Part 2 – Relatives, Chapter 9
.
This is now the full (and edited) version of Chapter 9. While the first 2,000 words are what was posted a few days ago, this is 8,000 words so has a lot of additional material.
.
Elizabeth stood beside her young friend, her hand resting on Georgiana's shoulder for comfort. Georgiana was sitting at the window overlooking the harbour, her eyes fixed on nothing, leaning back against Elizabeth's solid presence. It was obvious her young charge was bewildered and bereft. Thankfully most of the tears had ceased. There would be more, but for now the young lady appeared calm, almost serene. In many ways that made Elizabeth worry more. She wondered what she could do to help, but how do you gift someone the maturity that only came through having to make hard choices yourself. Elizabeth still lived with the choices she made all those years ago.
It was times like this that Georgiana made Elizabeth feel so old. It was a gulf much wider than the five actual years that separated them. She remembered how bewildered she had been at fifteen, when she suddenly had a similar, if comparably worse situation thrust on her. Her heart filled with sympathy, thinking of the pain Georgiana must be feeling. Hers was a young innocent heart, and from what Georgiana had said, that man had not just broken her heart but ripped it out and stomped all over it.
Georgiana move purposely under her hand and turned to look up at Elizabeth.
"He didn't love me did he?"
"No dear he didn't."
"It was always the money, wasn't it?"
"It does appear that way. I could sugar coat it, and tell you otherwise but I think you are too clever for that."
"Thank you, Lizzie. You at least, treat me like I'm no longer a child."
"Well, dearest Georgie, you are no longer child. Not after today."
Georgiana gave a weak smile, then stood and embraced Elizabeth. Again the tears flowed. "But why did he do it? Why? I loved him so much…"
Elizabeth stood there holding her, making non-committal soothing noises. She vowed, whatever the nasty brother tried to do to prevent it, she would be there for Georgiana. One of the hardest things from five years ago was having to leave Jane and Charlotte behind. In many ways Georgiana had it worse, Elizabeth had Aunt Gardener, and there were always the letters, Georgiana appeared to have no one but her brother and, now, her. So in reality, only her. A fat lot of good Mr Darcy would be if his previous insensitive questioning was anything to go by. Probably tell her not to be so emotional and stop crying. Then probably lock her up in their estate up north for years, only bringing her out to meet men he thought were 'suitable'. In other words stuck up, arrogant unfeeling so-an-so's just like him. Oh, and her other guardian, the cousin, Richard, a Colonel in the Army, Georgiana informed her both had to somehow approve of the suitor before Georgiana could get married, what sort of archaic rule was that?
Elizabeth smiled at the thought of the pair of them patrolling around, inside and out, watching for rakes and scoundrels. I suppose it not that funny, but you have to see humour where you can find it. Georgiana most recent decent into tears had subsided. She looked back up at Elizabeth again, "Not all men are bad? Are they Lizzie?"
"No dear, some men are good." Said Elizabeth thinking about her uncle, Mr Gardener.
"My brother is a good man, isn't he? Isn't he…"
"Hmm. I'm sure he is good to you, dear." Probably best to distract her.
"Georgiana, what do you think about arranging refreshments for the gentlemen and soldiers when they return? They will be needing it, I am certain."
"I can't."
"Don't worry, we will work it out together. Shall we go talk to Mrs Pennywise?"
Georgiana shook her head, looking withdrawn, frightened. Maybe it was step too far. "It's alright. We can deal with it later. Do you want some tea?"
Georgiana nodded. Elizabeth gave her a quick squeeze, then left her sitting on the chair, staring off into the distance. Elizabeth drew the bell pull and waited. Before long a maid opened the door. Elizabeth was in the middle of arranging for tea when Georgiana gave an almighty scream. Forgetting all about the tea, Elizabeth rushed over to find Georgiana in hysterics. "What is it, dear? Shh, there, there. Deep breaths. Breathe in, breathe out, and again, breathe in, breathe out."
Georgiana buried her head in Elizabeth's shoulder. Through the cries of anguish, she was able to make out "He's dead… he's dead." Gosh she must have really been in love. Poor girl, he rips her heart apart, but when he dies, she still thinks her life is over. Elizabeth tried to calm her. "Shh, it will be alright. We'll get through this together. Shh, it is not certain, how do you know?"
Georgiana pointed out the window. There, just coming up the path from the road was a bunch of soldiers, a pair of them in the middle carrying a stretcher. On the stretcher was a body, lying lifeless, with a dark green coat, well soaked with blood, covering it. The body's head was wrapped in linen, with enough blood having leaked through be visible from this distance. There was no sign of Mr Darcy or the Cousin – although he could be one of the Officers following, also looking drawn and pale.
Elizabeth had a sinking feeling, that coat, wasn't Mr Darcy wearing a coat that colour today? Good god, now that does explain Georgiana's reaction. She's just lost her innocence and now also her brother in one day. Elizabeth also felt a good deal of sadness at the thought of Mr Darcy dead or dying. She admitted she didn't like the gentleman, but somehow it felt like the world would be a lesser place without him. And Georgiana spoke particularly well about him, so he was an admirable brother, if nothing else.
