Chapter 33 Dr. Wynn
Dr. Elton Wynn returned to Ashcroft Manor three days after the Darcys joined Elizabeth's research.
Elizabeth had heard of him for most of her life, and Aunt Maddie's letters seldom failed to contain some mention of her father. Elizabeth had formed an image of a kindly old gentleman who had retired from medicine and gone to live with his elder daughter.
The gentleman who entered the breakfast parlor that morning appeared neither old nor in need of anyone's care.
He was tall and spare, with white beginning to overtake his dark hair, and he crossed the room with the firm step of a man accustomed to going where he was needed.
Mrs. Radcliff rose. “Papa. I expected you two days ago.”
“So did I. Mrs. Drury sent for me before breakfast and refused to believe Dr. Lawson could know anything worth knowing because he has not yet reached forty.”
Mr. Radcliff lowered his newspaper. “You sold the man your practice.”
“I reminded her of that.”
“And?”
“She informed me that I had made a mistake.”
Mrs. Radcliff laughed. “You encourage them.”
“I prescribed for her for thirty years. She believes that gives her a claim upon me.”
“You spoil her, papa.”
Dr. Wynn conceded the point with a movement of his head before his daughter brought him to Elizabeth.
“This is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
His attention settled upon her. “One of Thomas Bennet's daughters?”
“Yes, sir.”
He took her offered hand. “Maddie has written a great deal about you. I am sorry that we meet under such unhappy circumstances.”
“Thank you, Dr. Wynn.”
“She tells me you have been a comfort to your sisters.”
The familiar ache returned at the thought of Jane, Mary, and Kitty, and of the sister for whom no comfort had been possible. Elizabeth would not bring Lydia into this room.
“We have been a comfort to one another, sir.”
“That is often the better arrangement.”
Mrs. Radcliff poured her father coffee. “Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy are dining with us this evening. Miss Georgiana has grown into a young woman now.”
Elizabeth reached for her cup before anyone could notice how much that news pleased her.
* * *
The Darcys arrived before dinner, and Elizabeth understood within minutes that Dr. Wynn had not exaggerated the claims of his old patients. He had known Fitzwilliam Darcy for his entire life.
“Darcy.”
“Dr. Wynn.”
They shook hands with the ease of long acquaintance.
Wynn looked him over. “You have grown no less serious.”
“Nor have you lost your inclination to tell me so, sir.”
“One of the privileges of having known you before you could speak is that I need not be impressed by you now.”
Mr. Radcliff laughed, and Elizabeth saw the beginning of a smile upon Mr. Darcy's face.
Dr. Wynn turned to Georgiana.
She came forward when her brother brought her to him, and she made her curtsy.
“Miss Darcy. Come and let me see you.”
Georgiana obeyed.
“You have changed more than your brother.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You favor your mother about the eyes.”
Georgiana's expression altered.
Wynn appeared to see it, for he did not continue the comparison. He asked after her health, received her assurance that she was well, and turned the conversation to Pemberley.
After dinner, Mr. Radcliff drew Darcy into a discussion of the illness among his sheep. The problem had spread no farther, but several animals remained weak, and Mr. Radcliff was considering whether another pasture ought to be used before the winter weather set in.
Elizabeth watched Mr. Darcy bend his attention to a paper upon which Mr. Radcliff had recorded the number of affected animals.
He asked about the condition of the pasture and when the flock had been moved after the first sheep showed signs of illness.
Elizabeth had once thought of Pemberley chiefly as a great house belonging to a very wealthy man.
The more she knew of Mr. Darcy, the less possible it became to separate the house, land, tenants, servants, farms, and people who depended upon the estate from the man responsible for them.
He looked up and found her watching him.
Elizabeth lowered her eyes to the book before her.
That would teach her to study Mr. Darcy instead of William Camden.
Dr. Wynn had followed her to the table.
“What have you there, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Antiquarian works, sir.”
He examined the books spread before her. “You have enough of them.”
“I am beginning to think there can never be enough, Dr. Wynn.”
“That is a dangerous opinion for a woman who likes books.”
Elizabeth laughed.
He drew out a chair. “Maddie wrote that you have studied under your father’s tutelage.”
“From the time I was ten, sir. Papa allowed me to read almost anything I could understand and a good many things I could not. When I failed to understand them, he made me discover why.”
“What did you study?”
