Chapter 1 #2
One afternoon Bennet was sitting at his desk when he had a sense that someone that he cared about was in trouble or was hurt.
He quickly made his way to the day parlour and was relieved to see his wife and six children all well and happy.
Jane was sitting and reading to the twins while the three older boys were sitting and talking about whatever boys talk about.
Seeing all of his Longbourn family well, Bennet realised that there was one who was not present, and he prayed that his feeling was wrong, that his little Lizzy was well.
Tammy looked at him questioningly as he stood at the door staring at his wonderful family.
He gave a little shake of his head. How was he to explain his premonition to anyone at all, including Tammy?
He decided that he must have imagined it and returned to his study.
That night Jane had a dream that Lizzy was calling out to her because she was in some sort of trouble; she could not make her out clearly, but she was sure that it was Lizzy.
She woke up in a cold sweat. Jane had not dreamt of her lost sister in over two years and had no idea what would cause her to dream of her again.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
When Anne and Elaine saw who was being carried into the house, Elaine almost collapsed.
George Darcy caught her in time. Her husband was still helping to carry his daughter and would not relinquish his spot to anyone, not even George.
Lizzy’s two brothers and William were just as insistent that they would not give up carrying her either.
A groom had ridden ahead to notify Mrs Reynolds who had the largest sickroom on the ground floor available so that there would be no attempt to carry her up any stairs.
While Lizzy was transferred onto the soft sheets, George explained what had occurred to his wife and sister-in-law.
He had no doubt that Elaine was completely sincere when she said if she ever encountered George Wickham again, she would happily strangle him.
When it was explained that a combination of her size and the indentation in the surface had saved Lizzy’s life, both ladies agreed that they saw the Hand of God at work.
“Will my daughter be well?” Elaine asked in a shaky voice as she dried her eyes.
“I will not lie to you sister,” George said as gently as he was able, “Lizzy is seriously injured and none of us can predict the outcome, but,” he said as he saw Elaine start to cry again, “we all know that Lizzy is a fighter, and I believe that she will fight now, like never before!”
“I assume that the doctor and surgeon have been sent for?” Lady Anne asked.
“A groom was dispatched from where Lizzy was attacked; I expect that both Harrison and Finch, if not already on their way, will be so soon,” George reported.
“I beg your pardon, but could we have the men step out, please,” Mrs Reynolds asked, but everyone recognised it for what it was, an order. “We need to change and clean Lady Elizabeth before the doctors arrive.”
As much as the men were loath to be where they could not reassure themselves by seeing her, they complied and exited. Anne de Bourgh, who had changed, looked up at her uncle Reggie, her blue Fitzwilliam eyes moist from the tears that she had spilled for her cousin.
“Will Lizzy be well Uncle Reggie?” she asked, seeming to beg for a positive answer.
“That is our hope, Anne; we will know more later.” her uncle said as he kissed her forehead.
“Will you please go and be with Georgie and Alex? I am sure that if Georgie does not already know that Lizzy has been hurt, she will find out soon enough; it will help to have her big cousin there with her.”
“Of course, Uncle Reggie,” Anne kissed his cheek and made her way up to the nursery.
Inside the room, the ladies had managed to remove Lizzy’s clothing.
They had to cut much of it away, as whenever they did anything that moved her arm or leg she whimpered, even in her unconscious state.
Elaine almost collapsed again when she saw the angle of both limbs on Lizzy’s left side.
She forced herself to be strong for her daughter.
After Lizzy’s new green riding habit had been removed, she was very carefully washed.
Elizabeth had just been covered when Mr Harrison was shown into the room.
He examined her as well as he could and confirmed what they knew about her arm and leg expressing that there was little he could do until the surgeon arrived.
Mr Harrison was closer to sixty than fifty and had been Pemberley’s physician for well over three decades.
His son Benjamin was in his last year of studies at the famous medical school at Edinburgh University and would take over for his father in the next few years, when Jackson Harrison intended to retire.
The surgeon, Mr Patrick Finch, was not yet thirty, also a graduate of Edinburgh and luckily very skilled at his craft.
He arrived less than an hour after the doctor and set about examining his patient.
He was aware of her need for modesty, but his first concern was a close and careful evaluation of her injuries.
When he was finished, he stepped out of the sick room to talk to the young girl’s parents.
