Kitty obligingly agreed to this proposition. Mary escorted her to Lydia’s room, noting that she seemed a bit dizzy, and settled her into the bed next to Lydia. Only then did she answer the continuing chiming of the bell.
“Where have you been, child?” Mrs Bennet demanded querulously. “I have been ringing the bell this last hour, I am sure! And where is Hill?”
“Hill is tending to Mr Hill,” Mary replied.
“Well, it is very inconvenient! I have such pains in my head and flutterings in my chest, worrying what will become of us all, with my two most beautiful daughters sure to be scarred by this terrible illness, and no one has even brought my tea this morning!”
“It is early yet, and I have been seeing to Lydia and Kitty. They also await their tea and breakfast.”
“Why are you tending to Kitty? She is not ill!”
“But she is. She has got a fever in the night.”
“Well, she cannot possibly be as sick as I!” Mrs Bennet declared. “Now fetch me my tea!”
Mary stood silent for a moment, fists balled up among her skirts, shaking and on the precipice of saying something for which she might never be forgiven.
And then she said it.
“Your tea can wait until I have seen to my sisters. They at least do not shout at me for taking care of them as best I can,” she declared, marching up to the bedside table and snatching the little bell. “And I will be taking this!” she added with some asperity before storming out of the room, her mother’s shrieks following her down the stairs.
Her fury carried her into her father’s book-room, where she flung the door wide with a resounding thump. Mr Bennet startled and fumbled the book he had been reading; it fell to the floor. “Father! Kitty is ill and I cannot care for all three of them alone! You may tend to your wife or find someone who will!”
Mr Bennet sat silent, mouth agape, as his middle daughter shouted at him for the first time in her life. Mary drew a long breath before adding, more quietly but no more pleasantly, “She wants her tea.” She whirled about and disappeared as suddenly as she had come.
* * *
Elizabeth received notes from Mary and Charlotte late that afternoon. Amazed, she looked up at Mr Darcy and smiled. “I did not expect to hear from them until tomorrow! Please do not feel you must wait on replies in the future, sir.”
“I did not wait at all. I merely visited Lucas Lodge first this morning, and then again on my way back to Netherfield, and Carter did the same at Longbourn,” Mr Darcy replied.
“Then I thank you both for going out of your way to collect these,” she said, touched by their kindness.
“It is no trouble, and a pleasure to be of service to you and your family,” he answered.
She cocked her head and looked at him curiously for a moment, then smiled and executed a curtsey. “Still, I am grateful, sir. To be separated from our family and friends at a time such as this is…difficult.”
He bowed. “I will leave you to read your letters.”
Returning to the room, she eagerly opened the page addressed in Mary’s hand.
Dear Lizzy,
You cannot know what a comfort your note was to me. In addition to my fears for you both, which you have relieved for the moment, I have been feeling very alone in caring for the rest of our family, as Mrs Hill tends to Mr Hill and Sara will not leave her room for fear of contagion. Rest assured that Father and I continue in good health, but Kitty has now got a fever and headache.
I fear I rather anticipated your good advice to involve Father in caring for our invalids, for before your note arrived I quite lost my temper with Mother and her unreasonable demands, and then I invaded Father’s book-room and shouted at him until he agreed to tend to Mother in my place. I am sure you are laughing now and saying something like ‘Well done, Mary!’, but I feel very bad about it. I did not show either of them the respect we are commanded to give to our parents. I will be a while reconciling the good result with my conscience, no doubt.
Though ill, Kitty is helping by reading to Lydia, whose head pains her far too much to allow her to entertain herself. This has given me time to consult with Mrs Saxby, fetch food and drink for all three of us, and reply to you. I am with them at this moment, and I will tell only you, Lizzy, that Lydia’s state has begun to frighten me. She is so still that I would think her asleep if the corner of her mouth did not occasionally twitch in response to some humorous thing in the story. She hardly speaks and never opens her eyes, saying that the light of even a single candle makes her head feel as if it is splitting open. Her fever is very high, and I will ask you to send me any advice you have before I conclude this so I may prepare another cool cloth for her forehead.
You and Jane are in my prayers, as I hope we are in yours.
Mary
“Oh, Mary,” Elizabeth said with a sigh, but not in the exasperated manner in which those words usually passed her lips. What she now felt towards her often overlooked sister was sympathy and no little pride. She determined that her reply must be as cheerful and helpful as possible, and set Mary’s letter aside to read the other.
Eliza,
How glad I was to receive your note, and to learn that you are not ill and Jane is as well as can reasonably be hoped. Thus far we at Lucas Lodge are all very well, though we have lately been informed that we must be watchful for symptoms for a full three weeks from the date of Mrs Goulding’s dinner party.
