Chapter Seven

It had taken some time for Jane to become accustomed to driving the dogcart, but now she enjoyed it. Pemberley was so much larger than Longbourn had been that it was impossible to check on the tenants on foot. At first, she had tried riding to the various homes on one of the mares that Darcy kept, but she soon found that she could not carry what she needed to with her.

Thus, she had started using the dogcart. It was easier to transport food and supplies that way. At the moment, though, she had nothing left to dispense. Everyone she had seen today had sick members of their family. There was definitely something going around, and she had quickly run out of the medicine she had brought.

On a normal day, Jane would decide who to visit, maybe two or three families, and then return to Pemberley. This was not a normal day. She was concerned about finding so many people sick. The Russell family was the last on her list, and what she found made her glad that she had come. Mrs. Russell had been run off her feet, exhausted, caring for all her ill family. Her husband, oldest son, and daughter were confined to bed with how unwell they were. Her two little ones had been trying to help, but at five and three, there was not much they could do. Mary Russell had been afraid to leave them to go to Lambton for supplies, so Jane had sent the footman who went with her to the homes back to Pemberley for medicine and provisions.

When Mrs. Russell mentioned that she was concerned for the McGregor family, Jane knew that she would have to check on them before she returned to Pemberley. Apparently, they had become ill before the Russells, and though they were normally out and about, no one had seen or heard from them. So here she was, making her way to the McGregor farm. She had met them before and had found them to be quite nice.

The trail was pleasant, providing easy transport and lovely views, but Jane's mind was not on the scenery. Her mind kept wandering back to Mr. Bingley. It had been two weeks since that conversation with Mr. Bingley over breakfast, and it still hovered in the forefront of her mind. It was as if that one conversation had opened a door between them to allow for their relationship to develop more fully. She had slowly come to understand that he was the kind of man that she had been hoping for.

He had more than proven himself equal to her list of requirements and had shown on several occasions capable of seeing her through the mask she wore. Mr. Bingley had completely surprised her by knowing how much pain she had been in that first night. None of the other dandies who had been interested in her would have seen it. They could not even tell when she was unhappy with their actions, and yet Charles had seen her pain.

They had spent much time together in recent weeks, and now she found herself missing him when his responsibilities called him away, or he was helping William with some matter or another. He had been willing to assist her with the herb garden, getting dirty, planting seedlings and, to all appearances, he enjoyed it. Her father never would have done something with her mother just to be in her presence.

More than that, he had been respectful of her decisions. She knew that he loved her, and despite his feelings that were so obvious to her and basically everyone, he never pushed her to return his affection. He was allowing her the time to come to know her own feelings and build her courage, something Jane decided she was going to need in abundance. Though she was finally coming to terms with the fact that Mr. Bingley was the man of her dreams, it had not lessened her fear of voluntarily putting herself under a man's power.

To be fair, Mr. Bingley was not just any man—he was her ideal man. He had proven himself to her, and now it was her turn. She would have to find a way to show him that she was receptive to his feelings, that she was willing to marry him. Jane was not the kind of girl who could easily break convention. She would not ask him to marry her. Was there a way to encourage him to ask her?

Shaking her head, Jane admitted that her confusion was all her own fault. She had been hesitant for so long that she was unsure of how to move forward. Setting her shoulders, Jane decided it was a problem for another time. She had a family to see to. She would simply have to fret later. Turning down the lane that would take her directly to the McGregor home, she welcomed the more pleasant thoughts as she considered how they were such a lovely family.

They were a family of six—Mr. and Mrs. McGregor and their three small children, as well as Mr. McGregor's widowed mother. Jane only hoped that they were not as badly off as the Russell family. They had always been so kind and grateful when she had visited. Though they were always careful to say they had been well taken care of by Mr. Darcy in the past, the personal touch of Mrs. Darcy and her sisters coming to visit had a blessing for them.

Hopping down from her conveyance, Jane looked around the yard with concern. Things were visibly not being taken care of. The water trough was empty, and a chicken was pecking at it in frustration. It was customary for Jane to be warmly welcomed upon her arrival, but this time, things took a different turn. Feeling an uneasy terror settle into her stomach, Jane called out, "Mercy? Mr. McGregor?"

