by K C Kahler
Lizzy shook her head with her eyes closed. Lydia took her hand. “I keep thinking of poor Miss Darcy.”
“As do I.” Two tears trailed down Elizabeth’s cheeks.
“Oh Lizzy, do you think he will recover?”
She wiped at her eyes and took a deep breath. “Tommy did not bring good news from Netherfield, though he only spoke to the servants. He said the fever has set in, and it is in God’s hands now. Mr Jones and Mr Darcy’s physician from London attend their patient round the clock.”
“The same physician he offered to send for when you hit a cricket ball at my head and knocked me senseless?”
Elizabeth almost smiled. “The very one.”
“I hope Miss Darcy can be with him soon.”
“We have reason to believe that she is with him already. John told us of a carriage—“
“John was here?” Lydia beat back her jealousy again.
“Only briefly. He said a grand carriage conveying three fine ladies passed through Meryton yesterday on its way to Netherfield.”
Hill announced luncheon.
Elizabeth sighed. “I am not hungry.”
Lydia pulled on her hand. “You must eat something. Now tell me what else John said.”
* * *
Lydia apologised to all her sisters over the course of the afternoon. Kitty was the most reluctant to forgive her, but she was eventually won over. Lydia had even been able to coax Lizzy from the window when she asked for another book recommendation.
And so it was that no one saw the carriage coming slowly up the lane. The first clue they had that there were visitors was Hill’s very formal announcement, “Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Miss de—“
An impressive lady in great finery pushed into the room before Mrs Hill could finish. A younger woman in a more understated yet just as fine gown stood in the doorway surveying everyone in the room. She smiled slightly. No similar gesture softened Lady Catherine’s mouth.
Mrs Bennet rose with a shocked, “Oh! Lady Catherine. Forgive us; we had not expected—”
“You have a very small park here,” Lady Catherine said before any greetings or introductions were exchanged.
“I’m sure it is nothing in comparison to Rosings, my lady; but it is much larger than Sir William Lucas’s.”
“This must be a most inconvenient sitting room for the evening in summer; the windows are full west.”
Mrs Bennet assured her that they never sat there after dinner in the summer and then added, “May I take the liberty of asking your ladyship whether you left Mr Collins well? He arrived back in Kent well before the storm, did he not?”
“Yes, he is well. I saw him the day before last. The weather in Kent is far superior to the weather here.” Lady Catherine sat in the nearest chair; her daughter claimed a seat near the door.
Elizabeth asked the question they were all thinking, “Do you bring news from Nether—”
Lady Catherine interrupted again. “I have come to speak with Miss Lydia Bennet, whichever of you that may be.” She rose up and peered around the room.
Everyone turned to look in Lydia’s direction, and she was momentarily stunned. Had Mr Darcy asked for her? No, that was a ridiculous thought. “I am she.”
Lady Catherine turned her full attention to her. “You? But you are a mere child!” Then she composed herself and spoke in a more civil voice. “You can be at no loss to understand the reason of my journey hither.”
Lydia gulped. “Indeed, you are mistaken, madam. I have not been at all able to account for the honour of seeing you here. No doubt you are much more needed at—”
“Miss Bennet,” interrupted her ladyship, “I am not to be trifled with. My character has ever been celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of such moment as this, I shall certainly not depart from it. A report of a most alarming nature reached me two days ago. Mr Collins told me that you, that Miss Lydia Bennet, not only brazenly schemed to catch my nephew, my own nephew, for a husband, but that you then doubted the truth of his long-standing betrothal to my daughter! Though I know he would never give even the slightest encouragement to one such as yourself, though I would not injure him so much as to think it possible he would ever consider you an acceptable choice, I instantly resolved on setting off for this place that I might warn you to abandon all your deluded hopes in that quarter.”
Lydia stood so that she need not look up to this horrid woman any longer. “If I have leave to be equally frank, Lady Catherine, I must tell you that your nephew behaved abominably in keeping his betrothal a secret from all of us.” Her Ladyship gasped. “Of course all the single young ladies would pursue him! What do you think happens when a rich, handsome young man comes to a place like Meryton? If he did not wish to endure the aspirations of one such as myself, he ought to have been honest from the start.”
“How dare you—”
“I was not finished! I must question your priorities at a time like this. I do regret speaking ill of Mr Darcy, today of all d—”
“I shall not be interrupted. Hear me in silence. Do you know who I am?”
Lydia snorted, about to answer that she had certainly heard enough about Lady Catherine to last a lifetime, but Miss de Bourgh finally spoke. “That’s enough, Mother!” Her tone of voice belied her somewhat meek exterior. “If you do not wish to be interrupted, perhaps you ought not interrupt everyone else. Mrs Bennet, Miss Lydia, all the rest of you Miss Bennets, I am sorry we have not been properly introduced, and I apologise for my mother’s behaviour today. She has been rude beyond comprehension.”
“Anne!”
“Mother, you have had your part of the conversation. Now I shall have mine.” Lady Catherine stood in stunned silence while Miss de Bourgh spoke to Lydia. “You must not think my cousin dishonourable in any way. He was never dishonest with any of you. We are not engaged.”
