Mrs. Fields gave Louisa a long, measured look before nodding once. She reached into the large bag at her feet and pulled out a thick pamphlet, which she handed to her patient. Louisa took the publication and read the title aloud. “An Inquiry into the Effects of Ardent Spirits Upon the Human Body and Mind, by Dr. Benjamin Rush.”
“Yes, it was written by an American author. One of the signers of their Declaration of Independence, in fact.”
“How scandalous,” Louisa said with a small laugh.
“My cousin is a doctor in the Americas, and he sent several of these pamphlets to me last year. It advocates for the ceasing of the excessive use of alcohol and highlights its detrimental effects on both physical health and mental well-being. I think you will find the arguments within to be quite compelling.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Fields.”
Louisa placed the pamphlet on a small table next to her bed, then stood to escort the midwife to the door. “I appreciate you taking the time to see me on such short notice.”
“’Tis the lot of a midwife, to be called upon at the last minute!”
The two women shared a smile; then Mrs. Fields left the room to join her husband, who had been discussing final wedding plans with Jane and Elizabeth. Now that Dr. Fields was aware of the possibility of a special license for Jane and Mr. Bingley, he would be prepared to perform the wedding ceremony at such a time that Mr. Bingley returned to Meryton.
Louisa was about to leave her chambers to find Elizabeth when the door to the sitting room she shared with her husband burst open, and Hurst came charging through.
“Davies said a doctor came to call on you. Why am I hearing this from my blasted valet? Dash it all, Louisa! Did I hurt you last night? I can’t… I can’t remember.”
She watched in astonishment as he fell to his knees at her feet and caught the hem of her gown with his hands, tears streaming down his face.
“Reginald, what on earth?”
Doing her best to keep her balance, she hobbled over to the bed, him shuffling along on the floor behind her. Once she was safely seated on the mattress, she grasped his face with both hands, forcing him to look up at her.
“It’s not even four o’clock, Reginald, but you’re acting like you’ve had an entire bottle of whiskey. Exactly how much have you already had to drink today?”
“Not a drop, Louisa, I swear on my mother’s grave.”
“Your mother’s still alive, Reggie,” she said with a wry smile. “Not that I don’t wish otherwise sometimes, but still…”
Confusion stopped his tears, and after a moment of silence, the two burst into laughter that lasted far longer than the occasion merited. When their hilarity ebbed away, Louisa pulled Hurst from his knees and into a seated position on the bed next to her.
“Now then, if you haven’t been drinking—”
“I haven’t!”
“—then what’s all this fuss?”
He took a deep breath. “I don’t remember much of last night; just shoving you away when you tried to help me after I tripped. Then when I sent Davies to ask your maid a question about dinner this evening, he returned saying he couldn’t speak with her because you were with a doctor. Tell me truthfully, Louisa—just how badly injured are you?”
Louisa flushed uncomfortably and looked away, but she couldn’t help as one hand touched the bruise underneath her lace collar. Hurst gripped her arm to see for himself, and she winced when his hand encircled the bruised wrist from a few nights prior.
“Good Lord, Louisa!”
Hurst’s face paled, and his hands trembled as he tenderly pulled back her collar, revealing the lurid purple and blue mark just above her breast. The one on her arm had faded into yellows and browns, but it still bore the unmistakable shape of a man’s hand around her slender wrist.
He gently placed his hand over the print on her wrist, where it matched the size and shape exactly. He then lifted a finger upand traced the edges of her bruised chest before leaning over and giving it a gentle kiss.
She sucked in a quick breath, watching him warily, unsure of what to expect from his abnormal behavior. “Reggie?” Her voice was soft, hesitant.
“Louisa, I—”
But whatever he was going to say would be forever unknown, as his attention was caught by the tract that lay on the table near the bed.
“What is this?”
She watched apprehensively as he leaned over her and picked up the publication that Mrs. Fields had left, mouthing the words of the title. His head snapped up, and his eyes bored into hers. “Where did this come from?”
