A Season Lost

by Sophie Turner

  “Oh – are you unwell?”

  “No, I do not think so. I do not feel unwell – only, I should have taken my blue mass yesterday. I was not thinking about it when I packed my trunk. Mrs. Jenkinson usually packs all of my physic.”

  Elizabeth found herself filled with more irritation than she should have, that Anne de Bourgh should be worried over a dose of blue mass when she felt fine, and the rest of their party had been worried over poor George’s survival through the night. Neither could she prevent this irritation from forming her response, which was: “Miss de Bourgh, if you do not feel unwell, is this physic truly required?”

  “Well, I always take it.”

  “That was not what I asked.”

  “I – I do not know.”

  “Well, the surgeon, Mr. Lock, can be called out again to see to you, if you wish. Although I confess I do not think I would be so eager to take physic just for the sake of taking it.”

  “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Darcy. That is a good thought – I shall think on that more, before I send for Mr. Lock.”

  Only because of George’s present silence could Elizabeth hear Anne de Bourgh’s feet padding back down the hallway and feel a degree of regret over how crossly she had responded to Anne’s concerns. Yet Anne was a grown woman and had Rachel attending her; if she could not manage on her own to decide to have someone in to prescribe her more blue mass, Elizabeth could not find much patience for speaking with her. Not when she had just feared for the life of her son, at his present young and helpless age.

  Chapter 29

  The day following her conversation with Elizabeth Darcy, Anne de Bourgh did something she did not think she was supposed to do. In truth, she did several things she did not think she was supposed to do. The first was that she followed Mrs. Darcy’s advice and decided to stop worrying about her blue mass, so long as she did not feel unwell. For the first time in all the years she had been taking it, she was separated from all those who had seen it as essential for the preservation of her health – her mother, Dr. Gibson, and Mrs. Jenkinson – and indeed, her concerned plea to Mrs. Darcy had been largely because they would have wanted her to take her pill. Yet she had always desired a chance to attempt some other cures for the weakness of constitution that had always plagued her, and her dismissal by Mrs. Darcy – I do not think I would be so eager to take physic just for the sake of taking it – had recalled her to this desire. And so not only had Anne not requested Mr. Lock, she had also made inquiries with the hotel about going sea-bathing.

  These inquiries were somewhat favourably answered. The sea was very cold in this year, with the weather so poor, and sea-bathing might not be advisable to those with a weak constitution – this said with a particular look at her – but the hotel itself had very fine marble baths. One of these could be filled immediately with warmed sea-water at Miss de Bourgh’s request for three shillings six pence, or she might purchase seven baths for a guinea. Whichever she chose, she could bathe in the privacy and comfort a young lady such as herself would desire.

  It had been a long time since Anne had considered herself a young lady. She purchased seven baths and asked to partake of her first as soon as it could be prepared. In doing this, she felt a measure of guilt – Mrs. Darcy had clearly desired they all keep themselves as separate from each other and all other society as they could. Yet if anyone was to catch the infection quickly, it was Anne. She had not, however, and so Mrs. Darcy’s admonishment had served to her as a reminder that she had some period of time – some possibly short period of time – to do whatever she desired to better her own health, without the restrictions that might be imposed by anyone else. Mrs. Darcy had other priorities; Mrs. Darcy had twin sons, one of whom had shrieked through the night with some affliction that had never been explained to Anne, but must have been alleviated in some manner, for the boy’s distress had eventually ceased.

  She made Rachel go with her, which was for the best, as she needed someone to help remove her clothes down to her shift, and once Anne had recalled that said shift should be thoroughly soaked, to go back to her apartment for another. The room with her bath was small and private, and mostly taken up with the deep marble tub that had been filled with Anne’s warm sea-water. Approaching it, she put her foot in, found it to be pleasantly warm, and proceeded to rapidly submerge the rest of her person. This was the first time Anne had bathed in such a tub and in seawater, and she found it a superior experience, as though she was somehow more buoyant, and in so being, soothed and comforted. Anne waited until the water had cooled to the point where it might chill her, then had Rachel come back in and help her change into a new shift and her old dress.

