Page 21 of The Winter of Our Discontent (Pride and Prejudice Variations #1)

Richard arrived today looking as thunderous as Zeus.

I was surprised to see him so soon after my express, given that I had understood him much committed to Wellington’s current initiatives in securing the home ground.

When I asked him if someone had died, he raked me with a sharp stare and suggested we adjourn to my study.

I did not write precisely what then occurred, for once we were behind closed doors, he had roared something to the effect of, ‘ Have you taken such an active dislike of your wife that you have got yourself the pox?’

I dipped my pen in the inkwell and wrote.

There was much confused discourse that followed, and in raised voices, I am afraid, the resolution of which was the identification of an unfortunate misunderstanding.

He thought I wrote to him because I was in need of a physician for an unwholesome complaint, and when he produced my express, I reluctantly saw how he could come to this conclusion.

My university days with Wickham educated me completely on certain worldly matters, thus I identified Mrs Travers’ symptoms for what they were.

After my lecherous childhood companion required treatment, in one particular instance with sulphur and mercury, I—noting all the horrible consequences of both disease and remedy—have no interest in erotic pursuits with strange women.

Needless to say, I was violent in my self-defence, and my cousin came off his high horse with a mighty thud.

The silver lining of this colossal misunderstanding is that Richard identified and, in all haste, dragged along with him a naval physician.

As I write, the doctor stays at the inn in Lambton awaiting my invitation to Pemberley while my cousin came ahead to slap some sense into me beforehand, or so I suppose.

This man, Mr Yardley, is reportedly well-trained and devoted to a scientific approach, and since he is the third son of a baronet, he will be well-read.

He may be a touch high-minded to serve as our local doctor, but perhaps he will agree to help us with our current predicament.

I sighed as I tore the page out of my now ragged diary, wondering what anyone reading this in the future would make of an annual record of my life in which half the pages were ripped out.

I then scribbled out something to the effect that a physician had arrived to consult with Mrs Travers, regretting I could not, even in my private writing, express my feelings or the details of the disaster that had become my life.