by Don Miller
The evening of that second day, they were forced to stop at an inn near the border of Somerset. They had hoped to reach an inn in Somerset, but decided it would be best to stop at the inn they had discovered in Wiltshire. If the weather held, they should still be able to arrive at Wells just before noon the next day.
They awoke to a hard rain, but by the time they had dressed and eaten breakfast, the storm front had passed, the sun came out, and it turned very hot and muggy. The roads they had to traverse most of the morning had been made very muddy by the rain and the going was quite slow. Consequently they did not arrive near Wells until after noon. Just before they arrived there, on a rise from which they could see the town, there was a rather sharp turn in the road and a long, steep embankment. Col. Fitzwilliam, who was riding his horse ahead of the caravan of coaches, had been looking along the side of the road to see if perhaps he could see where Wickham and Lydia had the accident. At the curve he saw the ruins of a curricle down the embankment from the curve and could certainly understand how someone not familiar with the road and traveling a little too fast, could go over the side. Letting his horse slowly pick his way down the embankment, he rode to the wreck and dismounted to examine it. He looked around for any evidence that might confirm this was the curricle in which Wickham and Lydia had been riding, but the area had been picked clean. If there had been anything left behind, scavengers had been there to take anything of any value at all. As he went back up the embankment, he wondered how the people who had rescued Wickham and Lydia carried them back up to the road and to the town. It would have been quite a task.
When the carriages caught up with him, he stopped them to show them the site and told them he had been down to the curricle and found nothing of interest. Darcy and Elizabeth, wanting to stretch their legs a moment, exited the carriage to look down at the wrecked curricle, but decided there was no reason for either of them to clamor down to it. From what they could see, they did marvel that either Wickham or Lydia came out of the accident alive.
The town looked to be less than two miles away, so Col. Fitzwilliam rode quickly ahead to find Dr. Morgan’s office, while the carriages continued toward the town. Before they reached the town, Col. Fitzwilliam returned and told them Dr. Morgan’s home and clinic was just ahead on their right. Within ten minutes they were pulling into the drive of a house slightly larger than that at Longbourn.
As they were driving up to the front entrance, a young man who had been working among the flower beds in front of the house, ran up to the front door and knocked and an elderly woman opened the door. The young man pointed to the carriages coming up the drive and said something to the woman, who responded and sent him back to his work. She then came down to meet them at the end of the walkway to the front door. When Col. Fitzwilliam had dismounted and Darcy and Elizabeth had disembarked from the carriage, she greeted them by curtsying and saying, “Good afternoon sir, my Lord, my Lady. It has been sometime since we have seen such a fine carriage. May I ask how I can be of service?”
“We are Mr. and Mrs. Darcy,” Darcy said, indicating himself and Elizabeth, “and this is Col. Fitzwilliam. We have come to see two of Dr. Morgan’s patients,” answered Darcy, “the two who were in the accident up the road. I believe Dr. Morgan may have been informed someone would come to identify them. We believe Mrs. Darcy is the young woman’s sister and the man is someone whom the colonel and I have known for some time.”
“Oh, yes we were expecting someone to come, but we only heard that yesterday. We did not expect anyone quite so soon. Dr. Morgan is not here at the moment, but we expect him within the hour. Dr. Morgan is a widower, so there is no Mrs. Morgan to greet you. I am his housekeeper, Mrs. Thompson. I believe Mr. Daniel Morgan, Dr. Morgan’s son and assistant is with the patients now. If you will follow me, I will be glad to show you to them.”
