Lizzy’s devoted maid was wringing cool water from a cloth, moving to apply the soothing and cleansing lave to her mistress, but Darcy gently took the swab from her hand. “I shall do this, Marguerite. Will you please remove her soiled clothing?”
Lizzy moaned frequently and murmured incoherently. Her eyelids fluttered, opening to slits several times, but she did not waken. Her fiery, flushed skin responded to the tepid bath with gooseflesh and shivering. Darcy examined her bosom, encouraged to note that the inflamed patch was not worsened and there were no additional erythematic areas. The hard, turgid milk-sacs were obviously painful when touched, but her nipples were of normal appearance. Darcy was hopeful that the latter was a positive sign.
Midway through the cleansing Georgiana marched into the room carrying a wailing Michael. Behind her came two maids, their arms burdened with towels, laden trays, and a bucket of ice.
“He was not too fond of being woken up in the middle of his night and only a few hours after feeding, but Uncle insisted.” She spoke over the din to her brother, who approached with a frown etched between his brows. “Fortunately, your son has a tremendous appetite. Cannot imagine where he attains that character trait.”
She attempted a warm smile but her eyes were red-rimmed and cheeks blotchy. Georgiana tiptoed to bestow a tender kiss to his cheek, speaking in a feigned casual tone. “It seems odd to me as well, letting him nurse when Lizzy is unaware. But it does make sense, Brother, when you consider the logic. Besides, Uncle knows what he is about.” She glanced to Lizzy, whose reddened left breast was exposed as Marguerite applied one of the poultices Dr. Darcy had concocted. “It looks so painful. Here, take him to his mother. You know what to do better than I.”
“Thank you, Georgie. Are you…?”
“I am fine now so do not fret over me. Just take care of Lizzy.”
“Very well. Come, sweetheart, let us get you fed. Your mama needs you.”
Normally, Michael latched onto the nipple instantly, quiet falling, never to be distracted until forced to relinquish one nipple for the other or when utterly sated. This time, however, his native volatility was compounded by being woken precipitously and then expected to nurse from an engorged breast with stale milk. Darcy patiently persisted through Michael’s fit of temper until the infant settled in for serious sucking.
Darcy sat on the bed’s edge, softly stroking his back with one hand while holding Lizzy’s slack right hand to his lips. Georgiana knelt on the wide bed behind Lizzy placing the compress of crushed mint, ginger, and pepper paste to her forehead and rotated the tied bundles of chipped ice over her neck and shoulders. George entered the room minutes later, handing the poultice of fenugreek seed and dandelion to Marguerite.
“Give this to Mr. Darcy to smear on Mrs. Darcy’s inflamed breast,” he directed Lizzy’s maid. “The smell is not too foul, William, so it should not disturb Michael, but for now apply it conservatively.” He sat down in a corner chair, discreetly positioning himself so he could instruct without witnessing Lizzy’s nakedness. “Once he is finished we will slather more on and wrap with a cloth. Keep moving the packs along her back, Georgie. We do not want her to become chilled. The fever should subside gradually. If there is an infection process fomenting, an elevated temperature is partially beneficial. William, rub the congested milk sacs, gingerly mind you, as Michael nurses. It will aid the release and press the herbal salve into the skin. Once Michael is finished, we will rouse her and force her to drink those teas.”
He seemingly rambled without purpose, but his orotund tones with words falling in a lilting cadence were soothing. Darcy watched his wife’s face, noting the occasional flashes of pain that crossed her brow as he massaged her softening breast. But he also noted the regular rhythm of her breathing, the lessening blotched pallor and ruddiness of her skin, and the increasing coolness of the hand pressed against his mouth. Together the signs were encouraging.
Michael finished his meal, his chubby body limp as Darcy nestled him against his left chest for burping. He kissed the infant’s forehead, turning to look at his uncle.
“I doubt if I can wake him to eat more. This is his time of extended sleep with hunger well abated.”
“No matter. He will make up for lost time tomorrow. For tonight I can instruct you how to alleviate some of the pressure in the other breast manually. First we must get Elizabeth to drink some fluids. Georgie, will you return Michael to Mrs. Hanford? Thank you, dear. Sit Elizabeth up, William.”
