Chapter 22 Nursing Mr. Bennet
It was almost seven o'clock in the morning, and Mr. Gardiner stood with Elizabeth upon the cobblestones outside The Blossoms Inn, located on Cheapside, awaiting the stagecoach bound for the north.
“Lizzy,” he said, “the coach will take you as far as St. Albans, and from there you will take a different coach to continue on to Harpenden. Mr. Hill will meet you there and bring you on to Longbourn. Here are your tickets.”
Then, recalling himself, he added, “By the by, my girl, I have not yet had the opportunity to tell you, but I have found a school for Lydia. I shall drive her there myself and see her properly matriculated next week.”
“Indeed? Where is it, Uncle?”
“It is called Miss Homer’s Seminary, and it is located at Ryde, on the north east coast of the Isle of Wight.”
“The Isle of Wight?” Elizabeth repeated, curiously. “I have never heard of it. Where exactly is it?”
“It lies some eighty-five miles to the south of London, and is a most remote situation. Miss Homer guarantees that no males provide instruction to her students. She assures me that she employs sufficient teachers to keep the girls out of mischief, but most importantly, it is so remote a situation that your sister will have nowhere to run off to.”
Then, chuckling, he added, “Lizzy, Miss Homer assures me they teach both useful and ornamental needlework.”
Elizabeth’s eyes lit with amusement.
He continued. “I confess, I was almost afraid to ask what precisely she meant by ornamental. But she also promises that reading, writing, and arithmetic are well attended to, along with geography, the use of the globes, history, and botany.”
“Uncle, if Miss Homer can get Lydia to behave like a proper young woman, then she has my admiration.”
“What impressed me most and the reason I selected her school is that each student is expected to work off part of her tuition,” he added. “It is the seminary’s way of teaching responsibility and the arts of household management.”
He paused. “She provided me with the names of several parents whose daughters she has taught. I wrote to them, and their replies were entirely satisfactory.”
Mr. Gardiner sobered.
“Since it is so far from London, I shall not see Lydia more than once a year, unless business takes me again into Kent. Lizzy, I trust you will write to your sister, and keep an eye upon her in that way.”
Elizabeth agreed at once. “Yes, sir, I will write. I only pray she will stay out of trouble, and not encounter a man who will tempt her to run off as Mr. Wickham did.”
Mr. Gardiner grimaced.
“I discussed that very concern with the headmistress. She assures me there are no men permitted on the school grounds, not even delivery boys. Their cook goes to market herself in a gig and brings back all provisions without assistance.”
He rubbed his jaw. “I do not know what more can be done to keep a young girl safe, and her virtue intact, when she herself feels not the slightest regard for it, nor understands the value of such an accomplishment.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Uncle, I could pull my hair out when I think of Lydia. She is such a trying child. But I thank you for taking her in hand. I only pray this school will be the making of her.”
“And you, Lizzy? What do you think of your father’s illness?”
Elizabeth hesitated.
“Oh, Uncle… I am still so very angry with my father for neglecting the care of his five daughters. Yet I will not hold it against him now. I shall give him the best care possible, and hope he survives this illness, for otherwise we shall be six women without a home, and almost penniless.”
Just then, the stagecoach arrived.
Elizabeth embraced her uncle and bade him goodbye, and then he handed her into the coach. She drew out a book, intending to read, but she could not fix her mind upon it.
Instead, her thoughts wandered to Vauxhall Gardens and to how wonderful it had felt to be held in Mr. Darcy’s arm, held firmly against his masculine frame, as they rose together in the balloon.
She remembered the scent of his shaving cream, his clean linen, and the masculine fragrance that was uniquely Mr. Darcy.
She recalled the marked civility he had shown her when they had dined at his home, quietly deflecting Caroline’s barbed remarks.
Her mind’s eye summoned his compelling presence at the theatre, attired in black evening dress, and her heart stuttered.
But now he was in the north, and she herself was leaving London to care for her father.
Unless Mr. Bingley purchased the estate in Hertfordshire, she doubted she would ever see him again, for their social circles were so unequal.
Elizabeth grieved the loss, knowing well that nothing could ever have come of that connection.
Her thoughts then moved to more urgent matters.
If Papa were to succumb to this inflammation, what would become of her and her sisters?
What ill-advised schemes was her mother even now devising for them?
And what of Mr. Collins? He had also taken the influenza.
Had he recovered from it, or was his life also in danger?
