Elizabeth’s repose did not last long, for though Jane entered their room quietly enough, there would be no quieting Kitty, and especially Lydia. They thundered up the stairs, giving no thought to their poor father sleeping below in his study.
“Oh, Lizzie, I am sorry to wake you,” Jane said quietly, a pained expression on her lovely face. Elizabeth groaned and rolled over to face her sister.
“Do not worry, Jane. Knowing what would be returning from Meryton, I did not expect to sleep for long.”
“They were a nightmare all evening, I cannot imagine that you would have enjoyed yourself for all of the tending to our younger sisters that was required.”
Elizabeth covered her laughter with her hand and propped herself up on her elbow.
Jane sighed wearily, she unfolded her nightgown her . “I fear that I am too exhausted to tell you about everything that happened tonight, Lizzie, but I can assure you that it was wonderful and I will reveal everything in the morning,” Jane said as she pulled her nightgown over her head.
Elizabeth nodded, “I had planned to walk into town to see Dr. Carter tomorrow, and I cannot think of a better topic to accompany such a journey.”
“Dr. Carter?” Jane’s concern was written plainly on her face. “Is Papa...”
Elizabeth shook her head. “His cough worries me, and I fear that Dr. Carter is not being honest with us. I want to speak to him, in person, about Papa’s condition. I feel it is of the utmost necessity.”
Jane agreed quickly and climbed into her own bed, blowing out the candle on her bedside table as she did so. The candle Elizabeth had set upon their dressing table burned low, and would soon go out. Elizabeth settled herself back against her pillows once more and tried to concentrate on quieting her racing thoughts.
Kitty and Lydia’s laughter floated down the hallway and Elizabeth tried her best not to be angry with them. How dare they be so merry when their dear Papa was so sick?
Oh, to be sixteen and have no care in the world beyond which officer had been the better dancing partner...
Elizabeth could not imagine Lydia having a care for her future husband or the weight of familiar duty upon her shoulders... as the youngest daughter her only duty was to dance and be merry, and perhaps marry soon enough not to be a burden upon her aging parents.
Her father might call Kitty and Lydia the silliest girls in England, but they would be married long before poor Mary.
Elizabeth sighed and stared at the patterns that the gently flickering candle flame painted upon the plaster above their heads.
Dr. Carter would have answers. Perhaps not the answers that she wanted to hear, but there was no way to avoid fate. If she knew what was coming, then she could be netter prepared to step forward and defend her sisters. For that was what her father had asked of her... was it not?
Elizabeth let her eyes drift closed and hoped that by the time the sun rose that she would find some clarity, for at the moment, everything seemed very bleak indeed.
Breakfast in the Bennet household on the day after a major social event was predictably chaotic. Kitty and Lydia competed for the attention of their elder sisters, each trying to tell the same story from slightly different viewpoints.
Kitty was in the middle of telling Elizabeth that she had danced with the handsomest officers at the assembly, while Lydia wailed with laughter.
“The only officers dancing with you were the ones that I declined,” she crowed. Kitty’s face fell at her sister’s exclamation and the two fell to arguing. Elizabeth exchanged a knowing look with Jane. Mary simply shook her head and bent over her breakfast, trying to get through the meal as quickly as possible.
“Where is Mama?” Elizabeth asked quietly.
“Mama is in bed with her nerves,” Mary said briskly as she spread jam over her scone. “Although I believe that she had too much of Sir William’s scotch punch.”
“Mary,” Jane whispered her admonishment sharply, but she smiled at Elizabeth covertly. It was very likely true. Mrs. Bennet had a habit of claiming that her nerves were plaguing her on the mornings following a ball or assembly. She would stay in her room and moan for hours while Jane tended to her, but not today.
The clock in the parlor chimed the hour and Elizabeth set aside her teacup. “Well, Jane, I daresay it is time that we were on our way.”
