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After everything had been arranged for Darcy’s treatment according to the doctor’s orders, Mr Trevor next consulted the physician on the nature of the communication that should be sent back to England. Dr Freud advised the message should say that Darcy was dangerously ill and that Mr Trevor would wait in Vienna for further instructions. A letter was accordingly dispatched by express. Mr Trevor calculated that if the colonel was sent to deal with the emergency, as he expected, then the earliest he could reasonably arrive in Vienna would be in three weeks, at which time they would probably know if they were to convey home an invalid or a corpse.

Bingley had protested vociferously when he was barred entry to his friend’s hotel room after breakfast, but after seeing the atrocious beak-like masks and garb of the attendants, he retreated to convey the news to his relatives. They promptly withdrew to a nearby hotel.

The princess arrived in the afternoon. Dismayed to hear of Mr Darcy’s illness, she asked how she might be of assistance to the doctor. He thanked her for her solicitude and sent her home to pray.

Over the next two days, as Darcy’s life hung in the balance, Finn and Mr Trevor fretted over whether they were in any way responsible for the state of Darcy’s health, both suspecting his illness to be a more long-term consequence of his dip in the Rhine. Finn castigated himself for imagined deficiencies in his treatment of the master, while Mr Trevor regretted he had not been at hand to rescue Miss Bingley before Darcy had a chance to dive in, even though he could do no more than dog paddle. But upon Mr Trevor’s voicing these concerns, Dr Freud expressed his opinion that their recent visit to the Leopoldstadt was more likely to have been the origin of the infection, revealing he had attended a lady who had died there that very morning—an employee of a gentlemen’s club in that district. Knowing that Bingley had arrived back at the palais in the early hours of the morning following their celebratory outing, Mr Trevor put two and two together and fell silent. He wished then that he had walked back to the beer hall after visiting the docks. Perhaps the night might have finished differently. When Bingley arrived, hale and hearty, that afternoon to enquire on the state of Darcy’s health, Mr Trevor quietly seethed on how blindly the Fates chose their victims.

Although the measures taken to lower Darcy’s temperature were partly successful, he began to have a series of fits towards the evening of the second day. An operation was deemed necessary to preserve life. A doctor Goldberg was called in to assist, and Finn was requested to shave his master’s head.

Mr Trevor baulked to give approval when the doctor revealed he intended to drill a hole in Darcy’s skull, but when he was told he could order his coffin else, the earl’s secretary relented. Allowed to re-enter the room afterwards wearing protective garb, he was appalled when he discovered a piece of Darcy’s skull sitting on a plate.

Later he found Finn weeping in Darcy’s dressing room. Unable to trust his own voice, Mr Trevor merely gave the valet’s shoulder a squeeze and retreated.

But the doctors’ drastic measures seemed to work. The fits stopped. Darcy’s temperature dropped. Two days later, Dr Freud declared he thought it should be possible to reattach the missing piece of Darcy’s head as soon as the meninges had completely retreated into the skull. He promised to practice this second operation on some poorer patients, who were receiving his services gratis, before attempting it on Darcy. In doing so, he revealed that he had performed the original operation on Darcy for the first time.

“Trepanning is an ancient procedure, but Dr Goldberg is the only surgeon in the city who has the instruments and experience to do these operations. He was attached to the military during the wars against Napoleon. As his sight is failing and his hands palsied, I thought it best to perform the operation myself under his instruction. I will reattach the skull fragment with staples that are used to mend ceramics once Mr Darcy regains consciousness.”

Darcy woke the next day. Finn wept for joy.

Finn’s relief, however, was short-lived, for it was soon discovered that Darcy could not see. Glad to hear his master’s voice, Finn reassured him that every possible care was being taken of him; that all would soon be well. Privately, the doctor informed Mr Trevor that he did not hold out much hope for the restitution of Darcy’s sight, shaking his head and saying the eyes are a delicate organ.

The operation to restore Darcy’s skull was performed without incident, but a day later, as Finn was giving his master a sponge bath, he noticed the three small toes on Darcy’s left foot were blackening. Like the loss of his sight, this turned out to be one of the sequelae of the inflammation of the tissue surrounding Darcy’s brain. When Dr Freud declared the only remedy was amputation of the affected toes before septicaemia threatened his life again, Darcy baulked, revolted by the knowledge that he would be permanently disfigured. But it was his toes or his life. The heir of Pemberley dutifully bit on the piece of wood he was offered before the gangrenous toes were removed. Exhausted by the pain of the operation, Darcy fell asleep afterwards, dosed to the eyeballs with laudanum.

