“It is that wonderful machine Mr. Darcy brought us from a famous doctor in London,” she beamed. “We will not need nerve tonic so long as we have it.”
Mr. Bennet gestured to the hall. “Would you like to see it? Elizabeth tried it shortly before you arrived.”
Far from scowling in disapproval, Dr. Sculthorpe rubbed his hands together. “I should love to see what is responsible for the peace that has settled over your house, Bennet.”
Darcy knew the moment the doctor recognized the machine. He gasped like a child in a toy shop, rushing over to the table to pet each piece. “This is Aldini’s latest machine! I have been badgering him for months to send me one. How on earth did you get him to part with this? You say it has already withstood three uses? I had heard he found a way to improve the life of the battery.”
Darcy made a mental note to have his man send a special token of gratitude to his physician … and, if Aldini could be persuaded to part with another machine, to send one to Cambridge.
The doctor was too excited to wait for replies. “One of his first patients was a farmer suffering from melancholia. And there was another, a woman who fell out of bed and could not remember her children the following day.” He looked regretfully at Elizabeth. “I wish I had been present to observe your first treatment. I have only read the accounts but have yet to witness one.”
“Do you have any objections to observing my second treatment on the morrow?”
He rubbed his hands together. “I would be delighted. Now, if you please, I should like to converse with you for a while in a setting where you are most comfortable.”
Darcy appreciated his haste.
Elizabeth said, “If my father does not mind us disturbing his bee skep drawings andresearch, I can think of no better place than his study. I will ask Mrs. Hill to bring in a tray. You must be hungry.”
“To the contrary, Lizzy. I stopped at the inn to refresh myself before continuing here. I did not wish to waste any time once arriving. I will, however, accept a strong cup of coffee.”
Mr. Bennet led the way to his study, closing the door behind them.
Dr. Sculthorpe’s questions were conversational. He asked Elizabeth about her sisters, Jane’s recent marriage, of the books she had read and her favorite passages, her opinion of her neighbors … which led to an entertaining account of Mr. Collins and her shock at learning that her best friend had agreed to marry him.
She poured coffee while the doctor continued his inquiries, his ease belying the intensity with which he took note of every comment and reaction.
Elizabeth answered with her usual wit and charm. One would never suspect she suffered from amnesia. Darcy, too, began to doubt.
Until the doctor asked about him.
She looked down at her hands, her humor gone and her wit failing to snap a clever retort.
“I see,” said the doctor. Looking at Darcy, Lizzy, and Mr. Bennet individually, making certain he had their full attention, he continued, “You must understand that the mind is such a brilliantly engineered mystery, it might take some time to uncover the pieces lost.”
Elizabeth’s eyes teared. Her voice sounded strangled. “How is it possible for me to forget my betrothed?”
Dr. Sculthorpe nodded his head gravely. “I have personally witnessed cases where certain events or periods of time are forgotten. These cases are rare, but they do exist. Remember the mother I mentioned earlier who forgot her own children?”
“Do they ever recall their memories?” she asked.
“Some do. Some do not. I will not give you false hope. Our limited understanding of the mind limits your options for treatment. However, I will share an observation. Those who have recovered were the ones who carried on with their lives.”
“What about insanity?” she pressed.
“A threat heartless doctors use to scare patients into complying with their dubious treatments and harmful methods. Or of the ignorant who place their confidence in them.
“The brain is a difficult field to study. It requires volunteers on whom to perform their experiments, and how better to accomplish their need than to encourage patients to offer themselves willingly? They surely would not do so otherwise! Nobody in their right mind would. So many minds ruined. It makes me ill to contemplate.
“These scrupulous doctors would love nothing more than to lock you up at Bedlam. You are a tempting subject, Lizzy. A sound mind such as yourswould allow for experiments that have been out of their reach.” He shook his head, ridding himself of his frown. “But I digress. I apologize.”
Mr. Bennet said, “It must be a subject dear to you to speak with such passion. Much like my bees are to me.”
Dr. Sculthorpe chuckled, his humor restored. “Then you understand. I thank you, Bennet. You always were one to enjoy deeper conversations and lively debates.”
Redirecting the conversation before it settled on Mr. Bennet’s beloved insects, Darcy asked, “What do you suggest to help Elizabeth?”
Looking between them, the doctor answered, “Time is a great healer. Lizzy only requires more of it.”
