14th November

'Darcy, I'd best go in alone to ask about the footman. I've had the smallpox variolation, thanks to my time in the army, so cannot contract the disease.'

'Yes, a good point. I wonder if it would not be possible to variolate the unaffected at Netherfield and Longbourn. I will ask the Doctor when we return.'

Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded, then ducked his head and entered the inn, leaving his cousin outside.

Mr Darcy looked about, noting the main road through the village seemed quieter than on previous visits. Not far down the way was the house and offices of Mr Philips. He decided to pay a visit on Mrs Philips, for any news that he could take back for Miss Elizabeth.

He waited after knocking on the door, only for a window to open.

'Hello?'

'Mrs Philips?'

'Yes, who is it…'

Mr Darcy walked over to the window, but stood well back.

'Oh, Mr Darcy. Are you well?'

'I am indeed. I thank you. I am calling on behalf of Miss Elizabeth. She was concerned about her family, after hearing Miss Lydia was unwell. As I happened to be passing, I thought I could relieve her immediate concerns and take any news back to her and Miss Bennet at Netherfield.'

'Oh, that is very kind of you, sir. Kitty is resting…' There was the sound of a door opening, and then Mrs Philips was interrupted.

'Oh Aunt! Is it one of the officers come to visit?'

'Oh Kitty, dear. No, it's Mr Darcy come to ask after us.'

'Oh. I'd rather it were the officers.'

The door slamming left all quiet in the room behind Mrs Philips and she turned her attention back to Mr Darcy.

'I'm sorry for the interruption, Mr Darcy. Kitty has been trapped indoors for some days now and has excess energy. Where was I? Oh, yes. We are all very well here, apart from Lydia, who has a sore throat, cough and is somewhat feverish. We are hopeful it is simply a cold. It is the time of year for them, after all.'

'Miss Bennet seems in a similar condition, from what Miss Elizabeth has told me. We must hope that all will be well. Do you need the Doctor to visit or any supplies sent, or do you have sufficient?'

'oh, it is very kind of you to ask. The Doctor visited yesterday and we are currently well supplied, as food and fresh produce are left for us at the kitchen door.'

He nodded, relieved. 'One more thing. We have traced the infection to a footman called Andrew Thomson, a stranger to these parts, apparently. He recovered and left Meryton just a few days ago, by stage. I don't suppose you know anything of him, do you?'

'Thomson… The name does sound familiar but I cannot recall… I will try to remember and have word sent to Netherfield if I find out anything. Will that do?'

'That would be most helpful, Mrs Philips.' He spotted his cousin leaving the inn and continued. 'I will not trespass on your time any longer. I see my cousin is ready to leave and I'm sure you must have much to do. Good day.' He bowed and moved back to the inn, as the window closed behind him.

'Do you have anything?' he asked, as he reached Colonel Fitzwilliam, noting the grim look on his cousin's face.

'Not much more that we already knew. Thomson waited in the taproom, drinking an ale, before the stage arrived. Not many would speak to him, his face is badly scarred according to the owner. There was one person who did spend quite some time talking to him, though. Another newcomer. Someone we are very familiar with.'

'Someone we know?'

'Oh, yes. Very much so. Wickham.'

'Wickham! What on earth was he doing here?'

'Apparently, he's to join the militia stationed here.'

'Much as I would prefer not, we need to talk to him.'

'Yes.' The colonel sighed. 'Yes, I know. I'd rather run him through, but I will control my urges. For now, at least. Let us visit Colonel Forster first, and see what he has to say.'

They were to be disappointed though, as Mr Wickham had gone to London with Captain Carter. While Captain Carter was due back in two days, the newly minted Lieutenant Wickham was finishing off business in town before joining the regiment and was not expected back in Meryton until a se'ennight hence. Disappointed, they informed Colonel Forster of the situation, and to keep an eye on his men for fever, and then mounted their horses and returned to Netherfield.

Colonel Fitzwilliam made a welcome addition to the dinner table that evening. Even Miss Bingley appeared to think so, as she arranged the table so that she had Mr Darcy on one side and the Colonel on the other.

Elizabeth was amused to watch Miss Bingley flirt with the Colonel, while slyly watching for a reaction from Mr Darcy but Mr Darcy ate his dinner wearing what she now knew was called the Darcy Mask, and occasionally speaking to the Doctor who was on his other side.

Elizabeth was positioned between Doctor Williams - who had some relief from his duties now the nurses had arrived - and Mr Bingley, who sat at the other end of the table from his sister. Mr Hurst, who she faced, ate and drank steadily and said not a word.

After dinner, Elizabeth followed Miss Bingley to the drawing room, wishing she could avoid the oncoming tête-à-tête, but she had to be gracious and not offend her hostess by leaving her all alone, else she would have excused herself to check on Jane.

