Chapter 21 Convalescence
Dinner passed in a subdued manner. When the party withdrew to the drawing room, Miss Anne offered to read aloud from her novel, and all agreed to hear her.
The gentlemen drew their chairs nearer to the ladies, and the party settled to listen, while Lady Catherine remained apart, her attention fixed upon a volume of Fordyce’s sermons.
After nearly half an hour, Mrs. Collins was shown in.
“Come, sit with me, Mary, and tell us of our friend. Pray, say she has improved.”
Mary took a seat beside Miss Anne. “She does not improve as yet. I have bathed her face and limbs to lower the fever, and I trust she will rest with greater ease once the physician arrives with the willow bark.”
Darcy asked, “Mrs. Collins, do the herbal tinctures afford her any relief?”
“No, sir. She is much fatigued and a little disordered. I cannot prevail upon her to drink. I have administered a little of the tincture into the side of her cheek.”
“Perhaps the use of a toddy lifter will help you administer the willow bark tea with greater effect,” Darcy said.
“I shall bring you a toddy lifter, Mrs. Collins.” Georgiana left to find the vessel.
Darcy offered what encouragement he could. “Do not fear, Mrs. Collins. Your sister is young and strong. She will recover soon.” He pressed her hand in sympathy. “You have endured much anxiety, but all will be well. Is there anything more we may do to assist you?”
“You have already done so much for us, yet though I feel shame in asking, I should like to send for my elder sister. Jane possesses greater skill in the use of medicinal herbs and more experience in tending the sick. She and Lizzy attend to our tenants and the indigent of our neighborhood. I feel my own want of skill, and…” She turned to Anne.
“Mr. Collins was not pleased when I told him I must leave him to care for my sister. If Jane could come…”
“Mary, Rosings Park stands open to your elder sister. You need not fear you presume upon our kindness. If you wish to send for your mother as well, please know that she is also welcome.”
“Thank you, Miss Anne. You are very kind, but my mother is not suited to the sick room. I shall send an express, and Jane will come to me by the mail coach.”
“Write to your father and request that he send your sister. I shall dispatch my carriage with the letter and have her brought here. You shall have her soon. It is only fifty miles of good road,” Mr. Darcy said.
“Sir, I do not know how to thank you. As for the expense…”
“You must not concern yourself with it, ma’am. As I have said, the fault lies with us, and we must answer for it. I shall send the carriage in the morning with your letter.”
Mary pressed her handkerchief to her eyes. Miss Anne served her tea and cake, and Darcy took up the book. They prevailed upon Mary to remain with them for half an hour, that she might rest and be diverted, for as Anne said, “I trust Sarah with my life, Mary. She will send for you if Lizzy worsens.”
Mary remained with the Rosings family for a full hour before Dr. Miller arrived. At Darcy’s request, Anne joined Mary and the physician. After he examined Elizabeth, Dr. Miller instructed Mary in the proper measure of willow bark.
“Your sister will require twenty minutes of percussion to the back at least three times each day, and, if she can bear it, more frequent treatments would be preferable.”
Mary looked at him with uncertainty.
“You have not performed percussion?”
“No, sir, but if you will instruct me, I shall carry out the treatment.”
“Of course, ma’am.”
He returned to the bed. “Miss Bennet, we shall perform a treatment that will work to clear your lungs.” He directed Mary. “We shall turn Miss Bennet upon her side. Pray, hold her in this position.”
He moved to the opposite side and, with cupped hands, struck along the length of Elizabeth’s back, which brought on a spasm of cough.
He regarded the result with approval. “With the herbs you administer, the benefit of fluids, and the percussion, her lungs should soon clear of phlegm.”
Mary’s eyes brightened. “Thank you, Dr. Miller. I shall see that Lizzy receives this treatment at least three times each day.”
“Very well, my dear. Do not distress yourself. Your sister’s illness is severe, as you can see from the blue tinge of her lips. The chest is inflamed, and she labors for air. But she is young and strong. Mark my words, she will recover quickly.”
The physician departed, but both Miss Anne and Mary remained with Elizabeth to perform the percussion.
Unaccustomed to such exertion, Mary’s arms soon tired.
The treatment did not bring on the cough that the physician had deemed necessary.
Anne took a turn with the treatment, but her efforts were also unsuccessful.
“Do not fret, Mary. I shall return with one of the footmen.” Anne hurried downstairs, where the physician and her two cousins were in conversation.
“Have you dined, sir?”
“Not yet, Mr. Darcy. Do you have dinner for me?”
“Yes, sir. Cook has kept it warm. Pray, come to the dining room. May I ask how you find Miss Bennet?”
“She is very ill, sir, but she is strong, and I have no doubt she will recover quickly.”