Kitty and Lydia ceased their arguing for just a moment. “On your way?” Lydia cried, “but where are you going? Shall we come with you? If you are going into town I must come with you! Mr. Denny and Mr. Spalding may be in town, and I would very much like to speak to them!”
“Oh, yes! I should very much like that as well!” Kitty cried.
Elizabeth stood up from the table and silenced both girls with a stern glare. “Jane and I are going into town. Kitty, you and Lydia will see to Mama and make sure that she is comfortable.”
Lydia groaned loudly and Kitty made a face. “What about Mary?” Kitty whined.
“Mary will sit with Papa while we are gone,” Elizabeth said firmly. Mary raised an eyebrow and bit into her scone, unmoved by her assignment.
“This is so unfair,” Lydia moaned, dropping her head onto the table.
“Indeed,” Elizabeth replied with a smile.
The whining, begging , cajoling, and threatening followed Elizabeth and Jane all through the house as they prepared to leave, but their resolve would not be shaken.
Elizabeth could not bear the thought of sitting through a meeting with Dr. Carter to have her questions answered, and then listen to Lydia’s shallow conversation for the duration of the walk home again. She had always endeavored to be more tolerant of her younger sisters, but, like any elder sister, she sometimes found it a difficult promise to keep.
It was with some sense of relief that Elizabeth and Jane were finally able to leave Mary in charge of their father and had sent a sullen Lydia and Kitty to care for their mother.
As they walked together towards Meryton, Elizabeth felt the need to lighten her spirits. Jane could not know what thought were spinning in her mind, and her sister’s pink cheeks and bright eyes told Elizabeth that Jane was eager to speak about everything that had taken place at last night’s assembly.
“Let me guess, Jane,” Elizabeth said brightly, winding her arm through her sister’s. “Mr. Bingley is neither tall nor short, is in possession of an agreeable yet unremarkable countenance, and is only passably interesting to converse with... Pray, dearest, do not hide your disappointment from me. For these reasons must be the only deterrent to you chattering on as Lydia usually does about her dancing partners.” She patted Jane’s hand gently. “Mama was very cruel to paint him with such an impossible hue... no gentleman could ever hope to live up to such expectation.”
Jane gasped aloud, and sensing her sister’s joke, dug her elbow into Elizabeth’s ribs. “Lizzie! You are very much mistaken,” Jane cried, a blush flooding over her cheeks. “Mr. Bingley is no less than the kindest, most well mannered, handsomest, and most... well-dressed gentleman that I have ever laid eyes upon,” Jane said after barely a moment’s pause.
Elizabeth laughed and rubbed her side dramatically. “And how many times did he take a turn upon the dance floor with you?”
“Twice,” Jane replied. “He and his party came late to the assembly, but Mama is sure that if there had been more time...” “Of course, he would have danced with you twice more than that, I have no doubt,” Elizabeth said with a smile.
“I am only sorry that you were not there to make his acquaintance, Lizzie. He was ever so polite, even Mama remarked upon his manners and pleasant nature.”
“I am very sure that she did.”
“Oh, but Lizzie, you should have seen his party. He was accompanied by two very fine ladies; his sisters, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. Mama will say that they were quite overdressed for our assembly, but I thought they were very elegant, and the fashions in London are quite overwhelming... I could not dream of dressing so finely every day.” Jane looked down at her plain muslin dress a little wistfully, and Elizabeth imagined that her sister was thinking about how easy it would be to dress elegantly every day.
“And the gentlemen in the party?” Elizabeth asked. “There were said to be several gentlemen accompanying him from London...”
“Alas, only two, and one is married to Mrs. Hurst.”
“How very dull, indeed,” Elizabeth laughed. “Come now, tell me about the other gentleman.”
“You would not have liked him in the least, Lizzie. He was very aloof, and did not dance but once with Mr. Bingley’s sister, and he never smiled.”
“Never?”