Bingley, who had visited every day to check on Darcy’s progress, returned the morning after this second operation to shamefacedly admit he would have to accompany his sisters back to England.

“I do not think it is safe for them to continue in Vienna,” he confided to Mr Trevor, glad that Darcy was still asleep. “The Baden must leave tomorrow in order to meet with the Aachen before she returns to Rotterdam. As their brother, I am responsible for their safety. I feel obligated to escort them home.”

Mr Trevor replied to these pronouncements with proper nothings. Knowing the doctor had declared that Darcy was unlikely to be a source of further infection, he soundly cursed Bingley as a fair-weather friend and snivelling coward once he found himself alone. Indeed, none of those who had attended Darcy in his sickbed became ill, everyone having followed the doctor’s instructions to the letter. The Bingleys’ departure on the following day was heralded only by the arrival of a large vase of hothouse flowers for Darcy’s sickroom and a note from his friend wishing him well.

A footman from the Linzer Palais, who also arrived daily for news, apprised the princess of the relaxation of Darcy’s quarantine around the same time. On the day of the Bingleys’ departure for London, Princess Brunhilda arrived to visit the patient at the same time as the flowers were delivered. She was admitted, though Darcy was sleeping at the time, still heavily sedated. Kneeling, she prayed at the end of his bed for an hour before departing, promising to return the following day.

Ten days after it all began, Dr Freud finally declared Darcy stable and likely to recover: blind and missing three toes.

Although the packet from Calais was scheduled to leave daily for Dover, the vagaries of the weather in the channel resulted in the two communications from Mr Trevor arriving at the earl’s residence in Grosvenor Square together, just before breakfast, over a week after they had been sent. Opening the larger envelope that he had been expecting, the earl was sanguine to see that the princess’s dowry was all that he had been led to believe. After quickly scanning its contents, he sat down to read the details over his plate of ham, eggs and mushrooms with all the satisfaction of a man whose horse had just won at the races. Finally, after setting down his knife and fork, he opened the second missive, which he expected to contain the news that Darcy and the princess had set off from Vienna. Instead, its contents caused him to choke on the mouthful of food he was chewing. A footman was obliged to step forward to assist him.

Recovering after taking a swig of ale, the earl suffered momentary panic. As Darcy’s uncle, he was genuinely fond of the boy who possessed the handsome Fitzwilliam features that neither of his sons had inherited. Moreover, he had become increasingly dependent on his nephew to tow him out of the River Tick. With Darcy’s help, he had barely reversed the consequences of his own youthful excesses when his elder son’s even greater efforts had plunged him into a new financial crisis. Furthermore, his princess—for he had already mentally added her to the family—was stuck in Vienna when he needed her to wed Robert by the next quarter day. However, another draught of ale soon calmed the earl’s nerves and his thoughts inevitably settled on his other source of succour, his reliable second son, Richard. It had no sooner occurred to the earl to send for him when there was a perfunctory knock at the door and Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam walked into the room.

“Morning, Father. Any breakfast left? I’m damned hungry.”

“Yes! Go ahead! Eat me out of house and home! Your brother does! But I will not complain!” the earl reacted. Then, reminding himself that he needed a favour, he started again. “It’s lucky that you turned up!”

“Is it?” said Richard, sitting down and beginning to fill his plate. “I thought it had more to do with the fact that it is Mother’s birthday.”

“Good Lord!” started the earl. “I forgot! I’d better go to Rundall and Bridge! But stay! You distracted me! The most damnable thing has happened! Darcy has caught some lurgy in Vienna.”

Richard’s fork paused. “What sort of lurgy?” he asked cautiously.

The earl thrust Mr Trevor’s note at him.

After quickly scanning it, Richard reflected that Mr Trevor was unlikely to raise the alarm over something minor. Under his uniform, he felt a coldness creep across his skin.

“This does not sound good. You’re proposing that I go to Vienna?”

“Well, I am damned sure you can get there quicker than I can.”

As Richard had spent a large part of the Peninsular War as a courier after being wounded in his sword arm at Badajoz whereas his father was suffering from gout, this was undoubtedly true. His mind ran furiously over his initial movements.

“Well, I can depart in what I’m wearing, but I will have to go back to the barracks to get leave from the major-general. I will also need a considerable amount of cash.”