Nothing. Listening carefully, Jane tried to work up the courage to go into the house, knowing deep inside that something was horribly wrong. That was when she heard the plaintive crying, and her feet moved towards the sound.

It was worse than she could have possibly imagined.

The little kitchen area was empty of people but full of dirty clutter, and the smell of decay hung in the air. The stove had long ago gone cold, and there were a number of dirty pots in the small work area with congealed and moldy remains of food. Flies buzzed dully on the edge of her awareness as she continued further into the house, searching for the weak cry. There were two bedrooms beyond the empty sitting area, and coming to the first one, she opened the door.

There in the bed, unmoving, lay old Mrs. McGregor. Curled on her side facing the door with her arm outstretched, Jane could tell she was not breathing, but she had to be sure. Creeping towards her still form, Jane forced herself to inspect the woman. With a shaking hand, she managed to feel the woman's wrist. Finding her cold and stiff, Jane knew she was beyond help and had passed some time ago.

Unable to react as she would wish, Jane turned and left the room, shutting the door firmly behind her. She knew she had heard crying, so there was someone she could help, even if she was too late to help old Mrs. McGregor. Walking down the short hall and into the other room, Jane somehow found the courage to push open the door that had stood ajar.

This room was bigger, with a large bed in the corner and a small pallet near the door. It was on the pallet that she found the source of the crying. The McGregors had three children: a six-month-old baby girl, a three-year-old boy, and a seven-year-old girl. The older two children were huddled together on the pallet, their eyes wide at her presence. Kneeling down, Jane checked them over. Both seemed unwell, with a disheveled and pallid appearance.

She struggled for a moment, trying to remember their names before saying, "Hello, Grace and Allen. Do you remember me? My name is Jane, and I have come to check on you. How are you feeling?" Grace patted her little brother on the shoulder in a reassuring fashion that cast Jane's mind back to her own childhood when she and Elizabeth would try their best, even as children, to protect their younger siblings.

"I have been trying to care for ‘im, miss. But thers no more bread, an' I ain't strong enough to draw more water." Tears welled up in Grace's worried brown eyes before trailing tracks down her grimy cheeks.

Allen did not speak, but only stared. It seemed that he was either too sick to speak or too overwhelmed. Jane felt it was probably the latter. Glancing to the bed where Allen had trained his gaze, her eyes widened before she forced herself to turn back and smile at them both. Reaching out, she ruffled Allen's hair before speaking to Grace. "You have done a remarkable job thus far do you mind if I try to help?"

"Please." Grace bit her lip before glancing at the bed and back at Jane.

"Why don't I check on your parents?" Bolstering her courage, Jane stood and walked over to the bed.

The sight that greeted her struck her like a blow. In the bed lay the three remaining McGregors. It was obvious to her, even without checking, that Mr. McGregor was dead. Several flies were flying around his boated and discolored face. He might have passed before even his mother and was most likely the source of the horrid smell the permeated the room. Forcing herself to move closer, Jane was startled to realize that Mrs. Mercy McGregor was still breathing, albeit in a shallow, raspy way. The sound of her labored breaths was more akin to a gurgled rattle than healthy breathing. Tapping her lightly, she tried to get her to respond. Calling her name did nothing, nor did shaking her. Jane wondered idly how long she had been lying in her bed next to her dead husband.

Swallowing hard, Jane leaned over and unwrapped the small bundle in Mercy's arms to check on baby Patience. It only took a glance before Jane covered the poor thing back up. Looking back at the two frightened children, Jane was all at once overcome by the enormity of the situation. Offering a warm smile, Jane said, "I am just going to go outside and draw some water. Wait right here. I will be back soon."

Dashing from the room and the house, Jane barely made it across the yard before she started vomiting.

Bingley knew that his horse was not nearly as splendid as some of Darcy's carefully bred stock, but he still loved his mare. Her Gaelic name, Nola, was a nod to the large patch of white on her shoulder amongst her otherwise brown coat. She had been one of the last things his father had given him. In fact, the horse had arrived just after the funeral.