As she led them in the front door and down a hall to the rear of the house and into a rear wing of the house that they had not been able to see from the road, she continued, “Unfortunately, I have bad news for you. The young man gained consciousness several days ago, told us his name was Mr. Wickham and that the young lady was his wife Lydia. He was not as badly hurt as was first supposed. He said he had been able to jump out of the curricle before it went tumbling down the embankment. He only had a sprained ankle, a dislocated shoulder, a possible broken rib, and some bruises and cuts. However, one of the cuts on his leg was very bad and the doctor put on a tourniquet at the accident to keep him from bleeding to death and then put in many stitches when they brought him here. Three nights ago Mr. Wickham attempted to leave in the middle of the night, put too much strain on his leg, and was eventually found the next day lying beside the road going west out of town. The cut had opened and became infected; he had a very high fever and is still feverish and incoherent. The young lady gained consciousness only yesterday. She had suffered a major head injury, and we wondered whether she would ever regain consciousness. She is still immobile and did not become feverish, but she has amnesia. She does not know who she is.
She stopped in front of a door, softly rapped on it, and opened it when a male voice told her to enter. As she opened the door, she turned to Darcy, Elizabeth, and Col. Fitzwilliam and said, “This is Mrs. Wickham’s room. Mr. Morgan is with her. Please be quiet when we enter in case she is asleep.” She then led them into the room.
When they approached the bed, they could see Lydia’s eyes were closed. A young man had her wrist in his hand and was checking her pulse and a female servant stood on the other side of the bed. The young man turned to them with a questioning look on his face, and Mrs. Thompson whispered to him, “These are relatives of the young lady.”
As he nodded, Lydia opened her eyes and after some trouble focusing them, she stared at Elizabeth as if she was trying to remember something, but all she said was, “Do I know you?”
Elizabeth hurried to the side of the bed and gently took Lydia’s hand, and said to her, “Yes, Lydia, you do. I am your sister, Lizzie, and we are here to take care of you. We are just so happy you are alive and recovering. We love you and you had us all very worried.”
Lydia looked at her for a long time, and then whispered, “But I do not know who I am or who you are or who Mr. Wickham is, and he is supposedly my husband. You say you love me and are to take care of me, but I do not know you.” She started to cry and closed her eyes again.
Elizabeth sat down beside Lydia and put her hand on Lydia’s cheek. “I know. But you will. Just know there are people who love you and who will be with you. You have a mother and a father and sisters and a brother.” She leaned down and kissed Lydia’s forehead. “Go to sleep knowing you are not alone and you are loved.”
Looking at Mr. Morgan, Elizabeth asked, “Can we talk to her now or should we come back later?”
“I have just given her another dose of laudanum for the pain. I suggest you stay here with her until she goes to sleep, just comforting her, and then come and join us in the sitting room. I believe the rest of us should all leave.” Then gesturing to Col. Fitzwilliam and Darcy and Mrs. Thompson, he led them out of the room.
“You will not leave me will you, Lizzie?”
“No, I will not leave you, Lydia. Just know you are safe and close your eyes and go back to sleep.”
Within a few minutes Lydia’s breathing became very regular and Elizabeth could tell she was asleep. She gently disengaged her hand from Lydia’s hand and went in search of the others. When she opened the door, Mrs. Thompson was there to lead her to the next room where the men were regarding a sleeping, but obviously feverish Wickham.
“I have been telling them it is touch and go with his leg,” said Mr. Morgan. “If gangrene sets in, the leg will have to be removed just below the knee. We hate to have such things done without the patient’s permission or that of a family member, but if there is none, then the doctor will have to do whatever he thinks is best. I am afraid at this point it looks like it will have to be removed.”
“W
ickham has always depended on his fine figure and handsome good looks. I am afraid losing his leg will be a blow from which he may not be able to recover,” said Darcy. “But I am sure you are honor bound to do all you can to save his life. As much as I dislike Wickham now, as children we were friends, and it will pain me to see him suffer. Given what he has done, it probably should not, but it will.”
“From the way you said, ‘we hate to have such things done,’ am I to understand that Dr. Morgan will not be the one doing the operation?” asked Elizabeth.
“My father has only done one amputation of a leg, and that was many years ago. The few times it has been required in the past several years, he has sent the patient to Bridgewater, where there is a doctor who has done several amputations, because he was once a Navy doctor.”
