“Let me see her, then, and I shall do what I can.” Inside the room, Maria lay patently exhausted, and yet in constant motion, seeking a position that would give her relief. She hardly seemed to notice his entrance, so wrapped up in her pain was she. He set his bag upon the dresser and hurried to his patient.
“Miss Maria, I must have you sit up for a moment,” he said. A swift examination led him to diagnose a temporary rheumatism of the spine, likely brought on by the fever. He turned to her elder sister, who hovered by the bed. “I will leave you with some laudanum, and Miss Maria may have a few drops every four hours to ease her. A hot flannel where it pains her most may also help, and if she can tolerate willow-bark tea, I recommend it thrice daily.”
Miss Lucas’s relief was palpable. “I thank you, Mr Jones. Please, allow me to see you off with some hot tea,” she said, as she had the last three days. Today, to his surprise as much as hers, he agreed. She escorted him down to the kitchens, where she ordered the preparation of a pot of strong tea, to be sealed in a flagon for Mr Jones to take with him. She pressed upon him a scone, and sat him at the little table in the corner, taking a place across from him as he ate and they awaited the tea.
“I hope Maria will be able to sleep now,” she commented, “for I cannot but think that a lack of rest is highly undesirable in her condition.”
He reached across the table to place a comforting hand upon her own, and they both startled, locked eyes for an instant, and then hastily looked away. While he saw her blush, the more worldly gentleman was no less confused.
Putting the matter aside to be thought upon later, he said, with tolerable composure, “I expect that she shall be able to get some sleep now, with the poppy’s help. If she is not able to rest before my next visit, we will try something else.” He peered at her over the top of his spectacles. “And you must rest as well, Miss Lucas.”
“I shall try, sir. May I ask after your sister and her family?”
“Joanna and Davey have fallen ill, but their cases are quite mild thus far. Jenny is nonetheless wearing herself thin tending to them.” He shook his head. “She and her husband and little Meg remain in health, for which I am thankful.”
“I seem to recall that the last time I visited your shop, young Davey was proving a most able assistant,” Miss Lucas said with a smile.
Mr Jones chuckled. “Indeed! Like every boy of three, he wants to know what everything is, but unlike most he is not satisfied with being told that this is medicine for nerves, and that is salve for burns, he wants to know how and why they work. If he were not to inherit Haye-Park, I would be hopeful that he might join my profession one day.”
The Lucases’ cook came bustling over just then, to hand him the flagon of tea, and he had no further excuse to linger. Riding away from Lucas Lodge, he allowed himself a few moments of bemusement at the potent physical attraction which had flowed between him and the eldest Lucas daughter. Soon, however, he turned his thoughts to his next stop, at Longbourn, for the question of Miss Lucas could wait, but the Bennets could not.
CHAPTERNINE
After listeningto Mrs Bennet’s chest for a long while, Mr Jones straightened and with a slight frown, said, “Madam, the congestion I suspected yesterday has established itself very quickly, and I do not like it.”
“Nor do I,” cried the lady.
“I will give instruction to your daughter—”
“Oh, what would you know, young as you are?” she replied pettishly.
He looked to the others in the room; Mr Bennet seemed amused at his wife’s antics, while Miss Catherine was clearly exasperated. Neither showed the concern that was warranted in such a case. “Sir, Miss Catherine, perhaps we should discuss treatment elsewhere, and allow Mrs Bennet some peace?”
Moving to the head of the stair, Mr Jones detailed the mixture of herbs that should be boiled in a pot of water for the steam treatment, and the importance of holding a hot bladder to Mrs Bennet’s chest.
“How is it that she has got two illnesses at once?” Miss Catherine wondered. “The smallpox is not so very bad for her—certainly it is nothing to Lydia’s—but this ailment of the lungs has come on very strong.”
“I do not believe it is a distinct ailment,” Mr Jones replied. “The smallpox takes some few people in this manner, concentrating upon the lungs instead of the skin, and behaves as a pneumonia.”
Mr Bennet was quick to ask, “And is this variant of the disease more or less dangerous than the usual course?”
“I am by no means an expert,” the young man hedged, “but to my knowledge the usual course of the disease is the least dangerous. Aggressive treatment of the pneumonia now, in the early stages, will give her every possible chance of survival.”
“I agree,” said Mr Bennet abruptly. “Kitty, go down to Mrs Saxby now and prepare the first steam treatment. We shall waste no more time.”
The girl hurried to comply, and Mr Bennet waited until her footsteps could no longer be heard to turn back to the apothecary. “You have seen cases like this before, Mr Jones?”
“I have. There was an epidemic in Whitechapel during my training. I saw…” he thought for a second. “Three cases like Mrs Bennet’s.”
“I see,” murmured Mr Bennet. “And how many of them lived?”
Mr Jones was silent for a long moment. “One.”
Mr Bennet ran a hand over his mouth, and stared into nothingness for the space of a half-dozen breaths. Then he shook his head briefly, as though clearing it. “Much has been gambled on poorer odds than that, so we shall hope for the best.”
* * *
The following morning, Elizabeth was awake when Mr Darcy’s soft knock came. As she entered the passage, his anticipatory expression quickly shifted into a concerned frown at her even more haggard appearance. “Miss Elizabeth, have you slept at all?” he blurted.