"Shh, Georgie. I'm here. I'll always be here. As long as you need it." Having never lost someone very close to her, Elizabeth was at a loss. What could she say? Here all her experience of the world and all its hardship and misfortunes was not enough. Feeling more helpless than she had for a very long time, Elizabeth just held the young girl as she sobbed, rocking her gently as she remembered her mother doing when she was little, before her mother gave up.
She heard the commotion as the returning party came inside and up stairs. They took the body to a room further down the hall. In amongst all the confusion, soldiers talking on top of each other, Elizabeth made out that someone was getting a doctor and surgeon. Realising this means Mr Darcy was not dead, they would need a doctor for a death certificate, but no one called a surgeon for a dead person, Elizabeth breathed a deep sigh of relief.
"Georgie, dear. Listen to me, please listen. He's not dead. He's injured, but he's not dead. It will be alright. They are getting a doctor and surgeon. It will be alright. Shh dear, shh."
Georgiana quietened. Elizabeth hoped that she was correct, that her brother was not dying in the next room. "Georgiana. Do you want me to go and see? I'll be right back."
Georgiana nodded her head but then failed to let go. Elizabeth wasn't sure what to do now. Should she go or should she stay? "Georgie, dearest, you need to let go so I can leave. Will you?"
Georgiana's answer was to cling more tightly.
"You do want to know how your brother is, don't you?"
Again Georgie nodded, but there was no relaxing of her embrace.
Elizabeth came to a decision. This is for your own good, Georgie, you need to know. Elizabeth stood up, gravity helping to release her embrace. Torn, Elizabeth led Georgiana to her bed, and assisted her to lie down. Georgiana immediately curled up hugging a pillow. Elizabeth threw the rug from the end of the bed over her and then quickly walked to the door.
Stepping out into the hallway, it looked like the entire household staff were gathered around the far room.
"Ahem." Clearing her throat got their attention.
"So don't you all have duties?" There were a number of sheepish looks. "Then I guess you need to go do them." Seeing the housekeeper, Elizabeth continued. "Mrs Pennywise, have you arranged refreshments for the soldiers? What about preparing for the arrival of the doctor or surgeon, hmm?" Suitably chastised, Mrs Pennywise rushed her nosey charges off to do something useful.
Waiting until they all filed past her, Elizabeth moved rapidly to the door then looked in. The injured man looked bad. Just lying there, not moving at all. Oh dear, maybe it was that bad… oh, he breathed. Elizabeth let out the breath she didn't realise she was holding with an audible sigh. There were a few soldiers in the room. Most were standing against the sides and talking in very low tones. But one, with less of the gold bits was sitting besides the bed, staring with desolated look. Doesn't look like anyone has offered to help. "Do you need anything?" Elizabeth said to the room in general.
The soldier besides the bed looked up, and in an Irish accent said, "Ma'am, a bowl o'water and a few cloths, if you could." He went back to staring at the injured man.
"Certainly." Elizabeth rang the bell pull then stepped into the hallway. Intercepting the rushing maid most of the way to the stairs, Elizabeth passed on the request, then waited. Before long the maid returned with a jug of water and some torn linen cloths. Taking them, Elizabeth bought them to the Irish soldier. He gave her a look of heartfelt gratitude, and proceeded to clean the blood of the patient's face. Elizabeth noticed the livid bruise and swelling below the bandaged area, so the bit covered must be a lot worse. Oh, dear this is not good, head injuries are always bad.
Elizabeth was about to ask for details when there was the sound of several men talking as they came up the stairs and along the hallway. Elizabeth hoped that this was the doctor so she could give Georgiana actual news about her brother not just her own guesses. She stood back against the wall, hoping not to be noticed and shooed away, looking at the men as they arrived.
First in was an older man, but still vigorous, well dressed, ah Doctor Warren. Following him was a smaller man, with a shuffling walk, carrying a bag and already wearing the blood splattered apron of his trade, Mr Cartwright, the surgeon. Then, in a red coat, which threw her for a moment, was Mr Darcy…!
But if that was Darcy, who…? what…? Who ever he was, Georgie needed to know, Mr Darcy was all right. Picking up her skirts, Elizabeth ran past the men, sobbing with relief of being able to tell Georgiana her brother was okay.
Darcy escorted the doctor and surgeon into the room where Richard lay. Darcy hoped Richard would recover fully from his wounds. Having survived several years of having all the enemy could throw at him, unscathed, then to be injured, possibly killed by a fellow Englishman? Life is very strange indeed.
As he stepped into the room, Darcy was surprised by a gasp by Miss Smith. She then ran, sobbing from the room. Another incomprehensible act on a day full of them. Not knowing what to make of it, he let it go, concentrating on what the doctor and surgeon had to report. At the same time, seeing Darcy arrive, the Militia officer's departed, nodding goodbye, but not saying anything.