He had taken a ride that morning, eager to get some exercise and get away from everyone for a while. Despite being a normally jovial people person, he still liked taking time by himself on occasion. This morning, he wanted to think about the last several weeks he had spent at Pemberley.

He had tried very hard to give Jane space, allowing her to move at her own speed. Jane seemed more than happy to spend time with him, and they had several very encouraging conversations. There was much they agreed on. With every day that passed, he was more convinced that she was not only the woman of his heart but would be an amazing helpmate. At times, he thought that things were progressing well, but other times, he wondered if he should have been going about things in a different manner.

He knew from conversations with the various Bennets that though she had been very popular during the season, she had left London unhappy by the experience. On the one hand, he was disturbed that she had come away from her experience in London disillusioned. On the other hand, he was happy that he still had the opportunity to prove himself to her.

It did not take him long to realize part of his issue. He knew Jane well enough to realize that she was everything that was proper. She would never approach him about her feelings. She may very well feel strongly about him and would not approach him, which meant that he would need to act. The very thought was terrifying.

The possibility of rejection loomed over him like a dark cloud, threatening to crush his spirit and leave him feeling defeated. Would things become awkward? Darcy was his closet friend, and he spent a lot of his time in his company. He wanted her happiness, but what would he do if her happiness put her in the arms of another man? How would he handle it if he had to watch Jane fall in love with someone else? Could he see her with another man and not become desolate? He did not think so. So where did that leave him? In a horrible limbo, afraid to act, because at least at the moment, he had the hope of her love.

Stopping at the top of a hill, Bingley took in the expansive view. There were cottages and fields dotting the landscape. He had been working with Darcy to understand the way estates were managed. The fields would soon be full of workers sowing crops, and the cycle of planting and harvesting would continue.

Bingley knew that nearly everything he could see from his vantage point was Darcy's land. It wasn't for nothing that people said he owned half of Derbyshire. Bingley knew that any estate he purchased would never be nearly as sizable, but he already knew it would not deter Jane should she truly love him.

Sudden movement at the little cottage at the base of the slight rise had him swinging his horse around to investigate. Looking closely, Bingley was shocked to see Jane in the yard outside the cottage, her hands on her knees, leaning over. Without conscious thought, Bingley was urging his horse to rush to her side. Something was obviously wrong; he could see it in every line of her body, even from this distance.

Hot bile rushed up her throat, burning as it fought its way free of her stomach, and all Jane could do was lose herself in retching. She was quickly free of her breakfast, but the horror of it all and her visceral reaction did not allow her a moment"s relief. It went on forever; it seemed. Eventually, all she could do was dry heave and moan plaintively. Her every muscle trembled in protest at their misuse, and Jane worried that she would soon collapse.

Then an arm was there, wrapping its way around her middle, lending her support. Jane wanted to look and see who had come to her aid but found she could not but limply rest in their arms.

"I have you, my love, I have you. I am here," Mr. Bingley's voice crooned. Eventually, when it seemed that she had finally finished, Mr. Bingley scooped her up, and carried her over to the shade. Then, sitting down, he said, "Catch your breath and then you can tell me how I can help." Mr. Bingley gently passed her a handkerchief, understanding her need to wipe her mouth before enfolding her in a warm embrace.

Not caring about propriety at the moment, Jane leaned into him and simply breathed in his clean scent, only realizing in that moment how badly the McGregors house had smelled of death. Jane counted ten deep breaths and then another ten more before she felt settled enough to speak. "They are dead, Charles. Mr. McGregor, his mother, and little baby Patience, all dead. Mrs. McGregor lives, but only barely, and I suspect that she is very close to dying." Jane paused, a catch in her throat preventing the truth from passing her lips. Swallowing convulsively, she forced herself to say, "She still clutches her dead baby to her chest, as if love alone could save her."

Bingley clutched her to him in a way that almost seemed reflexive, tightening his arms around her in response to her horrible words. With a gasp, Charles muttered under his breath, and Jane chose not to react to his shocked words. If she was another woman, she might have been saying a few choice words as well.