“Not engaged?!”
“Anne! From your infancy, you have been intended for each other. It was the favourite wish of his mother as well as of yours. While in your cradles, we planned the union.”
“I have heard it all before, Mother. You did as much as you could in planning the marriage. Its completion depended on others who do not wish as you do. I am neither by honour nor inclination confined to my cousin nor is he to me. Why, then, is he not to make another choice? And if one of these fine young ladies is his choice, why may not she accept him? I have accepted someone of my own choosing.”
“No more of this Christopher Grantly nonsense! I shall not allow it!”
“How many times must I tell you—I do not need your permission!” The two were yelling at the top of their voices.
“You will marry Darcy! If you do not, you will be censured, slighted, and despised by everyone connected with me. Your alliance will be a disgrace; your name will never even be mentioned by any of us.”
“These are heavy misfortunes,” replied Miss de Bourgh. “But as the wife of Mr Christopher Grantly and the sole heir of Lewis de Bourgh’s Rosings Park, I must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to my situation that I shall, upon the whole, have no cause to repine.”
“Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am ashamed of you! You and Darcy are formed for each other. You are descended, on the maternal side, from the same noble line—”
Kitty stood up and yelled, “What does any of this matter with Mr Darcy on his deathbed? He most likely will not live to marry anyone!”
“Kitty!” admonished Jane.
Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh gaped at Kitty. “What do you mean?” they demanded in concert.
Jane asked, “Have you not come from Netherfield where you saw Mr Darcy?”
Miss de Bourgh answered, “No, we came directly from Kent. We spoke to Mr Collins on Sunday and left early Monday morning, though we were delayed for several hours during the storm and the rest of the journey was very slow going.”
“But the rider—did no express rider arrive on Saturday night or perhaps Sunday
morning?”
“No. Please tell me what is going on.”
“I am very sorry to tell you, but there was a shooting accident on Saturday. Mr Darcy’s gun misfired, and he suffered powder burns. The storm and the mud have made it difficult for us to keep contact with Netherfield, but today, we heard he has developed a severe fever, likely from infection.”
“Mother, we must go this instant!”
“Yes, the carriage! The carriage!” Lady Catherine fled from the room, demanding the carriage the whole way down to the front door. The others followed her.
When Lydia arrived outside, Thomas was having words with the driver. “The wheel is weakened. It is not safe to take this carriage out on those roads again.”
A quarrel ensued with Lady Catherine herself, who insisted on leaving immediately. Finally, Thomas offered to ready the Bennet carriage for their use and to ride along to give direction for the safest route to Netherfield. It was, by necessity, a longer route that bypassed the main road along Oakham Stream.
Mrs Bennet said to the assembled ladies. “Let us return indoors while the carriage is readied. There is no need to remain in the cold.”
They returned to the sitting room where Lady Catherine, with much improved civility, thanked Mrs Bennet for the use of her carriage. The two began a strained conversation near the door. Miss de Bourgh came into the room where Lydia and her sisters sat.
“I must take this opportunity before I go. Forgive my forwardness. Which of you is Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”
She followed everyone’s gaze towards Lizzy, who blinked and swallowed. “I am she.”
“Miss Elizabeth, may I tell you something?” She approached and sat near Lizzy.
“Of course you may, Miss de Bourgh.”
“My cousin and I, we secretly exchange letters with the help of trusted and discreet servants. We are very close, he and I. We were brought together at a young age when each of us lost a parent. Since then, we have been like brother and sister, and we never could have fulfilled my mother’s wishes for us. Do you understand?”
Elizabeth nodded. Miss de Bourgh continued, “Fitzwilliam’s recent letters were—”
“Fitzwilliam?” Elizabeth whispered.
“Fitzwilliam is Mr Darcy’s given name. His recent letters, ones he wrote to me from Netherfield, were filled with some very interesting revelations. Do you care to hear them?”
Elizabeth nodded silently again. “He wrote me of a young lady who had touched his heart. He called her only L.”
Kitty gasped. “Can it be true? Did he really fancy Lydia all that time?”
“Quiet, Kitty,” ordered Mary. All of them were as eager for Miss de Bourgh’s next words as Lydia was.
Miss de Bourgh continued, “He struggled against his feelings for several weeks because of society’s expectations. You must understand that Fitzwilliam has always taken his duty as the master of Pemberley very seriously. Despite his misgivings, he met his L. on a series of morning walks where he fell even more in love with her.”
“Morning walks? That sounds more like Liz— Oh!” Kitty voiced her enlightenment only a moment after Lydia made a similar conclusion silently. Mr Darcy in love with Lizzy? Elizabeth, her sister, meeting Mr Darcy in the woods every morning? Lydia only half-listened to the rest of the conversation, so great was her mental distraction.
“These were not assignations,” Miss de Bourgh added. “They started innocently with a specific purpose. His last letter to me was quite despondent. You see, he had decided to court L. properly, for he could not imagine himself ever loving any woman as he loves her. But then he discovered that she was already attached to a long-time family friend who recently returned to Hertfordshire.”
“That must be John!” By this point, everyone ignored Kitty’s exclamations.
