Part 2 – Relatives, Chapter 13
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Just for everyone that have written reviews regarding Mr Collins. Having read all those for and those against, my completely arbitrary decision, which bears little relation to anyone's specific 'solution' is:
[drum roll please]
Stick with my original plot outline that has Mr Collins already in Hunsford, already under the tutelage of Lady Catherine.
However the overly judgmental Reverend Grenville might stick his oversized nose in the goings on in Darcy household, and might just get it bitten off...
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Elizabeth was also very relieved at the arrival of a number of additional maids from the Darcy residence in London. While reluctant to go until the new maids knew what they were to do, Mr Darcy, in his usual arrogant manner, ordered her home, rather than allow her to stay to see them settle in. Oh well, if he going to be like that, she'll leave him to sort it out. While he did seem concerned about the affect of this on her health, Elizabeth had hoped he would have been a bit more gracious in his manner. But it was she had always expected from this gentlemen, and once again it was confirmed.
Feeling refreshed from the first decent night's sleep, and given a break from sick room duties, Elizabeth was able to spend a bit of time with Amy Jane and Georgiana. Elizabeth heard, rather than saw Doctor Warren, but the way he stomped out muttering something, it sounded like he was not able to get Mr Darcy to agree with some course of treatment, possibly bleeding. The Doctor was a great advocate for it, something she never saw being much use. Then, when she distinctly heard the name "Mr Cartwright", Elizabeth blanched knowing that it was far more likely talk of amputation. Realising that she best not alarm Georgiana, Elizabeth put her previous thoughts out of her mind with the final thought, "It is now in God's hands and what will be will be", and returned to her conversation with Georgiana.
Elizabeth had become very close to this young woman. Georgiana was still tentative in her manner to others, the experience with Mr Wickham having reinforced this, but Elizabeth had hope to teach her to be more forthright in her opinions, something she thought she had some success with. Elizabeth smiled to herself, remembering one or two of the times Georgiana stood up for herself against her brother. The look of surprised on his face with her audacity was priceless.
Their current conversation would probably be considered by many an unsuitable topic for a young woman, but Elizabeth saw no reason not to let Georgiana discuss Greek philosophy. Sometimes Elizabeth had to translate on the fly when the example she wanted to show Georgiana could only be found in the original Greek. Elizabeth thought it unfortunate the Admiral's library was mostly for show, so had older works, usually in the original Greek and Latin, rather than her father's library, which swapped them for more assessable English translations. Georgiana found Greek completely incomprehensible, but her Italian allowed her to get the gist of Latin, even if Elizabeth had to help at times, starting to teach her to read it directly herself. Georgiana thought maybe she should not be learning read Latin, or she could be considered a bluestocking. Elizabeth rubbished the idea, chalking up Georgiana's attitude to another fault to assign her brother.
It helped that they shared a similar quickness of mind and a similar sense of humour, actually quite similar to Mr Darcy, but Elizabeth supposed that could only be expected, given they were siblings. With all his faults, Mr Darcy did appear to care of his sister in exemplary fashion, if possibly leaving a bit too much of her education to others, and, at times neglecting her a little. Although when explaining this Georgiana did excuse his behaviour by saying he apologised afterwards, usually because estate matters took too much of his time. Elizabeth thought of all the hours her father spent with her, on their mutual love of books and knowledge, it seemed that managing the Longbourn estate did not take that much time at all. Admittedly Pemberley sounded quite a bit bigger, but even then it couldn't take that much more time than her father had.
As Elizabeth had intended, the philosophical discussion on morality changed from the theoretical to more specific applications, such as justice and the application of the law. The debate was lively and, although not worldly wise or having a lot of experience, Georgiana was prepared to take a position and defend it as required, and did not just agree with everything Elizabeth said. While the Darcy's obviously lived a life of luxury, Elizabeth was pleased that at least this Darcy had a heart and was concerned about the lives of all those that depended on them.