The doctor was experienced with dealing with these sorts of wounds, although not usually this new. Ramsgate was one of the ports that soldiers injured on the peninsular arrived in England. While the doctor explained that, although the head wound was a worry, Richard's unconsciousness could only be seen as a blessing, as it would allow the surgeon to remove the pistol ball quickly. It will also allow him to set his wrist and stitch closed the gunshot and head wound.
The surgeon opened his bag and removed a range of instruments, the shape and nature made Darcy, normally a strong man, feel slightly queasy. In a business-like manner, the surgeon started on the leg wound. Thankfully, Sergeant O'Connor, who probably far more used to this, offered to help. It was not that Darcy wouldn't help, it just that he was glad O'Connor did. The noises as the surgeon dug around in his cousin's leg for the ball was bad enough.
For as a much as a distraction as the desire to know, Darcy thought about how it came to this. The events leading up to it were a bit hazy. He remembered sending the militia off at Wickham's request, which meant Wickham had to let the maid go free. Then there was the argument about leaving the diary. Darcy understood why Wickham insisted on taking the diary, but was money that important to him? That he'd risk his life for it? Should he have offered Wickham money earlier? If he did, could it have been resolved without his childhood friend dead and his cousin lying near lifeless as well?
Darcy's brow furrowed. If the events prior to the shots were hazy, the actual climatic event was etched into his memory, playing over and over. The window broke, a rifle poked through. Darcy remembered yelling to try and stop Wickham being shot, but too late. Whoever had done the deed, had intended to shoot Wickham from the start. The local magistrate will call it shot dead while in the commission of a kidnapping, but Darcy knew it was murder. And the firer was culpable in his cousin's injuries as well.
It was then that things slowed down, almost like they were all trapped in congealing amber. Wickham's pistol came round, at that moment Darcy knew it was pointed directly at him. He saw Wickham's fingers start to tighten on the trigger. Then the musket fired and Darcy remembered Wickham's look of surprise and pain as he was thrown forward by the impact. At the time Darcy knew he was relieved to see that this caused Wickham's pistol to move left, away from himself. But had he known the consequences, better had it not moved at all. The hammer came down, the gunpowder flashed, Darcy was sure he felt the pistol ball pass by him.
Darcy remembered standing there, in shock as Wickham completed his fall, then attempting to step down to help, as if he could have done anything for Wickham at that point. That was when Richard, hit in the right thigh must have fell forward, hitting his head on the corner of the stairwell and kitchen walls, before landing awkwardly on his right wrist, breaking that. It was at the end of this that Richard careened into Darcy, sending him sprawling as well. Darcy landing hard on both hands, ending up almost face to face with Wickham. Darcy could not forget looking across to Wickham to see him smile as the last of his life gushed from his chest. Why would he smile? Why?
That smile broke whatever spell he was under, and time switched to seemingly running too fast. Richard's silence was even more eerie as a counterpoint to the screaming coming from the kitchen staff as the realisation dawned of what had just happened in front of them. The events from that point on seemed to have blurred again. Darcy wracked his brain to try to resolve all the events he remembered into a coherent narrative, when he was interrupted.
"Psst." A woman's voice came from behind him. "Mr Darcy."
He hadn't asked for a servant. He turned ready to rebuke whichever maid had disturbed them, to realise it was Miss Smith. He stepped closer and said in a low voice. "What is it Miss Smith?"
"Mr Darcy, I know you need to be here, but your sister really needs to see you, I can watch in your stead, if you like?"
"What have you done to Georgiana?"
Again with that angry look. Women!. "Done, I have done nothing. But she thinks the man lying there is you."
"Why would she? Didn't she ask someone?"
"But can't you see, she saw an injured man with your coat and could only assume it was you. No one came to tell her anything. You all just forgot about her. Anyway I told her, but she won't believe me. You must go to her. Now! He can wait."
Darcy suddenly realised how it must seem from Georgiana's point of view. "Thank you Miss Smith. I have been remiss. Yes, please stay and watch while Richard is attended to."
With that comment, Elizabeth realised it was the cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. While not her brother, Georgiana would still take this hard. Elizabeth stood at the door, rather than go in, to be able to intercept Georgiana if she wanted to rush in. As a mother now, Elizabeth had recently started attending births, assisting Mrs Carter with her midwife activities. Several of these were rather visceral even gory. While she had become used to this, it was not a scene Georgie should be exposed to. Thankfully Georgiana stayed in her room with her brother.
Elizabeth was kept busy, as an intermediary, requesting the maids to bring more water or cloths or additional bandages, as the original ones had to be cut off, so could not be reused. She also arranged for the dirty bandages and the bloody water to be taken away.
Elizabeth watched as Mr Cartwright started on sewing up the deep gash on the Colonel Fitzwilliam's forehead, having started bandaging the thigh wound before she arrived. She felt a pang of jealously, as his stitches were neater and far more even than hers ever were. Elizabeth had the irreverent thought that he must do the most amazing embroidery, almost laughing at the image of him bent over an embroidery frame. She silently giggled at him hanging a sampler in his premises.