  As she was returning to her apartment, Anne thought again about the blue mass, and how she had skipped her dose yet felt none the worse for it. Indeed, she felt refreshed after her bath. It had been a very long time since Anne had felt truly well, though, and she had no expectations that one bath should do away with years of head-aches, a pervading fatigue of both body and mind, and an ongoing set of other maladies. In truth, she was not certain anything could help her, yet she was going to try while she had the chance.

  +++

  The following day, Anne was preparing to go and have her second bath, when Mrs. Darcy knocked on her door.

  “Miss de Bourgh, may I speak with you for a moment?”

  “Of course,” said Anne, who had already been near the door, about to go downstairs to the baths.

  “I am sorry,” said Mrs. Darcy. “My temper was rather frayed yesterday, and I spoke very shortly to you. How are you feeling – do you still need your blue mass?”

  “I feel very well,” Anne said. “Pray do not worry yourself over anything you said yesterday. This must be a worrying time for you. How – how are your sons?”

  “They are well. We seem to have found a solution for George’s teething discomfort.”

  “Oh, good, I am glad to hear it,” Anne said, and then, because she could bear what felt a secret no longer, she said, “Mrs. Darcy, I went sea-bathing yesterday – not in the sea, directly, but in the baths in the hotel. I have always wanted to try sea-bathing, and I thought to do so rather than bring someone in to prescribe me more blue mass.”

  There was a long pause. “Miss de Bourgh, I would rather we all have kept to ourselves, to minimise the risk of infecting anyone else. That is why I have been speaking to you through your door and have not even been able to see my younger son since we left Rosings.”

  “I – I understand, but if any of us was to be afflicted by now, it would surely have been myself. And yet I have not, so I suppose my conclusion has been that none of us is afflicted. Perhaps that is premature, and I would understand if you wish to remain shut away for longer, but I would like to continue with my baths, so long as I do not feel any soreness in my throat.”

  “Continue with them, then,” said Mrs. Darcy, in a resigned tone. “Please let me know if there is any change in your condition.”

  “I will,” said Anne, and she did not feel so guilty as perhaps she should have.

  Chapter 30

  Elizabeth had intended to keep at least that portion of her party she had control over in seclusion for a week complete, but found her resolve to do so eroding rapidly with the knowledge that Anne de Bourgh continued to be healthy enough to leave her room and bathe. Two days after Anne’s confession, therefore, she awoke and determined she would wait no longer to see George, gathered up James, and knocked awkwardly on the door to the apartment beside hers.

  “It is Mrs. Darcy,” she said. “If you are all still well, I believe we have kept ourselves apart for sufficient time.”

  Sarah opened the door, and immediately understanding Elizabeth’s greatest desire at this time, took James from her so she could go to her other son unimpeded. Little George was lying in his basket, chewing vigorously on three strips of saddle leather held together with a few simple stitches on each end, the whole mass completely soaked from George’s actions. Elizabeth might have
found it disgusting if it was not so evidently giving him relief, and she was glad of Sarah’s caution in washing it before it had been given to him.

  George recognised her and gave an awkward sort of smile round the leather, and with this encouragement, Elizabeth knelt down and picked him up, taking care that he did not lose his strange teething device in the process. She held him close and was glad to find him in a mood to be held, for he snuggled up against her and made no movement beyond this except to continue to suckle on the leather. When finally he stirred, finding Sarah and Mrs. Nichols had retreated to the other rooms, she offered to let him nurse, but found he could not do so for very long before his face scrunched up in discomfort, and he began to cry. Elizabeth hastened to give him back the leather, finding his distress dissipated after he had mashed it with his gums a little. She determined she should give John some sort of bonus for thinking of this, for it had saved her son – and everyone who cared for him – a great deal of worry.