It seemed that Miss Bingley would have preferred to ignore Elizabeth, which was made quite plain by the curt replies received to Eliabeth's polite queries regarding Mrs Hurst. Lapsing into silence, Elizabeth retrieved a book of poetry she had left earlier and opened it to continue reading.

Miss Bingley immediately enquired as to what she was reading and insisted she entertain her by reading aloud.

Amused, Elizabeth selected one of her favourite poems and began to read. About halfway through, the gentlemen joined them and Miss Bingley interrupted her mid-stanza. Rather rude, Elizabeth thought, for something that had been her idea.

'Oh, Mr Darcy! Here you find us enjoying Mr Wordsworth's poetry. Miss Eliza was reading to me. I am sure she will make a good companion should it become necessary.' She raised a hand to me mouth and tittered before continuing, 'or maybe I should say when it becomes necessary.'

'Was she indeed?' Mr Darcy replied, frowning. 'Well, do not let our arrival interrupt, pray continue Miss Elizabeth.'

'I thank you, but if I may, I would want to check on my sister. Maybe someone else could continue where I left off? Colonel Fitzwilliam, do you like poetry?'

'I do indeed, Miss Elizabeth.' He took the book from her outstretched hand and Elizabeth stood to leave.

As she passed through the door, she heard the Colonel ask where they had reached so that he could continue from the right place. Miss Bingley hesitated before saying she was unsure and that maybe they should play cards instead. Elizabeth rolled her eyes, knowing full well Miss Bingley had not paid the slightest attention to her reading and had instead been watching the door intently, waiting for the gentlemen to enter.

Miss Bingley was in her element after Elizabeth left the room. She was surrounded by gentlemen and the sole lady present, so she continued to draw attention to herself. Trying to attract Mr Darcy's attention, she flirted even more outrageously with Colonel Fitzwilliam. The Colonel, ever eager for some harmless flirtation, was happy to oblige, and their behaviour allowed Mr Darcy to retreat to the writing desk. He intended to complete his letter to his sister, who was currently in London.

Mr Hurst further stymied her attempts by calling for some cards. A table of Whist was formed consisting of Miss Bingley, Mr Hurst, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr Bingley, giving the Doctor an opportunity to retreat for a short time to check on his patients.

Miss Bingley, taking the opportunity of being the dummy hand, wandered randomly about the room, gradually moving toward the writing desk and Mr Darcy.

'And who are you writing to so secretly, sir?' said Miss Bingley, archly.

'I'm writing to my sister,' he replied, without looking up.

'Oh, dear Georgiana! I do hope she's well. Pray pass on my regards to her and say I hope we will be back on town soon and able to call on her.'

Mr Darcy nodded curtly, and dipped his pen in the inkwell.

'You do know that we won't be going anywhere near town for quite some time?' called Mr Bingley.

'Oh Charles! Really. Once Louisa is well again, I'm sure we will be leaving. There's nothing much here, it's just so… so tedious at this time of year. Much better we be in town.'

Silence descended again, broken only by the scratching of nib on paper and the snap of cards.

Miss Bingley hovered beside Mr Darcy as he wrote on, but she could not be silent for long and must attract his attention once more.

'How fast you write.'

'I write quite slowly, madam.' He paused and peered at his pen, then reached for a knife.

'You do not like your pen? Shall I mend it for you, I am remarkably apt at pen repairs.'

'I prefer to mend my own pens.' Satisfied with his repair, he dipped for more ink and continued writing.

Miss Bingley leaned closer, attempting to read what he was writing. Mr Darcy seemed to sense her movement and, without looking up, shifted slightly in his seat, shielding the paper from view.

'Pray tell your sister of my raptures for her beautiful table design, Miss Grantley will be quite green with jealousy about it.'

'My apologies, but I do not have room left to add your raptures. I must defer them until I write again.'

Miss Bingley was silent for a few moments, then rallied her forces and tried again. 'You write such long letters; she must always find them charming.'

'They may be long, but it does not always follow they are charming.'

'She cannot find them anything but, I am sure. If a person writes me a long letter, they are always well writ.'

'You have been lucky in your correspondents then. Be grateful you do not have letters of business to deal with.' Mr Darcy folded his letter and fixed it with a seal. Adding the direction, he put it aside and stood. 'Excuse me.'

She watched, eyes narrowed, as he walked over to a chair by the fire and sat, picking up a book on the table beside it. She followed and chose the closest seat by him.

'Is your book of interest? Would I like it, do you think?'

'I do not yet know; I have not long started it.'

She was about to make another comment when her brother called out, 'Caroline, we are starting another hand. You are required at the table.'

As Miss Bingley moved toward the table, she cast a look back at Mr Darcy, hoping he would be watching her graceful movements. He was not.