“You cannot be more than twenty, I am certain, but if you delay much longer, you may find yourself left upon the shelf.”
“Yes, my lady. I shall be sure to inform my father.”
Elizabeth heard Miss de Bourgh suppress a snort of laughter and had all she could do not to glance her way. Instead, she consulted her chatelaine watch and rose. “I beg your pardon, Lady Catherine. I have overstayed my visit.”
Miss de Bourgh rose as well. “Miss Bennet, will you come up with me to see Mrs. Jenkinson before you go? She may require more of her medication, and I should be glad of your assistance.”
“Certainly.”
Elizabeth curtsied to Lady Catherine and followed Miss de Bourgh from the room. They hurried up the stairs and slipped into the companion’s chamber. Mrs. Jenkinson lay restless, moaning softly in her sleep.
Miss Anne bent near. “Maria, are you in pain?”
“Yes, Annie.”
“We shall give you more of the laudanum.”
“Lizzy, the directions say we must wait two hours before administering another dose.”
Elizabeth said, “Mrs. Jenkinson is already in distress. Let us give her more, and you may consult the physician tomorrow about increasing the dose.”
Anne asked, “Maria, it is not yet time, but shall I give it to you?”
“Yes, Annie, pray do. I am in great pain.”
Elizabeth took up the glass rod, measured out the dose, and placed it within the patient’s cheek. They waited. Soon, the tension eased from the poor woman’s brow, and her body settled back against the pillows.
Anne exhaled. “She sleeps. The relief does not last long.”
“No,” Elizabeth said. “Perhaps the physician may increase the dose, or prescribe something stronger.”
“Elizabeth, would you remain with me tonight? We might take turns at her bedside.”
“Can none of the servants assist you? Must you sit up the whole night?”
Anne’s expression faltered. “She is like a mother to me. I cannot leave her, save with you, for I trust you to know what is to be done if she should require aid.”
“Very well. Ask your mother to send a note to Mr. Collins. I shall carry it to him, pack what I need, and return.”
“Thank you, Lizzy. I feel so alone, and Maria has suffered so.”
“Come, let us go to your mother.”
With Lady Catherine’s note in her hand, Elizabeth returned to the parsonage, only to find Mr. Collins had not yet returned home. He was attending to a dying parishioner and might not return until morning.
Elizabeth gave the unsealed note to Mary. After reading the missive, she said, “Let us eat and then pack you a portmanteau, Lizzy. I shall send Jack to carry it for you.”
They dined in silence, and afterward Elizabeth prepared her things and made ready to depart, escorted by the servant. Before she left, she queried her sister. “Mary, will you be comfortable here alone? Your servants are all day servants, are they not?”
“Yes, I shall be quite well, Lizzy. It is a rare pleasure to be alone with my thoughts, without my husband at my shoulder, observing every little thing I do or write.”
“But matters have improved?”
“They have indeed. He keeps busy drawing and redrawing plans for his garden, enough to plant a small estate. And the time he spends in the parish making visits is a blessing to me. Things are much better, yet I confess it is a relief to be free of him in the evening, if only for a few hours.”
“I am glad for you, Mary.”
Mrs. Jenkinson passed a troubled night, and Miss Anne woke Elizabeth in tears. Elizabeth sat up at once. “Has Mrs. Jenkinson passed?”