After a moment, Charles composed himself and said, "Darcy will be crushed. He knows all these families. Sometimes their families have been tenants on Pemberley land for generations."

"It was much the same at Longbourn before my father brought it all teetering down." Leaning her forehead against Charles"s chest, Jane attempted to draw some of his strength into her veins. He was not merely Mr. Bingley, not anymore. Somehow, in the moment he held her, their relationship stopped being so formal, and instead became what it was destined to become. Sighing, she leaned back and said, "I have to get up. There is much to do and decisions that must be made. There are two terrified children in there and a woman who might very well be taking her last breath."

Standing up, Charles helped her to her feet as well. "How can I help? What needs to be done?"

"William needs to know what is going on. I think this may very well be the beginning of an epidemic. Every family I visited this morning has been sick, though not nearly this bad." Jane walked a few steps and then turned back to Charles. "We must do what we can to prevent the spread of this illness. If at all possible, we need to keep it away from Pemberley. Elizabeth cannot for any reason try to come to help. I suspect she is with child, and despite how healthy she is, if she catches whatever this is, she could lose the baby."

Staring hard at her, Charles asked, "Am I correct in assuming that you are going to stay here to care for them?"

Gazing back into his blue eyes that seemed to speak all on their own, Jane nodded. "Yes. I doubt that the mother has long at this point, and trying to move her will just hasten her death."

Jane watched Charles nod and then, after rolling his shoulders as if fighting some urge that he found hard to control, he responded, "I understand. I will ride to Pemberley and warn Darcy. You will need supplies and medicine at the very least. Do you need help with anything before I go?"

Jane watched Charles, knowing intrinsically that he hated the idea of her staying, but he would not oppose her. She had wondered once if he respected her, and this moment was no better example of proof in the affirmative. In that frozen moment, she was finally realizing just how perfect he was for her and how petty her fears felt against such a horrible backdrop. Locking eyes with him, Jane struggled to find the right words to express what she was feeling. Finally giving up, she simply said, "Do you know how to draw water from the well?"

Bingley urged his mare as fast as he safely could on his return to Pemberley. It was a good thing he was so familiar with his friend's estate as he was able to take the swiftest route without issue. Though as he went, he wished that there had been someone else to send. Simply knowing he had to leave Jane there to deal with such a catastrophe in his absence left an ache in his chest.

It was not that he doubted her ability. Without a doubt, he believed she was capable of doing whatever was necessary to look after those in her care. He had long known that Jane had the strength of tempered steel when it came down to it. The problem, for him at least, was that he yearned to share her burden. What kind of man would he be if he did not want to support the woman that he loved during her trials? A burdened shared was a burdened halved after all.

It would never do to shield her from the world, lock her away on a high shelf as some society gentlemen might. The ones who only saw her beauty and the placid smile she offered to the world at large would expect nothing from her. They would let her accomplish nothing because they had no faith in her, whereas Bingley had faith in abundance. Even if it made him ache as he rode towards Pemberley, he knew Jane would manage.

He arrived at Pemberley, a dust trail rising behind him. Pulling back on the reins, Bingley slowed to a stop as he reached the massive structure that was his friend"s home. Bingley was glad to see a groom rushing to greet him. Jumping down from his horse, he called out, "Nola will need to be walked and rubbed down. We need a wagon readied to go as soon as possible, and somebody send Darcy out."

It turned out that no one needed to find Darcy as he was rushing down the steps towards him. "What is going on?"

Realizing the need to keep things quiet, Bingley looked at his friend with an unusual seriousness and said in a low voice, "Three people have died at the McGregor farm. I came upon Jane just after she found them." Gritting his teeth, Bingley could not help but recall the anguish he had witnessed on her countenance. It would have devastated her to have witnessed such a loss, and he had left her there with those poor children and their dead and dying family. He knew beyond a doubt that he could have done nothing else, but it still killed him to have done it. "Jane went to visit tenants today, and she said that every family she saw had those suffering from some kind of illness. She is afraid it might be an epidemic."

