Page 12 of To Love And To Cherish (Pride And Prejudice Variation #3)

The rumble of carriage wheels drew Elizabeth’s gaze toward the front drive.

Dr. Edgerton’s gig, mud-spattered and rocking on its springs, drew up in haste before the house.

The physician himself jumped down, his coat unbuttoned, his expression grave.

Before he could reach the front step, Hill had already opened the door.

"Is Miss Elizabeth within? I need her assistance," he said.

Mrs. Bennet appeared, one hand pressed dramatically to her bosom. “What has happened, Doctor? What is this urgency at such an hour? It’s almost time to sit down for dinner.”

The four sisters gathered in the doorway of the drawing room, watching and listening. Then Elizabeth hastened to fetch a clean apron from the pantry and snatched her bonnet and pelisse from the entry. “I am here,” she said firmly. “I am ready.

Mr. Bennet stepped out of his study, eyes narrowed. "What’s the nature of the crisis? It’s already past four.”

“Mr. Goulding,” the doctor replied shortly. “His pistol misfired, and he shot himself in the thigh. I’ll be operating and require Miss Elizabeth’s assistance.”

Elizabeth ran down the stairs, apron in hand. “I’m ready.”

Mrs. Bennet stepped away from the door, her eyes still on the drive where the physician’s gig had just disappeared with Elizabeth seated beside him.

“Mr. Bennet,” she said thoughtfully, smoothing her sleeve, “have you ever considered that Dr. Edgerton might make a suitable match for one of our daughters?”

Mr. Bennet turned away from the door and looked at his wife. “Edgerton? He’s forty at the very least.”

“Yes, of course. But he’s respectable, owns a small estate, and has been a widower these nine years. It’s time he thought of remarrying.”

He arched a brow. “And you mean to thrust Lizzy at him, I suppose?”

“She’s not getting any younger,” Mrs. Bennet replied. “And he clearly admires her. Why else would he call for her during every emergency? He could summon any of the local women to help him, but he prefers Elizabeth.”

Mr. Bennet snorted. “That is because she is competent. My little Lizzy is neither squeamish nor missish, both fatal flaws in a surgical theatre. And he is a good twenty years her senior.”

Mrs. Bennet waved a hand. “What of it? Age has little to do with compatibility when the man is well-set up and respectable. And if not Lizzy, then perhaps Mary. Mary is grave, certainly, but that gives her dignity. She would suit a widower.”

“You speak as though we have no better options. What of the Longbourn heir?”

His wife snorted. “The heir! We’ve never even met the man. For all we know, he’s half-blind and resides in a barn.”

Bennet studied his wife’s face. “Still, he is your preferred match for Lizzy, is he not? You have said as much these past months.”

“Well, he would be, if he would come and make himself known,” she said tartly. “If he is too busy to visit his relations, then perhaps it is time we looked elsewhere.”

Mr. Bennet gave a dry chuckle. “And what would you have me do? Send out an engraved invitation?”

"Write to him," Mrs. Bennet insisted. "Invite the heir to Longbourn. He may not wish to marry one of his cousins, but we must at least give him the opportunity to meet them. And if he cannot be worked on to take one of them, we must look to other prospects. Dr. Edgerton, for example. It is time to act, Mr. Bennet.”

He sighed. “Very well, I shall consider it. But mark me, if this ends in tears and recriminations, I shall hold you entirely responsible.”

“Of course you will,” she replied with a triumphant smile. “I would expect nothing less from you.”

The wind snapped at Elizabeth’s bonnet as the gig raced down the rutted lane. She clutched the medical bag and glanced sideways at the doctor, noting the set of his jaw.

“How bad is it?” she asked.

“According to Martin’s report, the bullet is lodged deep. They’ve placed him on the kitchen table. I’ll need to cauterize. Martin says he’s bleeding heavily. And there’s a gash on his scalp, which is also bleeding. He hit something when he fell and may be concussed.”

Elizabeth nodded, already preparing herself. “I’ll suture the scalp once you’ve removed the bullet and stopped the bleeding.”

He gave her a brisk nod.

They reached the Gouldings’ house in minutes. Mrs. Goulding flung open the door, her apron soaked with blood. “Doctor! Thank God you’re here, he’s bleeding something terrible.”

Inside, Mr. Goulding lay on the heavy oak kitchen table, groaning. His breeches were slashed open above the thigh. Blood soaked the linen. Martin pressed a shirt to the wound with both hands.

“It was an accident!” Martin said. “He was cleaning the pistol when it went off!”

Elizabeth’s heart pounded, but she drew breath and pushed aside fear. “Mrs. Goulding, is there boiling water? Jacob, bring lanterns. Dr. Edgerton will need plenty of light.”

The physician leaned over the wound. “No exit,” he muttered. “The bullets lodged.”

Elizabeth laid out the instruments on a clean cloth. “I’ve wiped them with alcohol.”

The physician met her eye. “Good.”

Jacob returned with the lantern, his eyes wide. “Will he die?”

“No, lad,” the doctor said calmly. “The wound is only oozing. He missed the artery.”

