Chapter Eight

Jane looked up from her task at the sound of a wagon approaching. Smiling down at Grace and Allen, she said, "I hear a wagon. It seems we will have some visitors."

She had been using a wet rag to clean up both children as best she could. Allen seemed to be suffering from a fever, and she hoped it would cool him. Grace, on the other hand, was not sick as far as Jane could tell. They seemed to settle under her kind attention. Both had been very grateful to have the water that she had offered for them to drink. Mrs. McGregor had not regained consciousness, but Jane had wet the woman's lips. Jane feared that trying to even drip some water into her mouth might worsen her condition if she choked.

Getting up from where she knelt on the floor next to the children's pallet, Jane murmured, "I am going to greet our guests. They will probably come inside. I do not want you to be frightened by the strangers; they are here to help." Grace nodded in response to Jane's statement, wrapping her arm around her little brother. Allen did respond but continued staring, his wide brown eyes nearly unblinking. Jane ruffled Grace's hair and smiled at her encouragingly. "You are such a brave little girl and a wonderful big sister."

Moments later, Jane was in the yard, greeting the people who had arrived. She nearly fell back against the doorjamb when she spotted Charles, her relief was so great. She wished she could have taken a moment to analyze her reaction and her desire to call him by his Christian name, but there would not be time for such musings about her heart until the calamity had been thoroughly handled.

Charles jumped down from his horse and jogged closer, saying, "I have brought help and supplies. How are you bearing up?"

Jane grimaced, looking over at the others coming down from the wagon. Turning back to Charles, she said, "I will be much better once the bodies have been removed and we can give everything a thorough cleaning."

The older of the two men came over, and Jane vaguely recognized him as someone who worked in the stables. Removing his cap, he crushed it in his large, calloused hands. Clearing his throat, he said, "James and I will get to work digging some graves. Mr. Darcy said that we should bury them as swiftly as we can to keep this from spreading."

"Thank you for being willing to help at a time like this, Mr.…?"

"Greg Eliot, ma'am." Rubbing at a spot of dirt on his pants, the large man shook his head. "It is no trial, miss. If a beautiful lady such as yourself is willing to help succor the sick and dying, I can do no less." Nodding to her, he and the second man, James, turned towards the back of the wagon and retrieved the shovels. They set off, diligently searching for a spot where the small family could be laid to rest.

After they left, a young woman of about Kitty's age came forward and bobbed a curtsy. "My name's Susan, Miss Bennet." The girl offered an explanation, seemingly aware of Jane's lack of recognition. "I work down in the kitchens, miss. I have come to help you with the cooking and cleaning and caring for the sick ones. I have some bit of training from my grandmother. Not a lot, mind you, but I am a hard worker. I will do right by you."

Stepping forward, Jane grasped the girl"s hand in a move that seemed to have been unexpected if Susan's expression meant anything. "Thank you so much for being willing to help. I think we may very well have our work cut out for us."

A quick blush flashed across Susan's cheeks, but she managed to respond, "Thank you, miss. I will just go inside and see about starting in the kitchen."

Jane watched the girl go into the house, glad to have help about the place. As much as Jane was accustomed to working in the stillroom or in the garden, she hadn't the first idea about how she would have put that kitchen in order.

It was unsettling to Jane that she still did not know all the workers and servants at Pemberley. She had lived there off and on for months, but it was not like Longbourn. Whereas Longbourn had no more than ten servants, Pemberley had five or six times that.

Going back to Charles, she smiled wanly at him. "You cannot know how relieved I am to have you back."

"And you do not know how glad I am to have been able to return to you." Charles took her hand and squeezed it. "Is there anything I could do that would be helpful?"

Tilting her head, Jane sighed. "It has occurred to me that this might not be the only family so affected. There could be any number of families that are as bad off as the McGregors. Once we have a few things settled here, would you mind riding out to all the tenant homes and checking on them? We need to know how many people are sick and where they are."