  Once she felt soothed enough at being returned to George’s presence, Elizabeth laid him back down in his basket and invited Sarah and Mrs. Nichols to return to the parlour so they might have a conference as to how to manage things, now that they could all see each other. They would need to stay away for some time longer – the sickness continued at Rosings, with two maids and the butler now fallen ill with the sore-throat – although thankfully Darcy still had not caught it as of his last, nor had Charlotte – but Elizabeth was not willing to be parted from either of her sons now, which would necessitate some change in the present arrangements. She proposed that Sarah move to Elizabeth’s present chamber, and Elizabeth take over the bedroom Sarah had been using in this apartment. This was protested by Sarah, who could not fathom having such a fine room all to herself and thought she should take a new, lesser space in the servants’ rooms. Only after Elizabeth argued that she would be better able to continue to aid them if she stayed next door was Sarah convinced, and even then she gathered up her belongings with a guilty expression upon her face.

  While Sarah and Mrs. Nichols saw to the rearrangement of their sleeping quarters, Elizabeth spent the remainder of her morning seated on the floor beside the blanket that was now intended to hold both of her sons, although only James spent any quantity of time there. George was almost perpetually fussing, for rolling over and finding himself on his stomach, or in the horrible predicament of having dropped his saddle leather. Either of these situations prompted almost immediate tears, but did allow Elizabeth the maternal satisfaction of being the one to soothe him whenever he was upset.

  She only diverted her attention from the boys when Henry came with the latest letter from Darcy, and Elizabeth opened it hoping it would be like his last, a report that he and Charlotte were still well, and little had changed in those who were ill. It was not, however. He, thankfully, was still well, but he reported that Charlotte had finally succumbed to the sore-throat, and perhaps this had been inevitable, given the amount of time she spent nursing her husband. Darcy thought Charlotte of a constitution able to fight her illness, and he was more concerned over the plight of those who had been invalids for some time.

  Dr. Gibson had drawn off another ten ounces of blood from Lady Catherine, Mrs. Jenkinson, and Mr. Collins, and this had seemed to leave them all in a much greater state of debility, with no useful lessening of their symptoms. Charlotte had refused to let him bleed her, Dr. Gibson had requested Mr. Darcy’s intervention in that matter, and in the ensuing argument, it seemed Darcy had informed Dr. Gibson his services would no longer be needed, either at Rosings or the parsonage. Elizabeth smiled, faintly, for she knew her husband had a temper, one not easily roused but substantial when it was, and it seemed Dr. Gibson had managed to rouse it. She had only Darcy’s description of the situation, accounted for in more cold and rational prose than his feelings must have been at the time, and yet from all he had described, she felt her husband in the right. He had sent for a town physician who had attended his family in the past. This physician was unknown to Elizabeth – during the season they had spent in London, their party had fortunately been a healthy one – but she thought he could certainly do no worse than this Dr. Gibson, and had some goodly chance of doing better.

  Lady Catherine, Elizabeth found as she read on, had been exceedingly displeased by her nephew’s barring of her physician from her house, although in Lady Catherine’s present state, her indication of such had been little more than a whisper of this, murmured from her bed. “Had she been capable of more vehemence, I think I would have reminded her that it is not her house – it is Anne’s, something she never seems able to entirely remember,” he wrote. “I must admit it disturbs me to see a woman who usually presents such force of personality to the world brought to such a feeble state, and I hope Dr. McMullen will do some good and bring all of our patients around.”

  Elizabeth glanced at her children, and prayed Darcy was right, that Dr. McMullen would affect some positive change, both for the sake of his patients, and because she wished deeply for her family to be reunited.

