Mrs Hurst shuddered. “Such a dreadful disease. I had it myself, my first year at school. It was the most terrible experience of my life. I believed I would die, and though I did not, I was so very scarred.” As all eyes seemed to examine her, she added quickly, “I was fortunate, for they faded to almost nothing over the next few years. Many are not so lucky.”
“I remember,” said Mr Bingley, with a soft smile towards his sister. “It is why I offered my services to Mr Jones. I am glad to be of help—and glad of the occupation, truth be told!”
“I wonder that the militia do not take on the task,” Elizabeth commented, and it was Mr Bingley who answered her.
“I had the pleasure of speaking to Colonel Forster this afternoon,” he said, “and he has decided to keep his men strictly within the camp for the nonce, until he can be assured that none of them have contracted it. He does not want it brought in if it is not already there, nor spread by his men if it is. Mr Denny, who is in town on regimental business, has been ordered to report to the regiment in Eastbourne until more is known.”
“A sensible plan,” Elizabeth agreed. “Please allow me to thank you both for your efforts on the neighbourhood’s behalf. It is vastly reassuring to know that all my family and friends are being watched over.”
The gentlemen disclaimed any merit, and the conversation turned to other topics. In the absence of the more forthright and odious Bingley sister, Elizabeth found Mrs Hurst unexpectedly pleasant. They discussed books and discovered some favourites in common, while two of the gentlemen spoke of hunting and the third, most taciturn one appeared to listen in on both conversations. She began to suspect that Mrs Hurst was the sort of woman who bent and swayed to please those nearest her, and took delight in the approbation of others. In good company, there was nothing objectionable about her, but under the influence of the Miss Bingleys of the world, she would behave as they did. It occurred to Elizabeth that she might very well be viewing the future of her own sister Kitty, who was too obliging and dependent on the approval of others for her own good.
When Mrs Hurst signalled that it was time for the ladies to depart, she and Elizabeth moved into the drawing room. Mrs Hurst rang for tea and then turned to Elizabeth. “Will you keep me company, or will you return to your sister?”
Elizabeth wavered for a moment. “I ought to look in on Jane. If she yet sleeps, I should be happy to come back.”
“Of course,” her hostess said immediately. “If she is awake, do tell her that we are all thinking of her and wishing her an easy recovery.”
Elizabeth smiled and said she would, and made her way to Jane’s room, where she found her sister sound asleep. She returned to the drawing room, and over their tea she and Mrs Hurst resumed their earlier discussion of books.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Mrs Hurst said after a lively debate over the merits and shortcomings of the titular character ofEvelina, “I believe the library here is rather sparse. I myself never travel without several novels, and for a visit of such duration I came prepared with more than a dozen. If you should like to borrow any of them, you need only ask.”
It was a handsome offer, and Elizabeth felt all proper gratitude for it. “That would be a very great treat, and I am happy to accept, for Jane and I shall soon be through the few volumes I found that answer our tastes.”
“I shall have some of them brought to you and your sister tomorrow.”
“You are very generous!” Elizabeth replied warmly. “We shall take the greatest of care with them, I assure you. Everyone in my father’s house learns early that books are precious objects.”
Mrs Hurst veritably glowed from even that simple praise, and Elizabeth was reminded again of her earlier notion that she was, in essentials, very like Kitty. The sound of the gentlemen entering interrupted Elizabeth’s thoughts, and she tucked them away for later perusal and set about making herself agreeable to the company.
Returning to Jane’s room later, she found her sister lightly dozing. Jane awakened as Elizabeth moved across the room. “Lizzy, I am thirsty, but my throat is quite bad,” she rasped.
“Wait just a moment, dearest.” Elizabeth fetched the pitcher of sweet barley water which she had left on the windowsill to keep cold. She poured some of this out into a glass, and assisted Jane in drinking the cool liquid.
“That does help,” Jane said quietly when she had her fill. “Did you enjoy dinner with our hosts?”
“It was pleasant,” Elizabeth agreed, “and yet full of surprises.” At Jane’s enquiring look, she continued, “I learnt that Mr Bingley is a stronger character than I had thought, and that Mrs Hurst and Mr Darcy are kinder.” She related then the events of the evening, including the mission of aid upon which Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy were to embark every morning, and Mrs Hurst’s offer of novels for their entertainment.
Jane managed to speak a few words of approbation, and then Elizabeth read to her for a little time before she fell asleep once more. Too wakeful to retire, Elizabeth settled herself near the window and looked out across the park as she mused on the similarities she had noted between Mrs Hurst and Kitty and puzzled over Mr Darcy’s generosity to the neighbourhood and civility to herself.
* * *
Elizabeth woke early in the morning, her rest disturbed more by concern for her sister than by the maid who went about raising the fire almost silently. She slipped through the connecting door into her own room to dress warmly against the chill of the morning. Returning, she reassured herself that Jane’s sleep was yet deep and untroubled. In whispers, she asked the maid to have barley water and broth sent up for Miss Bennet in an hour, and moved to the window to look out upon the waking land. It was a clear morning, the grass tinged with frost, glinting with the promise of a sunny day. Elizabeth chafed to be out of doors, to breathe deep of the crisp autumnal air and move with freedom and rapidity, but she could not leave Jane for her own pleasure.
As she watched, grooms escorted two large and restless horses from the stables.These must be Mr Bingley’s and Mr Darcy’s mounts, she thought, and amused herself for a moment trying to guess which steed belonged to which gentleman. The largest was a handsome grey with fetlocks, mane, and tail the colour of clotted cream, snorting and pacing in the early light; the other was only a little smaller but broader of chest, a dappled roan who seemed to dance in place with eagerness to be off.
Her amusement faded when she recalled the purpose for which these mounts were required. She wondered again at the kindness and courage displayed by the two gentlemen, to put themselves at risk for the people of a neighbourhood only lately known to them, to whom they had merely the tenuous connexion of a leased estate.
A soft knock on the door interrupted Elizabeth’s musings, and she stepped out into the corridor to find Mr Bingley, enquiring after her sister.
Her smile faded somewhat. “Her fever has not returned, which has made her more comfortable in general, but her throat has grown very painful.”
A worried frown marred his handsome face. “I am sorry to hear that. If there is anything I may send for, for her comfort, I beg you will not hesitate to inform me. Mrs Dean has a fair hand with ices, if that would be suitable?”
“I should very much like to have some ices for her, if it is not too much trouble,” she responded gratefully. “Cool drinks have already proved soothing. And perhaps some broth could be made up without salt? She never complains, but I can tell that the broth pains her, even when we have cooled it, though she requires its strengthening properties.”
“Of course!” he replied eagerly. “I shall speak with Mrs Dean personally. I have no notion how long it takes to make such things, but you shall have them as soon as may be.”
“You are very good, Mr Bingley. On behalf of my sister and myself, I thank you.”