Bingley watched his friend as the news hit him. While Darcy had always had difficulty socializing with groups and talking with strangers, it did not mean he was cold or unfeeling. In fact, he felt deeply and right at that moment, Bingley could read it all on his friend's face—Darcy was devastated.

Darcy cleared his throat as if struggling to speak. "Is…is Jane still there?"

"Yes, she insisted on staying. Two of the children are well enough, but she said Mr. McGregor, his mother, and the baby have passed, and Jane does not think Mrs. McGregor will last much longer."

The lines of Darcy's face grew tight. "In that case, we will see to the bodies and bring the children here to care for them."

Shaking his head, Bingley denied his friend, "No, whatever this is, it is contagious, and I have orders to do whatever I must to keep it away from Pemberley. Jane is worried about Mrs. Darcy. She suspects Mrs. Darcy is with child, and is afraid of what could happen if she catches the illness." Running his hand through his already messy hair, Bingley continued, "We must find a way to isolate the sick but still care for them somehow."

Eyes wide, Darcy nodded, and Bingley could see that his comment had hit home. It appeared that Jane was not the only one with suspicions. After a moment of thought, Darcy said, "I will first summon the apothecary from Meryton. Then we will need volunteers to bury the dead. I should also send word to the vicar in Kympton."

"Good plan. I had a grandmother who spoke of an epidemic that swept through her town, but for the life of me, I cannot think of what she said they did to help." As they spoke, Bingley fought the feeling of every muscle twisting up in knots. Back and shoulders tense, Bingley craved action, but he was at a loss to realize how he could fight a sickness.

"Supply lines." Neither man had realized that Mrs. Bennet had approached their conversation until she began speaking. She waited until they both got over their shock at her appearance before saying, "The people who are acting as middlemen or interacting with the sick can stay at Glenn Cottage. The family that was living there has recently left, but there are beds, and we can stock it with linens and other supplies. Jane is right—we must isolate Pemberley and separate the sick. I will see to the medical supplies that need to be taken out to the ill families."

Looking at Mrs. Bennet, Bingley asked, "Jane said she was going to take care of the McGregor children. If Mrs. McGregor dies, should Jane still care for them there? Or should the children be brought somewhere else?"

Bingley watched emotions play over Mrs. Bennet's face. In the hard line of her lips, he could see her determination, but in the softening around her eyes, he could see her compassion. After a moment, she spoke, her voice even but not unkind. "If they are ill, they should be cared for in their homes, if possible. We do not want this spreading and I do not think the other families who are already sick should be burdened with additional sick children."

"Those poor children. We must find a way to help them through this." Elizabeth stood from her chair and began pacing the room. She continued speaking, "Jane is going to need blankets and linens. Mama will get all the tinctures and herbs, but she will need food and—"

Darcy followed his distraught wife and embraced her. "Calm down, my love. We will take care of your sister and the McGregors, but you need to stop and breathe." Darcy knew that telling Elizabeth about the spreading illness would upset her. He only hoped that she would be reasonable when he explained the plans they were putting in place to care for the ill. Somehow he knew he was about to have a fight on his hands.

Elizabeth shuddered but laid her forehead against his chest and managed to breathe deeply for a time. Even with her deep breaths, Darcy knew she was not feeling at all calm and could feel the tension in his wife as she gripped his waistcoat. Too soon, she brought her head up and looked up into his face. "I must go to her! I cannot let her deal with this alone."

It hurt Darcy to see Elizabeth emerald eye's awash in tears. He would do almost anything to take that worry and sorrow away from her expression, but there was too much at risk in that moment. "Actually, your sister told Bingley that you were not to be allowed anywhere near any of the sick tenants or their homes." As soon as the words left his mouth, Darcy braced himself.

"What?" Elizabeth screeched. Jerking back from Darcy, she glared up at him, fury in her gaze. "You did not just say that I was to be kept from my sister." Moving several steps away from Darcy, Elizabeth's anger sizzled in the air, though she never once averted her gaze.

Locking eyes with Elizabeth, Darcy refused to flinch. Instead, he said, "Jane is insistent that you do not go to help her, and your mother supports her decision."

