Chapter 22 Nursing Mr. Bennet #2
Elizabeth turned her back. Mary cupped her hands and began to clap firmly along her sister’s back, from shoulder to waist.
Elizabeth began to cough.
Mary laughed softly. “You see? It works. It is meant to loosen the thick mucus, so that he may cough it up.”
Elizabeth grinned. “That actually felt very good, sister.”
Her expression grew serious again. “When was the last time Papa had hot fomentations and the percussion treatment?”
“He has not had any treatments yet. I have been caring for Mr. Collins, and in Mamma’s eyes his life is more important than our father’s, for he is the young heir, and upon him rests all our fortunes.”
Mary’s voice tightened with frustration.
“Mrs. Hill has been occupied with the house as well, for both Alice and Ruthie have not been able to come to work. They, too, have fallen ill. Mamma attempted the treatments, but… You know how she is. She was careless with our father and burned his skin, and afterward, he refused to let her come near him. That is when she sent for you.”
Elizabeth asked, “How is it that you have not caught the illness, Mary?”
Dr. Edgerton advised us to tie a scarf over our faces before we enter the sickroom,” Mary replied. “It has answered very well, for I have not fallen ill. Mamma declared the doctor’s advice ridiculous and refused to do as he instructed, and now… she is ill.”
Elizabeth stood. “Very well. I will ask Hill to heat the water for the fomentations. Where are the rags I am to use?”
“They are piled upon the hall table, just outside Papa’s room,” Mary said. Then she hesitated. “Lizzy, do you have a scarf you can use?”
“I do not,” Elizabeth admitted, “but I will use one of Papa’s neckcloths. I will cut it to the appropriate length.”
Elizabeth went at once to ask for hot water, then hurried upstairs to change into an old walking dress. When she returned, Mary helped her tie the neckcloth securely over her face.
Then Elizabeth entered her father’s room.
She was unprepared for the sight of him.
He looked small and shriveled, his complexion was gray, and his breathing was labored. She heard a harsh rattle each time he drew in a breath.
When Hill entered with the hot water, Elizabeth set to work at once, first applying the fomentations to his chest, then instructing him to turn so she might apply the treatment to his back as well.
When she had finished, she began the percussion. It was difficult work, and her arms soon tired, but she persisted until at last he began to cough.
He reached for a clean handkerchief and coughed so violently that Elizabeth feared it might exhaust him entirely. But after a few moments, his breathing eased.
She then prevailed upon him to drink the hot echinacea tea prescribed by Dr. Edgerton, which she had sweetened with honey, knowing it would ease his throat.
As he took the tea in small sips, she settled into a chair and took up a book. Plutarch. “Papa, I will read to you until you fall asleep.”
He answered, his voice barely audible. “Very well, Lizzy. Do what you must to preserve my life, for when I leave this world, you and your mother and your sisters will be destitute.”
His words filled her with alarm, yet she gave no outward sign of it. She raised the volume and began reading from his cherished book.
That first day and night, Elizabeth repeated the fomentations and percussion every two hours, and each time she ensured her father drank a full cup of the medicinal tea, and she finished by reading aloud to him from his favorite book.
The treatment was effective. He coughed and coughed, and he himself admitted that his lungs were beginning to clear.
Elizabeth slept only in brief intervals between her ministrations. In this manner, she passed the first week, taking time only to eat her meals and to rest when he did.
On the seventh day, when she entered his room, she found her father sitting upright at the side of the bed.
His breathing was no longer so labored, and his face was not so ashen.
“Papa, you are looking more like yourself. Your cheeks have a little color, and your lips are no longer blue.”
Mr. Bennet grinned. “Lizzy, I believe I have turned a corner.”
“Were you able to eat this morning?”
“I was. An egg, a strip of bacon, and a piece of toast. It is the most I have eaten since I fell ill.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder. “That is good news. I am delighted by your progress. Are you ready for your treatment?”
“Yes,” he said, “but you must help me raise my legs, for I feel exceedingly weak.”
He sank back into the pillows as she raised his legs. Elizabeth administered the treatment, then gave him his tea.
“I have selected a work of Virgil’s for your reading pleasure this morning.”
“Which did you select, my girl?”
She laughed lightly. “Aeneid.”
He chuckled. “That is your favorite, Lizzy, not mine. I prefer Eclogues, but no matter. I have not studied the Aeneid in years. You may begin.” After she had read to him for an hour, her father stirred.
“That is well, my dear. Go for a walk. Take care of yourself. I would not have you fall ill. This influenza is the worst I have ever suffered.”