The three men and Elizabeth left Wickham’s room and retired to the sitting room. There Mr. Morgan gave them more details on Lydia’s condition. “Mrs. Wickham came to us with a broken leg, a broken finger, a dislocated thumb, and some major cuts and bruises, as well as indications she possibly has a broken rib and had a severe blow to the head. Dr. Morgan reset the leg, finger, and thumb, and stitched cuts on her head and shoulder. She and Mr. Wickham were both lucky Mr. Randolph and his son found them as soon as they did. They were on the road below them and could actually see the accident happen. The son drove back quickly to get my father while Mr. Randolph went to the curricle to see what he could do to help. Either of them could have bled to death without Mr. Randolph putting a tourniquet on Mr. Wickham’s leg and putting pressure on a cut that Mrs. Wickham had on her arm. My father and I came with our ambulance wagon and my father reapplied Mr. Wickham’s tourniquet and I bandaged various cuts. We were able to get both Mr. and Mrs. Wickham into our wagon using stretchers we had in our ambulance and had them here in less than an hour. Both had had severe blows to the head, were unconscious, and did not regain consciousness for days.”
At this point a maid came in with tea and cakes, and after she had gone, Mr. Morgan continued. “Mr. Wickham woke up six days ago, but Mrs. Wickham did not. In the next three days Mr. Wickham seemed to be recovering except for the cut on his leg. But Mrs. Wickham, who had suffered far worse injuries than he, remained unconscious. It was during that time Mr. Wickham told us who they were and that they were newlyweds, but he seemed reluctant to give us any information beyond their names and that they were from Brighton, where he was stationed with the militia.”
He then paused, not really knowing how to go on. “I do not know how good a friend he is of you, but I have to say he does not seem like a very good person, and he certainly did not act like the loving husband. He hardly ever sat with his wife for more than ten or fifteen minutes, and he did that only two or three times a day. He certainly gave the impression of someone who was more concerned about being on his way than staying and caring for Mrs. Wickham. And then he tried to leave a few days ago without a word to anyone. What kind of man would leave his wife without saying a word? My father became suspicious they were, in fact, not married, and so he and Mrs. Jackson examined Mrs. Wickham and determined, if they are married, the marriage has never been consummated. My father is certain she is still a maiden. And neither of them wore wedding rings, nor could we find a wedding license anywhere in his personal effects: those we could salvage from the wreckage.”
Visibly pleased, Elizabeth said, “We believe they were not married. She ran off with him only two days before the accident, and they would have had to travel quickly to arrive here at the time they did. They would not have had time to find a minister and marry. So the fact she is still a maiden is good news to us. I believe you should now refer to her as Miss Lydia Bennet.’
“Did Mr. Wickham happen to say anything about where they were going when the accident happened?” asked Darcy.
“No, he did not. He only told us about being in the militia after we told him we had found the militia coat in his luggage. Mr. Wickham told us he was stationed in Brighton and he was on extended leave. When we told him we had contacted the local militia commander to see if they knew about him, he said, ‘Thank you,’ but it was clear he was not particularly happy about it. And he has not asked us to contact the militia again to tell them he was now conscious and recovering. Which leads me to ask, is he, in fact, in the militia?”
“Yes, he is,” answered Col. Fitzwilliam. “And you have not offended us by telling about him. He is not a friend, rather more the opposite. I can tell you, as of today, he is absent without permission for two days. He had been given permission to visit a sick relative in the north for ten days, and being in an accident would certainly give him some excuse for extending that leave. However, he did not go north to visit his relative, therefore he is in major trouble for lying to a superior officer. If he did not leave here in order to report to the nearest militia command, then he will probably be considered a deserter. Can you tell me where the nearest militia camp is?”
