The door opened quietly.
Mrs. Collins stepped aside to admit him. He followed her to the bed. His cousin prepared the bitter tea, but his attention rested only upon Elizabeth. She lay with the coverlet drawn to her chin, her cheeks flushed and her forehead damp.
“Is she worse, Mrs. Collins?”
“No, sir. Dr. Miller was here and reports improvement in her lungs. He hears air throughout, even to the lower parts. He has brought a stronger preparation of the expectorant, a blend of three herbs.”
She indicated a jar of syrup upon the table.
“Will she take it in her tea?”
“Yes, sir. He appears satisfied with her progress, for as he observed, her mind no longer wanders, and Lizzy takes all the fluids I offer her.”
“Has she taken any nourishment?”
“No. She declares she has no appetite and feels too fatigued to eat.”
“Mrs. Collins, I nearly forgot. I have received an express from my coachman. He expects to arrive late this evening. They would have come sooner, but your sister delayed the journey.”
He took a note and a letter from his jacket pocket and offered them to Mary.
Her eyes ran down the short note. “Sir, Miss Bennet sent a servant to Harpenden for a length of woolen cloth, squill syrup, and tincture of senega root. We took a meal in the kitchen while the lady packed her trunk, and the medicines were sent for. Mr. Bennet has enclosed a letter for Mrs. Collins.”
She raised her eyes in relief. “Thank goodness Jane will be here today.” She pressed her handkerchief to her eyes. “Thank you, sir. I feel greatly comforted with this news.”
“Shall we begin the treatment, ma’am?”
“Yes, sir.” She set the letters aside and went to her sister.
“Lizzy, Mr. Darcy has come to perform your percussion.”
Darcy saw that Elizabeth did not answer. “Is she very ill, Mrs. Collins?”
“No, sir, but she passed a difficult night, and neither of us slept well. I believe she is only fatigued. Still, we must proceed. Pray come, sir, I shall hold her for you.”
“Lizzy, my dear, I shall turn you upon your side.”
As Mary moved her, Elizabeth woke and complied.
“Miss Elizabeth, I shall begin.”
Darcy commenced the percussion, and a cough soon seized Elizabeth. She endured for nearly ten minutes, but then Darcy heard her groan.
“My ribs pain me.”
Mary looked to Mr. Darcy, and he ceased. “Lizzy, you say the muscles along your ribs are painful?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Mrs. Collins, shall I return in two hours for another treatment?”
“Yes, sir. Dr. Miller was firm about this.”
He stepped back from the bed, uneasy. Elizabeth lay curled, and she winced each time the cough racked her body.
“Ma’am, she is suffering.”
“Yes, sir. She says her lungs pain her when she coughs. They burn. I am boiling water to prepare an onion poultice, which seems to afford her some relief.”
