Chapter Twenty-Six
Mafeisan
Elizabeth had no memory of her return to Pemberley, or of the ministrations of her aunt and Mrs Reynolds, or of her mother’s hysteria when George escorted Mrs Bennet to Pemberley (although she could imagine it with ease), or of Dr Barrow’s arrival before dark, or of his pouring his concoctions down her throat to make her sleep.
When she woke on Sunday morning with the thin autumn sunshine streaming in through her window, she listened to Aunt Darcy’s account of the previous day’s excitements with more calm and detachment than she might have expected of herself.
It was, she told her aunt, rather as though the adventure had happened to some other lucky creature, and it was only if she tried to move that the sharp jab of pain through her shoulder reminded her she was indeed the creature in question.
“Then lie still,” was Mrs Darcy’s sensible advice.
“Rest, and build up your strength for later when more visitors come, perhaps, than you will like. Jane will return in an hour. I persuaded her to walk with Mr Bingley. She could not be induced to leave your side all night, and his company cannot but help soothe her feelings. Your mother and the girls are coming after church to spend the day with you.”
“Oh,” said Elizabeth.
Her aunt chuckled. “She was much calmer when she left last night. By the by, our guests and all the gentlemen asked me to convey their regards and good wishes to you when you woke.”
“That is very kind of them.”
“We are all concerned for you.” Aunt Darcy leaned over her and kissed her brow.
“The doctor wishes to see you again today before he returns to Buxton. He cannot leave his patients long, you know, and he says you are quite out of any danger. I promised I would ring when you awoke”—she did so as she spoke—“and once he has gone, Mrs Reynolds will bring a tea tray.”
“Oh, I would love some tea. Thank you.” Elizabeth lay still for a moment or two, taking in her aunt’s quiet solicitude for her comfort. “I am so sorry, Aunt. This is not what we planned for our guests.”
“Everyone is only thankful you were not more severely injured.” Aunt Darcy stooped and kissed her again. “I do not think Pemberley can manage without you, Lizzy.”
“I shall endeavour to ensure Pemberley never shall.”
“I hope that is the case.” Aunt Darcy glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Your mother and the girls will dine here today.”
Elizabeth grimaced. Heaven alone knew what the Bingley ladies would make of her mother.
“Mamma is so… Oh, Aunt. Consider Jane. Though it is unfilial of me to say so, you know my mother’s ways.
She will see Mr Bingley’s interest at once, and she is so unrestrained in her enthusiasm.
I do not want Jane put to the blush or his regard compromised by my mother’s effusions. ”
“He will meet your mother at some point. If matters with Jane progress as we both hope they will, we cannot hide Mrs Bennet away at Frith House and pretend she does not exist.”
Elizabeth could only nod, unconvinced. Mr Bingley was an amiable soul and might not give her mother’s ways much importance in his consideration of Jane’s merits.
His sisters were another matter entirely.
Censorious and superior, they would exchange sneering, knowing looks at what they would undoubtedly consider vulgarity on Mrs Bennet’s part, and work against poor Jane afterwards.
A knock on the door heralded the entrance of striking Chinese robes in a dashing kingfisher-blue silk, which, when Elizabeth had blinked to absorb such magnificence, could be seen to adorn Dr Barrow. The tassel on his black skull-cap swung merrily, a counterpoint to his cheerful smile.
“You look a great deal improved, I am glad to see. Now then, Miss Lizzy, do you remember what happened yesterday, hmmn?”
Puck’s broad back rising up in front of her, the horse’s scream echoing in her ears.
The tremendous yank on the reins that almost tumbled her from the seat and under the wheels.
The sheer panic engulfing her when Puck ran.
The sudden snap! of the pole, and being flung out of the gig, helpless, with no time to think, no time to do anything but thrust out her hands to break her fall.
Agony lancing through her arm and shoulder, enough to make her scream as loudly as Puck.
Rolling, and rolling, and hitting something hard.
Lying on the hillside with Mr Darcy’s hand in hers, the dry warmth of his palm against hers and the long fingers closing around her own…
“I remember that one moment I was jogging along quite nicely, thank you, and the next, Puck reared up and off he went. I could not hold him, and the gig went over.” She forced a smile. “It quite reminded me why I am not in charity with horses. Headstrong, provoking creatures at the best of times.”
