Darcy determinedly put aside his thoughts about Elizabeth Bennet and set off on the day’s rounds. His route took him through Meryton, and he frowned to see the populace going about their business as though nothing untoward were occurring. All the shops were open, customers moving from one to the next, greeting each other cheerfully and speaking of busy nothings. Witnessing two ladies embrace and kiss each other’s cheeks before parting ways, he wondered darkly whether one of them might find herself feverish later in the day, having already passed the contagion on to her friend.
Was such a thing possible? He did not know; no one did. That it passed from person to person seemed undeniable, but the mechanism was a mystery, as Mr Jones had told them the other day. And was not that uncertainty cause for more caution? If there was the slightest chance that a fleeting encounter could lead to disfigurement or death, why did these people not stay at home?
He cursed himself again for never thinking to have his sister inoculated. It had been a thing he had done in university, flush with excitement over the miracles of modern science, and had promptly forgot when outside the rarefied atmosphere of Cambridge.
He had done what he could in sending an express to his housekeeper in London, ordering that at the first report of smallpox in the city only those who had survived it previously should venture from the house. He had further written to his sister and her companion, Mrs Annesley, explaining his fears that the illness would spread the short distance to town and requesting that they remain within the house and accept no callers. His particular fear was that Miss Bingley might call upon his sister, and so he had sent a third express, this one to his London butler, stating that the lady was not to be admitted.
None of this was sufficient to make a doting brother easy for his sister’s safety, and he promised himself that his first act when they were reunited would be to arrange for her to be inoculated. In the midst of these thoughts, he was hailed by Sir William Lucas, who had come into Meryton with his daughters.
“Good day, Mr Darcy! What word from Netherfield?”
“Sir William, Miss Lucas, Miss Maria.” He tipped his hat, as he could hardly bow from horseback. “The illness continues to spread. You would judge best to return home and remain there.”
“We are just come to place a few orders to fill up our larder,” the man replied cheerfully. “Your concern is most kind, but it has not reached the town. Naturally I should not bring my daughters if it had. I myself suffered through it as a child, so if it does spread to Meryton I shall have to venture forth alone, I suppose!”
“Sir, it may very well be in Meryton. Many show no symptoms for a fortnight or more after exposure, but it is not known when they begin to spread it. I must urge caution. Please, take your daughters home.” Miss Lucas now wore an expression of concern, while her younger sister appeared confused.
Sir William chuckled. “Come now, sir, everyone knows that it cannot be passed by one who looks and feels well. You have been listening to young Mr Jones’s strange theories, I wager. He is a good man, capital, very knowledgeable,” he hastened to add. “But these young men of medicine always wish to believe they have discovered something no one else has! A worthy ambition, but one mustn’t take their ideas too seriously. No, smallpox has been with us since the Flood, and all that may be known of it, is.”
Miss Lucas stepped in then, curtseying to Mr Darcy. “We must be about our business—my mother expects our quick return, and we should delayyourbusiness no longer—but we thank you for the information, sir. If you would, please pass on my greetings and best wishes to the Miss Bennets at Netherfield.” Her serious mien, more than her words, gave him to know that there was one in the Lucas home who would do what she might to limit what her father would not forbid, and he acknowledged the unspoken message with a nod.
“Certainly I shall, Miss Lucas. Good day to you all.” Tipping his hat again, he rode on.
* * *
Darcy’s final stop of the day was to the Millidges, tenants of Longbourn whose parcel bordered Netherfield’s home farm. He had been here once before, and on this second visit was greeted more warmly by the lady of the house, who had been highly suspicious of the coming of a stranger the first time. She wrapped a thick woollen shawl about her ample form and pulled the door shut on the sounds of children at play as she joined him outside.
After reporting that all were healthy within, she said, “Iffen you don’t mind, sir, might I ask after our Miss Bennet? She’s at Netherfield with all of you, they say.”
He replied that she was correct, and that Miss Bennet’s illness had thus far given no cause for additional alarm.
“Ah, poor lamb. And Miss Lizzy? I expect she won’t leave her sister’s side. Still in health, I hope?”
“Miss Elizabeth is most devoted to Miss Bennet’s care, and has thus far escaped the sickness.”
“May it remain so!” the woman cried sincerely. “I remember when I first come here as a bride, ten years ago now, and Miss Bennet and Miss Lizzy come by with a basket that took both of ’em to carry, little as they were, to welcome me to Longbourn and help me start my housekeeping, they said. In all that time I’ve said perhaps five words to Mrs Bennet, but those two girls visit us all quite regular. Don’t know as we’d care to stay here without ’em, truth be told. The master’s not a bad sort, if you tell him something’s broke, he’ll see it fixed and all, in his own time, but he don’t take an interest, nor does the lady. Every tenant on Bennet land is praying for those two as much as for their own kin.”
“When next I see Miss Elizabeth, I shall tell her you were asking after her and Miss Bennet. I am sure it will comfort her to know they are not forgotten,” he offered through a haze of shock. Ten years ago the two sisters would have been mere children, and yet it sounded as though they had already thoroughly taken up the neglected duties of the estate’s mistress. How many girls would have had such fortitude, not to mention the wit to understand the need? His estimation of Miss Elizabeth, already high, rose further, and now he had learnt that there was more to her sister than serene good manners.
CHAPTERFIVE
A responseto Hurst’s express had been slow in coming, but at last a message was received from Miss Bingley stating that she had indeed arrived safely in London; it closed with a remark that they were all great fools for remaining. He consigned it to the fire and over dinner informed his companions that he had heard from his sister and she was safe in town. When Darcy reminded his friend to have his horses, carriage, and driver returned to Netherfield, Bingley quickly wrote an express of his own, albeit addressing it to Hurst’s butler.
“Are you writing to Caroline?”
Bingley startled, then wiped his pen and set it aside before looking up at his sister. “No, to Gregson, requesting the return of my equipage at the soonest possible moment.”
Louisa’s hands twisted together, and she asked, tentatively, “Would you also ask him to inform us if she falls ill? I am concerned for her. She will be all alone if she does contract the disease.”
He sighed. “I will make the request, but you must know there will be nothing we can do, in the event.”
Her face crumpled and her eyes shone with unshed tears. “She was such a bright, engaging girl. I have spent years hoping she would find that within herself again, but she has not. I begin to fear she shall not. I would gladly tend to her as Miss Elizabeth attends to Miss Bennet, but she would not do the same for me…would she?”
“I do not believe so,” Bingley replied gently. “Whatever she was as a child, she is all ambition and cunning now. I do not know how or why it happened, and it is to your credit that you still hope for her amendment, but I do not think that is something either you or I have the power to affect. She ceased to heed either of us long ago.”
“Do you not hope for her improvement?”
“One always hopes, Louisa. But I do not expect it, no.”
