A/N – Sorry!
Disclaimer – All original P&P characters belong to Jane Austen
Chapter 27
Charlotte awoke to the sound of someone pounding on the front door. Unable to use her hands to help her rise from her place on the floor she had to awkwardly move to her knees first before getting to her feet.
She did not know for how long she had slept, but the hallway was dark so it must have been at least for a few hours. She opened the heavy wooden door carefully, wincing as her injured finger caught on the latch.
Dr. Peterson looked her over with some concern and wordlessly ushered her inside.
"Do you need some assistance walking Mrs Collins?"
"No, thank you doctor, but I would appreciate it if you could take a look at my hands. I believe that I do have some injuries that will require your attention."
They walked to the kitchen and after making sure that Charlotte was seated, Dr. Peterson lit the lamps and set them on the table to allow him to examine her as requested. He gently took her hands, seeing the dirt and gravel embedded in the soft skin of her palms, noting the finger held at an unnatural angle and he carefully raised the sleeve of her cloak to palpate her swollen, and by now bruised, wrist.
"First things first, let's rid you of this cloak," he undid the clasps at the front of the cloak and with his help Charlotte was able to shrug off the cloak. The doctor placed the dirty garment on a vacant chair.
"Have you vomited Madam?" He asked after noting the stains on her cloak.
"Yes, but I do not feel any nausea at this moment."
"Good, you were probably sick from the pain. Do you think you could manage to drink a small brandy?"
"To be honest I would prefer a cup of tea, I feel quite chilled. I'm afraid that I was very fatigued on my return and I fell asleep on the hallway floor."
"A cup of tea it is then. I need to boil a kettle anyway as I need some fairly hot water to clean your hands."
"The copper in the wash house will be hot enough for washing"
"But not for tea, so I'll put on the kettle and then see if I can find some clean linens and soap."
"You'll find everything you need in the wash house," she blushed a little. "We have a bath set up behind the screen so you'll find soap and towels too."
Dr. Peterson filled the kettle and put it on the hearth before he set off to find the items he required. He bustled around a little, putting a steaming bowl of water from the wash house on the table along with clean cloths and soap.
He brewed the tea with practised ease and once he made sure that Charlotte had drank at least half a cup of the overly sweetened beverage he immersed her hands in the water and gently wiped away the surface dirt and loose stones.
Once he had cleared all he could in this manner, he took a pair of tweezers from his bag and painstakingly plucked away every piece of gravel he could see and then using the very tips of his fingers he gently searched for the smaller remnants and pulled those from beneath her skin. Charlotte winced and made some soft sounds of discomfort as her hands were now bleeding freely from the tiny wounds and he was forced to manipulate her injured wrist to gain access to each part of her palms.
"Do you know why I came here from Dover Mrs Collins?"
"No, I had assumed you came here at Lady Catherine's request."
"It was actually Sir Lewis who persuaded me to make the move nearly ten years ago. He had numerous business interests around the port and I chanced to meet him whilst I was tending to one of his business acquaintances. Even before his daughter contracted the affliction which now ravages her mind and body she was showing signs of mental impairment. As you know she is terribly coddled by her mother and had been spoiled beyond measure.
"Her father believed that if she was away from her mother this would give her a little independence and she may show signs of improvement in temperament. So she was allowed to journey to Brighton for several months with only her companion to act as chaperone and this of course put her directly in Wickham's path. From what I've learned since I began attending to Miss Anne she was acting in a ….depraved manner before leaving for Brighton, so not all of the fault can be laid at Wickham's feet."
"If I believe the horrible tale told to me by Wickham, I think that may be true," Charlotte agreed.
Dr. Peterson took a small bottle of clear liquid from his leather bag, removed the stopper and shook some of the contents upon a clean cloth.
"I'm afraid this will sting a little, but I've found it very effective in stopping most infections," he explained and began to dab the cloth against her wounds.
"Hell's teeth," Charlotte hissed. "What is that?"
"One of my ex-patients sends me a few bottles every time he returns to England from Poland. It's called Wodka. I'm afraid the sailors tend to imbibe quite a lot of it as it is very strong alcohol, but some sea captains use it topically to help heal rope burns and cuts on their crewmen whilst at sea."
He lightly wrapped some gauze around her palms and secured it with a loose knot.
"I'll leave a little of the Wodka and more gauze which Emma can help you replace, but I'd like you to leave off the dressing after a few days as most of the wounds should have scabbed over by then. Now let me see to your other injuries."
He told her that she was very lucky to have just badly sprained her wrist and prescribed resting her arm for at least a week. Unfortunately her finger was quite obviously broken. He had Charlotte bite down on a bundle of cloth whilst he straightened the digit and used a cut down taper to keep the finger in place. He tied more gauze around the finger and declared himself finished.