“Never. He seemed very dull, truthfully he was the very opposite of Mr. Bingley in every way. Charlotte told me that he was very rude to Miss King as well when Sir William tried to present her as a suitable dancing partner”
“Oh dear, dull, tiresome, rude, and less than handsome... what horrible luck for a gentleman to be in possession of no redeeming qualities!”
“No, indeed, Lizzie. I overheard Charlotte telling Miss Crawford that he has a larger fortune than Mr. Bingley, almost ten thousand a year. And he is very handsome...”
“Handsome and rich, but a dull, disagreeable man who does not dance... This is a poor introduction, Jane, and I confess that I am glad that I have not had the opportunity to meet him. May it stay that way for the entirety of their visit.”
“Well, I do hope to see Mr. Bingley again,” said Jane quietly. Elizabeth tightened her arm around her sister’s and smiled.
“I daresay that you will not need to hope,” she said confidently. “I have a very good feeling about this Mr. Bingley from London.”
“I hope you are right, Lizzie, because I do as well.”
The day was warm and sunny, and though it was October, there was no hint that winter was fast approaching aside from the barren branches of the trees overhead. The streets of Meryton were bustling and the new militia officers who had just arrived in town were milling about the streets in their bright jackets and tall hats. The autumn sun glinted off their gilded buttons and Elizabeth could not help but smile to see all of the activity in town. She could not wait for the first snows and the gradual build of the holiday season. She took Jane’s hand and the two young women ran the last few steps into town just as they had when they were girls.
They stopped, breathless and red-cheeked in front of Dr. Carter’s gate, sobering instantly as the real reason for their visit to Meryton settled upon their shoulders. Their visit was unexpected, for Elizabeth had not had time to write to the doctor before making her decision, and she hoped that the former officer would not be upset at their calling unannounced.
As soon as the door opened under her knock, Elizabeth knew that she should not have been worried about Dr. Carter’s reaction to her visit. Quite the opposite.
The doctor’s wife, a round woman with a pleasant face and a wide bosom opened the door. “Miss Bennet! Oh, my dear. I am so glad you have come. Dr. Carter was just writing to your Mama.” The woman waved them inside. “Come now, I have just put on the kettle for tea and there are some pecan tarts that will call my name until someone else eats them!”
Elizabeth smiled thinly, but her thoughts were stuck upon Mrs. Carter’s mention of her husband.
“Writing a letter? Whatever for?”
“I had best let Dr. Carter explain, dear,” the woman said. The twinkle in her eye was still merry, but Elizabeth thought that she saw something else hidden in the woman’s expression.
Without another word, and without giving Elizabeth the opportunity to ask more questions, Mrs. Carter ushered them into the house towards Dr. Carter’s study. Jane tugged on her hand and Elizabeth followed her through the door as Mrs. Carter left them to prepare the tea she had promised.
Dr. Carter sat behind his great mahogany desk, a glass of whiskey near his hand. He was writing a letter, and Elizabeth and Jane stood awkwardly for a moment, waiting for him to notice that they were in the room.
Dr. Carter had been a militia doctor for years until his retirement, and he had seen every illness and manner of injury, very little disturbed his good humor, and Elizabeth wondered that someone who had seen so much death and pain could maintain such a pleasant disposition. Since his military retirement Dr. Carter had tended to the wealthier families of Meryton and he had attended the births of the three youngest Bennet girls.
At long last, Dr. Carter laid down his pen and looked up from his letter. “Miss Jane Bennet, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet. What an unexpected surprise... I had not planned to come and see your Papa until a fortnight from now. Has something happened?”
Jane looked worried, and rightfully so, for Elizabeth had not told her the reason for their visit. “No, Dr. Carter, nothing has happened—“
“Good. Good,” the doctor interrupted her and Elizabeth’s hand tightened against her skirts.