He recognised that none of the waiting family was of a mind to vacate the area they were waiting to hear his report when the Earl nodded his head he did so.
“Her head wound is superficial,” he reported, “from my examination, it was a scalp wound; I have placed some stitches and as it is above the line of her hair, it will never be visible.
More importantly, I could not detect any symptoms of swelling of the brain that we believe is caused by bleeding, though we have no way of detecting if it is so.
“The fact that she fit into the depression in the ground definitely saved Lady Elizabeth’s life; however, there are multiple breaks in both her left arm and leg.
The bones may knit properly and return full function to her, or they could heal abnormally and leave her without the ability to use her left arm and possibly never to walk again without assistance. ”
Elaine Fitzwilliam let out an audible sob.
She was gratified that it looked like Lizzy would survive, but if her very active little girl, her whirlwind, would not be able to use her arm or leg again, her heart would break for her unconscious daughter.
Her husband hugged her tightly to himself, not caring that they were in a public setting.
“Is there anything that can be done, Mr Finch?” Reggie asked hoping against hope that the younger man had a solution.
“I have operated twice prior to your daughter to set bones and align them as they should be. I cannot make you any promises, but in both cases that I attended the patients were returned to full mobility,” Finch said matter-of-factly, not employing any unnecessary false modesty.
“Will you excuse us so we may talk about what we would like to do?” At Reggie’s request, the surgeon bowed and left the parlour pulling the door closed after him. “What do you think?” he asked his wife once it was just the family.
“I feel like I am Solomon and have to make a decision to divide the baby or not,” Elaine said sadly.
“On the one hand there seems to be a good chance that our vivacious and active daughter will be left severely physically restricted and on the other hand the doctor is talking about a surgery that he had performed but twice before.”
“Both times successfully,” Richard added.
“How would Lizzy feel if she were not able to run and play freely, not be able to ride any more, or do so many of the things that she adores?” William asked the most important question of all.
“It seems to me, Elaine,” Anne said as she took her sister’s hands in her own and looked her in her eyes, “that my son has asked the pertinent question. Would Lizzy be able to be genuinely happy if she is not able to do so many of the things that she relishes doing?”
Elaine knew the answer but was afraid of something going wrong.
“I am scared for her too, Elaine,” Reggie said.
“We all are. Our daughter is intelligent beyond her years, is a virtuoso with music, and has a memory like I have never in my almost five decades seen.
But she is so much more than that. Could you imagine her not being able to run freely, to take her walks, or ride?
Would she be able to play her instruments if she only had the use of one arm?
“I am leaning toward authorising Finch to do whatever he feels is needed to give our Lizzy the best chance to recover and be able to do all of the things that she loves to do. However, I will not do so unless you agree; I will not make a unilateral decision, Elaine.”
“Mama,” Andrew interjected, “for what it is worth, I am with father in this.”
“Me too,” Richard added emphatically.
“And me,” William said.
“Anne and I also feel that way sister,” George Darcy said, “but you have to follow your heart and make the decision that you feel is best, not just because the rest of us agree.”
“In my heart I know what the correct decision is,” Elaine said with new tears in her eyes, “but it just so frightening. Seeing my daughter lying prostrate like that almost tore my heart out of my chest. However,” Elaine pulled herself up to full height and got a determined look in her eye that her husband had seen many times before, “I will not allow my fear to overrule what I know will give our Lizzy the best chance at a full recovery, I agree Reggie, we will allow Mr Finch to try and give us our girl back in her full whirlwind condition!”
Finch was called back in, and the decision was conveyed to him.
“So that there is no chance that she will awaken during the procedure, I will administer a few drops of laudanum to her. As she is petite, that is all that will be needed to keep her asleep for a number of hours. I thank you for your confidence in me and I will do everything in my power to help make sure that your daughter will have no physical impediments.”
With wishes of Godspeed, Finch left the parlour and returned to the sickroom where he was joined by Mr Harrison to assist him as needed.
The older man was set in the old ways, but he had heard particularly good things about Finch and would do anything that he was asked to for the success of the upcoming surgery.
Finch measured five drops of laudanum and used an invalid feeder to make sure that they were ingested.
He waited a few minutes to make sure that the drug would take effect and then he picked up his first implement and began.