And her sisters? How were Mary and Kitty faring?
Elizabeth brooded over these questions, and many more besides, until three hours later she found herself seated in the gig beside Mr. Hill.
He was a taciturn man, and Elizabeth had been unable to draw any information from him. At last, she gave up entirely, sitting in frustrated silence as the countryside rolled past, wondering what awaited her at Longbourn.
When she entered the house, Mary immediately fell upon her neck, and Mrs. Hill hovered close by. Both appeared so distressed that Elizabeth began to tremble.
“What is it, Mary? Have we lost Papa?”
Mary drew herself up at once. “Forgive me, Lizzy. We have frightened you. Come, sit down, and Mrs. Hill will bring you some tea. You must be thirsty after traveling these three hours.”
Elizabeth sank into a chair, and Mrs. Hill went to prepare the tea tray.
Mary sat down and began recounting all that had passed at Longbourn.
“Mr. Collins fell ill only two days after his arrival. He had sat at the bedside of a parishioner who succumbed to influenza and brought the illness with him. Mamma meant to call you home, but when he became sick, she decided to leave you in London until he recovered. The poor man was very ill. I nursed him through the worst of it, and now he is able to sit up for two or three hours at a time.”
Elizabeth searched her face. “And what of Papa? And where are Kitty and our mother?”
“Papa spent the first two days of Mr. Collins’s visit closeted in his study, going over the entail and the ledgers with him. He fell ill two days after the rector did.”
Her voice faltered.
“But our father has grown worse. Dr. Edgerton says he requires hot fomentations to the chest and percussion to help him cough up the phlegm that is making it so difficult for him to breathe. Our mother has not allowed me near him, for she has set her eye upon my marrying the rector, so all my time has been spent tending to him.”
“And you accept this decision?”
Mary smiled for the first time since Elizabeth’s arrival.
“Oh yes, Lizzy. He is an attractive, well-spoken man. Though he has been very ill, he never complains, and he is exceedingly grateful for any small kindness or service I perform on his behalf.”
She colored slightly. “I have fallen in love, Lizzy.” She smiled with earnest delight. “We are in love. It is a most extraordinary thing to feel so deeply.”
Elizabeth embraced her, her eyes bright with feeling. “Mary, I am very happy for you. I only hope Mr. Collins will recover fully from this illness.”
“I do not fear for him now. He no longer suffers from fever, his appetite has returned, and as I mentioned, he is able to sit up for a few hours at a time.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Lydia has always boasted that she would be the first to marry, being the tallest and the most handsome. Now you will be the first, even before Jane. Is that not a triumph?”
Elizabeth listened for several minutes while Mary happily enumerated all of Mr. Collins’s virtues. Then she asked, “And Kitty? She has not come to welcome me home.”
“Kitty caught the influenza and is still laid up in her bed. Mrs. Hill has been attending her. I fear she fell ill on my account. I sent her to sit with our mother, and she did not cover her face, and so she contracted the illness.”
“Is she on the mend?”
“She is. You need not fear for her. She already sits up in her room, and her appetite is improving. She did not suffer to the extent of the others, but she is still very weak.”
Just then, the tea tray was brought in. Mary poured, and Elizabeth ate three small sandwiches, grateful for food after her journey home.
Mary continued, her voice lowering.
“Sister, Mamma has fallen ill as well, and you know how she can be. She complains about everything. She refuses to eat or drink. She will not allow me to place cool cloths upon her forehead or to soothe her limbs. I am quite beside myself.”
Elizabeth said evenly, “She is a grown woman, Mary. She has the right to refuse treatment. If she wishes to be left alone, then we shall leave her be. When she wants something, she may ring the bell, and we will attend her.”
Mary raised her brows.
“What is it, my dear? What have I said that has so affected you?”
Mary said quickly, “No… nothing is wrong. I am only surprised, that is all. But what you say is correct. Mamma is a grown woman, and if she does not wish to be coddled, then we must respect her wishes. I will cease importuning her every hour or so. I have likely driven her to distraction.”
Elizabeth asked, “And what of Papa? Did Dr. Edgerton leave any instructions?”
“He did.”
Mary crossed to a small desk and shuffled through the papers piled upon it. “Here are his written directions.”
Elizabeth took care to read every line, then asked, “Did he show you precisely how the percussion is to be applied?”
“He did,” Mary replied. “Turn around, Lizzy, and I will show you.”