Doctor Warren stood back looking important and grave as Mr Cartwright did all the work, as usual. She didn't see the point of a doctor. The surgeon did all the work, the apothecary produced the physic and potions, a doctor just stood there looking wise and brought out the leeches. But she supposed he makes the wealthy, who were the only ones able to afford him, feel like they are doing everything possible. Elizabeth thought that the Colonel's moan while Mr Cartwright set and bound his wrist was good sign, and the Colonel's batman looked relieved as well.
In time, the surgeon's work was finished. While Mr Cartwright wiped down the tools of his trade and put them away, Doctor Warren did his incomprehensible 'doctor stuff'; peering into the patient's eyes after prying open each eyelid, listening to him breath, feeling for his pulse, lifting and dropping limbs, and other things that Elizabeth had no idea what he was doing, let alone why. This, of course, was accompanied by the usual humming and harring, clicks, 'hmmms' and 'yes, yes'. The routine was exactly the same as the few times he came to see Amy-Jane. At Mrs Carter's insistence, of course. Elizabeth trusted Mr Cartwright if it was a physical injury, and the apothecary for illness. Elizabeth supposed he'll go off to see Mr Darcy and talk at length about 'the balance of his humours', 'relieving tensions in his internal organs' and other incomprehensible medical terminology, she was convinced was just to show how much more learned he was to the common man.
So caught up in her thoughts she didn't realise that Mr Cartwright had packed up and, on his way out, was speaking to her. She only caught the last of what he said. "…you here?"
"Umm, sorry I wasn't attending."
"I just asked ma'am, what brings you here?"
"Oh, I thought that's what you said. I am a friend of Mr Darcy sister. I understand the patient is her cousin."
"So I believe. Ironic isn't it?"
"Why?"
"As an officer in the regulars, he's spent years leading men in battle. Not a scratch. While on leave, in England of all places, a mad man did what all the frenchies in the world couldn't and put a bullet in him."
"Yes it is isn't. Will he live?"
"Only God knows that, ma'am. I have done my best, oh and Doctor Warren as well. But if an infection does not set in, then he has every chance of recovering the use of his leg."
"So that is good news?"
"Partly. His wrist will be fine. The leg… well, as I said a good chance of a full recovery. It is the head wound that is the most worrying." Elizabeth made a non-committal noise, hoping to get a bit more information to pass on to Georgiana, and she supposed to Mr Darcy as well, as he would only get to hear from Doctor Warren.
"Yes, head wounds are always problematic. There is so little we can do. We can but wait, wait and pray, and hope. But if he doesn't wake sometime tomorrow then I have to say his chances are slight, and worsen the longer he doesn't wake. He is a healthy specimen, but either the head or leg wound could have easily proved fatal, and may yet do so. I don't wish to alarm you, but I thought it best to…"
Doctor Warren interrupted, having finished his examination. "Excuse me Cartwright. Oh, greetings ma'am. Well, the patient has the best possible chance if he's in your hands, Elizabeth. Mr Darcy has made an excellent choice in hiring you as his nurse. I will tell him so."
"You misunderstand doctor. I am here only as a friend of the Colonel's cousin, Miss Darcy. No I have not been hired, and I ask that you say no such thing to Mr Darcy."
"More's the pity. I credit your care as being the reason young Miss Clooney is now fit and well."
"You flatter me, sir. I do not deserve such praise. It was god's will she recovered."
"Say what you will ma'am, I know my business, and your contribution was invaluable, was it not Cartwright?"
"Yes, yes. You are too modest, Elizabeth Smith." Mr Cartwright's head was bobbing up and down furiously in agreement. "Remember just recently, when you, ma'am…"
Elizabeth felt herself starting to blush, embarrassed by the praise. Figuring that only moving them on would stop their gushing all over her, Elizabeth stepped back and, gesturing down the hallway with one arm, said, "Gentlemen, I am sure I should not keep you. I understand there are refreshments available downstairs."
Mr Cartwright bobbed his head a few more times, then hurried off in his usual scrambling walk. Rake thin, yet he ate like a horse and never passed up a free meal. Doctor Warren stood there deciding whether to accept being dismissed for a moment before doffing his hat with a, "Ma'am." Then he followed his colleague at a more dignified pace, to depredate Mr Darcy cellar, forgoing food over good wine if the choice ever presented itself.
Once they had gone, Elizabeth looked back into the room. The Irish soldier had cleaned up the patient and the room, so he and it no longer looked like they were in a surgeon's tent. He had also managed, (how was it possible?) to change the Colonel into his nightshirt. Well, thought Elizabeth, he's as presentable as he would ever be. She'd risk bringing Georgiana in to see him, no point hiding his condition. She waited until the soldier picked up the last of the dirty things and headed to the door, which was also in her direction.
When he was close enough to hear, she whispered, "I'm planning to go get Miss Darcy once you've managed to get rid of that." Nodding towards the bloody cloth in his hands. "Do you mind bringing back some tea? I am sure she will be in here a while. Oh… and a few sandwiches, I doubt she'll want to eat anything. I'll watch him while you're gone"
"No' a'tall, ma'am. I be righ' back." He hurried out.