Eyes squinting in the bright of the day, Charles seemed to ponder the problem before nodding his head. "That is something I can easily see to. It might take a few days to check on all the families with as many of them as there are, but it can be done." Gazing over to the little clearing where the two men were digging graves, and then at the wagon full of supplies, he returned his attention to Jane. "The four of us have no plans to return to Pemberley until this is all over. Your mother suggested that there is an unused building where we gentlemen can stay at in order to quarantine and prevent the spread as much as possible. Meanwhile, you and Susan will stay here."

"Thank you." Jane saw the risk of what they were all doing and could only be grateful that she was not in the struggle alone. "I should go inside and check on the children. I think I will need to have a conversation with them about us burying their father, sister, and grandmother. It would be best to move the bodies out of the home as soon as we can, but I am uncertain they even realize that they have died."

Charles's eyes bore into Jane's and somehow, she knew he could comprehend the pain she had felt. How many men would see that at a time like this? After a pregnant pause full of silent conversation and compassion, he said, "Let me know if I can help tell them. I would like to meet them both, but I will let you decide when that will be best."

"I think that would be good, though I am uncertain when the best time will be. I really should get back to them and see about helping to prepare everything for taking the bodies away for burial." Jane froze, a look of heartache crossing her face. The young family that had been so happy with the birth of young Patience not six months ago would never be the same. In all likelihood, those children would be orphans in the span of a few hours, and she was forced to worry about the logistics of getting the deceased bodies buried. The weight of confronting the harsh realities of life felt unbearable. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on breathing through her sorrow. She had tasks she had to accomplish; she could not wallow in sadness.

Then she felt Charles's hand on her shoulder and his whisper in her ear. "You are not alone in this. Whatever needs doing, we will do it together."

Jane found her lips wobbling as she tried to smile. Her usual mask of calm acceptance faltered, but as she looked up into Charles's eyes, she wondered if it wasn"t as much of a problem as she thought. He did not seem to mind her wet eyes and broken smile. Swallowing thickly, she said, "Thank you. You do not know how much your support means to me."

Giving her shoulder a squeeze, Charles said, "You go inside and see to the children. I will start unloading the wagon."

After watching him turn away and get to work, Jane moved into the building, blinking to allow her eyes to adjust to the darker setting. It was easy to spot Susan bustling around, and Jane found herself smiling at Susan"s industrious movements. She scuttled about the room, gathering all the dirty cups, plates, and pans in sight before placing them all in a large tub. Noting Jane's presence, Susan nervously offered an explanation. "It is quite the mess in here, but I had assumed as much when I volunteered. Once I get all this gathered, I will start the stove and get some hot water going for washing and the like."

"I am sure you have it all in hand. Do tell me if you need assistance with anything. I am going to look in on the children and Mrs. McGregor."

Returning to the dark back room where the children waited for her, Jane could not help but wrinkle her nose at the stench. She could only hope that as soon as they had the kitchen in hand and the bodies buried, they could start cleaning and washing laundry. It was not the family's fault that things had progressed to such a state, but that did not make her long for strong soap and hot water any less.

The children had barely moved an inch in her absence. At least Allen had finally stopped staring at his unmoving parents. Grace was using the rag that Jane had left to cool little Allen's brow.

Smiling, she knelt next to the two. "Grace, you are such a good sister. Has he fallen asleep?"

"Yes, I think so." Grace's voice was small and trembled slightly as she spoke. "I thought Papa was asleep at first, too." Little lip trembling, Grace gazed at Jane, her eyes too full of knowledge for a child of her years.

"Do not worry, Grace, your brother is just sleeping. Look, you can tell. Watch his chest rise and fall." Jane directed Grace's gaze to her brother's sleeping form, his chest rising and falling with little puffing breaths. They sat for a moment in the near silence, simply watching the boy breathe, before Jane finally forced herself to say what she must. "You are right, though; your Papa is not sleeping. He and your grandmother and little baby Patience were too sick, and they died."

