Elizabeth went to her dressing room, where she found the housemaid just finishing her duties. Jenny greeted her cheerfully. At least someone in the house offered a pleasant word.
“How are you finding life at Pemberley, Jenny?”
“I like it very well, ma’am.”
“I am glad for it.” She crossed to the window that overlooked Lady Anne’s garden. The snowdrops were beginning to bloom, just in time for Candlemas.
“ ’Tis a pretty garden,” Jenny said.
Elizabeth agreed. “Prettier when in full flower, of course. Was there much in bloom when you first arrived?”
“Chrysanthemums. And a few others still holding their petals. There were some bright orange flowers over in that part of the garden off to the right — near the yew. I could not tell from this distance what they were.”
“I believe you refer to the marigolds.”
“Well, they were lovely, whatever they were. Not,” she hastened to add, “that I spend my time gazing out the windows when I am supposed to be working, ma’am.”
As Jenny left, Elizabeth rang for Lucy. She wanted her maid present primarily for propriety’s sake during the doctor’s examination, but the moral support would not be unwelcome. She arrived just before the physician. Though only three of them occupied the room — Lucy as unobtrusively as possible — Dr. Severn’s presence made it feel crowded.
“Miss Darcy wrote that your leg troubled you,” he said. Without Darcy in the room, he for once had no choice but to actually address her.
“Yes. Earlier this week, it went numb.”
“Then why do you stand upon it presently?”
“Because presently it is not numb.”
“And what were you doing when the numbness occurred?”
She hesitated. “Standing.”
He jerked his chin toward the chaise longue. “Sit down.”
She followed his order, extending her legs along the seat. He approached and began to examine her left leg.
“It was the right leg that lost sensation.”
He made no reply, only a cursory assessment of both limbs.
“A hot compress helped,” Elizabeth offered.
He rose from her side and straightened his coat. Apparently, his examination was concluded. “When do you expect the child?”
Was it not his duty to remember such a vital detail? “Early March. You are coming to Pemberley two weeks hence in anticipation, correct?”
He withdrew a small notebook and pencil from his medical bag and made a note. “I believe I just accepted another patient due about that time, who has chosen a London confinement. I shall have to reconcile my schedule.”
“Have you not reserved several weeks for us? Mr. Darcy and I both understood you would arrive at Pemberley a fortnight prior to the expected date to ensure you are present when my travail begins.”
“Right. Yes.” He released a disgusted sigh. “This would all be much simpler if you had arranged a London confinement.”
So he could disregard her even more efficiently? “This would all be much pleasanter if you would consider me a patient instead of an inconvenience.”
He looked at her coldly. “Fortunately, Mrs. Darcy, I am grown used to the temperamental outbursts of women in your condition.” He shut his bag and prepared to leave. “Restrict yourself to the house. No walks. Except for moving from one room to another, remain seated so as not to tax the leg.”
“For how long?”
“Until after your lying-in.”
She put a hand to the base of her spine and stretched her back. Already, she had grown uncomfortable maintaining one position. How could she sit still for weeks?
“Sitting for prolonged periods causes its own discomforts. Might I at least stroll in the gallery with care? Mrs. Godwin advised—”
“Mrs. who?”
“The midwife.”
“You have been consulting some uneducated gossip again?”
“Our apothecary is away, and I desired counsel while waiting for you to arrive.”
“Now that I have come, you can dismiss whatever ignorant advice she provided.”
“She merely said that—”
“In fact, Mrs. Darcy, to avoid your having to call upon her, or me, again between now and the day you are brought to bed, I order you to take to your bed now. That should prevent you from experiencing the numbness or any other problems.”
“I am to remain in bed for weeks before my child is even born?”
“Yes. You—” He addressed Lucy. “Assist your mistress into bed.”
“But I do not want to go to bed. I—”
“Do you want something to happen to that child?” The indifference in his voice indicated that he personally did not care whether a mishap occurred or not.
Her hand dropped to her belly — whether to instinctively protect her daughter from the suggestion or the physician himself, she was unsure. “Of course not.”
“Then do not endanger it with foolish resistance to the best medical advice available to you.” He abruptly turned his back and left.
In the heavy silence that followed, Lucy approached. “Shall I help you into—”
“No!”
Elizabeth immediately regretted the outburst. It was Dr. Severn who had deserved it. She apologized to the maid.
“It is not my place to say so, Mrs. Darcy, but if I were headed for childbed, that man is the last person I would want helping me.”