Page 49 of The Scarred Duchess
Mrs Bennet re-established the manor hospital with a vengeance. No military operation would ever equal the energy, disposition, supply, or logistics she executed in caring for her child.She set about tending to Jane’s grievous wounds. For days, her face remained swathed in bandages—dried, clean rags soaked in a solution of watered-down whiskey and honey, applied to soothe her pain and stave off infection. It was imperative to keep the scars pliable.
Elizabeth tirelessly copied receipts and dosage mixes into separate journals. Her mother desired to track which herbs and mixtures were superior for dealing with pain and which promoted cleaner healing. All the girls took turns sitting with Jane, sharing their work baskets and keeping her entertained. It was an education in bravery and comportment for Lydia, ten, and eleven-year-old Kitty. They each undertook a daily two-hour visit with Jane, who gave as much as she received. The girls no longer cried upon speaking of Jane; rather they spoke with compassion, and at times, awe. Bennet remarked to Franny that Jane remained the perfect daughter—even at her worst, she was the best of them.
Elizabeth spent the most time with Jane. Her guilt, that had she not tired of Sarah’s chatter and changed carriages with Jane, toyed with her emotional balance. Jane spent much of her energy reassuring Elizabeth she was not at fault, and although the elder sister was a mountain of patience, the younger was a creature of action. Bennet doubled the number of masters visiting—Elizabeth’s lessons tripled to keep her active mind occupied.
The days dragged on, with little change in Jane’s condition. Her hollow eyes revealed her inner turmoil, yet she refused to vocalise her anguish. She would occasionally sit silently in the chair by her bedroom window and stare out, lost in her thoughts. Other times, her father would find herholding a book listlessly. She never voiced her discomfort while her wounds were tended. She would flinch at a painful application of oils and tinctures but silence was the medium in which she resided.
It seemed to Bennet that their whole family was in the throes of despair, trudging through the days with heavy hearts and anxious minds. A darkness seemed to hover over them, a shadow of grief from which they could not shake free.
A fortnight after the accident, Bennet sat in his study; the darkness infiltrated only by the burning taper of a single candle on his desk’s far corner. He ignored the tears inching down his face and looked up to the Heavens. “Spare me your pity, Lord. Just answer my questions.”
Before he could ask any, there was a knock on the door. He wiped his face and called “Enter.”
Legget strode in and sat in the chair across from the desk.
“What have you discovered?”
“The attack was meant for your neighbour.”
Bennet nodded. “Did Reeves confirm this?”
“He did. The last man he caught was from the south, as you recall.”
“What details of the crash?”
Legget produced a small notebook. “A neat distance past the St Albans coaching inn is a large rock. Across the lane some ways in, an ambush site was set. The fallen tree that the carriage crashed upon was not of that stretch of road but set there as part of the scheme.”
“A neat plan. Spook the horses towards the obstacle. Shooting the coachman assured success.”
“Except the villain was misinformed about the passengers within the carriage.”
Bennet stood. “Much to his detriment, I assure you.”
“Mama.”
“Yes, dear?” Franny set aside her embroidery. It had been weeks since Jane had addressed anyone directly.
“I must release John from our betrothal.”
Franny was stunned, both at the message and at its tone. Jane had delivered news of the end of her future happiness in a voice devoid of feeling. Franny’s emotions threatened to overrun her.No, no, no. If you release John, who will ever consider you?“Jane, are you sure? Is this what you want?”
Jane shook her head. “It is not, but I am no longer who I was.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I am not. The looking glass reflects who I am.WhatI am.”
“No! Those who know you, esteem you.”
“Society will never accept me.” Jane wiped her cheek with her hand. “Nor will they respect any man who is tethered to one such as I.”
“Jane, that is simply not true!”
“I will not allow a good man to live in social exile. John is too honourable a man...I cannot accept an offer from one who will allow his pride to force him into a marriage of pity.”
Franny pressed her hand to her breast. “Do you mean that you shall never marry?”
“No, I daresay I shall not.”