“No, Dr. Carter. It is not good. That is precisely the reason I... the reason we are here.” Elizabeth swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped closer to the doctor’s desk, her frustration making her bold. “Papa is not getting better. Everything you have prescribed for him, it does nothing. His cough is undiminished and seems to be untouched by the tinctures and draughts you have prescribed.”
Dr. Carter shifted in his chair, and Elizabeth wondered if she was making him nervous. Or was that guilt in his expression?
“Is there something we are doing wrong?” she asked quietly, pushing for more of a reaction. “I would be devastated if Papa were not well enough by Christmas— If there is anything we could do differently, I would rather you tell us now.“
Dr. Carter sighed heavily as his wife entered the room with a plate of scones and tarts. A maid with a tea tray followed close behind.
Mrs. Carter appeared shocked that they were not sitting in the chairs that were set before the doctor’s desk, but Elizabeth was in no mood for tea.
“Ah, Mrs. Carter,” the doctor said, cutting Elizabeth off once more. “You must try one of our Beth’s pecan tarts and take some back with you to Longbourn...”
“Doctor Carter,” Elizabeth said sharply. “You are avoiding my questions.” Jane gasped quietly and the maid’s eyes widened as Mrs. Carter pushed her out of the room.
“Lizzie, Dr. Carter is doing everything he can for Papa... it has been very wet this autumn and that cannot be good—“
This time it was Elizabeth’s turn to interrupt, for Dr. Carter’s expression had changed again, and the hand that lifted his glass of whiskey shook ever so slightly.
“Dr. Carter, what is happening to Papa?”
The doctor sighed again and set down his glass untouched. The amber liquid sloshed against the crystal and spilling onto the papers he had set it upon.
“Dash it all,” he muttered, brushing at the droplets with the sleeve of his jacket before giving up and leaning back in his leather chair. “Miss Elizabeth, you have always been the asker of the most difficult questions, and I see that you have not grown out of that habit.”
Elizabeth did not reply, she had come here for answers; not platitudes.
“Please, Dr. Carter,” Jane said quietly.
The doctor ran a hand through this thick white hair, but he finally seemed ready to tell them the truth. His shoulders slumped slightly as he spoke, “the tinctures and medicine I have been prescribing for your father... they are not meant to cure his cough.”
Jane gasped aloud, but Elizabeth merely pressed her lips together and reached for her sister’s hand as the doctor continued.
“My dear girls,” he paused, his voice heavy. “Your father is dying. I merely wanted to make his final days more comfortable and ease some of his pain.”
Jane choked on a sob, but Elizabeth was too stunned to feel anything.
“Is there nothing you can do?” Jane asked helplessly.
Dr. Carter shook his head. “I am afraid not. His illness is unlike anything I have treated before, and it has settled upon his lungs. I fear that he will be gone before the first snow falls upon Meryton’s streets.”
Jane was crying now, tears running down her cheeks as she sank into one of the plush chairs that stood nearby, but Elizabeth could not bring herself to move, or to release Jane’s hand.
“Why did you not tell us? Did you not thing that we deserved the truth?” Elizabeth was angry now.
Dr. Carter cleared her throat awkwardly. “The truth is often unkind, Miss Elizabeth, and I have owed your Papa a great many kindnesses over the years... When I said that I had intended to write to Mrs. Bennet, it was to appraise her of the seriousness of the situation... so she could prepare and make the necessary... arrangements.”
Elizabeth’s fingers tightened around Jane’s. “I see,” she said quietly. “Well, there is no need to write that letter now. I will carry the news myself. If you have any other instructions for the apothecary, please write them out now. If Papa will not be with us long, I will ensure that he is comfortable for however much time we are gifted.” Elizabeth could feel her resolve cracking.
“Of course... of course,” the doctor muttered. He pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and wrote upon it for several minutes. Elizabeth stood frozen in place, counting the seconds with the mahogany clock that sat upon the mantle. She tried to keep her mind blank, knowing that if she allowed herself to think about anything that was happening, or the tasks that lay before her, that the tears would come, and never stop.