P200: Little Charles’s Collar-bone

Captain Wentworth was visiting at Uppercross, and Anne must have seen him, but an accident occurred to prevent it…



 Auvar Little Charles Collarbone

Mary was feeling well enough for a walk to the great house, on a bright October morning; and Anne was looking forward to her enjoyment of the sweets of the season, the leaves gaining in golden colour in the autumn sunshine, and the coolness in the air that was so pleasing to her spirits. They had just put on their bonnets, and were setting forth, when not ten yards from the cottage door they were met by a hallooing noise, and saw the gardener and his boy moving rapidly in their direction, while carrying something between them.

“What is it?” asked Anne quickly. 

“Oh, ma’am, it is the boy – Master Charles, he fell out of the apple-tree, and I’m a-fearing his head is broke!” 

Mary, a few steps behind Anne, heard this clearly enough, saw her son a limp bundle in the men’s arms, and started to scream. She twirled and tottered, tearing her hair, until she would surely have fallen, had Anne not grasped her at once.

“Parker,” she said in as firm a tone as she could manage, “will you carry Master Charles up to the nursery, lay him on the bed and find Jemima. Can you do this yourself?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“And Wilkens, you must run as fast as you can for the apothecary. You know Mr. Robinson’s house in the village? Go there, and if he is not in, ask them where he is, run where they tell you, and bring him here.” 

The boy departed at a run that promised a speedy return with the apothecary. Anne could only manage to stand and keep Mary from falling, but her extremely loud screams brought a cluster of servants from the house, all frightened and exclaiming. 

“Miss, what is it? Is Missus dead?” 

“Certainly not. She is only having one of her hysterical turns. Be calm yourselves, and she will recover shortly. Mrs. Graves, is Jemima upstairs with little Charles?” she asked the housekeeper, who assented. “Then, will you please help me get Mrs. Musgrove into the house, and fetch her smelling-spirits. Does any one know where her husband has gone?” 

A boy eagerly volunteered that he had gone shooting early, but had mentioned the direction. Anne sent the boy running after Charles, with a caution to tell him the news gently; and after settling Mary on her sofa with her vinegar-dispenser, and some soothing words, she stepped into the nursery. 

Here she found a distressing scene of chaos. Little Charles lay unconscious upon his bed, still in his clothes and dusty boots, bleeding from cuts and bruises; and Jemima stood by, wringing her hands helplessly, while two younger housemaids were in noisy tears. Anne looked closely at the boy, saw that although pale and senseless, he was breathing regularly, though shallowly. She began the task of quieting the servants, giving orders in a firm voice, knowing that nothing would calm them so much as being told what to do. “We must wash these cuts, and stanch the bleeding. Sally, will you go and get a basin of water at once, and Betsy, cut up some soft, clean rags, if there are none at hand.” 

Anne noticed two-year-old Walter standing by the bed, staring at his older brother, and pulling his foot. “Ake up, Chars, ake up!” he implored. “Why Chars sweeping?” 

Jemima broke into a howling sob at this. Anne did not judge her to be likely to be of much use, and spoke her name loudly, to get her attention. 

“Jemima! Pull yourself together. I am sure there is no great cause for alarm. Little Charles is breathing, you see, and his colour is returning. I believe he will come to himself, soon, but we must not have little Walter here. Take him out, to the nursery. Calm yourself, and him.” 

“Y-yes’m,” Jemima hiccoughed, and yanked the unwilling child away by his hand. 

Anne sighed with relief when she was out of the room, and turned her attention back to the poor hurt boy. The maids returned quickly with water and rags, and were quiet enough to be of some use, so Anne enlisted their help in the washing of the boy’s face and hands. The water revived him, so that she had the infinite satisfaction of seeing his eyelashes flutter, and then he opened his eyes.

She spoke to him softly, and cooled his forehead with the water. He said a few words, enough to show her that his head was not affected, and then she was able to recollect, and to think of telling the maids to send notice to the Great House. She could not leave little Charles’s side to see how Mary was, but there was no sound of her hysterics, and Anne conjectured that the housekeeper was able to manage her.

