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Georgiana and Lizzy’s first ambition the following day was to discover the location of Mr Darcy. Interviewing the housekeeper might be helpful but could only be accomplished by Georgiana, who was shy and not at all accustomed to exerting herself. Lizzy rehearsed with her the questions she ought to ask—all of which could be answered without directly revealing the secrets Lady Catherine had, evidently, sworn Mrs Taylor to keep.
“Did you have any luck?” Lizzy asked when Georgiana finally returned after her morning interview with the housekeeper.
“A bit,” Georgiana replied. “She is very reticent, but I asked her directly for the names of those currently employed at Darcy House and then, of the few names I did not recognise, what they do. She could hardly refuse to answer, but Lizzy…on three of them, she hedged. She said they were Lady Catherine’s men. I truly think she wished to say more, but she is afraid of my aunt.”
“Her fear is understandable, and those men are a definite clue. What were their names?”
“Mr Sharp, Mr Hudson, and a Mr Stimple. She said that Hudson is employed days, and Stimple works at night. The third, Sharp, only works Sundays.”
“Hmm. He must be here, Georgie, and these men are his attendants. It sounds as though your aunt has him watched day and night, however.”
“It grows worse,” Georgiana sighed. “Mrs Taylor said that she does not care at all for Mr Stimple and that it is a good thing he works only at night. I believe she meant it as a warning to me.”
After more discussion, they decided to see whether Lady Catherine herself might be a source of more information.
“She must always say whatever is within her head, without restraint,” Georgiana said.
They made their way to the breakfast parlour, as Georgiana claimed her aunt seldom took a tray and would expect them to dine with her.
Unfortunately, enduring the lady’s unrestrained opinions and prying curiosity was the price to be paid for any discoveries, much to Georgiana’s constant chagrin.
“Your hair is an unusual colour, Miss Bennet,” Lady Catherine announced, after loading her plate with kippers and rejecting six slices of toast before the footman managed to please her. “I wonder at it. I had a horse once of that shade, but it was too ill-tempered. It had to be put down, and I always thought its colouring a sign. Mr Collins was likely wise to avoid it and, hence, any possibility of having children with the defect.”
“Mrs Collins has long been a friend to our family and, I agree, a very wise choice for him.” Lizzy bristled but bit her tongue against tempting impertinence.
“Pooh,” her ladyship replied. “Collins will be an exemplary husband, and it would have solved your family’s problem with the ridiculous entail. How stupid of your father not to have had a son. He ought to have seen to it.”
She turned her redoubtable attention upon Georgiana. “And you,” she said in awful tones, “I received a letter from the earl—sent last week, though I only just had time to read it this morning—stating that you would shortly be wed to Colonel Fitzwilliam. You are not yet out! Anne made her curtsey in her eighteenth year, and I would not have dreamt of her marrying before one and twenty. To marry before you are presented? Utter nonsense. What were you thinking, to agree to a marriage arranged by Lord Matlock?”
“I did not! I–I do not wish to marry my cousin,” Georgiana stammered, with unfeigned shock at this announcement. “Or–or anyone.”
Lady Catherine’s manner abruptly reversed itself. “Of course you do not. You will not. I will see to it that no one forces you, including Matlock,” she declared.
“Th-thank you, Aunt,” Georgiana said humbly. Lizzy nodded at her, and she pressed forward with an enquiry. “I wonder…I wonder if Fitzwilliam is still suffering illness?”
Lady Catherine’s nostrils flared. “Naturally, your brother is suffering! But only because I have not yet had charge of his care! His doctor was incompetent. I have replaced that rodent, Younge, with the best medical mind in England. Mr Donavan will shortly commence treatment.”
Lizzy felt a surge of hope. She completely agreed with Lady Catherine regarding Mr Darcy’s former medical care. If a new doctor was able to produce a restorative treatment—although in her opinion, fresh air, wholesome meals, and sunshine might produce results as no pill or potion could—why, Mr Darcy could prevent Georgiana’s wedding to the colonel himself. Freed from Younge’s prison and with healthful attention, his place and position would surely be quickly restored.
“Your ladyship is most kind,” Lizzy said warmly, forgiving her for the ‘horse’ remark. “We feel as you do—his doctor was not helping.”
Lady Catherine graced her with an approving nod. “You need no longer be anxious,” she said. “I have the situation well in hand.”
* * *
Lizzy entered Darcy House’s back gardens with a lighter heart, willing to excuse any of the older lady’s incivility if only to see Mr Darcy restored to health. She and Georgiana had decided earlier to enjoy the out of doors while the weather was fine, and they quickly found a shady bench on which to relish the garden’s summer beauty. Such was her own contentment that it took her several moments to note her companion’s unhappiness.
“What is the matter, Georgie?”
“Mr Donavan…he is Anne’s doctor.”
Lizzy considered this. “So…perhaps not the ‘best physician in the civilised world’ or a ‘superior medical mind’?”
The other girl snorted. “Hardly. Anne suffers from digestive complaints. The best Fitzwilliam has ever said of him is that his potions are unlikely to cause any further damage.”
This was a blow. Lizzy’s feelings of relief vanished.
“My aunt prizes adulation above all else. She would value a compliment to her own ideas above any respected physician’s opinion on Fitzwilliam’s treatment.”
