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Unsurprisingly, Lizzy did not sleep well. Mr Darcy was no longer simply a patient to be tended, the brother of a friend, but a man, himself, the man she had both hated and wanted. He was imprisoned in this, his own house. Why had they chained him? It was completely unnecessary; any fool could see it.
“I did it,” she said to Georgiana the next morning, once they were alone in her sitting room.
Georgiana’s eyes widened. “Why did you not wake me? How did he seem? Was Mr Stimple not there? Did no one see you?”
Lizzy smiled wearily. “It would have taken a pitcher of water to wake you.”
The girl’s expression fell, and Lizzy reached over to pat her knee. “It was fine, dear, and you obviously needed your rest. He seemed very much…Mr Darcy. He still has troubles with his speech. They…they keep him in restraints, which I find excessive and needless. I hope that Mr Donavan releases those at once. His ‘attendant’ was not attending at all but rather snoring in the adjoining chamber. I did not see anyone at all except your brother. He asked after you and seemed relieved that you are near.”
Tears filled Georgiana’s eyes, and she hastily swiped at them.
“He does not want you to see him bound,” she added. “I believe he wishes you to think of him as he was before, not as he is now.”
Georgiana fumbled for her handkerchief. “I will not lie to you. It is not only that—he must blame me for his current state. My wilfulness is its cause.”
“I fail to see how that can be so. Nevertheless, we must not think of ourselves. I do believe we should give him time to…accommodate his current situation, but I do not believe that we should allow him to hide from you for long. You are accustomed to thinking of him as invulnerable to weakness—I know this because I found myself surprised as well. But though he is not, perhaps, quite as you remember, he is very strong, very courageous. In his position, I would be screaming and angry. I cannot believe, however, that anyone competent would keep him in restraints. He is, plainly, the furthest thing from mad.”
“You are right, of course,” she sniffed. “Oh, I do hope Mr Donavan will set him free.”
“If Mr Donavan has a brain in his head, your brother will be joining us at breakfast tomorrow.”
* * *
Lizzy, Georgiana, and Lady Catherine awaited the arrival of Mr Donavan in the yellow parlour after breakfast. Despite not looking forward to spending any length of time with Lady Catherine, Lizzy was grateful that she had not been evicted from the meeting, not wanting to miss an opportunity to see the physician and hopefully hear an encouraging diagnosis.
Making conversation proved completely unnecessary. Her ladyship held forth on her opinions about everything from the placement of the windows to the upholstery on the chairs, questioning Georgiana but seldom awaiting any answer. Which was a good thing, because Georgiana seldom had one.
Lizzy was interrogated upon each of her unmarried sisters: “None of you draw? All of you out? How very strange.” Of course, she thought of several impudent answers to her ladyship’s insolent questions, but she swallowed them. This woman would think nothing of ousting her from Darcy House, and Georgiana could hardly prevent her.
Finally, after an interminable hour, the doctor was announced. He appeared not at all how Lizzy expected—she had pictured someone with presence and a noble mien. Mr Donavan was a small, rotund man hefting a valise almost half his own size and panting with the effort.
“Welcome, Mr Donavan,” Lady Catherine acknowledged at his bow. “My nephew is much in need of your aid. He suffers from apoplexy, mania, as well as malevolent spirits, disordered speech, and violent melancholia. It is intolerable, as I am sure you understand, and your expert opinion is required.”
Lizzy was aghast. While her own visits with Mr Darcy had not been greater than an hour in total, he had demonstrated none of these symptoms, excepting the disordered speech. Had he weakened in the last few hours? Had her ladyship even visited him? How could she believe such if she had?
“I have observed what your ladyship describes many times amongst the Quality,” the doctor replied. “Such illnesses are caused by an imbalance in the body’s humours. His blood is from two noble houses. When mixed, the two fight for dominion. The stronger the blood, the more the patient suffers. He has had the leeches, I understand?”
“Yes,” Lady Catherine answered quickly. “Younge claimed they helped with his violent tendencies.”
You mean weakened him into submission!Mr Jones loved prescribing leeches for every complaint, yet Lizzy had never noticed them bring about any significant improvement—and in the case of Jane’s most recent fever, believed them to have produced a deleterious effect.
“Despite the improvement in his behaviour, his other symptoms remained,” Lady Catherine declared.
“I ought to have been called in to the case sooner,” the physician pontificated sorrowfully, shaking his head. “Leeches are only the first step and, frankly, are incapable of discharging enough of the ruinous blood. His treatment was incomplete. The black and yellow bile are now in disharmony, and his phlegm will overpower it all if purgation is not employed.”
“Purgation,” Lizzy repeated, appalled. He cannot believe that inducing vomiting will help?
The physician ignored all except Lady Catherine. “After purgation, we will proceed with vesticulation to complete the process of restoring the patient’s equilibrium.”
“I understand perfectly.” Lady Catherine nodded. “The Fitzwilliam blood is of heroic vigour, but the Darcy potency is not insignificant.”
Lizzy had read of vesiculation, or blistering, in the war medicinal journals from Mr Goulding’s library—although it was considered proven ineffective amongst the opinions she had studied. But perhaps he was not mispronouncing an archaic ulcerating procedure, instead referring to something entirely different—his learning was bound to be greater than her own. “V-vesticulation? What is that, please, sir?” she dared to ask.
The doctor turned to her. “It has also been referred to as blistering amongst laymen, but vesticulation is the appropriate term.”
“You mean vesiculation?” Lizzy asked incredulously. The man could not even say the term correctly, but felt he ought to thus afflict Mr Darcy?
“Yes. Vesticulation. That is what I said.”
