Mama asks if she ought to send a jar of marmalade for Jane (you know, of course, that she believes oranges cure all ills). She gives thanks every day that James and Nicholas are away at school and Matthew at university, and that since Papa had the disease as a child, only she and I and Maria are in any danger.
I wish more than anything that there were some manner in which I might be of assistance to you now. I shall write to you every day if the gentlemen are willing to serve as my couriers, and I will think of and pray for all your family. If there is anything else I might accomplish from here which would be of aid to you, you have only to ask.
Charlotte
Elizabeth smiled—good news at last! She checked on Jane, who slept restlessly, and sat at the desk to make her replies.
* * *
Darcy and Carter were engaged in a chess match in the drawing room when Bingley returned late that afternoon, in company with Mr Jones. As the two men warmed themselves by the fire, the apothecary wasted no time in relating that he had that morning confirmed the first case of smallpox within the town of Meryton itself. A son of Mr Turner’s, owner of the mercantile, had shown a fever two days previous, and today presented with sores in the mouth.
“The shop cannot be closed, of course.” Mr Jones sighed. “They are the only source of many necessities. I have requested that Mrs Turner, who now tends him, keep to their rooms above the shop and that any of the family who will be working below avoid the boy, but I am uneasy, and doubt they will follow my guidance so strictly as they ought.”
“And moving the boy and his mother would do little good when the whole of the family has likely been exposed,” added Carter.
“Precisely. I believe we may expect that this will get much worse, gentlemen,” Mr Jones replied. “Particularly as a segment of the population appears determined to behave as though it cannot possibly touch them. More than one person has told me that God will protect them. At the risk of sounding blasphemous, I have yet to see any evidence of a divine hand in the workings of disease.”
“It is generally said that the Lord helps those who help themselves,” remarked Darcy sardonically. “And little can help a man who denies what surrounds him,” he added, thinking of Sir William’s happy obliviousness.
Mr Jones nodded his agreement before excusing himself to go tend to his patient.
CHAPTERSEVEN
The exodus beganwithin hours of the diagnosis of the Turner boy. Carter had seen evidence of odd, furtive activity at the great house at Stoke when he had visited late that day, and when the gentlemen next made their rounds, they found that house and several others empty. The Hunleys of Stoke had left most of their servants behind, while the Gouldings’ poorest tenants, the Norrises, had apparently loaded their entire family of ten, including an aged grandmother, into their wagon and made for parts unknown. Several other families had sent their children away, and were as one defiant when confronted with the dangers of breaking the quarantine. Over the next several days, other families, other sets of children, and other individuals would quietly slip away from the area along the secluded farming tracks which wound across the landscape.
Bingley was particularly incensed at this happening. “Pure, bloody-minded selfishness, I call it!” he ranted to the other gentlemen of the household one evening over brandy. “They have been told that it is not safe, that to go about unless they have suffered it before or been inoculated may spread the sickness! Bad enough that so many were traipsing through the town as though nothing were amiss until the other day, but now they are leaving the area, and no doubt some at least will be the cause of a new outbreak in some innocent place! It is unconscionable! Something must be done!”
“I share your feelings, but nothing can be done,” replied Darcy. “The magistrate declined to issue a legally binding order of quarantine when Mr Jones requested it, and now he and his family have fled. In the eyes of the law, they have done nothing amiss, though I venture to hope their Maker will judge differently.”
“But why would they not listen to Mr Jones, even if the law does not compel them?” cried Bingley. “There cannot be another man in the county so knowledgeable about the disease! It is senseless to ignore the informed advice of an expert.”
“Many people are senseless,” Darcy answered wearily, “and will ignore sweet reason if its effect is to produce any possible inconvenience to themselves.”
To this, the other gentleman had no reply.
* * *
Those days were difficult for the sisters at Netherfield as Jane’s lesions swelled and her strength waned. The time was made drearier still by heavy clouds and howling winds which flung sleet against the windows and set them to rattling in their casements. The best part of Elizabeth’s days was when Mr Darcy, cheeks reddened by the cold and looking on the whole less carefully arranged than ever she had seen him before, would hand her notes from Mary and Charlotte and ask after Jane’s health and her own spirits. To see and speak with someone hale and well was a treat which she also received from Bingley’s daily queries after Jane, but to acquire those precious missives elevated Mr Darcy’s visits above his friend’s.
She never thought to question why only he brought them, and more grateful still would she have been had she known that his route did not always bring him to Longbourn and Lucas Lodge, but he had quietly taken it upon himself to visit both at the end of every day’s rounds, to collect the answers to the notes which Elizabeth faithfully sent downstairs every evening to await their morning departure.
Charlotte’s second letter came with a jar of Lady Lucas’s curative orange marmalade, which Elizabeth set aside for that longed-for day in which Jane might swallow without pain. The missive itself was full of just such cheerful nothings as took Elizabeth away from her own troubles for a few moments. Mary’s note was brief, reporting that Kitty was unchanged and Lydia rather worse, and their mother’s throat was now bad enough to largely forbid speech. Their father kept to his course and attended her.
The next day’s letter from Lucas Lodge was not so light-hearted, for Maria Lucas had swooned at the dinner table and thereafter been found to suffer a high fever. Nothing was certain, for Mr Jones had not yet been by and no rash was to be seen, but as Lady Lucas was too fretful to be of use and not at her best in a sickroom under any circumstance, Charlotte was preparing herself to undertake a duty very similar to Elizabeth’s and begged her old friend for any words of advice she might now offer.
Elizabeth wrote her reply as quickly as she could; there was no telling how much free time she might have between now and the morning, and she was determined that Charlotte would be answered with all possible haste.
My dear Charlotte,
I fear you will not be satisfied by this response, but the best advice I can give you is this:
Firstly, trust to Mr Jones’s wise instruction and to your own good sense and tender heart. What can be done from a medical perspective, the former will guide you in; what can be done for Maria’s solace and comfort, the latter will tell you.
Next, care for yourself second only to Maria. Sleep whenever you can, keep up your strength by not neglecting your meals, and when Maria sleeps, read amusing things to lighten your spirits.
Lastly, let others do those things which do not require your particular attention. This will ease your burden and allow them to feel of use to her as well.
There is so little which may be done to any effect, but that little will consume your every waking thought. There will be moments when you feel you are near to running mad from confinement, and others when you would not readily leave the room for any reason.