“Where does it hurt most, my dear?” she asked.

“My – my shoulder, here,” the child answered, and tried to sit up. 

“No, no, lie still, and you will do very well, depend upon it. You may have to stay in bed for awhile, but I will tell you stories.”

“Will you, Aunt Anne? You tell the best stories. Only, oh! My back hurts now – right here. It hurts awfully.” He began to cry feebly. 

Anne felt a pang, but kept her voice cheery, and talked of how the apothecary would soon make it better. 

She heard running feet, but it was not the apothecary, it was not her brother in law, but the two Musgrove sisters, frightened and questioning. 

“Oh! He is hurt! Oh! How dreadful he looks! Will he die? Is he dead?” 

“Mamma is coming, but she is taking the carriage, so we ran on ahead to see the worst. Oh! Little Charles, if you are not dead, speak to me!”

“Now, Louisa, now Henrietta, I do not believe his life is in danger. You see he is awake, and he has spoken, so pray do not be alarmed. Will you be so good as to look in on Mary, and tell me how she is? She was hysterical before, but I hope she is better now. You may tell her that little Charles is sensible; that will hearten her.” 

Charles Musgrove now hurried in and Anne was glad to see that he appeared to be in control of himself, though anxious. 

Anne endeavored to speak hopefully, though she privately had the gravest fears for the child’s back. “Do not fear,” she told Charles, “he is in a way to do well, I hope and trust. You see he is awake.” 

“Are you all right, my boy?” he asked in a low, feeling tone, putting his hand on the boy’s head, and little Charles answered feebly, “Yes, papa, though it does hurt.”

“Brave little lad!” he was saying, when Louisa and Henrietta ran back in. 

“Oh! Anne, we can’t do anything with Mary. She is quite in one of her hysteric states. Not screaming, but saying she is sure to die, you know, and her breath is coming like this,” and Louisa puffed in imitation. 

“Charles, you are the best – the only one to manage her,” said Anne, “and do not worry about leaving little Charles, I will sit with him, and the apothecary will be here at any moment.” 

“Thank you, my dear Anne,” he said, gratitude in his tone, and he went into the next room, his sisters on his heels.

Mr. Robinson was soon with them, with his little bag of instruments, and he commended Anne on what she had done, in washing the boy, and keeping him still. 

Examining the patient, he said, “The collar-bone is dislocated, but that can soon be put right. I will perform a reduction. Can you be brave, sir? Your aunt will hold your head, while I settle you – can you do that, Miss Anne?” 

Anne nodded and held little Charles securely, while the apothecary quickly and skillfully manipulated the bone back into its socket. The boy whimpered but did not cry out, and Mr. Robinson was satisfied. “There! That is very well, and I shall tell your father you were a brave little man. The back, however,” he murmured to Anne, “I cannot readily discern how serious it may be.” 

Charles returned into the room, and watched soberly as the apothecary continued to rub and to feel the boy’s back. Little Charles closed his eyes tightly and tried manfully not to cry, as Anne held his hand. 

“We are not out of the woods yet,” said Mr. Robinson in a low tone, “the pain in the spine concerns me, but it will take some days to reveal the extent of injury. It may not be much; it may be mere bruising. I do not feel any broken bones, and you see he can move his limbs.”

“Yes, that is a good thing,” breathed Anne, and “thank God!” exclaimed Charles, feelingly. 

“It is best to go on as you have been doing,” said the apothecary. “A complete recumbent position for the lad, let him lie flat, with some gentle rubbing with liniments, not to commence until the third morning. He may not sit up, so do your best to keep him amused in bed, without activity. Go about your ordinary business, only mind the child, and keep him still. Can you do this?” 

“Anne can do anything,” cried Charles, “she has such presence of mind, always the best person to have about, on an emergency.” 

“I can see that,” Mr. Robinson praised, with an approving smile, “Yes, with Miss Anne in charge, I have no doubt but that he will have proper, intelligent care, and therefore I have no compunction about leaving. I will visit tomorrow, and we may hope for the best.” 

