Page 32 of Infamous Relations

They both leaped to their feet and raced for the stairs, Jane forgetting entirely that Elizabeth should not be out of bed.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dr. Trent had not delayed in his journey back to Hunsford; though he was reasonably confident that Elizabeth should be safe, the shocking likelihood of Mr. Collins being her attacker meant that the doctor felt there was not a minute to be lost before he warned Mr. Bennet, at the very least, that Elizabeth might still be in some considerable danger.

Stopping at the Parsonage gate, he dismounted his horse and pushed the gate open. He could, he supposed, have gone on to his own house and left his horse there, but a terrible feeling of premonition had him deciding that he did not care to delay the five minutes that would cost him. Leading his horse up the pathway, he chanced to glance across to one side and saw something dark lying crumpled upon the ground.

For a brief moment, Dr. Trent could not believe what his eyes were showing him, and then he dropped his horse’s reins with a shout of horror and sprang towards the body lying far too still. Dropping to his knees, he reached carefully to turn over the woman in the dark dress and gave a low cry of distress upon seeing that which he had most feared; the pale, serene face of Charlotte Collins.

“Dr. Trent!” Female cries reached his ears; he looked up to see Jane and Elizabeth Bennet rushing towards him.

“Dr. Trent, what…” Elizabeth stopped abruptly; two steps ahead of Jane, she had seen what Jane had not, the rapidly blackening bruises encircling Charlotte’s pale throat. “My God,” shocked, she swayed on her feet. “What… what…”

Jane clutched at her arm. “Don’t look, Lizzy, don’t look…”

Elizabeth turned a startled look on her sister; she had expected that Jane would have swooned at the sight, but her sister, though pale, looked quite steady.

“Does she yet live, Doctor?” Jane asked.

“I - I know not.” Trent’s hands were shaking, as they had not in many years when examining a patient. Carefully, he leaned down and pressed his ear to Charlotte’s chest, praying that he was not scandalising the Misses Bennet with his actions. When he looked up, though, they were both staring at him with only anxious hope on their faces.

“Her heart is beating, but her breath is very shallow. We must get her inside at once and make her comfortable.” Carefully, he eased his hands beneath Charlotte’s body and lifted her into his arms. She was lighter than he had expected, almost frail as he carried her into the house.

“I’ll go and see if Mr. Collins is in his room,” Jane hurried in behind him.

“No!” Trent almost shouted, carrying Charlotte into the parlour. “No, Miss Bennet,” he said, more quietly. “I - there is something I will need to discuss with you, quite urgently,” he flicked his eyes towards Elizabeth, and back to Jane.

“Regarding Mr. Collins?” Jane said, bemused.

Trent ignored her, laying Charlotte gently down upon the couch. “Please, Miss Bennet, do not question me now. I will need my doctor’s bag, from my house next door, I did not have it with me, oh, and my horse…”

“I will catch your horse and take him to your house, and return with your bag,” Jane said, recognising that he was not of a mind to speak to her right now. “Lizzy…”

“Is there anything that I can do here, to make Charlotte more comfortable?” Elizabeth asked hopefully, giving Jane a gentle push towards the door. “Please, Doctor Trent, she has done so much for me; if there is anything that I may do for her in her hour of need, I pray you will tell me.”

“You should probably not be out of bed,” Trent glanced up and gave her a wry look, “but since you are, please go to the kitchen. We must make the swellings on her throat go down, or her breathing passages may become constricted. Cold cloths, ice if there was any more brought down from Rosings for your head…”

“At once, Doctor!” Elizabeth hurried out immediately.

“Oh, Charlotte,” Trent whispered, allowing himself the small luxury of her name, in this brief moment of being alone with the woman he loved. “Do not die. Please, do not die, I cannot bear to think of a world without you in it.” She was so pale and small; how had he never noticed before how small she was? She was a woman of such strength of character, even in her quietness, that she seemed far bigger than her true size.

Gently, he unfastened the top button of her dress, examined the positioning of the bruises around her throat. He had not seen such marks since his training in London, but the signs of strangulation were unmistakable, the imprints of a man’s strong fingers clear, darkening on Charlotte’s fair skin.

“I have some cloths soaked in cold well water, Doctor,” Elizabeth said, hurrying back into the room, and Trent startled back.

“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” he took them from her, placed them carefully over Charlotte’s throat.

“I have some smelling salts here…?” Elizabeth suggested tentatively.

“No, they will make her cough, and we must not risk any more strain on her throat. Have you ever had a putrid sore throat?”

“When I was, oh, ten, I think, yes,” Elizabeth nodded. “I was quite miserable with it.”

“Mrs. Collins will feel very much like that, for some few days, though hopefully she will escape a fever. Soothing drinks; chamomile tea with honey, chicken broth, that will be all that she can ingest, along with an elixir I will give you for her.”

“What is in it, may I ask?” Elizabeth asked, seeing his anxious expression and seeking to distract him. “My mother makes a recipe which tastes strongly of liquorice, which I confess I despise.”

That made a small smile come to Dr. Trent’s face; he nodded to her. “Some elixirs do contain liquorice, but I have found that there are quite a number of my patients who cannot abide it. The one I prefer contains syrup of violets, oil of almonds, honey and a very small amount of syrup of poppy. That is the same syrup of which laudanum is made, if you did not know.”