“I cannot but agree,” said Lady Catherine as the next group of callers was announced.
Mrs Mason and her two daughters spent a quarter hour with them, then Sir Albert Swinton, who was determinedly in pursuit of Anne’s notice, and was failing miserably to attain it. Anne spent his visit ignoring him in a most determined manner, taking Lydia’s place by the harp. Her skills were rudimentary, after only a fortnight of indifferent instruction, but she would rather embarrass herself than tolerate Sir Albert’s attentions.
Mr and Miss Woodhouse were announced next. Miss Woodhouse rarely paid calls, due to the nature of her illness. She had fallen ill with influenza the year previous, and had since been victim to weakness, fatigue, and fainting spells since then. Elizabeth thought it was an odd sort of condition, for occasionally Miss Woodhouse seemed quite well, then she would suddenly swoon without warning, and either take to her bed, or spend the rest of the day swaddled in blankets in a comfortable chair, looking weak. Elizabeth had never observed such an illness before.
“My dear lady! Whatever are you doing out of bed!” exclaimed Mr Woodhouse as he took Lady Catherine’s hand and kissed it. Elizabeth had often wondered since arriving in the little town whether Mr Woodhouse might not have quickly developed a particular fondness for Lady Catherine. Her hostess had softened a great deal since entering Hertfordshire the previous December, but it was difficult for Elizabeth to tell if the lady saw the gentleman’s interest, or whether it was welcomed. The two got along very well, although his daughter did not appreciate Lady Catherine’s particular attention, nor her interest in Miss Woodhouse’s illness and recovery.
“Nonsense, I am perfectly well,” said Lady Catherine dismissively.
“Tell me it is not true, what the man said about your condition,” Mr Woodhouse begged.
“I shall neither confirm nor deny anything of the sort, and I will thank you for my privacy,” answered Lady Catherine firmly. “Whatever he said, he ought not have done so in company.”
“I am still shocked at how he made such an assertion at only a glance,” said Elizabeth. “He seems to be an odd sort of physician.”
“The man is an alchemist.” replied Mr Woodhouse. “Such men practise what is called universal medicine; they arescientists, and they often have knowledge that other doctors do not. Most doctors who practise alchemy do not admit it openly. Not much is known about their methods other than that they sometimes use an elixir and special stones to treat illness, and no one knows how it works. It was my hope to obtain an appointment with the man for my Emma; Mr MacArthur had promised me and Fletcher an introduction.”
“As if a mere tonic could cure cancer,” said Anne scathingly. “It sounds like quackery to me.”
“Anne,” her mother interrupted in warning. She did not wish for her condition to be discussed in such a manner.
Lady Catherine had brought her butler with her for the duration of their visit to Eastbourne. Torrens entered the room, and announced. “TheComte St Germain.”
Everyone rose as the man entered and bowed elegantly. He was dressed much as he had been the day before. “Madame, what do you do out of bed? You should be resting,” St Germain said as he approached Lady Catherine and kissed her hand.
“I feel quite well, thank you,” Lady Catherine said, inspecting his countenance with a look of shock. “It cannot be you,” she said. “I believe I met your father, sir, some three decades ago in London.”
“Oh no, dear Catherine, it was indeed I who courted you all of those years ago,” he assured her.
“But then you must be nearly eighty years old! You have not aged a day! Indeed, I believe you may actually look even younger than you did in 1780!”
Comte St Germainsmiled. “This is not impossible.”
“But how?” blurted out Anne.
“I am an alchemist,” the man shrugged, as if this explained everything.
“Then prove it,” challenged Anne. when thecomteraised a brow, she continued. “Prove it by telling my mother something that only the two of you might know.”
Thecomtesmiled again, and whispered something into Lady Catherine’s ear. Their hostess blushed in mortification, and replied, “Youwouldbring up such a memory, you rogue!” Elizabeth noted that Mr Woodhouse seemed dismayed by this exchange.
“How have you come to visit Eastbourne?” Georgiana piped up timidly.
“I am here because of your country’s witless stupidity,” answered thecomte, but gently.
“What is that supposed to mean?” said Anne.
“Exactly what it sounds like,” replied thecomte, who would say no more on the subject. “Lady Catherine, I have made an elixir for you. If you have a private room and a maid, I shall examine you again, and administer it.”
“I shall accompany you,” said Anne, rising quickly.
“No, thank you, Anne. I shall meet with thecomtefor my examination with my maid,” corrected Lady Catherine.
“But-” began Anne in protest.
“I saidno thank you, Anne, do allow me the dignity of my privacy,” her mother said firmly. “I am a dowager, and thecomteis a physician, I do not require a chaperone other than my own maid.”
Mr Woodhouse had said nothing since thecomtehad entered, but he stood and asked, "Monsieur le comte, before I leave, could I impose upon you to make an appointment to examine my daughter while you visit Eastbourne?”