The family were able to eat dinner in reasonable comfort, with only Mary keeping to her room, and the housekeeper spelling Anne long enough for her to have her meal. The Miss Musgroves, after a cursory amount of attention to the subject of little Charles, were all taken up with talking about Captain Wentworth, whom they had just seen for the first time, and who was engaged to dine with them on the morrow. 

“He is so handsome,” Louisa said, “and tells such tales of life at sea! But now we will have a tale of our own, won’t we, Henrietta. We will tell Captain Wentworth what a heroine Anne has been. Fancy your being able to manage every thing!” 

“Oh, I don’t think Captain Wentworth would be interested in that, Louisa,” said Henrietta. “Children’s accidents make dull stories, and he does not know Anne.” 

“Well, but I don’t know how Anne could do it,” argued Louisa. “I turn sick at the very thought of an accident or injury. I believe I am courageous in my way, and ever so much more than Mary, but I do turn perfectly ill at the sight of such things.” 

“Oh! Nothing is so bad as an accident,” Henrietta agreed. “I hope I never see another, I should have to go straight out of the room.”

“And to think Anne actually touched him and bathed him!” Louisa exclaimed. “I could never, though he is my nephew. But perhaps Anne has not our feelings. She is very strong-minded.”

“Little Charles is my nephew too,” she said mildly, “but I did nothing really; or you would have done the same, if you had been on the scene, at the first.”

“I don’t think I should like to be strong-minded,” Louisa said thoughtfully, “the men do not like it you know.”

“But perhaps we will be, when we are Anne’s age.”

“Mary is older than us, and she isn’t strong-minded a bit. Only look at her!” 

“I am sure Mary would be less susceptible to hysterics, if she were not often ill,” Anne reminded them, a little reprovingly.

“Yes, I daresay; but I am sure I am not equal to seeing an accident, nor Henrietta neither.” 

“Anne is equal to any thing,” said Charles, with certainty.


29 comments

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    • Sheila L. M. on October 14, 2014 at 12:29 am
    • Reply

    And here we read why Wentworth wanted Anne to be the one to stay with Louisa after her fall at Lyme! Mary is useless, even a distraction, while the other two just carry on about how they could not do what Anne is doing…and to mention it being due to her age – Really? Anne was marvelous, taking into account how each servant was acting and sending the young brother out of the room. Thank you for this “bedtime” chapter for me to read. Well done.

      • Diana Birchall on October 14, 2014 at 5:12 pm
      • Reply

      Thank you, Sheila! I figured it would kind of foretell Anne’s collected behavior in Lyme…

  1. Anne is indeed praiseworthy–but the Musgrove sisters make her coolheadedness in the face of this emergency seem more insult than praise! They are nearly as bad as Mary, really. Anne is so admirable, and really, no one sees it except for perhaps Charles and Mr. Robinson in this case. It’s so sad that Anne is practically invisible among her family and extended family/friends; her strength of character is completely undervalued.

    Thank you for this exciting chapter!! I am so enjoying everyone’s contributions to the story! 🙂

    Warmly,
    Susanne 🙂

      • Diana Birchall on October 14, 2014 at 5:14 pm
      • Reply

      Thank you, Susanne! Well, we know Captain Wentworth will soon appreciate her coolheaded ness as he should, don’t we!
      Diana

  2. Grrr! How awful for Anne that they explain her cool-headedness that way!! Shame on them. If this were a pantomime I would boo them loudly. “Older,” indeed!!

    Had a good laugh at several points, Diana. A really good piece to show the potential seriousness of the accident. I can’t help looking ahead to where Mary insisted on going to the dinner and left Anne behind to nurse little Charles. Another loud boo!!!

      • Diana Birchall on October 14, 2014 at 5:15 pm
      • Reply

      Thank you, Monica! I think Anne is pretty inured to the awful things the Musgrove’s say about her…after all, her own father and Elizabeth are so much worse!

