“There is no emergency,” Elizabeth said to Darcy, “and he has traveled a great distance.” With little cause, she refrained from adding.
“For the sole purpose of treating you.” At her glare, Darcy relented. “I shall go receive the doctor and ask him to attend you in here as soon as he is comfortably settled.”
After Darcy and the servant departed, Elizabeth’s gaze swept the room once more. If Lady Catherine had not taken the letter, where had it gone? She had looked everywhere for it — half the horizontal surfaces in the room held stacks of papers she had sorted through, and several of Lady Anne’s trunks stood open with more papers piled around them. Had she merely misplaced the letter, would she not have found it?
Further seeking would have to wait. In her determination to find the missing letter, she had not only left papers strewn about, but also had sent away the housemaid when she’d arrived to tidy the apartment for the day. If Dr. Severn were going to examine her in the dressing room, she needed to put it back in order. And she suspected Darcy would encourage the physician to consider himself “comfortably settled” in short time. She rang the servants’ bell.
The new maid, Jenny, arrived quickly. In the time she had been at Pemberley, she had already impressed Elizabeth with her competence and conscientiousness. Whenever Elizabeth had need of a housemaid, she answered the summons with alacrity, and she performed her duties in a thorough but efficient manner.
Elizabeth organized the papers while Jenny straightened the chamber. She had managed to sort through two more trunks since the harvest feast, and had determined that they held no correspondence related to either the ivory or Lady Anne’s friendship with Mrs. Tilney. In fact, these trunks could return to the attic, leaving the dressing room less crowded.
She heard Mrs. Reynolds pass and went into the hall to stop her. The housekeeper promised to send a pair of footmen immediately to relieve Elizabeth of the chests.
No sooner were the trunks removed and Jenny’s tasks completed than Darcy reappeared with the physician. With few preliminaries, Dr. Severn set his medical bag on a table and unpacked several instruments from it. She had never seen some of the items before and could only speculate as to their various functions. Given their appearance, she had no wish to satisfy her curiosity through personal acquaintance with them.
“Mr. Darcy tells me you are experiencing incidents of bleeding.”
“Merely a brief show from my nose.”
He glanced at Darcy with annoyance. “From her nose? When you stated she was bleeding, I thought you meant something more urgent. I traveled here immediately upon seeing one patient through forty hours of travail, and left two more ready to be brought to bed any day.”
“In the matter of my wife’s health, I would sooner err on the side of caution.”
“While caution may be warranted, I suggest that in the future you supply more particulars when summoning me.” He motioned Elizabeth to the chair nearest him. “How frequent are these episodes?” he asked Darcy.
She would have preferred to remain where she was — far away from the devices still arrayed on the table — but moved to the seat he had indicated.
“It was a single incident.”
“I see.” He shot another impatient glance at Darcy, then made a show of padding his fingertips along the bone of her nose. “Did she suffer a bump?”
“No, her nose began to bleed spontaneously.”
“Where was she at the time? Near a smoking fire or some other irritant?”
Though Lady Catherine had wrinkled her own nose throughout the evening of exposure to common humanity, Elizabeth doubted anything in the air that night had contributed to the nosebleed. “I was walking across a crowded hall. It was the night of Pemberley’s harvest feast.”
Her voice could have come from the chimney, for all that the doctor acknowledged her.
“Did she engage in dancing or other strenuous activity at the feast, or in preparation for it?” He lifted her wrist.
“She danced the opening set, yes.”
“A staid minuet,” Elizabeth interjected.
“Did my wife overexert herself at the celebration?”
“Shush.” Dr. Severn continued monitoring her pulse.
Elizabeth had never before witnessed someone shush her husband. She had never known anyone who might have dared. Darcy himself appeared astounded but held himself in check.
The physician dropped her wrist. “I suspect that on the night in question she overstimulated her heart and veins through heedlessly vigorous motion.”
She did not believe she had been recklessly active. Nor had Mrs. Godwin, who had directly observed her that night, implied that any part of her own conduct had been to blame. “I understand nosebleeds are common among women in my condition.”
“Perhaps among
To her mind, Mrs. Godwin’s explanation had made much more sense. “Does not an expectant mother’s heart produce extra blood?”
Her question met a look of derision. “Are you a physician now? Someone must have suggested that to you.”
“The local midwife.”
He turned to Darcy “She consulted a midwife? I advised you to call a medical man if needed.”
“Mrs. Darcy did not consult her,” Darcy said. “She happened upon my wife during the episode.”
“And you believe the conjecture of some old woman? Very well, Mrs. Darcy. If you think an excessive quantity of blood caused an overflow, I can apply leeches to draw off the surplus.”
Elizabeth shuddered. “I do not consider that necessary.”
“Nor do I. If you will lend me pen and paper, I shall write down a receipt for an unguent to apply to your nose. Your maid can easily prepare it.”
Darcy went to the escritoire for the writing materials. When he opened the drop front, a faint chuckle escaped him. Elizabeth glanced at him curiously
“The letter you have been seeking today lies right here.”
“Impossible. I must have looked there half a dozen times, at least.”
He held it up. “Evidence of your latest lapse.” A look of anxiety crossed his countenance. “Dr. Severn, my wife has become increasingly absentminded of late. Do you consider that cause for concern?”
“It is nothing we need trouble the doctor about,” Elizabeth said.
The physician studied her with something that passed for attention. “She loses items regularly?”
“I would not say ‘regularly’ ” she protested. “And I did not lose—”
“Between the spontaneous bleeding and the mental distraction, it sounds as if her humors are entirely out of balance,” the doctor said to Darcy as he packed up his instruments of torture. “Curb her activity henceforth. No strenuous exertion — nothing more demanding than a leisurely walk.”
“But I have engaged in my usual pursuits since the night of the harvest feast, with no repeat occurrences. The mental lapses are just trifles—”
“Mrs. Darcy, I have delivered hundreds of children. To how many have you given birth?”
She held her tongue but could not help glaring at the physician. Darcy, she could not even look at; she felt for all the world that he had betrayed her.
“You and your husband have brought me considerable distance to solicit my advice, away from other patients who are grateful for it. Accept it or not, as you choose, but if you are unwilling to follow my orders, do not summon me again. My time and expertise are too valuable to be wasted.”
Dr. Severn left the room, stating his intention to pass just one night at Pemberley before returning to Bath. The short duration of his stay suited Elizabeth perfectly. Perhaps at dinnertime she would plead “unbalanced humors” and dine in her apartment rather than subject herself to further contact with the man. Sharing a meal with him and Lady Catherine at once would surely prove detrimental to her mental state, not to mention her digestion.
Still unable to turn her gaze upon Darcy, she went to the escritoire. The innocent-looking letter lay there, mocking her.