Elizabeth wandered over to Georgie's cousin, and stood by the bed watching the patient. Colonel Fitzwilliam would not ever be described as a handsome man, and he certainly paled in comparison with his cousin, Mr Darcy. He didn't have Mr Darcy's imposing figure or deep authoritative voice. But, in his favour, he did have a disarming smile, and although neither particularly tall or broad, his figure was still trim and gentlemanly. She also remembered how he had defended her from Mr Darcy's insinuations. He was one of the few gentlemen that seemed to see past, or at least capable of ignoring, her situation once he knew of it.
For a moment Elizabeth wondered; if things had been different, and it had to have been very different, if she had first met Colonel Fitzwilliam about now, what could have happened? But, how would they have met? She would most likely be still in Meryton, a place so unlikely to meet soldiers to be laughable, and as for him, why would he, in fact anyone, notice the younger sister of someone so beautiful as Jane? Embarrassed at her own foolishness, Elizabeth started to tidy up the room, while waiting for the Irishman to return. Which he did, thankfully before Elizabeth had finished tidying, and needed to look for some other diversion from her unbidden painful daydreams.
The Irishman obvious noticed her distraction as he cleared his throat to get her attention. "Here's the tea ma'am. And some sand'iches for the youn' miss."
"Thank you… Sorry, we haven't been introduced. Elizabeth Smith." She curtsied.
"Sergeant O'Connor ma'am. Sergeant Shamus O'Connor. Please to meet you, I'm the Colonel's batman." He doffed his forage cap. "Best I carry on in here then, ma'am."
"Of course. Sorry. I'll be getting Miss Darcy." And with that Elizabeth left.
Darcy was sitting besides Georgiana's bed, providing silent comfort, just with his presence apparently. They had talked, but not really talked. Georgiana seemed reluctant (maybe unwilling) to let him know how she was, thwarting any attempts he had made to discuss what had just happened with silence, monosyllable answers and sometimes even tears. Giving up, for now at least, Darcy went to return to see how Richard was doing, but Georgiana would not let him go. He found this extremely frustrating, she wanted him here, but while he was here for her and tried to help, she wouldn't let him.
But Darcy supposed it was very early days, and she had several large shocks today, with the last probably being the worst. Maybe later I'll try to get to the bottom of why no one had bothered to tell Georgiana what had happened while he was away getting the Doctor and surgeon to attend. But at least she let him into the room this time, and even seemed genuinely pleased to see him, even though she still had that woman in attendance, probably getting close to his sister for what she could get out of it. Thinking of that woman, and here she is, appearing in the doorway as if his thoughts of her was a summons.
"Mr Darcy, a moment?" She smiled reassuringly, presumably at Georgiana, who must have seen her arrive.
Darcy got up and walked cautiously over to her.
"Mr Darcy, the surgeon and Doctor have finished and are downstairs partaking some refreshments. Your cousin has still not woken, but is lying peacefully. I was wondering… wondering if maybe… maybe Georgiana might want to come and visit him?"
"I don't think it's wise, my sister has had enough shocks for one day."
"Mr Darcy, while I will defer to your judgement, of course. But, from what the surgeon told me, I fear there is a chance the Colonel may not last until tomorrow." She stood there, clearly worried.
Darcy looked back at her sister, who seemed calm now. How could he inflict yet another shock on her while she was in this fragile condition? He was torn with indecision. Miss Smith had a valid point, if Richard did not survive the night, how could Georgiana forgive him for denying her the chance to be with him that one last time. Yet given how she was at the moment, and the way all his approaches seem to make things worse not better, what could he do, how could he inform her of Richard's condition. Maybe Miss Smith, who seemed to have the magic touch with his sister could tell her. No, she was his sister, so this was his responsibility.
"Mr Darcy, maybe I could speak to her, and, if she is agreeable, take her there?"
Who was this women? She gave every appearance of being able to read minds! "That would probably be for the best. Thank you." Said Darcy quite relieved.
"If you do not mind I will go speak with Georgiana. It may take some time, so maybe you could go to speak with the Doctor. Anyway, your cellar might just benefit from talking to him now, rather than later."
Darcy knew when he was being dismissed. He waited just long enough to see Miss Smith work whatever magic she did with Georgiana, raising the first smile he had seen since returning to the house. Shaking his head in disbelief, Darcy went downstairs to see what damage the Doctor was making to his cellar.
Directed to where the Doctor was waiting, Darcy walked in to see him holding a glass up to the window, examining it's characteristic colour. He turned as the door opened.
"Ah, Mr Darcy. Rather good drop of burgundy you have here."
Darcy noticed the dusty bottle, which had just been opened, standing next to another, although empty. "Yes, Doctor, it is a La Romanée-Conti 1778"
"As I said, a good drop. Don't see much of this around since the hostilities. Became too expensive."