He refreshed the pot with more hot water and he sat with his patient for a cup of tea.
"Now I know that you're going to be very upset and disappointed in me Mrs Collins, but I have sent word to Lady de Bourgh that Wickham is at my home."
Charlotte started. "But why would you do such a thing? Wickham told me she held him captive in her cellar and was slowly starving him to death."
"He is so close to death now that it hardly makes much difference where he is. It is an awful thing to do to a fellow human, but madam, I am not only thinking of myself. If Lady Catherine found that I gave him sanctuary against her wishes she would take away my living and would no doubt blacken my name in all of the surrounding counties. My housekeeper and her son would be without a home and an income and many of the poorer families in the area would be without the care I offer to them free of charge."
"But I gave him my word..." Charlotte cried.
"And Wickham knows that it was my decision alone to inform her of his whereabouts. He has said that he would not mention the assistance you so kindly gave him as he knows a little about Lady Catherine's ire when roused.
"I must also mention that I have given him a bottle of laudanum for his pain as Lady Catherine has dispensed of my services towards Wickham. He can take as little...or as much, of the medicine as he sees fit."
As he said this Charlotte knew that Wickham had asked for the means to take his own life and that Dr. Peterson had facilitated his wish. Suicide was a crime against God, but as Wickham was already an admitted sinner and had no hope of attaining grace upon his death she would instead pray for the Doctor's atonement.
"Why did you tell me this?"
"If you hear that Wickham has died quite suddenly then know that the blame lies directly with Wickham and myself. I would rather the man died in his sleep tonight then be made to suffer for several more days or weeks. You have no part in his passing and Lady Catherine will not be able to prolong his agony even if she so wishes. I have hidden the bottle in his clothing, so unless she has him searched upon his return to the great house he should be able to retain it."
Charlotte was hindered in asking any further questions as at that point Emma entered through the kitchen door. On seeing Charlotte's injured hands she became more motherly than usual and, after asking the Doctor several pertinent questions, ordered her mistress to bed and came up later proffering a hot water bottle and a tray laden with thick beef broth and freshly baked bread.
The hot repast and the travails of the day worked as a soporific on Charlotte and when her husband finally ventured home at just gone seven o'clock she was already fast asleep.
It was two days after Christmas when the news reached her that Wickham had died. William told her that he had died of pleural fever and she supposed that could be true as he had lain on the frozen grounds of Rosings for several hours before she had literally stumbled across him and he had already been weakened by his illness and imprisonment.
Wickham had no family to claim his body so Lady Catherine ordered that his body be stored in the icehouse at Rosings Park until the ground had thawed enough for his funeral to take place.
William Collins had returned to the parsonage the next day visibly shaken and once he had calmed himself he told his wife that Lady Anne was turned mad with grief and that on being told of Wickham's death she had flown at her Lady mother and screaming obscenities had raked her fingernails at her mother's face clawing bloody scars across her cheeks and badly injuring Lady Catherine's left eye.
She had to be forcibly removed by the servants and tied to her bed so that she was unable to cause any further harm. Her companion had been tasked with giving Lady Anne regular doses of opium to ensure that she was fully sedated.
The very next Sunday a heavily veiled Lady Catherine attended service on the arm of her nephew. The curious whispers of the congregation halted only when William mounted the pulpit and began his sermon. The weather was still bitterly cold and the service was planned to be shorter than usual to allow the villagers an opportunity to return home and celebrate the eve of the New Year with whatever festivities and customs their households practiced. Their departure was halted however when William called their attention by raising his voice to declare one final piece of parish business.
"I hereby announce the publishing of banns of marriage between the Lady Anne de Bourgh of the parish of Hunsford and Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam of the parish of East Ham. If any of you know cause or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, ye are to declare it. This is the first time of asking."
There was silence in the church as this proclamation ended, and none of the usual cries of commendation. As William descended the steps of the pulpit he went directly to the door in order to say goodbye to his departing patroness and he did so whilst bowing over her limply outstretched hand. Charlotte was stunned with disbelief. How could the cousins marry when the Colonel already had a wife?
She looked at the Colonel as he followed his aunt down the aisle. His face was wan and drawn; his eyes downcast. He did not look the part of the happy, prospective bridegroom. He raised his head only when William offered his hand in congratulations for the second time and she managed to catch his eye. He looked away immediately; the cold disdain was alien to his normally warm and open mien. He accepted William's kind words with a brief word of thanks and tipped his hat to them both as he left the church and hurried to mount the Rosings coach.