      Diana

    • Deborah on October 14, 2014 at 5:13 am
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    Talking about Anne as if she weren’t present at the table; how unfeeling. I’m glad Anne was there , otherwise what might have happened to poor Charles. Not a lick of sense among anyone….the servants have taken on the ‘sense’ or lack thereof of the mistress.

    You did a wonderful job bringing out the potential seriousness of such a fall. Of course Anne could keep him entertained.

    As Sheila said, Mary is useless in a crisis. Curious to see what transpired in Lyme after Louisa’s fall. Lovely writing, Diana.

      • Diana Birchall on October 14, 2014 at 5:17 pm
      • Reply

      Thanks, Deborah. Yes, if we did not know Anne will receive proper treatment and respect from Captain Wentworth for the rest of her life, I think this would be pretty hard to take!

      Diana

    • Maggie Griscom on October 14, 2014 at 7:37 am
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    I feel sorry for Mary and then I want to smack her. Shows how selfish she is because she is now the one that is going to die even though it is her son that is injured. The Musgrove girls talking about Anne in front of her and commenting on her age reinforced my opinion of them as immature, self-centered little twits, especially Louisa.
    Anne was as you would expect” controlled, efficent and caring; all those things that make her who she is and gives her the ability to move forward even though her life would put Mary in the grave. Very well done and added to all more depth to all the characters personalities.

      • Diana Birchall on October 14, 2014 at 5:19 pm
      • Reply

      Thank you, Maggie! Yes, Austen deliberately shows Anne’s devaluation to make us appreciate just how much Wentworth’s value for her means…it enhances the romance so much more!

      Diana

    • Linda Shen on October 14, 2014 at 8:28 am
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    Good morning everyone, I agree all of you comment, Mary is very selfish person, she only thinking herself need love and care, she doesn’t think other people need especially her children and husband and her sister feeling, why get marry if you don’t care your own husband and kids, good people always suffer more than bad people, I like the drawing and story.

      • Diana Birchall on October 14, 2014 at 5:20 pm
      • Reply

      Thank you Linda. Yes, nobody was better at depicting selfish people than Jane Austen. It gives us a lot to write about!

      Diana

    • Stephanie L on October 14, 2014 at 9:17 am
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    Mary: My son has fallen out of a tree and I am going to die. Really? That woman and her whole Elliott uselessness. LOL I found it interesting how you highlight Charles’ inclination toward Anne. He did want to marry her first…one must wonder if he lived his everyday regretting settling on Mary. =D Especially when Anne was visiting.
    Very well done, and show’s Anne’s strength, not her weakness (which is the thing about Persuasion that drives me nuts).

      • Diana Birchall on October 14, 2014 at 5:22 pm
      • Reply

      What a great phrase, Stephanie, “the Elliott uselessness.” Spot on! Well, Charles is practical and good natured and accepts his lot – but how could he not wish he’d been able to marry Anne!

      Diana

  3. Brilliant scene, Diana! You managed to weave in so many themes! Anne’s dependability, Mary’s hysteria, everyone’s depending on Anne, Henrietta and Louisa’s opinions about Wentworth plus a foreshadowing of events in Lyme! So much good stuff in this. My favorite line: “She twirled and tottered, tearing her hair, until she would surely have fallen, had Anne not grasped her at once.”

      • Diana Birchall on October 14, 2014 at 5:24 pm
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      Many thanks, Susan! I have to admit that the twisted and tottered line is the one I giggled at while writing! 🙂

      Diana in the Toronto airport

    • Hollis on October 14, 2014 at 12:14 pm
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    I just keep hoping that Captain Wentworth will eventually see Anne!!! Henrietta and Louisa are as useless as Mary the way they speak of Anne. In one of the Austen P&P variations, Jane finally ‘loses’ her temper as it were, and speaks her mind, much to surprise of Bingley and her family. I hope Anne does the same.

