Page 14 of Grief and Grievances
“Then we shall face this trial together, Miss Bennet,” the doctor declared, his tone resolute. “With our combined efforts, we shall provide Miss de Bourgh with the best care possible.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Elizabeth’s gratitude shone through her eyes, mingling with the sadness that lingered there. As they stood side by side, united in their determination to support Anne, she could not help but find solace in the knowledge that they were not alone in their struggle.
A dim, golden light filtered through the room as the sun began its slow descent into evening. Shadows played across Anne’s pallid face, highlighting the dark circles under her closed eyes. The doctor removed his spectacles, carefully wiping them with a handkerchief before replacing them upon his nose. Elizabeth stood at the foot of the bed, her hands clasped tightly together as she observed the examination.
“Miss Bennet,” the doctor said finally, his voice measured and low. “I have concluded my assessment of Miss de Bourgh’s condition.”
Elizabeth’s heart clenched within her chest, but she managed to maintain a steady voice. “Doctor, pray tell me the prognosis. I am prepared for the worst.”
As the doctor hesitated, Elizabeth could see in his eyes the gravity of the situation. She held her breath, waiting for the words that could change everything.
“Miss Bennet,” he began slowly, choosing his words with great care. “I must tell you that Miss de Bourgh’s condition is very critical. There are high chances of brain swelling and convulsions, and the possibility—nay, the likelihood— that she may never regain consciousness.”
The room seemed to grow colder as the doctor spoke, each word like a heavy stone tumbling into the pit of Elizabeth’s stomach. But she knew it was not the time for tears or despair; Anne needed her strength now more than ever. Thus, with a calmness she did not truly feel, Elizabeth looked the doctor squarely in the eye and said, “Thank you for your honesty, Doctor. I assure you that Miss de Bourgh will receive the best possible care.”
“Miss Bennet, your composure is commendable,” the doctor replied, clearly impressed by her fortitude. “Miss de Bourgh is fortunate to have such a devoted nurse at her side.”
Elizabeth inclined her head in acknowledgment but remained silent, her thoughts focused on the task before her. The enormity of it weighed upon her like a suffocating blanket, threatening to smother her resolve. Yet, she would not allow herself to succumb to doubt or fear, not when Anne’s life hung so precariously in the balance.
“Doctor,” she said quietly, her voice resolute, “please instruct me in how to best care for Miss de Bourgh. I am prepared to do whatever is necessary to ensure her comfort and well-being.”
“Of course, Miss Bennet,” the doctor replied, a solemn sincerity in his eyes. “Together, we shall do everything in our power to aid Miss de Bourgh in her time of need.”
As Elizabeth gazed upon the fragile figure lying before her, she took a deep breath, her mind racing with thoughts and questions. The doctor’s words echoed through her head, a cacophony of dire prognoses that threatened to overwhelm her. Yet, amidst the storm of uncertainty, one question stood out above all others: what more could be done?
“Doctor,” said Elizabeth, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions within her, “I wonder if it might be prudent to seek a second opinion in this matter? Perhaps we should consult a surgeon from London to explore all possible avenues for Miss de Bourgh’s recovery. I have no doubt that Mr. Darcy would facilitate bringing any expert who might be able to provide even the smallest measure of aid for his cousin.”
The doctor paused for a moment, considering Elizabeth’s words carefully. “Miss Bennet,” he began, his tone measured and thoughtful, “your devotion to Miss de Bourgh’s welfare is most admirable. I must confess that I have considered the same course of action myself. I am certain that Lady Catherine will likely desire the same measures, and perhaps even hope for a miracle.”
Elizabeth nodded, her expression unyielding as she mulled over the doctor’s response. She understood the gravity of the situation but refused to accept that all hope had been extinguished. Her thoughts turned inward, seeking solace in the knowledge that they were not alone in their fight for Anne’s life.
“Then let us not delay,” urged Elizabeth, her eyes meeting those of the doctor with unwavering conviction. “If there is even the slightest chance of alleviating Miss de Bourgh’s suffering or discovering some means of treatment, we owe it to her to pursue every option at our disposal.”
“Indeed, Miss Bennet,” agreed the doctor, his own resolve bolstered by Elizabeth’s steadfast determination. “I shall make the necessary arrangements forthwith and send word to London without delay.”
The soft creak of the door heralded Charlotte’s entrance, her eyes immediately drawn to Elizabeth’s sombre countenance. The weight of the situation seemed etched upon her friend’s face, and Charlotte needed no words to understand the gravity that had settled upon them. Her heart clenched in unison with the sorrow she saw mirrored in Elizabeth’s gaze.
“Elizabeth,” she whispered, crossing the room to stand beside her dearest friend. “What has the doctor said?”
“Miss de Bourgh’s condition is… critical.” The words were heavy with a despair that Elizabeth fought to keep at bay. She hesitated before continuing, “There is a high likelihood of brain swelling, convulsions, and the possibility that she may never regain consciousness.”
Charlotte drew a shuddering breath, her own anguish threatening to overwhelm her. But she was made of sturdy stuff, and like Elizabeth, she refused to yield to despair.
“Then we must do all that we can to care for her and be by her side throughout this ordeal,” Charlotte declared, her voice resolute despite the tremor that threatened to betray her emotions. “She deserves nothing less from us.”
“Indeed,” murmured Elizabeth, comforted by Charlotte’s unwavering support. “We shall leave no stone unturned to find some means of easing her suffering.”
“Whatever it takes,” agreed Charlotte, her chin lifting in a display of determination. “We will not abandon her.”
The doctor, observing the resolute determination of both Elizabeth and Charlotte, took a moment to let out a small, sympathetic sigh. He then removed from his pocket a worn parchment, unfolding it with care, as if it held the secret to life itself.
“Here is a recipe for a nourishing tea that I believe may help alleviate some of Miss de Bourgh’s discomfort and provide her with strength,” he said, handing the paper to Elizabeth. “It should be brewed strong and mixed with honey. The most crucial part is in its administration: you must dribble it into her mouth, allowing just enough time for her to swallow before continuing. This will ensure she receives the sustenance without overwhelming her.”
Elizabeth accepted the paper, her eyes scanning over the list of ingredients and instructions.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Elizabeth murmured, folding the parchment carefully and giving it to Charlotte as her friend reached for it. “We will follow your guidance to the letter.”
“Very well,” the doctor responded, nodding his approval. “I shall now discuss Miss de Bourgh’s condition with Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Lady Catherine.”