"Quite." Darcy said with an edge to his voice. It was one of the best of his cellar he'd bought to Ramsgate.
"Good of you to share it." Waving the bottle at him, the Doctor continued, "Want a glass?"
"Thank you. I'll pour it myself". Darcy wandered over and relieved the Doctor of the bottle. Pouring a glass, thinking since it was now open, no point letting go to waste, but then he placed in back in the drinks cabinet, so the remainder would be available to drink with dinner. "So Doctor what is your diagnosis?"
The Doctor then proceeded to waffle on, trying to impress him with complex metaphysical terms. Darcy stood there half amused, I'm not one of your locals, impressed by your command of Latin and medical phraseology. By judicious interjected questions Darcy was able to decipher the following: Richard's broken wrist would heal in time with little or no fuss. The gunshot wound had fractured, but thankfully not shattered Richard's femur, adding a break to the wound, so was a cause for concern. But the concussion and swelling at Richard's temple was a much larger concern, although his skull appeared unbroken, the Doctor could not do anything for it, or say when or even if, Richard would wake. But as always, the biggest concern was infection. The wrist was a clean break with no broken skin, so no chance of infection there. However, both the head and gunshot wound had to be stitched, and that always bought risk of infection, with the size of the leg wound making it by far the likeliest candidate. Once again the Doctor had no answers to this, and the reality boiled down to, wait and pray.
While Darcy wished to move Richard back to London, to get the best care possible, even Darcy saw it was completely impossible. Maybe he could get a leading Doctor to come to Ramsgate? But then that would put the local Doctor Warren's nose out of joint and, unless the London doctor was prepared to come for the duration, Richard would be relying on the local doctor a good deal of the time. As the Doctor came to his rambling conclusions, Darcy felt his diagnosis was sensible and considered, it would just have been nice to have been told it in much fewer words.
"Thank you Doctor. So, as you say, the next week will be critical. I can assure you that he will receive the best possible care." Darcy added silently, that can be arranged in as small a place as Ramsgate.
"Oh, you have no need to worry about that. I see you already have one of the best nurses already."
"What do you mean?"
"Elizabeth Smith, sir. You have already obtained her services, or I assume you will do so. She is worth every penny you'll pay her and twice again. She said not to mention it to you, but I felt it best for you know how highly Mr Cartwright and I consider her ability with the ill or infirm. Although she usually asks for nothing, mind, in your case you have the means to be generous, unlike most of her patients. But don't worry, sir. We, that is to say we aldermen ensure her efforts get rewarded, where we can."
Darcy was frowning that this point. What, is Miss Elizabeth aiming to get paid for this? I suppose she has to generate an income somehow. Yet the doctor was saying she usually nurses others from charity?
"Well, thank you for your advice. Yes, Miss Smith is currently assisting. I shall seriously consider engaging her in that capacity long term." Darcy thought, will I? Where did that comment come from? I will need to watch myself, I'm speaking without thinking.
"We don't call her Miss Smith. No, not around here. Just call her Elizabeth or Elizabeth Smith or address her as ma'am. That way you won't upset anybody."
Darcy was puzzled by this. Why would using her correct name upset anyone? Oh well, small towns often had their local foibles, Lambton wasn't immune to them.
"Thank you for letting me know. I certainly did not mean to upset anyone."
"We are used to outsiders treating her poorly. There are some, particularly those she has helped directly, that take umbrage, even if she doesn't. Just wanted you to know as you are likely to be here a while, as your cousin will not be in a position to be moved anytime soon."
With that, the Doctor emptied his glass and looked around, obviously wanting a top up, but not rude enough to help himself when the host was in the room. To forestall having to waste more excellent wine on him, Darcy decided it best to change the subject. "So what do I owe you for today?"
The doctor named a figure, which was very reasonable. Darcy realised he should have objected a little as the doctor then added another amount for the surgeon's fees. Darcy knew this should be included in his first amount but obviously he thinks he can make a bit extra from someone from out of town. But, given that the combination was less than half a London doctor charged just for himself, it was neither here nor pulled out his wallet and handed over the full amount asked.
"Thank you sir. Let me know as soon as there is any change in your cousin's condition, any time tonight. I will be back to check on him early tomorrow."
Darcy had planned to go up to see Richard, leaving the good doctor to make his own way out, but his cellar, probably well depleted by Wickham, probably could not survive another guest's desires. "Thank you once again. Now I am sure you have other patients waiting." Darcy gestured the doctor towards the door. With one last look, unsuccessfully, for the bottle, the Doctor put his glass down and preceded Darcy out the door and into the front hall. Darcy nodded at the footman, who opened the front door.
"Goodbye Doctor Warren. I will send for you if Richard's condition changes."
"Please do that. Goodbye Mr Darcy."
Darcy watched as Doctor Warren left and, only after the front door was closed, turned to go up to Richard's room. He paused briefly to arrange the footman to take a writing desk up there, along with the accounts and all the correspondence in the study. He was likely to have time to go through the lot while Richard recovered; looking at what else Mrs Younge and Wickham could have been up to. And then there were all the letters he'd have to write. No, best send the Earl an express, and have him inform the other parties necessary. Oh… Darcy could not remember if the Countess was in London or not. Maybe it would be best to include her letter in with the express to his uncle. Darcy pondered this as he climbed the stairs.