By late afternoon, Amy Jane started getting crotchety, and Elizabeth took her home, for dinner and then to bed. She explained that once Amy Jane was in bed, she'd be going back to the Darcy's to continue to care for the Colonel. Elizabeth was prepared to defend her actions as only that of someone that could saw a need and was able to help. Although Mrs Carter raised her eyebrows and gave Elizabeth a pointed look, she said nothing. The conversation, while Elizabeth helped prepare the vegetables, was of more mundane things; Amy Jane's new pinafore already needed to be taken down, she was growing so fast, Mrs Frenleigh had a letter from her son in the Navy, Mrs Clooney had 3 eggs in a row with double yokes, and similar minutiae.
Elizabeth immersed herself back into this day-to-day activity, the sheer ordinariness and automatic nature of the activity restored her serenity. Even when Amy Jane pestered them to be allowed to help, as she always did, and had to be shooed away from the hot oven and boiling water, brought with it the realisation that life, its little repeating patterns, carried on. All the excitement and tragedy of the last few days were something extraordinary, even if it felt like they had been going on for weeks.
After making up another story where Amy Jane was a princess, this time rescued from a high tower by a very tall man with dark hair – that had become her favourite description of the inevitable rescuer – who fought off a dragon this time, Elizabeth tucked her daughter into bed and kissed her good night. The evening ritual concluded, Elizabeth left the house calm, with renewed energy to help get through another night caring for the Colonel.
The talk over dinner was a bit stilted, Darcy realised that his general tiredness and worry over Richard made him a less than engaged conversationalist. He suspected the same for Georgiana as well. But he did make the attempt and asked how was her afternoon with Elizabeth? By all accounts she certainly sounded as she enjoyed it, mentioning how they talked all afternoon. But when asked about the topic could have engaged them all that time, Georgie looked down at her plate and mumbled something. Realising they must have talked about 'lady' things, Darcy let that topic drop, and asked how she was finding managing the dinner menus. The change of subject bought back her animation, and they had a fairly long conversation about the coming week's menus, even if it did become rather silly towards the end with each pretending to be different animals arguing about which of them would be the roast. Georgiana's imitation of a pig was particularly amusing.
Darcy escorted Georgiana to bed after dinner. He was very concerned about her, while she kept saying nothing was wrong, and was quite animated at dinner, it was obvious to him that she was taking Richard's situation badly. He remembered how devastated Georgie had been when Father died, and how it was Richard who had been able to comfort her, when he could not. His own grief and the suddenly acquired responsibilities left him ill-prepared the last time she faced death and struggled to cope with grief. Darcy vowed, this time he would be there for her. Even if it meant having to deal with the workload of Pemberley early in the morning or late at night, caring for Richard showed him it could be done were there was enough desire to do so.
When Darcy arrived at the sickroom, Elizabeth was tidying up after finishing feeding Richard broth. One of the Darcy maids, Darcy thought it was Sally, had collected a few of the books and was just heading out the door when Darcy reached across and grabbed the book he was still reading off the pile. With an apology, Sally disappeared downstairs with the rest of them. As he moved over to Richard, Elizabeth looked up and smiled. Darcy as sat, she excused herself to go to Georgiana.
Darcy sat near Richard. He was awake, if barely so. Darcy asked how he was but all he got in reply was a brief mumble before he lay back and closed his eyes. Taking the hint, Darcy opened the third volume of Plutarch and started reading out loud, something he and Elizabeth had found helped him get to sleep, and this time was no exception. Darcy carried on for at least another chapter, before giving his voice a rest. Putting his book down, Darcy looked over at the door, hoping that Elizabeth would finish talking with his sister soon. Thinking of her, Darcy wondered about the meaning of that small smile just before she left. Could he have been a little too open in his regard for Elizabeth? That would not do as it could raise her expectations for something that Darcy had no intention of fulfilling, even if he had, for a brief moment considered marriage. But no, of course not, the idea has ridiculous. Just thinking of it brought to mind all the reasons why it was preposterous. Happy that his rational mind had resolved the issue, he was sitting back in the chair feeling to contentment you get from making the correct decision, when the lady in question walked in.
