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“They were so small. I did not want them to become ill.”
“You did the right thing, my dear. It is possible they are only sensitive to you and the three of you share a connection of some sort. Or perhaps they are sensitive to everyone. I will speak to them and try to find out a little more, but right now, you need to go to Jane.”
“Yes, of course.”
Mother had packed up Hill’s tonic and Jane’s favorite shawl, plus a fresh gown as hers had gotten wet the day before. Joseph strapped the pack to his horse and helped me mount.
I was to Netherfield, heaven help me.
12
Darcy
Thisdaywasinterminable.Jane Bennet had come for dinner last evening with Bingley’s sisters and been trapped by the rain. Now she was ill in a guest chamber, Bingley was beside himself with worry, and Miss Bingley was complaining incessantly.
“What on earth possessed her to come on horseback?”
“The weather was quite fine yesterday, Caroline,” said Bingley. “The rain came suddenly. It is not as if she did it on purpose.”
Miss Bingley made a sound suspiciously close to a snort. “Her mother likely planned the whole thing.”
“I do not think Mrs. Bennet can control the weather,” I said.
“I am surprised no one has come to fetch her yet,” mused Miss Bingley. “Should we send her home in our carriage?”
“You cannot think of sending her home when she is ill!” cried Bingley. “It will make her worse.”
“It is only a cold, Charles.”
“My valet mentioned that sickness is spreading through the tenant families. It will not be long until it comes into the main houses,” I added.
“What sort of sickness?” asked Bingley.
“Sounds like influenza. Do not worry; it is not severe. Parker told me there have been no deaths reported and most families have not even called in the apothecary.”
“That is a relief!”
Now that I thought about it, it was quite odd. This was the time of year illness began to spread. On an estate the size of Netherfield, one would think at least one family would call in the apothecary. Perhaps it was not influenza after all and only an irritating cold. They were troublesome things, but hardly life-threatening.
Miss Bingley was droning on about some other complaint. I pocketed the letter I had been attempting to read and excused myself, going into the garden for a short walk. I had gone for a ride that morning but I had not run into any neighbors. I told myself I had not been looking for Miss Elizabeth on her chestnut mare, but I knew I was lying.
I wandered through the shrubbery garden on the far side of the house, hoping Miss Bingley did not decide to look for me. The hedges were high enough she could not see me over them. If I heard anyone coming, I could escape before she found me.
I turned a corner and found an elderly gardener pushing a cart. “Good day, sir,” he said.
“Good day.” Thinking he might know about the illness rumored to be spreading, I asked, “Have you heard anything about influenza in the tenant farms? I heard there was sickness spreading.”
“Aye, but no more than usual this time of year.”
“As I suspected.”
I was about to thank him and be on my way when he said, “We never have much disease here anyway.”
“Truly? At Netherfield?”
“All about these parts.” He smiled in pride. “Some say it’s the clean air, but I think there’s something in the water.” He winked at me and tipped his cap, then trundled off with his pushcart.
How odd. I was quite sure he was mistaken. Was Miss Bennet not lying upstairs at this moment, feverish and ill? I shook my head. The old man was probably doddery. I should not listen to a thing he said.
