Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Elizabeth kept her countenance in front of the Darcys, but she often found her eyes brimming with tears when she thought of them over the next week.
Georgiana felt both intense grief and humiliation.
Such a pitiable situation, and Mr Darcy’s devotion to his young sister was greater than she would have suspected from so serious a man.
Any other brother would have hidden Georgiana away in shame, taken her child from her regardless of her wishes, and perhaps never spoken of her or to her again.
Elizabeth doubted even her own father or mother would sacrifice so much for any of their children.
The Darcys were recluses because they had been hiding Miss Darcy’s condition, and they were but a few whispers away from absolute scandal.
She could understand Mr Darcy’s behaviour better, his abruptness and his unsocial nature, although she was not ready to pardon his outright incivility.
And poor Georgiana was mourning her baby while Mr Darcy feared the exposure that she had born a child at all.
Still, he stayed with her, cared for her, and forsook every connexion to preserve her reputation.
Despite his ungentlemanly behaviour, he is a good man.
“I expect a very stupid ball if you do not invite everyone!” Lydia exclaimed and disrupted Elizabeth’s reflections. “Why not invite some officers? We used to dine with over twenty families!”
“My dear, it is not up to me. I have, sadly, had to make way for Mary,” said her mother. “She does not invite any officer to dine, let alone host parties.”
Lydia and her mother had finally convinced Mr Collins of the rightness in his hosting a ball at Longbourn by appealing to his grandiose ideas as to what was gentlemanly.
The drawback was that mother and daughter had yet to convince Mary that she ought to both plan a proper ball and be gracious about it.
“We will have only four couples if Mary has her way, and we can fit twice as many in the drawing room.” Lydia bounded over to where Mary was sitting.
“Who will I flirt with if you do not invite the officers, too? Only the highest-ranking ones, of course, the gentlemen with an income. Mary, you are so dull and economical! We need eight families and thirty people at least!”
“I care so little for a ball that it would be no sacrifice to me to give it up entirely.”
Elizabeth decided to resolve this and save herself an hour of listening to their squabbling.
“Mary, Mr Collins has agreed that a modest ball will take place at Longbourn. You made a vow to obey your husband. It would go against your duty as a wife to not bring credit to his home and host his most important neighbours. However, if you are unable to manage the affair, then my mother is willing to arrange every detail to spare you the trouble.”
The result was immediate: Mrs Bennet promised to supervise the whole of it, Mary refused and solemnised on her position as mistress of Longbourn, and Lydia’s wish for a ball that would not be too thin of company was realised.
Elizabeth may have found life there hollow and tedious, but she loved Lydia, and if she wanted a ball, Elizabeth was happy for her to have it.
She knew what it was like to have little to look forward to with pleasure.
While her family were occupied, Elizabeth left to visit the apothecary shop.
She had expected to slip in quietly and ask Mr Lynn if he had received a reply from Mr Jones.
A brief note of his perfect unconcern, or perhaps advice on some remedy to ease the malady.
But Elizabeth found so many people before her in the shop that there was not a person at liberty to attend to her.
The line at both counters was two people deep, and other ladies were sitting at the end of the counter that seemed to promise the quickest succession.
Elizabeth stopped the shopboy to ask what news was come from Mr Jones about his ill son.
“His housekeeper received a letter and it was not sealed with black wax, that is all I know.” The boy scurried off.
She smiled to herself at this happy news, but Mr Lynn would be too busy to speak with her today. Before Elizabeth could leave, the apprentice came near to take down a vessel from the wall, and she asked him, “Did Mr Jones write to Mr Lynn in regard to the care of his patients?”
“Yes, his correspondence is there, but he has scarcely had time to read it.” He gestured over his shoulder to the counter where the ladies were no longer sitting.
“I know you and Mrs Baker and Miss Darcy were mentioned. We are rather hurried at the moment, but soon Mr Lynn will call at Longbourn to discuss whatever ailed you.”