Dr Barrow smiled back at her. “Excellent. That you remember is a good sign.” He glanced at Aunt Darcy. “Would you make it possible for me, ma’am, to examine her arm and shoulder while maintaining her modesty, hmmn?”
He waited, his back turned, while Aunt Darcy exposed Elizabeth’s shoulder by lifting her night-rail out of the way.
It was easy to achieve, since she could not put her arm through the sleeve anyway, and the cotton had only to be lifted and bunched up around her neck.
By tucking in her chin and squinting sideways, Elizabeth caught a glimpse of the purple bruise covering her entire shoulder and most of her right side.
Aunt Darcy carefully arranged the night-rail to cover Elizabeth’s breast while leaving her arm and shoulder free, and invited the doctor to turn around.
He smiled. “Yes. That will do nicely, thank you.”
He was very gentle as he ran his fingers over the bruised shoulder. Her own fingers, sadly purple-blue and swollen, poked out of the two padded slats of wood supporting her wrist, and he laughed when she said, ruefully, that at last she had an excuse for her lack of skill on the pianoforte.
“Your normal dexterity will return, I assure you. I am confident you will recover fully. You are young and strong, after all.” He replaced the sling and stepped back, averting his eyes again until Aunt Darcy had resettled the night-rail and drawn up the coverlet.
“Well, there is swelling, but the joint has remained in place. You were lucky that Mr Reid, is it, hmmn? Yes. He was able to reset the joint immediately, and that is always to be preferred to waiting. It would have been hours before I could have performed the same office, and the swelling would have meant a less successful, and certainly more uncomfortable, operation. I expect it is still painful, hmmn?”
“It certainly is.”
The doctor handed Aunt Darcy a package. “This is the mafeisan powder, a preparation of various herbs and substances from China, that gave Miss Elizabeth ease last night. You will remember, Mrs Darcy, when your late husband, hmmn…? Yes. He found it of great use, I think. Within this package, each dose is wrapped in a twist of paper, and when dissolved, will keep the pain at bay during the day—one dose every six hours—but at night, Miss Elizabeth, I enjoin you to double the amount to ensure you sleep.” He patted her splinted hand.
“A double dose makes strong men snore, I assure you!”
“I remember my husband found the powders a boon.” Aunt Darcy laid the package on the small table set beside the bed.
“So helpful, and yet almost unknown here. Opium is, of course, but that foul stuff is the curse of China. Too many men fall victim to it, crave it in ever increasing doses. Chinese physicians are clever, and devised other, gentler ways of alleviating pain and inducing calm and sleep. My powders are just such a concoction, made to their instructions.” His warm, kind eyes looked Elizabeth up and down.
“Perhaps we will give you one dose now, hmmn? It will help you sleep, the sovereign remedy for so many ills.” He untwisted one paper of the powders into the glass of water beside the bed, and swirled the water around the glass for a moment or two.
“It has dissolved away entirely, and I promise you there is no ill taste. Here you are.”
Elizabeth took the glass in her usable hand and drank the mixture off directly.
Dr Barrow was right. The concoction was tasteless, and left no gritty powder in the bottom of the glass.
How very useful this powder was, without laudanum’s taste or ill-effects— She took in a sharp breath, stared into the glass, then, after a moment in which her head and mind swirled as completely as the powder had in water, she handed the glass back to the doctor.
She spoke with care, wanting to be certain. “I believe Mr James Wickham finds it helpful, too. I seem to remember you saying he uses the powders you brought from China.”
“He does. A half dose, which he takes throughout each day, soothes his agitation and keeps him calm, hmmn. It is not always efficacious if he is particularly agitated. I went to see him today, as he had grown perturbed for some reason no one of normal mind could fathom, and Jim Denny, his… well, to be honest, his nursemaid. Denny was injured trying to calm him. The poor footman looked like he had been in a mill.” The doctor made an exaggerated wince.
“Or in more genteel parlance for you ladies, as if he had been boxing.”
“Poor Denny.” Elizabeth tried not to show her frown. “And poor Mr Wickham.”
“A sad case, the apoplexy causing this second childhood. We cannot understand why, but merely try and alleviate his suffering, hmmn.” The doctor turned to Aunt Darcy.
“I must set out for home soon. You had best have someone sleep close for a few nights, ma’am, to ensure she has aid if she needs it. ”
“Her sister is in the adjoining room.” Aunt Darcy nodded at the connecting door. “We will leave the door open, and Jane sleeps light.”