Along the hallway he heard the two ladies talking in low tones. He increased the heaviness of his steps and coughed a few times to let them know he was coming. Entering the room, he saw Georgiana sitting in a chair besides the bed, her hand on Richard's shoulder. Elizabeth Smith was sitting alongside her. Georgiana gave a wide, if brief smile, then stood and came over to him.
"Fitzwilliam, Lizzie let me know what the Doctor thinks. But... But, do you think he will wake up soon?" Darcy looked at Elizabeth Smith, trying to determine what she may have said to his sister. She shook her head and mimed prayer. He agreed, best not to give her false hope.
"Dearest Georgie. It is in the hands of Our Lord now. Doctor Warren and the surgeon have done the best they can. But if we all pray, maybe God will allow him to wake soon."
"Oh Fitzwilliam I feel so helpless, and… and I… I caused it. It's all my fault!" Georgiana burst into tears again. Holding her Darcy whispered soothing words, trying to explain the Wickham was villain and the one at fault not her. Looking back at Elizabeth Smith, she was nodding her head and smiling in sympathy. He imagined she had dealt with this several times already. She stood up and came over to the pair of them.
"Georgiana." Pausing until she got his sister's attention, she continued, "I will have to go home to see to my daughter, but I will be back as soon as I can."
"Oh, Lizzie, don't go!"
"I must, dear, but your brother is here. Maybe you can read to your cousin, I am sure that he can hear you even if he doesn't respond. No? Not up to it? No, that's all right, you've had a very stressful day... Well how about you ask your brother to tell you stories of when they were both naughty boys together. I am sure he will have a few." She gave him a wicked grin and raised her eyebrows, ""Don't you?"
Darcy gave a wry smile. Yes it was true, the stories that came to mine when put on the spot like this, the recent ones were not suitable for a young lady, or earlier ones contained Wickham. Then he remembered, of course, Wickham never came with him to Lady Catherine's so anything at Rosings Park would be fine.
"Yes of course. Georgiana say goodbye to Elizabeth Smith and I will tell the saga of how the dent got in the suit of armour next to the east wing stairs at Lady Catherine's." Darcy was gratified to see he had managed to stop Georgiana's tears and even raise a weak smile.
"Goodbye Lizzie. Say hello and hug Amy-Jane for me."
"No problem dear. I will not be long. 'Bye. Goodbye Mr Darcy."
"Goodbye ma'am."
Once Elizabeth Smith left, Darcy proceeded to spin out the tail of two boys, a long and slippery banister, a pile of cushions liberated from their aunt's parlour and a very surprised parson, who had been sent to find them. At the end of this, Georgiana was no longer looking like she was about to start crying again. Thinking quickly, Darcy then remembered another tail about a boat race in the stream bordering Rosings, using paper boats made from the newly delivered London Times, which his aunt had not read yet, as the witch hunt for the servant that had the audacity to steal her paper before the real culprits were found. Now clearly amused, Georgie requested, no, demanded more stories. Darcy was happy to oblige. While most of the stories were as young boys, he was able to remember a few more recent ones suitable for her ears.
After a number of these stories, she was calm enough open to the suggestion to read to Richard. She chose a collection of Shakespeare's sonnets. That gave Darcy time to write and send the urgent expresses he needed, then once finished he enjoyed just sitting there hearing his sisters gentle, cultured voice pick out all the subtleties of emotion contained within.
Thanks to Elizabeth Smith's suggestion, the afternoon passed in a much happier manner than Darcy had expected. It was only when the servants came to light the candles, did Darcy realise that the whole day had passed. By this time Georgiana had listened to enough stories, done enough reading, to want to just sit, relaxing in his lap, as she did as a much younger girl. Darcy was very pleased that Georgiana was still turning to him for comfort, he had worried that somehow he had lost her, but that did not seem the case.
They had been sitting there for a while, both not feeling the need to say anything, Darcy particularly enjoying the moment when Elizabeth Smith returned. As he started to try to shift Georgiana so he could stand up, Elizabeth waved him down.
"Mr Darcy, Georgiana. Dinner is ready downstairs. I'll watch you cousin for a bit."
"Thank you, ma'am.' Actually using ma'am was a good compromise. It was nice of Doctor Warren to let him know. She had been of considerable help all day. While Darcy waited for his sister to rouse herself, he pondered on how to approach offering something for her services without offending. His sister seemed content to just sit here, she didn't seem to be moving.
"Georgie, you heard her, dinner is ready, come let's go." But Georgie just snuggled closer.
"Please, dearest you need to eat something." Georgie just shook her head.
"Please?" No answer, and no movement.
"Georgie. You need to eat. Stop this silliness! It is dinner time." Still nothing. He looked at Elizabeth Smith with a perplexed expression. Now what?
