She remembered. She remembered all of it.
Elizabeth wanted to shout her triumph, to spin until she was dizzy. There would be time enough for celebration later. First, Lady Catherine. Calming her breath, Elizabeth said, “I am obstinate and headstrong. And my mind has never been more sound than it is at this moment.” She looked at Fitzwilliam, her hands clasped with his in front of her lest she burst with happiness.
Recalling her words, delighting in her ability to repeat them, Elizabeth said, “You have insulted me in every possible way, and can now have nothing further to say.” She rose, opening the door and losing some of her bravado when her mother and father stumbled forward into the room. Clearing her throat to keep from laughing, she added as commandingly as she was capable, “I must ask you to leave immediately.”
Lady Catherine huffed and puffed and blew outcries and threats. “Only a girl out of her mind would treat me in this undignified fashion.”
The Bedlam doctor, Elizabeth noticed, no longer watched her when he had a more volatile example to keenly observe. His gaze riveted on Lady Catherine.
“I demand you commit her!” Lady Catherine waved her finger at Elizabeth.
He rubbed his hands together, his voice docile, mollifying. “Without proof of madness, I have no authority to take her in. Tis a pity, for the director looked forward to a healthy subject recently displaying symptoms of mental degradation.”
Lady Catherine’s veins throbbed at her temples, casting a purple hue over her complexion.
The doctor continued in his complacent tone, “Of course, madness is not unique to the young, nor can those of the first circles escape its hold. If it bit King George, nobody is immune.”
It was then Lady Catherine must have realized his words were not directed at Elizabeth, but at her. Frommottled purple and red, she blanched white. “You cannot believe me mad!”
He merely observed her, his hands rubbing.
“Darcy, Anne, tell him I am not mad!” Her eyes were white and wide.
Reassurances proved nothing when Her Ladyship gave enough evidence to counter her and anyone else’s claims.
Elizabeth intervened with a question. “How did you come to arrive today, sir? I was under the impression Her Ladyship wrote a week ago.”
Finally, the man released his predatory focus away from his new target. “Dr. Sculthorpe called on the director as I was taking my leave. He informed us that your condition, since Her Ladyship’s letter was received, had reversed in its entirety.”
A lie for which Elizabeth was grateful.
“As you can imagine,” he continued, “Dr. Slade’s disappointment was severe. However, madness runs rampant, and when he received a second letter, more insistent and aggressive than the first, he sent me to investigate.” Again, his gaze settled on Lady Catherine.
“You did not come for me, but for Lady Catherine? What proof have you to pursue this course?” Elizabeth asked.
“Not only have I heard it observed from her own relatives this very evening that she is not acting like herself, but I have personally noted her complete disregardfor decorum — a vulgarity no lady of her position in society would ever overlook.
“The lady herself wasted no time explaining, in a convincing manner I will add, the attachment between Miss de Bourgh and her nephew.” He nodded at Fitzwilliam. “However, I have yet to see any evidence that such a connection ever existed.
“Complete disregard for propriety and social norms, sudden shifts in temperament, untempered aggression aimed at an imagined foe, and delusions. I would say I have more than enough proof to suggest you charge Her Ladyship with the care of the asylum I represent. We will take good care of her there.”
This was serious. Had Elizabeth possessed a more vengeful nature, she would have held her peace. But she could not be responsible for condemning the woman to shame and torment just to be rid of a bur in her boot.
To Fitzwilliam and Anne’s claims of her sanity, Elizabeth added her own. “Her Ladyship is as sharp as I am, sir.”
The doctor frowned. “I hate to return to the asylum empty-handed. If you will not release her to me, if you are certain my efforts to raise a case against her would waste more of my time, then is there anyone else you suggest? Someone young and recently of sound mind, or of the peerage?”
What a strange question to ask of them. As if they would betray anyone to the likes of him.
Papa moved to show the man the door.
“Wait!” exclaimed Lydia. “You said someone young? Would a soldier brought up as a gentleman do?”
“Lydia,” Papa cautioned.
“Papa, I know what I am doing. If George faces trial as he is, they will sentence him to hang. As many times as I have said that I hate him, that I would kill him myself with my bare hands, I cannot send him to die like that. I would rather send him to the madhouse.” Turning to the doctor, she added, “He is at the gaol, but you had better hurry before the militia carts him off.”
He departed, and not one person impeded his withdrawal.