Without knowing quite why, Darcy felt like he was five again and had been caught filching biscuits, so flushed with embarrassment, he stood on her entrance. Oh dear, he hoped she had not seen it, as it could reinforce an unrealistic expectation on her part. Suddenly awkward, Darcy stood uncertain whether to sit again, move or what. Thankfully Elizabeth went over and sat off to one side, so he sat back down again, this time in an easy chair by the desk that gave a clear view of Richard, and Elizabeth too. Pretending to read, he continued to glance her way, while endeavouring to demonstrate how detached and unaffected by her presence he was. At that point Darcy resolved to act a little less forward, to fall back on his usual reserve to make it clear their relationship was platonic and would always remain that way. Putting the book down, he watched as slowly, and with a number of muttered exclamations and unpicked stitches, Elizabeth added a strip of fabric onto the bottom of a child's dress.
Darcy woke to the sound of Elizabeth's reading in low tones. Glancing around, the candles suggested he had dozed off for at least an hour, maybe as much as two. He looked over her as he flushed with embarrassment (again, what was with that?) to see her close the book she was reading.
"Sorry, must have dozed off. How is he?"
"He is still sleeping, if fitfully at times. Sorry to wake you. I was just reading to calm him."
"It's no problem. I should be awake anyway. What are you reading?"
"Oh it's just the book I assume you had been reading to him earlier." But, Darcy thought I was reading Plutarch in the traditional Latin. No it must be another. Rather than reply, Darcy looked around and tried to think what other book she could be reading, but could not think what it could be. The was a way to find out, "Pray continue, don't let me interrupt you."
"Oh, sure where was I?" Darcy watched as she skimmed her eyes down the page before starting again.
"Well, here goes. 'Non opus est cum amico mutationes mutationes qui cùm nutus nutus. Nunc umbram esse melius facit'." Elizabeth let out a soft laugh and looked his way.
Wow, Darcy thought, her reading Plutarch in Latin was somewhat unexpected. Maybe she thought it was best to use a different language would help calm Richard. Still praise where it is due. "Your pronunciation is very good, although a little Italian in accent."
"I suppose I had far more practice in Italian. Not much call to read Latin is there?"
"No unless you manage to disguise yourself and sneak into a Cambridge classics lecture."
"I hadn't thought of doing that, maybe Georgiana could look after Amy Jane while you take me." This last statement was accompanied by a cheeky grin. Damn, thought Darcy here I go raising her expectations again. Still best to quash them politely, "I'm sorry, ma'am, my university days are over."
"Pity, it would have been fun. Still, that quote from Cicero made me laugh."
Hmm, she even knew it was Cicero, must recognise his name in the text. "How so?"
"Oh, it reminds me of Georgie and my friendship, a loose translation is 'I don't need a friend who changes only when I change and who nods when I nod; my shadow does that much better'. Particularly reminds me of the conversation on Greek philosophy we had this afternoon. Oh, dear don't be upset at Georgiana, she was worried you'd not approve, so just pretend I haven't told you, please."
Darcy sat there stunned. It was very clear that not only could read Latin, she was understood it and could translate it in her head. Something Darcy found he was also able to do, but most of his fellow students needed to write down each part before being able to come up with a grammatically correct translation into English.
She continued, "You don't mind do you? I didn't mean to get Georgie into trouble. I stuck with the most classic of the Greek philosophers. You'd be proud how well she defended her views."
Distractedly Darcy replied, "No, no. Don't mind. Not at all." While processing the information that Elizabeth and Georgiana had both had a discussion about philosophy – that was why his sister had been shy at dinner – but Georgiana had entered into a debate with someone as good as Elizabeth. He was only half aware of what she said next.
