen do all they could to remedy the situation.
This left Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet alone with Bingley and Darcy. “I want to thank you again, Mr. Darcy, for sending for a physician for my daughter,” Mr. Bennet said.
Darcy merely bowed his head in solemn acknowledgment. When it was clear that he wouldn’t speak, Mr. Bennet turned his attention to Bingley. “I’m afraid we must trespass on your kindness for a bit longer,” he said. “The doctor was in complete agreement with Mr. Jones: any attempts to remove Jane to Longbourn while she still has a cough are too dangerous.”
“I’m delighted to hear it,” Bingley cried, then blushed. “That is to say… I mean… I am not delighted that she is still unwell. Only that I am able to offer her aid.”
Mr. Bennet chuckled. “I hope you still feel that way after a month or two of her and Lizzy’s presence.”
“A month or two?”
Darcy and Elizabeth looked at each other in astonishment at having said the exact thing at the same time. Mr. Bennet gave a short laugh. “Well, perhaps not that long. It really is difficult to say. You may verify it with the doctor if necessary.”
This last bit was directed pointedly at Darcy, whose face reddened. “That is not necessary,” he said stiffly.
“I will be leaving Elizabeth to care for her sister,” Mr. Bennet continued. “I would not like to leave my daughter alone, in the care of strangers. I am concerned, however, for the state of things with regard to certain members of your party.”
Bingley, looking flustered, cleared his throat nervously. “Yes, I completely understand. I have not yet fully decided what to do about my sister. For now, she is confined to her rooms.”
“If I may be so bold as to offer my advice?” Mr. Bennet asked.
“Please do!”
“I have found that the best way to deal with young ladies who are firmly set in their opinions is to give consequences about things that matter to them. Elizabeth, for example, was often punished by being denied her walks or time in my library. Such discipline wouldn’t affect Mary, however.”
Bingley frowned. “Yes, I see what you mean. I will discuss it with Louisa; she will know best what to do.”
“Mr. Bingley, I’m going to be very frank with you,” Mr. Bennet said with a severe look. “I will not allow my daughters to be abused. The doctor confirmed what Mr. Jones diagnosed: my Jane has less than a year left of life. I would rather shorten her life by bringing her home than lengthen it by having her remain in a place where she is not treated with kindness.”
Bingley looked sheepishly at the ground, and Darcy broke in to say, “My friend understands the situation, Mr. Bennet.”
“I certainly hope so.”