That would not do. She did not want to manage her mother’s nerves if she learnt her daughter was ill or risk Mary and Mr Collins knowing about her illness; they might exploit it for their own advantage or restrict her further.
Elizabeth sat near the counter and, after a careful look around her, pulled the sheets into her lap in what she knew was a gross misstep in judgement and propriety.
Fearful of being caught, she rapidly looked for either her name or the word “heart.”
The lady complained of a painful sensation in the chest, and fears for the strength of her heart.
“Miss Bennet, do you need the apothecary surgeon?” The shopboy had stopped by her side. “The apprentice can do nothing on his own.”
In her haste to hide her bad manners, she clutched the final sheet behind her skirt. “No, there is nothing that cannot wait. I shall return another day.”
Elizabeth left the shop quickly, the last page of Mr Jones’s letter still in her hand. Prying and thievery. My father would be ashamed of me. Actually, he would have laughed at her for her foolishness and teased her about it for years to come. She sighed and hid the sheet in her reticule.
It was not until she was alone in her room after dinner that she had the opportunity to read Mr Jones’s opinion on her heart.
The lady complained of a painful sensation in the chest, and fears for the strength of her heart.
I suspect the pain is caused by occluded coronary arteries and is triggered by exercise and emotional exertion.
Many are seized by it whilst walking, and with most, when they stand still, all this uneasiness vanishes.
As such is not the case with this patient, and since her heart pains have continued for more than a year, it is likely the disease will go to its height until the patient will suddenly fall down in great agony, and perish.
Any small excitement or exertion ought to be avoided, but there is no remedy that could lead to a recovery in so advanced a case.
I suspect she will not live past Michaelmas.
Elizabeth covered her mouth to stifle her sobs. I had not been up to the expectation of such a diagnosis as this!
She could die at any moment in a fit of dreadful pain.
Her mother would fuss and alarm when Elizabeth told her the sad truth, but she could do nothing to ease her.
Mary would quote proverbs on death, and Jane had too many duties at home with her boys to attend to her.
Kitty was married and gone, and the Gardiners were in Canada.
Lydia and Charlotte would not sympathise to any lasting degree, as frivolity on one side and rationality on the other would prevent it.
Mr Collins would be glad to not have to pay for her upkeep any longer.
I will die, and my death will be neither instant nor painless, and nothing can be done.
She would never enjoy independence, or experience those great emotions of life, or love in all its forms. Her days would be empty until she cried too hard, danced too long, walked too far, felt too much, and died.
All she could do between now and then was please those who maintained her, with little to occupy her save for her scarcely tolerated visits with Georgiana Darcy.
Georgiana does not pity herself, and she has lost more than I in her short life.
Elizabeth used her sleeve to dry her eyes, although she still took heaving breaths and tears still fell.
Who would cry for Georgiana when she died?
Her brother would not cry, although he would mourn.
She suspected Mr Darcy had been watching his sister for so long that he would not be able, or willing, to notice the transition from ill to dying when the time came.
He took great care of her with medicines and he protected her reputation, but that was not enough.
Georgiana needed someone to be by her side, someone who knew her secrets and loved her, a friend to comfort her.
How could she help Georgiana and be her friend once her family knew of her diagnosis? They will isolate me more, and then I shall have nothing to live for.
Elizabeth would be forced to spend her days at rest, although Mr Jones’s letter made it plain that would not matter. She would have even less freedom than she had now. Ultimately, her heart would fail, and it would fail soon.
I shall not tell them.
It was a kindness to those who loved her not to know she could perish at any time.
After watching her father be seized by heart pain and seeing to what end that came to, it would be a trial for any mother to watch even her least favourite daughter suffer the same.
Her mother, Jane, Charlotte, and the others would only be distressed by the letter.
Her tears stopped, and Elizabeth grew calm. It was the way she could have peace in her final months, such as any peace or tranquillity could be had at Longbourn. She had so little say over the course of her own life, but the knowledge of her fatal disease would be hers alone to manage.