“If I could speak with this young lady, this L., I would tell her how very much my cousin loves her.” Miss de Bourgh’s voice faltered. “If…if Fitzwilliam is really on his deathbed, a visit, a few kind words from her, the knowledge that she returns his feelings even in the slightest degree—I am convinced he would cherish these things beyond almost anything on this earth.”
Elizabeth looked down at her trembling hands, blinking furiously. Miss de Bourgh leaned forward and grasped them gently.
“You must go, Lizzy,” Mary finally said.
Elizabeth rose unsteadily. “I must go.”
“Come with us in the carriage,” Miss de Bourgh said.
“It will be faster to walk. To run!”
“Put on your boots and coat at least,” said Jane, as Elizabeth hurried for the door.
“Where on earth is Lizzy going?” Mrs Bennet asked, halting her conversation with Lady Catherine.
“She has been confined indoors too long,” Mary replied.
“She is going for one of her walks now? I shall never understand that girl!”
Lydia heard the kitchen door slam. Lizzy was going to see Mr Darcy! She had stolen Mr Darcy away from her own sister! Lydia was walking towards the door before she even knew it.
Mary followed her into the hallway. “Do not cause any more trouble, Lydia. Think of what has happened over the last month. Think very carefully.”
Lydia pulled on her boots and tied them. “I shall not listen to your scolding, Mary. She is the one who… How dare she! She cannot have John Lucas and Mr Darcy!”
She pulled on her coat and gloves and ran from the house into the muddy cold.
Bingley read Jane’s note again. It was the one small bit of comfort he had had over the last few days. She did not chastise him for neglecting her even though she had only heard of the accident through the servants. He had not even had a chance to send her a reply, for the note made its way through various servants to reach him, and then Tommy was already gone.
Bingley needed no chastisement; he felt guilty enough already for letting either of them go shooting after such a night of intoxication. Why had he listened to Hurst’s assurances? He would never forgive himself if…
“Mr Lucas,” announced Mrs Trent.
Bingley looked up to see John Lucas with a bundle under his arm, shoeless. “Mr Lucas! Please come in.”
“You are to call me Lucas, remember? Forgive my appearance. I thought it easier to simply remove my boots than to spend the time scraping the mud off. I wished to see you right away.”
Bingley smiled, “Of course you are welcome, and I do not mind your lack of footwear.”
“Did Mr Darcy’s physician successfully travel from London through the storm and mud?”
“Yes, he was offered an exorbitant amount of money to do so. His name is Robertson.”
He nodded. “Has the fever broken?”
“No,” Bingley replied sadly.
“How long has it lasted?”
“Since yesterday morning.”
Lucas sighed. “I ought to have come sooner, but I only just learned of it. Is Mr Jones here?”
“No, he has returned home for a short respite. Why?”
“He knows me well and would take my part. No matter. You heard me mention my interest in herbal remedies, did you not?”
Bingley indicated that he had.
“I have prepared a febrifuge, or fever reducer. I have seen it work wonders when taken as a tea. Do you think Mr Robertson will hear me, that I may convince him to try it? Some people do not set much store in herbal medicine.”
Bingley brightened considerably. “We shall convince him together! We must try something.” He rang for Mrs Trent, who appeared almost immediately.
“Mrs Trent, please ask Mr Robertson to come to the library.”
When she left them, Lucas added, “I also have a poultice for the burns. A salve would be more effective, but it takes more time to prepare. I have started one at home and will return when it is ready.”
“You are very kind.”
“No, it is the least I could do.”
Mr Robertson entered, and Bingley made the introductions. “Mr Lucas is an
authority on herbal medicine. He has been kind enough to prepare…what was it? A tea to reduce fever and a poultice for the burns? I think we should try them.”
“I have no objections at this point. Nothing else is working. I thank you, Mr Lucas.”
Lucas smiled. “I have written out directions for proper preparation and administration. Shall we go to the kitchen to have it brewed?”
The three men made their way towards the kitchen, where confused servants eyed them.
“Becky!” Lucas said. “How wonderful to see you.”
“My brother told me you were back. But where are your shoes?”
He smirked. “Waiting for me safely at the door. Would you rather I track mud all over the house where you would have to clean it?”
“Most people wouldn’t give it a thought.”
He shrugged. “How are you at following directions, Becky?”
“Good enough, I expect.”
“Let me show you how to make this into a tea; it will bring down a fever.” Lucas set his bundle on the counter and began to unwrap it.
She watched as he produced a small packet of dried leaves. “Is that so? Where did those come from?”
“Cuba. Here, smell.” He held them up to her nose.
She recoiled after one whiff but recovered quickly. “Ghastly. Do you need boiling water?”
“That is precisely what I need.”
In addition to Mr Robertson and Bingley, a small audience of servants gathered to watch, partly out of curiosity and partly because John Lucas was a most engaging lecturer. The result of the demonstration was about two cups worth of a vile-smelling tea. Lucas handed a slip of paper to Mr Robertson. “Here are the directions.”
“Thank you, though I think everyone in the kitchen now knows how to make it.” He turned to Becky. “Can you prepare a tray to bring this up to our patient? I shall see you up there.”