"Pity about the Admiral's library, mostly for show, so most is older books in the original Greek. My Greek is like my Latin, rather rusty. I suspect some of my translations must not have been that understandable. My father's library was much more up to date, with decent English translations for most of the books that are here only in the Greek." As soon as she mentioned her father, Darcy paid particular attention, as she continued, "Pity really. I remember when I was fourteen Father went down to London to get the Collected Works of Plato, translated by Stewart. While this one is more famous, I think Haggard's translation is better, capturing the cadence, the poetry of the original Greek in ways Steward didn't, however more exacting in wording. Still, I made him promise to be back the same day. So he left on the stage first thing. Oh, the wait... the day seemed like a whole week, but he was back before nightfall… We spent the whole evening until the wee small hours reading and arguing whether this was a better translation… We did that often, reading and debating until much too late…" Elizabeth sniffed, tears glinting in the candlelight. Gathering herself up, she seemed to put her memories behind her and Started reading again, "Non opus est cum…"
While not happy that, however inadvertent, the topic had upset Elizabeth, Darcy wanted to rejoice, and it took all of his self control not to do so visibly. Yes! A real clue to Elizabeth's story. She lived only half a day's trip by stage to London, that narrowed it down a great deal, and did she say 'down to London' which suggests somewhere north of London, as opposed to south, which would be 'up', as a direction to her father's estate. And it had to be an estate to have such a library and to afford a first edition Stewart. Actually he always thought the Stewart was the better translation, but her comment made him think about reading Socrates in the Greek, and he hadn't noticed, but yes, what he could remember, voicing it out silently in his head, did have a particular poetry to it, like Shakespearian blank verse, though not iambic pentameter, it was still poetic in nature. He had a great deal to think about, and sat back to work through it, while Elizabeth's gentle voice washed over him.
The cheek of the man, making her bring up all those memories that she had tried to leave behind. Probably enjoyed upsetting me. Probably punishing me for getting Georgiana interested in non-ladylike activities. But Georgiana had a fine mind, and it would be a tragedy it she was taught to hide it, as most high-born women were. Elizabeth supposed her education was a little unusual for a lady, but, laughing, it didn't matter, she was not lady (apparently).
Mr Darcy stayed awake for the next few hours while she read to the Colonel, obviously deep in thought. Although he must be glancing at her from time to time, as he looked away every time she looked in his direction. Probably waiting for the horns or other physical signs of how unnatural she was. Well, she won't give him the satisfaction.
The rest of the night's vigil was shared between the two of them, with the Darcy household maids coming in and out, emptying the chamber pot, changing the water for fresh cool water to cool him as required. While it could be considered an improvement, Elizabeth feared his lassitude to be a bad sign. She'd seen this before, it usually meant the invalid no longer had the strength to fight the infection, and this was the very start of the final stage. She debated with herself if to tell Mr Darcy, but in the end, as she did not know for sure that whether it really was the point of hopelessness she decided to stay silent.
The morning saw no change in his condition. He was able to stay awake long enough to eat most of bowl of beef broth, but fell asleep almost immediately afterwards. He now appeared so immured to the pain, he longer asked for Laudanum. Elizabeth felt for Mr Darcy, he had appeared to be debating with himself, probably whether to get Mr Cartwright in to perform the amputation.
It was still early in the morning, before even Elizabeth had spoke with Georgiana when there was a loud commotion downstairs followed by the sound of booted feet running closer. The door burst open and in rushed a frantic looking Sergeant O'Connor.
"Where is he? Tell me I'm not too late."
Mr Darcy was a bit more awake than she was as he answered first. "He's still here, but only just. But, no, you are not too late."
"T'ank da blessed Mary and all da saints. The butchers haven't lopped it off yet have they? Oh, sorry ma'am."
Elizabeth reassured him, "No offence taken. No, they haven't amputated his leg yet."
"That's great, as soon as I heard I rushed here." He pulled out a jar from his pocket. "I got 'ere in time. This should mean he'll keep 'is leg."
Elizabeth was highly suspicious, the Sergeant probably had been sold nostrum in a jar by a quack, no doubt at exorbitant rates. As she stood to move closer, she was aware that Mr Darcy had done the same and was standing just behind her. O'Connor turned back towards them both, while lifting the sheets from the Colonel. "Youse might find this a bit disturbin'. I t'ink you no' want to look."
Mr Darcy replied over her shoulder, "No Sergeant, we'll stay. If you don't mind?"