      • Diana Birchall on October 14, 2014 at 5:25 pm
      • Reply

      Thanks for your comment, Hollis. Well, we know Captain Wentworth will “see” Anne in time, but whether or not she will lose it and speak her mind, remains to be seen!

      Diana

    • Stephanie Mudd Carrico on October 14, 2014 at 12:42 pm
    • Reply

    Anne shines in this chapter..a cool head in a crisis. Everyone treats her as an afterthought, until an emergency, when she steps forward and handles things so well. Mary is completely hopeless…those poor boys and Charles..The Musgrove girls aren’t much better, and the way they speak of Anne in her presence is shameful. Charles seems to be the only one who appreciates everything she does. Looking forward to Wentworth’s view on Anne’s treatment.

      • Diana Birchall on October 14, 2014 at 5:26 pm
      • Reply

      Thanks for your comment, Stephanie. Yes that would be a fun scene to write!

      Diana

    • Carole in Canada on October 14, 2014 at 8:25 pm
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    My goodness! I was waiting for the chickens to start squawking and the pigs let loose hearing Mary claim she was going to die!!! Not only is Anne calm in a crisis but she has the patience of a saint! And to think that Mary recovers well enough to go to dinner to meet Captain Wentworth!

      • Diana Birchall on October 14, 2014 at 11:46 pm
      • Reply

      Hi Carole, yes, funny thing about Mary isn’t it, how fast she recovers when it suits her!

      Best wishes, Diana
      Who has just landed in LA after a lovely smooth flight from Toronto!

    • Carol Settlage on October 15, 2014 at 9:59 am
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    I also thoroughly enjoyed your excellent chapter, Diana, and agree with the foregoing comments! Wonderful depiction of all the activity and bustle… and I loved the clever foretelling of the scene at Lyme. As I was reading it, I kept thinking, “He (or She) who can keep his head when all around him are losing theirs, is truly great!”

      • Diana Birchall on October 15, 2014 at 1:26 pm
      • Reply

      Thanks, Carol. What you say reminds me of that poem, “if you can keep your head when all about you, Are losing theirs and laming it on you,” which I think is by Rudyard Kipling. Sounds like Anne – and you know Kipling was a big Austen fan. I think we’ve made a discovery!

      Diana

    • Kathy on October 15, 2014 at 11:23 pm
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    Really entertaining! As I was reading this, I couldn’t help think about how in “those” days, it was much more of a mystery what might have resulted from a fall from a tree — no xrays or “real” medical treatment to be had. So certainly a small injury could have developed into something very serious and there wasn’t a whole lot that could be done. But it just makes Anne’s calm presence of mind all the more impressive because as a parent you’d be expected to resort to hysterics to see your child unconscious. Except that Mary took that to a real extreme so that she remains the focus of attention!

    I also noticed Charles certainly sees Anne’s good qualities here and was more caring in his interaction with his son than Mary was. In a couple of these P200 chapters, there is more background on his character – it makes me wonder, is he going to get more development in these chapters? Maybe if only as an example of marital suffering? I remember him as only peripheral to the original story.

      • Diana Birchall on October 16, 2014 at 12:00 am
      • Reply

      Thanks, Kathy! Charles was a pretty minor, peripheral figure in Persuasion, but you know Jane Austen gave even the minor characters more depths than most writers do with minor ones! By their nuances, the ways they react to even tiny things, you know them, and that is what makes writers like those here able to build and expand and imagine “variations.” I don’t know if the others will be dealing much with Charles, but I’m doing another story with Charles and Mary next week, and I will certainly keep your comments in mind!

      Diana

    • Jane Odiwe on October 20, 2014 at 7:28 am
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    Fabulous, Diana! I so enjoyed re-visiting this scene in glorious detail and watching the dynamics between the different characters.

      • Diana Birchall on October 20, 2014 at 6:39 pm
      • Reply

      Thank you, Jane! 🙂

  4. Thanks for showing us Anne’s courage in nursing little Charles, Diana. This is why people always turn to her when they are in trouble or injured. She’s reliable, dependable and knows the right words to say to comfort her loved ones.

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