Page 10 of Dear Friend

As for Longbourn, Kitty maintains that she saw a fox in the lane behind the church yesterday evening. Lydia declares with equal confidence that it was the vicar’s dog. Neither has produced evidence sufficient to convince the other, and the dispute has already survived two meals. I leave the question to your judgement, since I know you will form an opinion whether the evidence deserves one or not.

You see to what your absence has reduced me. I have already descended to ribbons, foxes, and quarrels between my sisters, and this upon my first letter. If you remain ill much longer, I shall be forced to give you an account of the weather, which I know you consider the final refuge of a correspondent who has nothing worth saying.

I shall write again tomorrow, whether you deserve another letter or not. You are under no obligation to answer me. Indeed, if I discover that you have exhausted yourself in doing so, I shall complain of you to your aunt and have all writing materials removed from your room.

Pray grow well soon, Julia. Meryton is decidedly less amusing without you, and I find I have grown far too accustomed to your company to bear its interruption with any degree of patience.

Yours most affectionately,

Elizabeth.

Elizabeth read the letter through once more before folding it. She was tempted to alter one or two sentences, then decided that another reading would only persuade her to alter two or three more. She sealed it instead and rested her hand upon the folded paper for a moment, wishing, rather foolishly, that affection might be conveyed as readily as ink.

She had scarcely finished sanding the direction when a knock sounded at her chamber door, and Jane put her head inside without waiting for an answer.

“There you are. I wondered what had become of you since you returned from Meryton.” Her eyes fell upon the writing desk as she entered. “Have I interrupted you?”

“No. I have only just finished.”

Jane came farther into the room and seated herself upon the edge of the bed. “To whom are you writing?”

“To Julia.” Elizabeth brushed the last grains of sand from the letter. “I called at her aunt’s cottage on my way home, but Mrs. Tunley would not permit me to see her.”

Jane’s expression changed immediately. “Not permit you? Why?”

“She is ill.” Elizabeth set the letter aside. “She has been poorly for a couple of days. According to the apothecary, it is scarlet fever.”

“Scarlet fever!”

The alarm in Jane’s voice was sufficiently near Elizabeth’s own that she wished at once she had spoken more gently.

“Mrs. Tunley says she passed a tolerable night,” Elizabeth added. “And the apothecary is to see her again today. I am determined to take what comfort I may from that rather than dwell upon how ill she might be.”

Jane was silent for a moment. “But you did not go inside to see her?”

“No. Mrs. Tunley would scarcely allow me upon the step. She is determined that no one shall be admitted unnecessarily, and particularly that I shall not carry the illness home to Longbourn.”

“I am very glad she prevented you.”

“Jane!”

“I do not mean that I am glad you were kept from Julia.” Jane reached for her hand. “You know I do not. But if the complaint is truly scarlet fever, you could do her no good by exposing yourself to it. And Mama would be beside herself if one of us were to fall ill.”

“Mama is so frequently beside herself that I scarcely know how we should distinguish the occasion, but I understand your concern.”

Jane's lips curved despite herself. “That does not make me wrong.”

“No.” Elizabeth returned the pressure of her hand. “It does not.”

“How ill is she?”

“I could learn very little. She has a fever and a sore throat, and Mrs. Tunley said she was confined to her bed. But she is well enough to have a letter read to her, which must signify something.” Elizabeth glanced towards the sealed sheet upon the desk. “Her aunt promised to send word if there is any change.”

“And you will write to her every day, I suppose.”

“I see no reason I should not write to her every day, unless she begs Mrs. Tunley to forbid my letters as well.”

“I do not think that very likely.”