Biting her lip, Grace asked, "What about Mama? Is she going to die too?"

"Your mother is very sick. It is very possible that she may die, but then again, she may not. I cannot say what is going to happen." Jane watched Grace carefully, worried about her solemn acceptance. Grace had little to no reaction. She merely looked down and then continued to pat her brother's forehead with the damp rag.

Eventually, Grace whispered, "Mama said I had to be brave and take care of Allen."

Understanding made Jane shudder at the memories that resurfaced. She could well remember pushing her own anxieties away to take care of her younger siblings and soothe their fears and worries. It was probably one of the reasons she had come to rely on her smile so much. Jane struggled with the lump in her throat before she could say, "Soon some men are coming in here to take your papa, grandma, and little sister away to bury them. It is not healthy to keep them here."

Focused on her brother, Grace diligently cleansed his face, her words filled with a mix of sadness and acceptance. "At least they will be together."

In the end, it was a simple affair to remove the three McGregors and inter them into the simple graves. They used the blankets from their beds to wrap them, as they had no coffins. Jane knew she would never forget the sight of those bundles being taken away. She chose not to see them buried; she stayed with the children instead. Was it a coward's action to not want to see them slowly covered with dirt? Or did she truly feel the need to stay with the children as they mourned the loss of all they knew?

Bingley made his way into the sickroom as quietly as he could manage. Jane was busy with Susan scrubbing out the other room. He wanted to check in on the children while Jane and Susan were occupied. He did not want to disturb Mrs. McGregor or the children if they were sleeping. At first glance, Mrs. McGregor appeared unchanged based on Jane's description of the woman. She was still unconscious, rasping with every breath. He watched her for only a moment before turning away. He knew there was nothing he could do for her, and it hurt to acknowledge that to himself.

So he focused on the children. He liked children, though he rarely spent any time with them. None of his friends had children and his sister Louisa had only recently had her baby. He was looking forward to the time when he would be able to play with the lad. For now, though, he was happy enough to be to be working on his relationship with Jane.

Right away, he noticed that the little girl was silently watching him, so Bingley smiled and asked, "Would you mind if I sit down?"

After a moment's hesitation, Grace smiled tentatively and nodded her head. Approaching slowly, he sat down cross-legged, all the while maintaining his smile. He did not want to scare the children on top of everything else. Figuring introductions were in order, he said, "My name is Charles Bingley."

Grace responded by saying, "My name is Grace McGregor, and this is my little brother Allen."

Hearing his name, little Allen rolled over and rubbed at his eyes, mumbling, "Wha?"

Grace, showing ample mothering instincts, patted her brother on the shoulder reassuringly. "Do not worry, Allen. I was just introducing you to Mr. Bingley."

Trying to bring as much normalcy to the situation as possible, Bingley said, "It is nice to meet you, Grace, and you as well, Allen. Though if you want, you can call me Charles." He watched the two siblings and wondered how the tragedy they were experiencing would affect them throughout their lives.

Sitting up, Allen looked around and asked, "Where is Miss Jane?"

"She is eating, but I told her I would come in and spend time with you so you would not be lonely," Bingley explained, eager to reassure the boy. Spotting a pitcher of water and a pair of cups, he asked, "Are either of you thirsty? Would you like some water?"

Allen nodded his head. "Yes, please, Mr. Charles."

Reaching over, Bingley's long reach allowed him to grab the pitcher and cups without having to get up from his spot. Filling both cups with a small amount of water, he handed them to Allen and Grace, respectively. He watched Allen gulp his down and said, "Be careful you do not choke. I can always get you more."

As Allen slowed his water consumption to a more sedate pace, Grace, unlike her brother, sipped at her water slowly. Eventually Allen stopped drinking and just looked at his cup, until suddenly he blurted out, "My papa died, an' Grandma and baby Pa'tince." The comment might have seemed random, but Bingley was unruffled. It was one of the reasons he liked children. They said what was on their mind.