“Very well, Papa. I will return in an hour to see how you get on.” Elizabeth washed her hands and left him.
When she went down to the drawing room, she found Mary sitting alone in the dark; the drapes were closed, and the room was unnaturally still.
Elizabeth sat beside her and asked, “Mary… what is it? Has Mr. Collins taken a turn for the worse?”
Mary stared at her sister.
“Mamma passed in the night.”
Elizabeth felt as though the air had been torn from her lungs. For a moment, she could not speak. Her throat tightened, and she could only stare, struggling not to faint.
“What…? Did you say that Mamma passed in the night?”
Mary’s voice trembled. “I believe so, Lizzy. And it is all my fault.”
Elizabeth’s shock sharpened into alarm.
“What do you mean? What did you do?”
“Lizzy…I failed our mother. I did not do anything for her. Everything I offered, she refused. And since you and I spoke, I stopped going to her room. I left her entirely in Hill’s care.”
Tears gathered in her eyes.
“She refused her meals. She refused to drink. She would not allow Hill to bathe her. She refused to see Dr. Edgerton. She wanted to be left alone… and so we left her alone.”
Mary’s voice faltered. “And now she is dead.”
Elizabeth swallowed hard. “Was she alive last night, Mary?”
“Yes. Hill says she took her a fresh pot of tea just before bed, and she refused it. She rolled over and asked Hill to leave, so she carried away the tray.”
Mary began to wring her hands.
“This morning, when Hill brought her breakfast, she found her still lying on her side. She touched her shoulder to wake her… and she was cold.”
Elizabeth’s face tightened. “Have you been up to see her?”
“No,” Mary whispered. “I am afraid to.”
Elizabeth rose. “Come. We will go together. We must see for ourselves. We must know that she has truly passed.”
Both sisters tied neckcloths over their mouths and noses, then walked quietly into their mother’s room.
Mrs. Bennet still lay upon her side, unmoving.
They drew near to the bed and touched her shoulder.
It was cold. Stiff.
The sisters looked at one another, but neither could speak.
They left the room and stood in the hallway, the silence pressing upon them.
Elizabeth said at last, “We must tell him.”
“Yes,” Mary agreed. “Let us tell him now. There is no reason to put it off.”
Elizabeth tapped softly at her father’s door. At his call, she entered, Mary close behind.
They stood in the doorway.
“Papa… we have just been in to see Mamma. She passed in the night.”
Thomas Bennet sat upright, shaken, and began to cough harshly.
Elizabeth hurried forward with a cup of water, which he drank in its entirety.
After a moment, he said hoarsely, “Girls… take me to her.”
Mary brought his banyan, and together they helped him into it. Then he walked slowly to his wife’s room and sank into a chair beside the bed.
He did not speak. He only stared at her, as though unable to comprehend what lay before him.
Nearly twenty minutes passed before he murmured, “I feel short of breath, weak. I need help getting back to my bed.”
The two sisters each took an arm and helped their father to stand, but before he left, he reached over and touched his wife. His face was uncomprehending as he rubbed his hand along her arm, and then he murmured quietly, almost under his breath, “Cold and stiff. She is gone.”
When they had him back in his bed, Elizabeth gave him a saline draught, which he drank without protest, and then he lay down again.
“I will try to sleep,” he murmured.
Elizabeth hesitated. “May I write to Uncle Edward? And I have to tell Aunt Phillips as well.”
“Lizzy,” he said wearily, “we are under quarantine. You may deliver a note, but you are not to enter the house. Dr. Edgerton has given strict orders.”
“Yes. I understand. I must send a note to the cabinet maker for a coffin and one to the rector, to prepare for the graveside service.”
“Ask your Uncle Phillips to notify the rector and the cabinet maker,” he instructed.
“Yes, sir.”
The two sisters left his room and stood in the dark hall.
“Mary,” Elizabeth said, “you should attend Mr. Collins, and see to Kitty. She must be told. I am going downstairs to write instructions for the rector and the cabinet maker, and to prepare an express for Uncle Edward. Then I will walk into Meryton to seek assistance from Uncle Phillips.”
Mary did not move, and her eyes were cast down. She spoke in a whisper. “Lizzy… now Mamma can no longer force Jane to marry Mr. Goulding.”
Elizabeth stared at her for a long moment. “Yes, that is true. Nor can she squander our pin money upon Lydia’s whims.”
Mary added in a whisper. “It will be much quieter here without her.”