Elizabeth resumed pacing around the room. Her voice was sharp, with no effort to hide her feelings, as she said, "That is ridiculous. Jane and Mother are simply being silly. I am healthy. Even if I come down with whatever this is, I doubt I would be worse for it." Looking over her shoulder at Darcy, Elizabeth bit out, "I would never stay away from one of my sisters when she needed me. Nothing has ever stopped me from helping Jane before. Nothing will stop me now."

Elizabeth's steps were punctuating her words, stomping out her frustration, and Darcy felt for her but was unmoving in his opinion that Elizabeth must be kept away from the sickness. Though it was not how he imagined having the conversation, Darcy knew the one thing that might help Elizabeth choose the wiser course. So, he used his trump card. "Not even if you are with child?"

Elizabeth's foot froze for a moment before coming down with a clatter. Swiveling around, Elizabeth faced her husband. Her mouth gaping open in shock, hanging wordlessly for a moment before saying, "With child?"

Darcy thought it was incredible to watch the emotions flitter across Elizabeth's face. The anger bled away and was overtaken by confusion and wonder. His wife was so very expressive, even without speaking. "Yes, apparently both your mother and Jane think you are pregnant and want you to stay clear of the sickness because of it."

"I… Oh my…" Elizabeth slowly made her way over to the settee she had been sitting on when Darcy had made his way into the room. She pressed one hand to her lips and the other to her stomach.

Following her to the settee, Darcy set next to her, saying quietly, "You have been tired lately. This could explain that."

"Yes, that is true. I have been more tired than I am used to, but I never thought…" Once again, Elizabeth drifted off mid-sentence.

Darcy's lips twitched as he took in his wife's turmoil. She was such a dynamic woman. It was not often that he got to see her so overwhelmed. "It"s not as if it"s impossible," Darcy said.

Closing her eyes, Elizabeth seemed to be pondering something before she rested her second hand at her waist along with the first. "No, it is more than possible. Though I had not thought that a baby could be the reason I was tired, but Mama and Jane know what they are about." Looking at Darcy, Elizabeth smiled. "There is no way to be certain until I feel the babe move, and that will be months from now."

Finding it impossible not to smile at the news, Darcy said, "Until then, I want to keep you and the little one safe." Darcy held his hand out to her, wanting to soothe away her upset. "Everyone wants that."

Elizabeth took his hand in her own and squeezed it tight. She tried to smile, but it came out wobbly as she whispered, "I hate not being there for Jane. I have always managed to protect my family, to be there for them. This feels as though I am failing here somehow."

Taking her hand, he pulled it up to kiss her knuckles, maintaining eye contact as he did so. Then, placing her hand over his heart, he said, "Can you not see this as protecting your family? A newer member of your family? Jane would never begrudge you that. Remember, she is the one who told us to keep you away. I am sure you can find another way to be helpful."

"You are right. I would never do anything to risk a gift as precious as what we may have been granted." Sighing, Elizabeth leaned into Darcy, and he wrapped his arms around her form. They sat there in silence for a moment before she said, "What do you think you will want to be called?"

Smiling into his wife's hair, Darcy said, "I think Papa will suit me very well."

In the end, it did not take long for Bingley to be on his way back to the McGregors on a fresh horse. He was accompanied by a wagon with several strong men who had volunteered to help with the interring of the dead and shuttling supplies. A kitchen maid named Susan had also come along to help Jane care for the sick, whether at the McGregors' or elsewhere.

Susan had told him, "My grandma was often called to help the sick, and it was many a time that I went with her. Besides, someone will need to do the cooking and cleaning while Miss Bennet cares for the ill." Though Bingley had never met the young woman before, he was impressed with her attitude and bravery.

Looking over the stocked wagon, Bingley was glad that they had as many supplies as they did. There was food and medicine in the wagon, as well as a trunk that Mrs. Bennet had sent for Jane. Bingley had brought his own supplies, having easily decided that he would not be returning to stay at Pemberley until matters had resolved. He would stay at Glenn Cottage, and he would help in the field, so to say. Darcy had wanted to come, but Bingley had managed to convince him to stay at Pemberley to oversee things.