"I am sorry about that, Allen. I know how sad you must be. Both of my parents and my older brother died, too."

After the burial, Charles took the time to console the children before seeking Jane out. He informed her of his plan to visit the families living nearby and then bring supplies to Glenn Cottage, where the men would be staying for the duration of the epidemic. She watched him mount his horse and ride away, vaguely marveling at how attached she had become to him. She had known she had feelings for him for some time, but the desire to keep him with her was a surprising development. Squaring her shoulders, Jane turned back to the house to face the task of seeing to the living.

Jane was extremely grateful that her mother, or possibly Elizabeth, had sent so many clean linens. It enabled Susan and her to make a pallet on the floor where they could place Mrs. McGregor while they remade the bed, used the quilt to wrap her husband and baby, and removed the soiled sheets for washing.

After giving the unconscious woman a sponge bath, they resettled her in her bed and Jane was at least confident that she was resting more comfortably. Wiping her sweaty brow with her forearm, Jane left the bedroom and went in search of Susan, who had bundled up all the soiled linens and took them away. Finding her at the stove heating a large pot of water, Jane asked, "How are you holding up?"

"Well enough, miss. I am hoping some of the hardest work is behind us, though all of this laundry will be a task in itself." Gesturing with her chin toward the container of lye soap on the table, Susan said, "At least we have plenty of good, strong soap. I can start on the mopping and cleaning the various rooms once I have the laundry started."

Jane nodded in agreement before saying, "Thank you for all of your hard work, Susan. You are doing a marvelous job. I was just thinking we should try to ensure cleanliness in hopes of not getting sick ourselves. I plan to place a bowl of water and a small pot of soft soap outside the family"s room, allowing everyone to wash their hands whenever they exit." Rolling her head back and forth to loosen some of her tense muscles, she added, "I also had an idea that you and I could stay in the smaller bedroom tonight once we have finished cleaning it."

Turning her back to the stove, Susan nodded her head, her expression contemplative. "I think that is a good idea. I have opened the windows around the house. Hopefully we can air it out some and clear out the smell."

"Yes, that will clear the air, and I also have an idea that may help." Jane thought back to the old book she had found of her grandmother's full of advice to the future generations. If only there had been something in there about dealing with the sorrow that came with helping the sick. Swallowing around the lump in her throat, Jane said, "My grandmother had a recipe that she claimed would help clear out sickness in the air. I do not know if it will help, but it cannot hurt."

Nodding, Susan asked, "How are the children?"

Jane shook her head. "Quiet, especially little Allen. I cannot imagine what they have gone through or what is going through their minds. Allen's fever is not as bad as it could be. I am hoping that we can keep him drinking enough tea and broth to help him fight it off."

"What about little Gracie?"

"She does not seem to be sick yet, but I would not be surprised if she comes down with it. She has been so exposed; I do not know how she could escape it."

Grace looked down at her brother as he mumbled in his sleep. It was something he often did, and if she was not so worried, she would have smiled. Smoothing the sweaty hair from her brother's forehead, Grace forced her gaze to where her mother lay in bed. She tried to tell herself that she was not frightened by the rattling sound that came from her mother, but she knew that sound could not be good. Miss Jane had not looked hopeful when she was helping Mama.

For now, Grace was alone with her sick brother and Mama because the nice lady had gone out into the kitchen. Grace had been so worried when they ran out of water and bread. Now, with Miss Jane arriving and the other people, there would be food and water and clean blankets. It was better food than the stale bread she had been trying to get her brother to eat. Miss Jane had already brought them tea with honey to drink, along with a bowl of broth for both her and her brother. It had tasted better than anything Grace could remember.

Leaning her head against the wall behind her, Grace sighed, tears tracking their way down her cheeks. Her head ached, but she was too focused on her brother to tell Miss Jane about it. She felt better than either her brother or her mama; she did not need help as much as they did. Gazing back at her mama from the pallet where she sat with her brother, Grace watched her chest rise and fall. She had been asleep for a long time, days even. Grace was starting to worry that just like Grandma and Papa, she was not going to wake up.