It was then that Elizabeth Smith took over, "Georgiana. Dear. I know you do not feel like eating, but you'll be no use to your cousin if you are fainting from hunger." With those words, Georgiana slipped off his lap and stood up. Well, there you go, once again she seemed to know exactly what to say. Darcy stood as well, and holding out his arm, proceeded to escort his sister to dinner.
Dinner was a quiet affair. The menu was thoughtful and the food properly cooked. It helped that the wine from the bottle opened earlier was excellent. Enquiring with Georgiana about the meal, she had no knowledge regarding its preparation, so he asked the servers, who said sir would have to tlak to Mrs Pennywise. So he did. Mrs Pennywise explained that earlier Elizabeth Smith had come into find that a menu had not been planned and the housekeeper couldn't just repeat yesterday's menu as they didn't have the right ingredients. So she spent a bit of time sitting with her to plan tonight's meal. Mrs Pennywise said how grateful she was for Elizabeth's help, as she did not want to let Mr Darcy down, with everything going on, but was too flustered with what had happened to know what to do. But she did assure Mr Darcy that she had all of the old menu's so she could just repeat them from now on.
Darcy realised that a mistress of the house would normally organise this, and with Mrs Younge gone, it was supposed to fall to Georgiana. How he wished to have Mrs Reynolds or Mrs Taylor here now. Georgiana will need someone to help her with her duties, maybe Mrs Taylor could send someone to assist? If they were going to stay here any length of time, he'll need a number of things. Georgiana had enough, but Richard will need a number of things also. Darcy had Sergeant O'Connor summoned. O'Connor was very happy to set out at first light to London, with a list of instructions. Darcy promised to write it a soon as he returned to Richard's room and asked him to return in an hour or so.
Darcy tentatively approached Georgiana with the subject of the menus and the management of the household. She explained that Mrs Younge had done all of it, but she was willing to try, if he allowed Lizzie to help her, because she knew Lizzie was much better at this that she could be. Out loud Darcy agreed, as what else could he do, but did wonder silently how she would know about how to do this, given her apparent age and background. There must be a lot more to her story than he supposed. It certainly seemed she had some of the skills taught to the daughter of the gentry.
Once dinner was finished, he escorted Georgiana upstairs, hoping to convince her to retire early. But Georgiana said she was too nervous and did not want to sleep just yet. When they entered the room, Elizabeth Smith had not been idle while they were downstairs. Apparently the Sergeant and her had rearrange the furniture to suit a sick room, and she was in the process of doing those little touches, that soften and brighten a room, something a needed a feminine touch. She smiled so spontaneously, so sweetly at Georgiana's entry, and got the same in return, Darcy wondered why he had even questioned in his mind that their friendship might not have been deep or real.
Darcy excused himself, explaining that as he was likely to be here for at least the rest of Georgiana's planned stay (that bought another genuine smile, at last little bits of his Georgiana shone through) he would have to write to instructions for Steele and Mrs Taylor, and his solicitor that Sergeant O'Connor would take back to London at first light. When asked, Georgiana did request if Mrs Taylor could send a few more of her practical dresses and more of her own library, to which Darcy readily agreed.
As he thought out and wrote down his instructions, the two ladies sat off to one side to talk, about what he couldn't tell, they spoke in voices too low to carry. In time Darcy had finished, not taking too much over an hour, so O'Connor did not have to wait for it long. The Sergeant excused himself as soon as it was handed over, given his early start.
Darcy had hoped to have Georgiana retire, but she still refused, complaining she was still too nervous to sleep. He suggested laudanum to help with that, but in an uncharacteristic outburst she accused Darcy of wanting to getting rid of her, as he didn't want to see the person that was to blame for Richard's injuries. Darcy tried to explain that, although her actions may have precipitated what happened, she should not accept the sole blame for Wickham's actions. This, it was very clear once he uttered it, was not the right thing to say, as it provoked such a hysteric reaction it took Elizabeth Smith considerable time to calm his sister. All accompanied by her glares, of course. It was so infuriating. Darcy had to event an excuse about getting some extra reading material and arranging extra candles. Which, of course, Elizabeth Smith had already though of and already arranged, plus altering the maid schedules so there would always be someone awake through the night.
When Darcy returned, taking enough time to 'select' his books (but in reality savouring a good stiff drink while he contemplated the enigma that was Elizabeth Smith). As he had come to expect, she had managed to get Georgiana to take laudanum and his sister finally was asleep.
Darcy settled into a comfortable chair that must have been carried up to the room during dinner and started to read, noticing Elizabeth Smith was doing the same opposite him.
.
.
.
I enjoy getting reviews (who doesn't). But if you are considering posting a review, I would appreciate you could consider answering the following, for either just this chapter, or for the whole story:
- What bits did you most enjoy?
- Was there any bits you didnt like, or think out of place?
- Was there any bits you thought "what was that about"?
.
.
I also have a forum = via book, Pride & prejudice or #93273, its there if you have any comments about this story specifically or just want to discuss P&P.