Anne spoke then. “Dr. Miller, neither Mary nor I could perform the treatment with sufficient force. We could not bring on the cough you deem necessary.”
“If you wish, I shall instruct one of the footmen before I leave. They possess the strength required.”
Darcy spoke then. “Doctor, that will not be necessary. Miss Bennet is a close family friend. I shall undertake the treatment. It will be less distressing to her to receive such care from those she knows rather than from strangers.”
The physician regarded Darcy with surprise. “You would assist in the care of this young lady, sir? That is most unusual.”
“You must understand, doctor, that Miss Bennet showed great kindness to my cousin during Mrs. Jenkinson’s final days. We value her as one of our own.”
“Very well, sir. Miss Anne and Mrs. Collins have received instruction.”
“Richard, please remain with Dr. Miller and see that he wants for nothing. Offer him the cognac I brought.” He turned to the physician. “It is very smooth, sir. I trust you will find it agreeable.” Then he addressed Anne. “Come, cousin. Show me the method. Mrs. Collins must be anxious.”
“Yes, Fitzwilliam. She is quite worried.”
When the two cousins reached the bedchamber, Anne tapped upon the door.
“Come in.”
Mary started at the sight of Mr. Darcy entering with Anne.
“Sir, I did not intend for you to offer assistance yourself. I would never presume…”
“It is no sacrifice, Mrs. Collins. Miss Bennet showed great kindness to Mrs. Jenkinson, and we wish only to return it.”
Mary hesitated. “What will Mr. Collins say when he learns of this?”
“He need not know, ma’am. He shall hear nothing of it from us, and if you do not raise the subject, it may remain between us.”
“Come, Mary,” Anne said. “Help me hold Lizzy.”
Mary went to her sister. “Lizzy, we shall perform your treatment. Mr. Darcy has come to assist us. Lizzy, do you hear me?”
“Yes,” came the faint reply.
Darcy was shaken at the change in Elizabeth.
She looked worse, and her lips were a deathly hue.
A sharp sense of urgency seized him like a blow to his gut.
Did she stand in danger? Could the physician be trusted?
He considered sending for his own doctor from London. He might arrive by noon on the morrow.
“Fitzwilliam, are you well, cousin? She is ready.”
“Forgive me. Her pallor startled me.”
Mary performed the treatment first, that he might observe what was required, then moved aside to help support her sister. Darcy bent near and, with cupped hands, struck along Elizabeth’s back. She began to cough. He paused and looked toward the ladies.
“It is well, Fitzwilliam,” Anne said. “Dr. Miller desires that she cough and clear her lungs.”
“We are to continue for twenty minutes, unless she cannot bear it,” Mary added.
Darcy continued for the full measure, and Elizabeth coughed throughout the treatment.
He straightened. “Is there anything more we may do, ma’am?
“No, sir. I am grateful for your assistance. I have only to administer the willow bark tea and attempt to feed her some broth. I thank you both for all you have done for my sister.”
Darcy bowed. “I shall send the carriage at eight in the morning. Send your letter down with Sarah, and I will see it delivered.”
“Thank you, sir.”
When the two cousins withdrew, Mary wept. She wept as she administered the tea with the toddy lifter. She wept as she fed Elizabeth the broth. When Elizabeth had taken two cups of tea and one of broth, Mary drew herself up at the foot of the bed and fell asleep.
She heard tapping at the door, and Mary woke. The letter. She had not written it. Sleep had overcome her.
“Come in.”
Sarah entered.
“Oh dear, I fell asleep. I shall have the letter ready in five minutes.”
“Take your time, Mrs. Collins. The carriage is not yet prepared.”
Mary wrote a brief explanatory note and requested that Jane be sent. She sealed it and placed it in Sarah’s hand, then returned to Elizabeth’s side.
“Lizzy, my dear, you must wake.”
Elizabeth turned, and a cough seized her. Mary brought a cup of tepid willow bark tea.
“Here, drink this.”
Elizabeth pushed herself up, took the cup, and drained it.
“More.”
Mary smiled. “You are awake and able to drink. Wait, I shall bring more.”
She poured another cup and offered it. Elizabeth drank all the tea.
“I cannot breathe.”
“Dr. Miller says your lungs are inflamed. Here, Lizzy, take a tincture of elecampane. It will loosen the phlegm and ease your breathing.”
Elizabeth watched Mary as she drew up the tincture, then asked, “In water, please.”
She took the draught, lay back, and was soon asleep.
Mary was setting the room in order when a tap sounded at the door, and Anne entered.
“Fitzwilliam has come for the treatment.”
He looked toward Elizabeth with concern. “Has she woken? Does she speak?”