The smell of clove, cinnamon, and rosemary was an odd combination, but it did indeed help clear the air of the smell of decay and loss. Jane knew her grandmother's recipe also called for lemon and orange peel, but they did not have any on hand at the moment. Even without the scent of citrus added to the mix, Jane was happy with the result. Who would have thought simmering herbs and spices in a pot with water could make such a difference? Now they just needed to keep adding water occasionally to keep the fragrant steam going.

It was endearing to watch how much Grace, a child herself, wanted to care for her younger brother. Jane wondered if it had anything to do with all the loss that she had experienced or if it was an oldest daughter trait. She had lost three family members in swift succession and would most likely lose her mother soon. It was understandable that she would cling to who she had left.

Kneeling on the floor, Jane asked, "How is Allen, Grace?"

Grace smiled wanly, her hands constantly fussing about her brother. Smoothing his hair before looking up at Jane, she said, "His fever is not that bad, but he is sleeping."

"That's good; rest is good for you when you are unwell." Jane smiled at the boy. His flushed cheeks and sweaty brow told her he was still ill. She was overly concerned, as he was breathing naturally and woke easily when she brought tea and broth. Looking at Grace"s tired face, she asked, "Would you like more tea or a bite to eat?"

Grace shook her head, her lank hair flying about before saying, "No, I am still full."

Jane nodded; she did not want to overtax the girl's system. She paused before saying, "Actually, I was thinking you could probably use a nap as well."

Pressing her lips together, Grace shook her head in denial. Eventually, she said, "I should be caring for Allen. I can sleep later." Her voice was soft, her gaze almost desperate.

Jane reached out to smooth the hair back from the young girl"s face. The poor thing was drooping with exhaustion, but still she struggled on. Jane knew the feeling of having the world rest on your shoulders. The ache of fearing not for yourself but for your family. "I know you want to care for your brother, but I am here now. I will look after Allen, and we can both care for him after you rest." Jane helped rearrange Grace from a sitting position so that she could lie down next to her brother, encouraging her to relax. Watching the girl's eyes droop, Jane rubbed a line soothingly back and forth along her forehead, hoping to lull her to sleep. Jane waited until the child finally slept before leaning back on her heels. She paused a moment to make sure both children were sound asleep before leaving their sides.

Getting up off the floor, Jane moved to sit on the chair by the bed. While both children were sleeping, she felt compelled to spend time with Mercy McGregor before she went back to help Susan. Sadly, Jane knew Mercy was not long for the world. It would most likely not be too long before she passed away. Jane could hear a rasping rattle come with Mercy's every breath. Jane had cared for dying people in the past and had heard that sound before; it was never a good sign.

It was frustrating to know that she did not have the ability to save the woman and could only make her comfortable. Her fever was not high, but Jane knew she was slipping away, and she simply did not have the means to fight a sickness that had progressed so far. With Mercy unconscious, she could not get her to drink any of the tinctures or teas that she possessed. It had settled deep into her lungs and would be the death of her. Leaning over, Jane smoothed Mercy's hair, humming a lullaby under her breath. She had no idea if Mercy was aware of anything at this point, but she could not begrudge her some comfort. It did not hurt that Jane was comforted by the lullaby herself.

The stress in the house had driven Lydia out of doors and into the refuge of her flowers. What did it matter if she was weeding a little more vigorously than necessary? It was a relief to take her frustrations out on the plants that wanted to choke the life out of her babies.

There was so little that Lydia could do to help the situation. Jane was off helping the poor orphans and putting herself at risk while she nursed them back to health. Despite getting extra sleep, Elizabeth was always tired, but it did not stop her from keeping Pemberley running smoothly and making sure everyone was hale and hardy. Mother had taken charge of various things, ensuring that the afflicted families had their needs tended to. Mary and Georgianna had started making clothes and toys for the two children who had so much of their world taken away by cruel fate. Kitty, never one to cope well with difficulties, had started painting and had not seemed to stop.

