“Lydia!”
Mr Jones’s shopboy heard them and laughed as he ran behind the counter. Elizabeth turned red and looked around. Mr Jones’s partner, a younger man who hoped the shop might be his own someday, was making up prescriptions as an apprentice looked on. Mrs Baker was at the counter reproaching Mr Jones, but she paused to look at Lydiabefore coldly withdrawing her eyes, and two women at the other counter shook their heads at Lydia.
Elizabeth’s throat tightened and her heart palpitated, but the pain never came. Should I ask Mr Jones about the pain around my heart?It happened more often now, along with the tremors and shortness of breath. It was very like her father’s ailment. Would her attacks worsen until she, too, died in a dreadful fit of heart pain?
“I hate coming in here, Lizzy. How long must we wait for our turn? It is disturbing, all these medicines.”
The shelves were properly supplied, and everything was well arranged and clean. Vessels, scales, measures, weights, and other utensils were within easy reach, as were a neat row of books for instructing the apprentice. The only distressing thing in sight was the leech jar.
“At least there are no tortoise shells hanging up along with a stuffed alligator and ill-shaped fish!” Elizabeth laughed. “Mr Jones’s supplies amount to more than remnants of packthread and old cakes of roses, thinly scattered to make up a show.”
“I have no notion as to what you mean. Is that from some novel?”
Elizabeth sighed. Lydia’s education had leant toward fashion, dancing, and flirting rather than any improvement of her mind. Another customer had come into the shop, and from behind her she heard him exhale a breath of amusement. At least someone had readRomeo and Juliet.
“Mrs Baker is going on and on about her weak pulse! As if it is Mr Jones’s fault she is fat and has a temper. We do not all need to hear about her cramps and aches.”
“She will not keep Mr Jones much longer.” The gentleman waiting now stood directly behind them. After a minute, Elizabeth heard him shifting his weight and huffing in impatience.
“Lizzy, I am going to look at that new muslin after all. Meet me there after you have taken care of Mary.”
Her sister left, and another five minutes passed before a red-faced Mrs Baker turned up her nose and shuffled past Elizabeth without so much as a nod.
The apothecary gestured, and Elizabeth met him with a smile. Mr Jones was an intelligent man who had tended her family’s everyillness, great or minor, who had attended every Longbourn birth, and was there to ease the pain at every death. After a few pleasantries, she placed her order.
“I suspect if her symptoms are moderate, the soda water should keep her comfortable for the remaining time the morning sickness should last,” Mr Jones added. “If she has any longings, they ought to be gratified as soon as she is willing to eat.”
“Mrs Collins will be glad to hear it. Mrs Cuthbert always longed for curious foods, but her husband indulged her if possible.”
“I did not know you had returned from town. With visits to your sister and uncle, you are rarely seen in Meryton.”
“The last time I was in your shop, your son waited on me. I am surprised not to see him arranging shelves and doing whatever else you bid.”
Mr Jones smiled. “That proves my point; my son left for Edinburgh last year. Capping bottles and rolling pills were never enough for him. He is at the Royal College of Physicians.”
“How proud you must be.”
“He will be in pupillage in medical study four years, and attend hospital twelve months. As proud of him as I am, I wish my only child were not so far.”
“Weather and finances permitting, you could be in Edinburgh in forty hours if you wished to?—”
“Madam, who counts as a doctor in this graceless, dull place depends on who is available. Unless you confine your senseless chatter to visiting hours, the rest of us will have to rely on the local horse doctor!”
Elizabeth spun round to see a man with a most forbidding, disagreeable countenance looming over her. He looked at her coldly, and she was struck silent by his shocking rudeness. The man gave her an expectant, haughty glare, and stepped aside with a hand raised to gesture that she was to pass him and leave. She turned her back on him, parted from Mr Jones with exaggerated civility, and refused to meet the stranger’s eye as she stalked past him and out of the shop.
Horrid, insufferable man with the most ill-bred manners I have ever seen!
She was still furious when she found Lydia in conversation with SirWilliam Lucas. He was standing in front of the posts that divided the pedestrian path next to the toll gate. Though not corpulent, he would still have to edge himself carefully between them to pass through without ruining his coat. Sir William was a naturally inoffensive and friendly man, unlike the rude stranger in the apothecary shop. He gamely bore all of Lydia’s chatter about muslin.
“Miss Bennet!” he cried when she joined them. “You are returned to us from town! I hope you left Mrs Cuthbert in good health. You must tell me all when we next see you at Lucas Lodge.”
“I understand you are to welcome a small party into your drawing room tomorrow evening. Lady Lucas issued her invitation this morning.”
“I hope you might be prevailed upon to play. Charlotte will not have returned by then, and she is the one who convinces you to—ah, Mr Darcy!”
The man from the apothecary shop gave them all a disapproving look while he touched his hat. Elizabeth supposed he would have walked on had Sir William been more inclined to notice Mr Darcy’s disinclination to stop.
“How do you do, sir?” He then looked at the narrow space between the first post and the toll gate, as if to indicate that Sir William might now step aside to allow him to pass.