“History, philosophy, poetry, natural history, the ancient writers. Whatever interested one of us generally interested the other before long. During the last months of his life, we had begun antiquities, folklore, ancient monuments, and local traditions.”
Wynn rested a hand upon Brand.
“You were close to him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Elizabeth looked at the books.
“I was his favorite daughter. I know fathers ought not to have favorites, or at least ought not to admit to them, but Papa and I understood one another. We could spend an entire evening with our books and consider it excellent company.”
“And these were the subjects you meant to study together.”
“Yes. I want to finish what we began.”
It was not the whole truth, but it was true.
Wynn regarded her for a moment before asking, “What are you hoping to find?”
Elizabeth opened her notebook.
“Old beliefs, unusual events, missing persons, stories of fairies or enchantments, and anything connected with Arbor Low. I found three accounts of people disappearing there. All three vanished on December twenty-first.”
“On the eve of the winter solstice.”
“Yes, sir.”
She showed him the entries.
Wynn read them before returning the notebook.
“I do not remember any of these names, but you may be looking in the wrong place.”
Elizabeth glanced at the books. “Where would you look, Dr. Wynn?”
“At people who live in the area.”
Darcy had finished his discussion with Mr. Radcliff and approached the table.
Dr. Wynn continued. “A physician hears things that are never printed. A man who believes he is dying may tell his physician something he has not told his sons. Women speak of matters they would never discuss with a neighbor. Families repeat stories received from grandparents until no one remembers who first told them.”
“Do you remember anything concerning Arbor Low?” Elizabeth asked.
“I spent more than forty years going into homes throughout this part of Derbyshire. There may be something in my memory that is of interest to you.”
“I should be grateful for anything you are willing to trust me with, sir.”
Dr. Wynn looked from her to Darcy. “You are involved in this enterprise as well?”
“Miss Elizabeth has permitted Georgiana and me to assist with her research.”
“A secret society of antiquarians?”
Georgiana, who had been listening from beside her brother, spoke.
“We are searching for the mysterious, miraculous, magical, or mystical.”
Elizabeth smiled.
Georgiana had taken hold of those fanciful words and had not surrendered them since.
Darcy addressed the physician. “Do not encourage her, sir.”
Dr. Wynn laughed. “I dare not. She might expect me to join you.”
Georgiana smiled at this.
Dr. Wynn turned back to the table and examined the books. His attention settled upon the Archaeologia volume.
“What is this?”
“It contains Reverend Pegge's account of Arbor Low, as well as papers concerning barrows and other ancient monuments. None of us has read it yet.”
“Who has what?”
“I have Brand. Miss Darcy is reading Camden. Mr. Darcy has undertaken Borlase.”
Mr. Darcy added, “Pegge and the complete works of Stukeley remain neglected.”
“I see. Then I shall spare Pegge further neglect and begin with this.”
Elizabeth stared at him. “You wish to help us?”
“I am retired, Miss Elizabeth. I sold my practice so that I might enjoy the privilege of having other people do my work. My old patients have not accepted the arrangement, but I can still command an hour of my own on most mornings.”
He opened the volume.
“I have spent most of my life reading the observations of physicians. I expect I can endure the opinions of a few antiquarians.”
“Then you are welcome, sir.”
* * *
The days that followed settled into a pattern.
Darcy and Georgiana met Elizabeth at the gate each morning.
She ran while they rode across the moor, sometimes within speaking distance and sometimes far enough away that she could forget she had company.
They met again among the stones of Arbor Low, where the rising sun slowly replaced the gray of the October mornings.
They returned as far as the Radcliffs' gate before separating for breakfast, then met again at ten over Elizabeth's books.
Not every morning began according to plan.
On one occasion the Darcys were nearly half an hour late. Elizabeth had begun to think they were not coming when she saw the two horses approaching along the road.
Darcy apologized when they reached her.
“There was a matter at Pemberley that required my attention before we left.”
“You need not account to me for your time, sir.”
“I said I would meet you.”
The simple answer pleased her more than it ought. He was a man of his word. He had come because he had said he would.
At ten, they usually found Dr. Wynn with the Archaeologia. He gave an hour to the research when his former patients permitted it, making notes in a hand Elizabeth found easier to read than Georgiana did.
Mrs. Radcliff did not understand why four sensible people had become absorbed by ancient stones, missing farmers, fairies, and antiquarians, but she was pleased by the company. She often brought her sewing into the room while they worked.