  +++

  When it came time to order dinner, Elizabeth found another set of arrangements were required to be made, and settled it with Mrs. Nichols and Sarah that they should dine together with Rachel in the smaller apartment, and Elizabeth would dine in the larger with Anne de Bourgh. Elizabeth did not mention to the two women that she had some manner of amends to make, before she could dine with Anne, and she went next door as soon as they had settled things and sent Henry and Samuel down with their orders.

  Elizabeth knocked, and wondered if Anne was out. “It is Mrs. Darcy,” she said. “I wonder if I might speak to Miss de Bourgh with the door open – I believe enough time has passed, for us to feel ourselves safe.”

  Anne was not out, for the door was opened immediately by Rachel. “Mrs. Darcy, will you please come in and sit?” asked Anne, who was seated herself, on the sofa in the parlour of her apartment.

  Elizabeth came in, and was startled to see Anne’s countenance, which held a tinge of pink, but not the bright, unhealthy blotches of scarlet fever. “Miss de Bourgh, you look well!” she said, although well was comparable – Anne certainly did not look so well as any of the other women in their party, but she did look better than Elizabeth had ever seen her to be.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Darcy. I believe sea-bathing agrees with me.”

  “I am inclined to agree with you,” said Elizabeth, seating herself. “And I believe I overreacted, when last we spoke, in voicing my concern over your leaving your apartment. I had never made it clear that was my wish.”

  “I believe it was clear enough, Mrs. Darcy, but nor do I regret going against your wishes. As you indicated, I have a little time in which I may choose my own physic, and I was eager to act on this opportunity.”

  “I understand,” said Elizabeth, adding, hesitantly: “You and I have always been on strange terms. I do not know if you shared your mother’s wishes, that you and Mr. Darcy should marry.”

  “I did not. I never saw that match as anything more than a fancy of my mother’s imagination. I hope you do not think I bear you any ill will for marrying my cousin.”

  “I was not sure, but I am glad you do not. I have come to tell you that your mother’s health has neither improved nor worsened, and Mr. Darcy has called in another physician, from town.”

  “I hope he may do better than Dr. Gibson. Are we to remain here while we wait?”

  “Yes, at least for now.”

  “I am glad of it.”

  “Good, I can see that the seaside does you well,” Elizabeth said. She then made her proposal that Anne dine with her that evening, and when this was accepted, her final request, that she and Anne begin calling each other by their Christian names; since marrying, she had always thought of her cousin as Anne, as Darcy called her, and it felt strange that the formality of their circumstances had made it impossible to make this request any sooner. This, too, was agreed to, and Elizabeth left the room pleased to finally have
a conversation with her cousin end on good terms.

  Chapter 31

  George’s little teeth broke through completely, and following this, he had no further use for his leather straps, desiring a return to his rattle. Not long after this occurred, James began his own cries of distress, although they all now knew the most likely cause of them, and offered him both the coral end of his rattle and new pieces of saddle leather.

  James, they found, preferred his coral. They also found that as the more active of the two boys, he gave them a greater challenge in ensuring it remained in his mouth, where it could provide some benefit. James was constantly losing it as he turned over, and even if he managed to keep it in his mouth through that activity, it was soon enough lost in his attempts to drag himself across the floor. He was watched in these attempts by his rather placid younger brother, who had at least finally learned to push himself up into a sitting position and hold himself there, rather than remain on his detested belly.

  During the several days in which this all occurred, they had no new intelligence of note. Darcy’s letters told only of a gradual worsening of Mr. Collins, who had descended painfully into every debilitating symptom scarlet fever could bring to bear, and little change in the condition of everyone afflicted with the sore-throat, which Dr. McMullen thought good, for at least they had not progressed any further.

  Despite the expense, Elizabeth and her husband continued to correspond by sending their letters via grooms on hired horses. While she had never exulted in the degree of wealth she had married into, for once Elizabeth was glad to bear what most would have considered an exorbitant expense, to send such correspondence to her husband every day and have his responses arrive in the same form; in time, she came to be desensitised to receiving her correspondence in such a manner.