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.”
