Coveley Castle

5

Whenever she remembered something from the past, Mrs. Murray would mention Lady Elizabeth.

Although that noble lady died when Mrs. Murray was only twelve or thirteen years old, she didn't talk to me so much about Lady Elizabeth during that time of her own childhood, but about Elizabeth's own childhood and youth, which she knew from the stories her mother had told her.

I suppose Lady Elizabeth herself must have told her many things as well, because Mrs. Murray spoke to me about Lady Elizabeth's childhood and her siblings in Rochester as if she herself had been a witness.

She told me that Lady Elizabeth Coveley belonged to a very particular family.

As a maiden, she was Lady Elizabeth Rochford, of the Rochfords of Rochester County, a region near London.

Her parents had married for love and with the full consent of their respective families, something that was not very common in those days. They had three sons and a daughter, Elizabeth, who was the center of attention for all of them.

As a child, Lady Elizabeth had broken her ankle in an unfortunate domestic accident.

The little girl was taking her first clumsy steps in the courtyard of the family home in Rochester when one of the horses pulling her father's travel carriage broke loose in a moment of carelessness and, frightened, trotted in flight through the yard, stepping on the delicate ankle of the girl in its frantic race.

The girl screamed in pain. The clumsy nanny in charge of her care swore and lied shamelessly that Elizabeth had fallen and sat on her own foot, and that she was only scared by the noise of the horse's steps. She assured that the animal had not struck the girl in order to minimize her own negligence and thus evade her responsibility in the accident.

They believed her because at first glance there was no blood, and only a growing swelling.

The girl was immediately laid down, as she could not stand. Any attempt to touch her foot only caused more screams, and they tried in vain all possible remedies to calm her. No one could sleep in the house that night.

At dawn the next day, seeing that the pain did not subside, they went to fetch the nearest available doctor. This doctor, accustomed to treating colds, common illnesses, toothaches, and childbirths where nature and the midwife did their work, declared himself incompetent to calm the pain of that blow.

Immediately, Lord Rochford sent for one of the royal palace's doctors, whom he had heard some good things about, but it was a bad idea since he was just a talkative courtier and they wasted precious time.

By then, less than twenty-four hours after the accident, Elizabeth lay in her little bed in the midst of a feverish stupor, delirious and moaning softly. The ankle swelled by the hour and the foot began to darken.

In vain Lord Rochford's servant killed his horse to race to London to deliver the message to the doctor as soon as possible.

After making them wait a whole day and night, the aforementioned physician arrived at mid-morning. He arrived in his luxurious private carriage, dressed in a silk suit and a pompous white wig. He was accompanied by his lover, a young, superficial woman, full of fake giggles, as if attending a picnic.

With total leisureliness, the doctor settled into the guest room assigned to him, demanded payment before presenting his respects to the owner of the house, and sent his servant to the kitchen to request a hearty lunch that he devoured with plenty of wine.

Only after finishing his meal did he deign to see the little patient who was delirious in her room, poorly lit and poorly ventilated due to the closed windows.