Elizabeth watched as O'Connor cut and lifted off the bandages to expose the leg wound. The stench of putrefaction was strong, the wound looked an angry red and swollen, disturbing fluids were leaking out from around the stitches. Elizabeth hadn't actually seen anything like this before and felt nauseous. Looking behind her, she saw Mr Darcy also looking green but also determined, so she decided to stay as well, so as not to give Mr Darcy the satisfaction of seeing her having to leave.
O'Connor blanched, "Oh the blessed virgin, I've come jus' in time." He put the jar down and got out a folding knife. "Actually, sir, can youse 'old 'is legs? And ma'am, best you go to 'is shoulders an' 'old 'im there also."
Elizabeth went to obey him, watching with equal parts horror and fascination as the Sergeant, ensuring they were in place, sliced through the stitches and then pushed each side of the wound, forcing the corruption out of the Colonel's leg. Elizabeth gagged, and heard Mr Darcy do the same, but both concentrated on holding the Colonel from thrashing around.
O'Connor grabbed one of the sheets and wiped up the fluids that had come out of the wound and then dropped it on the floor. Picking up his jar, and taking off the lid, her poured the contents out into the wound, with a, ""Right, my beauties, 'ere ya go."
Elizabeth watched as O'Connor poured what seemed like hundreds of maggots out of the jar. She was about to question what was going on when Mr Darcy beat her to it. "Here man, what are you doing!"
"A trick we learn from the Spanish guerrilla's when there aint no medicine. I seen it work several times. The secret is to get the little wigglers to eat all the corrupt flesh and ill humours which is poisoning 'im, and whip 'em out before they damage the good flesh."
Elizabeth had never heard of this treatment, ""Are you sure?"
"Else it's lop 'is leg off, and he'd not live through that."
"I would have to agree with you. Well Mr Darcy, I certainly willing to give this a try, no other option gives the Colonel anything other than the faintest chance."
"All right, I concur. How long Sergeant? When do we whip them out?"
"Leave 'em today. I'll pull 'em out mid afternoon." Looking down, he adjusted the sheets so they tented over the Colonel's leg.
"Fine, we'll wait." Turning to her, Mr Darcy said, "Ma'am, are you happy in keeping Georgiana out of the room today? I feel the absence of the bandages has made the air in here barely palatable."
Elizabeth felt that this time Mr Darcy was correct, this was no place for her friend. So she nodded her head, and left. The rest of the morning was spent with Georgiana as usual, although Elizabeth was a little distracted the whole morning with worry. She did hope that her concern was not too apparent, trying not to cause Georgiana to worry.
When she returned just after midday to deliver the lunch, Mr Darcy was relaxed, reading and O'Connor was fussing about the Colonel. The Colonel was sleeping peacefully and seemed to be breathing much more vigorously. He also seemed a little better, the harsh flush of fever appeared have eased. Looking at Mr Darcy, he said nothing but gave her a reassuring smile and waved her away. Getting the hint, she backed off and closed the door, leaving the broth on the table in the hall in case they needed it.
Elizabeth went downstairs, said goodbye to Georgiana and returned home. After lunch, Elizabeth and Amy Jane returned to the Darcy's. In defiance to the brother, Elizabeth continued the philosophical discussions as Georgiana had requested it. Getting out what she could find in the library, Elizabeth commenced to introduce her to more recent philosophers. The afternoon passed quickly, an odd combination of Aquinas, Hobbes, Descartes and Hume with periods of teaching Amy Jane letters or playing with her dolls.
Late afternoon, Elizabeth excused herself to take another bowl of broth to the patient. She knocked on the door. Mr Darcy opened it and gestured her inside. The Colonel was still asleep, but as O'Connor saw her arrive he gave him a shake. The Colonel woke and looked over and gave her a weak smile. In a firm, if still weak voice, the Colonel said, "Ah sustenance."
Elizabeth nearly fainted with relief.
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Note: If anyone is fluent in Latin, can you let me know if the Google translate converted the Cicero quote from English to Latin correctly.