That left Lydia to her own rather frustrated devices. Though she wished she could go help Jane, she knew it was not something she could do. Everyone was too afraid of contagion to take risks. It seemed that the situation was under control and being well managed by Mr. Bingley and Jane, but that did not soothe Lydia. She was still outside, stabbing at uncooperative weeds that were trying to steal nutrients from her roses.

"What did that plant ever do to you?" Kiernan's voice had Lydia's head coming up from its determined pursuit in search of her young friend.

Finding him behind her, Lydia grinned, saying, "Nothing really, but it is satisfying to stab at something sometimes and weeds should not be here trying to take over the rose bed."

"I can see how that could be fun. Do you need some help?" Kiernan said, rolling up his sleeves and preparing to assist her.

Tilting her head, Lydia pondered for a moment before asking, "I thought you had time with your tutor today. Are you avoiding your lessons for some reason?"

"Nah." Kiernan shook his head with a mischievous grin that Lydia had always been fond of. He was like the little brother she had secretly always wanted. At eleven, he was only four years younger than her fifteen-year-old self, and they had a good relationship. While he had always been especially close to Elizabeth, Kiernan viewed all the Bennet girls as his sisters. "Because of the illness, my tutor has stayed away."

Lydia picked up an extra trowel and held it aloft for him. Happy to have company, she said, "Well, as long as you do not think your mother will miss you, I would be more than happy to have you help me with weeding."

Taking the instrument, Kiernan sat down on the ground next to her. "Just tell me what we are killing. I would hate to execute the wrong plant."

Laughing, Lydia explained exactly what she had been doing and what to look out for. They worked in companionable silence for a time before Kiernan asked, "Are you worried about Miss Jane?"

Coming up short with a weed in her hands, Lydia focused on Kiernan. His brown eyes were sharp and discerning, though his flicker of a smile let Lydia know he knew he had startled her. He was often more perceptive than people gave him credit for. Between that and his sharp intelligence and thirst for learning, it was no wonder that William had arranged for him to receive tutoring and would eventually send him to Eton.

Sighing, Lydia reminded herself that she could not rub at her face without getting covered in dirt. Looking at Kiernan, she said, "Yes, I am. Jane is not one to look after herself when there are people to care for. I am afraid that she will overwork herself and then catch whatever has killed off half of the McGregors."

"Miss Jane would be just the type to do that." Kiernan paused and fiddled with the dirt, stabbing it with his trowel. Then, looking Lydia straight in the eye, he said, "You are forgetting, though, that she is not alone. Susan, the kitchen maid, went to help her. Mr. Bingley is also out there helping your sister, and I do not believe that he would allow her to put herself in jeopardy. He loves her too much."

Dropping onto her heels, her mind turned over the information that Kiernan had provided and she felt her face stretching in a wide smile. "You are right. He is rather in love with her, isn't he?"

"He is far and away lost to her."

"If only she could see how perfect he is for her." Lydia leaned forward, about to pull at another weed when she froze in place. Then, looking back at Kiernan, she laughingly said, "Do you suppose this whole situation will knock some sense into her?"

Nodding his head, Kiernan moved around to the other side of the square flower bed to work on another section of weeds. "I would not be surprised if they were engaged by the time the quarantine is over."

Returning to the work at hand, Lydia said, "I will hope for the best. Jane is more stubborn than people give her credit for. It is her smile, I think. Where Elizabeth will glare and frown, Jane smiles and keeps her mask in place, all the while not moving an inch. I"m worried that her own insecurities will hinder her from recognizing the love she has at her fingertips."

They had almost finished the bed when Kiernan spoke again. "I would not have thought it would be more difficult to get Miss Jane with Mr. Bingley than it was for Miss Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. Not with the way he kept blundering!" This had them both bursting into tears of laughter at all their memories of how often William had ended up with his boot in his mouth.