Mrs. Goulding prayed gratefully. “A blessing!”

Elizabeth took her place at the doctor’s side, apron tied, sleeves rolled, hands scrubbed clean. “Forceps,” he said, and took the tool that was already in her hand.

She held the lantern higher, casting the light as he probed the wound.

“Martin,” the doctor said. “Hold his shoulders down.”

Mr. Goulding groaned as the instrument delved deeper. Blood welled. “Tweezers.”

Elizabeth handed him the instrument. Her eyes scanned the injury; the edges were clean, not ragged. “It should heal well,” she murmured.

With a grunt, the doctor withdrew the bullet. “There it is.”

“Praise God!” Mrs. Goulding sobbed, wringing her hands.

“Heat the probe, Elizabeth, I need to cauterize,” he said.

While Elizabeth heated the probe, he tied off several of the larger bleeders.

“Probe,” he said. She handed it to him.

He cauterized the worst of the vessels, the acrid scent of burning flesh rising in the close air.

“I’ll close it up,” he said, while you suture the scalp. Elizabeth stepped away to tend to the gash in the man’s scalp.

Her hands were swift and steady. As she stitched, she examined the man’s temple. “Jacob, bring more water and a cloth.”

Elizabeth tied off the last stitch. “Mrs. Goulding, is the salted water cooled?”

“Here it is, Miss Elizabeth.”

Lizzy took a clean cloth, cleansed the wound, and dressed it.

“Well done.” Dr. Edgerton said as he looked at her a moment too long. “Elizabeth, I could stand aside and let you do the surgery.”

She glanced up at him. “You are too kind, Doctor.”

Was that a hint of tenderness in his eyes?

She flushed and busied herself washing the instruments. He turned back to finish stitching up the bullet hole.

Mr. Goulding was moved upstairs under Dr. Edgerton’s supervision. Elizabeth remained in the kitchen, cleaning instruments and then packing everything back into the leather case.

When the doctor returned, she handed him the closed bag. “Everything’s packed.”

He turned to Mrs. Goulding. “I’ll return in the morning. Miss Bennet will see to the dressing each day.”

Mrs. Goulding’s face crumpled. “Oh, thank you, thank you both. Will you stay for tea? You’ve not eaten.”

“No, it’s growing late, and I must get Miss Elizabeth back to her family. But Thank-you.”

On the return drive, dusk had fallen. Clouds feathered pink across the sky, and the last birds called from hedgerows.

“You’re quiet this evening,” he said.

“I’m tired,” she murmured. “Mr. Goulding’s leg should heal well, don’t you think?”

He nodded. Was that affection shining from his eyes? “Yes, his leg will mend. Elizabeth, I meant what I said earlier. You’re gifted.”

She did not answer at once. The thought that he might see her as something more than his assistant was disquieting. Dr. Edgerton was not young, but he was attractive, well-formed, and affable. He possessed a good estate and a dry wit. But she could not imagine loving him.

Had he begun to imagine loving her?

They arrived at Longbourn, and Hill opened the door.

Mrs. Bennet appeared with a false smile. “Dinner was left out for you both. Come and eat.”

Mr. Bennet joined them at the table. “A misfire, was it?”

Elizabeth was silent as the doctor explained the event. The Bennets listened with interest and, for once, offered no interference. She caught the doctor watching her twice more, but he said nothing to her, for which she was grateful.

After Dr. Edgerton departed, she walked down the hall toward the staircase when her father called to her from his study. She stepped inside.

“Papa, you called?”

“Close the door, Elizabeth.”

He looked grave, and she obeyed at once, then seated herself in her favorite chair. “What is it, Papa?”

“Lizzy, your mother has turned her eye upon you. She has observed how Dr. Edgerton looks at you, with affection.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks warmed. “Yes… I noticed it as well, only today, in fact,” she admitted.

“She has asked me to write to your cousin, Mr. William Collins. It is her intention to make a match for you with either Mr. Collins or Dr. Edgerton. I mean to write to Mr. Collins this evening and invite him to spend several weeks with us, if he can contrive it. He may accept or decline my invitation, but in either case, I shall show you his reply before I show it to your mother.”

He leaned forward, his expression earnest. “Lizzy, I wish you to understand, you may refuse either, or both, should it ever come to that. I will not compel you, or Jane, or any of my daughters, to marry against your inclination. There will be no living with your mother if you decline, but so it shall be. You have my word.”

Elizabeth released the breath she had been holding and rose to embrace him. “Thank you, Papa.”

“Very well, my dear. Now go to your room before your mother comes in to interrogate us.”

Later, alone in the nursery chamber, Elizabeth rubbed her back, which ached from standing too long in one position. Bathed and ready for bed, she slipped beneath the covers with relief and was asleep within moments.

A life had been saved, and for that she was grateful.

Yet she could not help but wonder, did Dr. Edgerton harbor feelings for her, and would they hinder their working together in the future?

And what of Mr. Collins? Would he prove an acceptable suitor?

They knew nothing of him. With her usual fortune, he would likely turn out a vagabond or a drunkard.