Lost in Austen: Reborn

Chapter 35 - Laudanum & Determination

There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me." ― Jane Austen

As I opened the parlor room door, I discovered the foyer in chaos. Voices spoke over one another, making a gentle murmur, blurring words together like a new foreign language. All but Mary stood in the hallway, crowding the doctor. Even father ventured out of his study to assess the commotion. I had never seen my father look so out of sorts. In other circumstances, father would have stated Lydia's actions would teach her her own insignificance. Perhaps, I was seeing him in a different light. There was no accounting for personal space here. Not where The Bennet's were concerned. Everyone was trying to talk at the same time to a bewildered doctor who put his hands up as if to say don't shoot.

"Has the patient awoken?" He spoke over the din.

I moved forward, "Once. Lydia's eyes opened for a few seconds and then she lost consciousness again."

"Tell me what you have been doing to keep the patient at ease."

"We put her to bed as soon as we could and have been administering cold compresses to her head."

I led the doctor upstairs. Mary stood up from the bedside and crossed the room to stand next to me. We watched as the doctor checked Lydia's wrist and informed us her pulse was steady. He proceeded to press on her fingernails, letting us know the blood perfusion was good. I hoped it meant there would be no blood clots but, kept the thought to myself. I had knowledge of the Regency era, but not of all their medical procedures. I hoped I had not acted out of turn by taking charge of the situation. But, I reminded myself I had to take care of my sister first and if it meant acting like a strong woman in an era where doing so was looked down upon, then so be it. I hoped Lydia woke up soon because l needed to know what happened and why. Why did she feel the need to crash the carriage? Was it the work of Wickham? Was it her own stupidity? Was it both? Oh, the burning questions I had for her.

The doctor opened his bag, pulling out a candle and a box of matches. What was he going to do? Light Lydia on fire? Lighting the candle, he lifted Lydia's eyelid and waved it in front of her pupil. Repeating the same with her other eye, he told us Lydia's eyes appeared to be healthy and responsive to light. He blew the flame out and set it aside. Next, he took a pin out and pricked Lydia's arm to check her reflexes. To my astonishment, she moved her arm back despite being unconscious.

Mr. Palmer walked into the room and stood next to me. In silence, he watched the doctor performing tests. I stole a side-glance at him and noticed his eyes seemed to be glistening. His brow creased as he tried to hold his emotion in—and he succeeded. His gaze dropped to the floor, wilting like autumn leaves about to fall off a tree. He tightened his jaw, his countenance hardening.

The doctor shut his bag and addressed me, "She is still unconscious; however, she will wake before long. There do not appear to be any broken bones. We will need to wait until she awakens to check if her neck is injured. If she wakes up with a headache or is restless, you can give her laudanum in wine."

"Laudanum in wine?"

"Yes."

"Is it not opium?" I asked.

"Yes," the doctor explained, "but, it is a tincture of opium."

And that was supposed to make it better ... 'tis a mere tincture after all! I decided to remain quiet and not ask any questions. Curiosity killed the cat, after all, and there was no telling what a little bit of laudanum could do. Having been spoiled by modern medicine, I could not fathom drinking opium laced wine just to survive a nasty fall. Mixing drugs with alcohol was a common practice in the Regency Era, and I was beginning to feel lucky not to be sick.