“As far as I know they are still encamped outside of Bridgewater, which is about a half day’s ride from here to the south. It was to them we sent the information about the accident and the officer’s coat with the name Wickham written on the inside of it.”
After a moments silence, Elizabeth stood up and said to all, “I think we should find lodgings and get settled, so I can come back here to be with Lydia when she next wakes up. Do you know when that will be, Mr. Morgan?”
“She should wake up near supper time. I did not give her a very strong dose. We want her to awaken so we can give her some soup. She needs to build up her strength.”
As they were speaking, a very fit looking older gentleman entered the room and introduced himself. “Excuse me for interrupting, but I am Dr. Phillip Morgan. Mrs. Thompson tells me you are relatives of Mrs. Wickham. I am very happy to see you here. She could use some emotional support.”
They all rose and Darcy introduced the three of them to Dr. Morgan, and then Elizabeth said, “I am glad you returned before we left. Let me first tell you, as I told Mr. Morgan, her name is Miss Lydia Bennet. She is my sister, and we are certain they did not have time to get married. Can you tell us how long my sister will need to remain under your care before we can move her?”
“I did not think she was married. I assume my son told you that we examined her and found the she was still a maiden, and that Mr. Wickham was a very inattentive husband.” At their acknowledgement, he continued, “I would think she could be moved somewhere locally in a few days. But it will be at least two weeks before it would be safe to move anywhere that would take days or even hours to reach.”
“My wife’s family has an estate in Devonshire I believe could be reached in one very long day, if we left near sunrise. Could we move her sooner under those circumstances?” asked Darcy.
The doctor thought for a while. Finally he said, “It would very much depend on how she progresses over the next week. One never really knows with broken ribs just how badly they are broken. As a matter of fact, we are not sure they are broken; they may just be very badly bruised. If the pain in the chest greatly subsides over the next week, then I would think she could be moved. Propping up a broken leg and making it comfortable for the patient is easier than making one comfortable with broken ribs. Will you be transporting her in that magnificent carriage I saw outside?”
“We can make it available,” answered Darcy, “but the final decision will be up to her father and mother, whom, I am sure, will be here as soon as possible after we send an express letter to them. Could we get one off to them today?”
Looking at his watch, Dr. Morgan said, “I doubt if you could get one to go out today, but if you will write the letter, I will have one of my footmen to take it to the express office in town and it will surely go off in the morning. To where will it go?”
“Her home is in Meryton, in Hertfordshire, only about a half day from London.”
“I can usually get express letters to London in 24 to 36 hours, depending on the weather and the state of the roa
ds. If it goes out early tomorrow morning, I would think they would have it by Tuesday. If they left immediately, they should be here by Friday afternoon.”
Hearing that, Darcy looked at Elizabeth, “We need to discuss how long we will be here, as we must be in Devonshire to prepare for the wedding. If we must leave, we can send a carriage back once we arrive there. I do not think the Bennet’s carriage will accommodate Lydia’s needs.”
“I suggest we find our accommodations and talk about what we are going to do. I can tell the doctor later when I return to see Lydia again.”
“May I make a suggestion?” asked the doctor. “Why do not you stay here? My rooms are nicer than you will find in town, and I have plenty of room. All of my children are grown, so only Daniel lives here with me. At the moment there are three unoccupied guest bedrooms in the house, two rooms for your maid and manservant on the third floor, an empty servant’s bedroom in the clinic wing, and two rooms above the stables. Those should accommodate you and all of your staff.”
“That is very kind of you,” answered Elizabeth, “But will not that inconvenience you and put an extra work load on your staff?”
“No, not at all. We have more staff than my son and I need, but I have not had the heart to dismiss any staff, so we still have more than we truly need. Only those looking for greener pastures have left. Those remaining have a very easy life and it is good to give them more to do occasionally.” He laughed, looked at his son, and continued, “My children tell me I am wasting Daniel’s money, but they appreciate I have all the staff when they come to visit at holidays.”