Mr Jones gave a loud exclamation. “Yes, but, this”—he waved the letter—“is not in regard to you.”
“Surely you remember the situation now? Before you were called away, we discussed my father’s death and my heart pain and?—”
“You must understand, this is not about you!” Mr Jones was pale and visibly distressed. “You have, for over three months, supposed that you were soon to die from a heart paroxysm? Oh, my God.”
“Thereissomething wrong with my heart. It is just as my father suffered?—”
“No, no, it is not! Angina pectoris causes a dull chest pain, and it radiates beyond the heart to the jaw or arm. The pain is brought on by physical or emotional exertion, and there is a sensation of the heart being squeezed and with a rapid heartbeat.”
“Yes, that is very much like what I feel.”
The apothecary shook his head. “Like, butnotthe same. You said that you suffered chest tightness, but with palpitations and often a tight throat with numbness in your hands and feet, as well as exhaustion once the episode passed. Your heart pain was localised, and it happened whether you were at rest or exerting yourself. You could not have suffered as many paroxysms as you did without being carried off if you had angina pectoris like your father.”
How could Mr Jones be so confused? She shook her head and began again. “No, no, you wrote that my heart?—”
“Mrs Darcy, this was in regard to the late Mrs Baker, not you!”
Her mouth hung open. Mrs Baker, who died the first week in June and who was only mourned by her daughter, Mrs Beverly. Mrs Baker had been a large woman with a weak constitution who berated everyone, who drank too much and chased her husband at Longbourn’s ball, who was always red-faced and complaining.
While Elizabeth tried to settle this point, Mr Jones rifled through papers at his desk. “Lynn said that I had not written about Mrs Baker, so I wrote to him again. I never imagined the final page went missing because it was stolen by the wrong patient. Mrs Baker refused to heed my advice—not that it would have made a difference in so advanced a case. Here, Mrs Darcy, this is what I wrote to Lynn regarding you.”
She took the proffered letter with shaking hands.
Regarding Miss Bennet, she fears an ailment similar to what carried off her father two years ago. It is more likely her painful episodes are brought on by a disturbance of mind rather than angina pectoris. She is in reduced circumstances, and this correlates with the onset of symptoms. The passions of the mind must be accorded an important place in this young lady’s case.
Elizabeth rose, crushing the letter in her fist. “My disorder is not caused by my spirits!”
“In many cases, strong passions can affect the heart.”
“I did not imagine this. The pain and every other attending symptom were real!”
“I do not doubt that, madam, truly, I do not.” He gestured for her to sit, and she complied with a cold glare. “I went on to tell Lynn to prescribe argentum nitratum only if you grew progressively nervous. You did not appear nervously irritable to me, and you are not one to take physic unless it was absolutely necessary. However, you never returned for further cures, and Lynn never observed distress in your behaviour or health, even during the death of your sister-in-law. I thought perhaps that your change in circumstances led to an improvement of your health.”
“You mean that... that I was so out of spirits that it brought on these attacks of breathlessness and heart pain?” Mr Jones could not mean it. “But, but was it real?”
“Yes. There is a clear relation between the body and the mind, although we do not fully comprehend it. I would not be surprised if there was a common event that caused most of your heart paroxysms. You would be able to answer to that better than I, but I am certain that you do not have angina pectoris.”
“My heart pains are brought on by an agitation of spirits?” He bowed patiently. “Good God, what does that mean?”
“Distress can worsen any heart condition, but in your case, I see no reason to assume that there is anything at fault with the workings of your heart. I suggest you consider what events might be in common with your pain, and if those events and anxieties are avoided, I suspect the episodes will stop.”
Elizabeth, greatly shocked, still felt unable to believe it. “I am not expected to die by the end of the summer?”
“Mrs Darcy, you have no fatal disease. Angina pectoris seldom commences before an advanced period of life, and quite frankly, if it was angina pectoris, you would have been dead by now. I am tempted to add a word about reading the correspondence of others, but I cansee you have been in agony because of it. I am sorry for the distress you have suffered.”
I am not about to die?
She covered her face with her handkerchief and wept. She heard Mr Jones leave to give her time to compose herself privately.It was an unfortunate, wretched mistake!She tried to consider what feelings might have so distressed her that it brought upon such an ailment, but her mind was in too much of a confusion of relief and uncertainty to properly consider it now.
Exertion was now indispensably necessary—she could not remain in Mr Jones’s consulting room—and Elizabeth struggled against the oppression of her feelings to walk home. One thought clouded over any joy at learning she was not fatally ill: she was going to live, and she was married to a man who only married her because he expected her to die.
Oh, how miserable I am in the thought of what I now have to confess to Darcy.
Elizabeth was still angry with Darcy as she made her way home; he had to answer for his silence. She did not know what explanation he could give—or what she would accept—but hewouldgive her one. She knew why Darcy left his home, why he hid in seclusion with his sister, and she could even understand why he stayed here after Georgiana died. It meant he need not explain a wife to his friends, and he thought it would make her happy to remain in her own neighbourhood.
But why, once they became affectionate friends, had he not told her about his estate in Derbyshire? It seemed a strange omission given their closeness in other matters. Likely, he kept it secret because she had a fatal diagnosis and their arrangement was not a permanent union. What reason did he have to tell her about his wealth when she would not live long enough to make any demands on it?
Oh, my God!There was another painful perplexity to consider: once she told Darcy that she was not going to die, he might not want her.