Darcy was required to lend his entire body as support, Lizzy’s flaccid form melding to the contours of his torso. He sat behind her, arms securing and broad chest a firm resting place for her back, and the bend of his neck and shoulder a solid prop for her head.
“Elizabeth,” he voice lovingly commanded into her ear. “We need you to wake up and drink. I need to hear your voice. Please, Elizabeth, look at me. Squeeze my hand, anything to let me know you hear me.”
She moaned, weakly arching her back and turning away from his pleading. But he continued on at Dr. Darcy’s urging. He told her that she was home now, that Alexander was safe and asleep, that the threat to them was eliminated, that he loved and needed her, and so on.
George held one wrist between his fingers, counting the decreasing beats of her pulse. His other hand skillfully brushed over her neck and upper chest, palpating the changes in skin temperature. Softly, he directed Marguerite to administer the oral drops of belladonna, and then to change the herbal compress on her head to one of cool sandalwood paste. The teapot of steeped black elder, willow bark, chamomile, and lime flowers sat waiting on the bedside table.
Darcy kept up his train of verbal declarations of love and need, compelling her to respond. Eventually she did, with groans growing louder as she broke through the febrile haze and finally opened her glassy eyes.
“George,” she slurred in surprise, not expecting his to be the first face she saw.
“Yes, Niece, it is me. Delighted to see you, but, if you do not greet the big fellow behind you soon, he may burst into tears.”
Darcy was indeed teary eyed. His strong palm was already cupping his wife’s cheek and nudging so that he could meet her gaze. “Tell me you know who I am,” he whispered.
She frowned. “Of course I know who you are. My Fitzwilliam.”
“Yes! Yes.” He brushed a kiss over her lips. “All is well now, my heart. Uncle has some tea for you. I am sure it is foul…”
“I beg your pardon?” George interjected indignantly.
“…but you must drink all of it. It will help with the pain and fever. Do you understand?”
“As you wish. I am very thirsty.” Her voice was listless with a note of confusion, her brow quizzical. Even so, she offered no objection, drinking the pungent tea wordlessly. Darcy murmured encouragingly throughout, caressing her arms as George plied her with three cups of the medicinal brew.
Finally she finished her required dose, the satisfied physician assessing her flushed skin and mild warmth with a smile and happy nod. “Excellent. Much improved, Elizabeth.”
“She still feels hot to me, Uncle. Are you sure she is mending?”
“The fever is less and she is awake, if drowsy and befuddled. All to be expected.” He smiled cheerily, patting Lizzy’s knee. “Now she needs to sleep. Questions can be asked and answered tomorrow. Does that sound like a capitol idea, Mrs. Darcy?”
Lizzy inclined her head while fumbling to absorb his words without much success. The fringes of her memory niggled at her, some vague awareness buried behind thick clouds attempting to capture her attention and whisper facts that she should be concerned about. Yet all she felt was extreme weariness. The odd torpor weighting down her limbs was offset by the comforting sturdiness of her husband’s body. She felt his breath on her cheek, smelt the wonderful aroma of his manliness and cologne, heard the potency in every word he uttered, and felt the loving touch of his fingertips. It all combined to imbue her soul with an overwhelming peace and assurance so that none of the troubling glimmers could penetrate her blanketing sense of security.
She muttered a few words, none of the room’s occupants understanding what she was trying to say, and returned to her slumber.
George palpated the strong pulse in her neck and lifted one eyelid to gaze at her pupil, nodding with clinical satisfaction. “She is asleep, nothing else. This is good.” He looked at his clearly distraught nephew, smiling and patting his knee. “Relax, William. She will be fine, I promise.”
“Uncle, do you know if vitriol has any effect on unborn babies?”
George’s brows rose, his eyes instantly returning to Lizzy and scanning over her body. “Are you sure? I have seen no signs of Elizabeth being with child.”
“It is merely a conjecture based on… possible symptoms.” He smiled wanly and laughed shortly. “Strange.
