A/N: This chapter answers the question some have asked about the primary source of the infection. It was actually touched on some chapters ago, when the doctor was asked for more nurses.

22nd November

Breakfast the next morning was subdued but surprisingly well attended.

Mr Hurst arrived, pale but composed, and greeted everyone pleasantly. 'G'morning Miss Bennet, Darcy, Colonel. Ah, Bingley. Dashed awkward business, the funeral arrangements.'

'Indeed, it is, Hurst, but I am sure we can come to a suitable arrangement. Let us discuss it later, in my study.'

'Aye,' Mr Hurst muttered, as he signalled the footman to pour him a coffee.

Miss Bingley entered and scanned the table, selecting a chair close to Mr Darcy, and calling out to the footman, 'Bring me some coffee, James.'

Mr Bingley hesitated and then asked, 'Caroline, how are you this morning?'

Her eyes were red rimmed, and she did not seem to have slept well. 'Oh Charles. I wish we had never come here.'

Mr Bingley said nothing, but Colonel Fitzwilliam looked up and said, 'Really, Miss Bingley? I find this location most pleasant, despite everything.'

Miss Bingley looked at him as if he had two-heads. 'If we had remained in town,' she almost spat, 'none of this would have happened. Louisa would still be with us if not for this horrible disease spread by these countryfolk.'

Mr Darcy raised his head and exchanged a look with the Colonel and then Mr Bingley.

Mr Bingley waved the footmen away before saying anything further. 'Caroline, do you remember Darcy and Colonel Fitzwillam met with Colonel Forster yesterday?'

She nodded impatiently. 'I am not sure what that has to do with anything, though.'

Mr Bingley continued. 'Well, when they spoke to him and one of his men, they discovered something very interesting. Information about the origin of this disease which, I have to say, rather shocked me.'

'Really, Charles. Is it at all important where it came from?'

'It is indeed important,' said Colonel Fitzwilliam.

'I'm sure it is just Charles over-reacting as usual,' she said.

'In that case, you would be quite wrong, Miss Bingley, and it would pay you to listen to him,' Mr Darcy said.

Caroline was silenced and Mr Darcy gestured to her brother to continue. 'Bingley?'

'As I was saying, we have discovered something disturbing. The source of the outbreak here was a young man from London, taken ill at his place of work locally and cast out because of it.'

Miss Bingley huffed. 'Well? What of it.'

'He had been employed as a footman, brought from London to a country estate by his employer and therefore he, and his health, became the responsibility of that employer.'

'If he was unable to work, then I am not surprised he was dismissed.' Miss Bingley, waved a hand dismissively. 'People do not employ servants to lay in their beds.'

'If a servant becomes ill, it is the responsibility of their employer to ensure they are cared for until well again.'

'What rubbish, Charles. I am sure Mr Darcy would agree.'

'You would, again, be quite wrong,' stated Mr Darcy. 'I ensure any servant, or other person under my employ, receive the care they need should they become ill. I do not throw them from the house.'

'Even worse,' added Colonel Fitzwilliam, 'is throwing them from the house in a country completely unknown to them, and away from any family who could take them in and care from them. This young man was found fevered and unconscious under a hedge, but he could have perished there, unknown.'

'What a lot of fuss over nothing,' huffed Miss Bingley. 'Besides, what does it have to do with us?'

'I will tell you what it has to do with us,' Mr Bingley replied. 'In case you had forgotten, we lost a dear sister to this disease. Along with a possible niece or nephew.'

'Dear Louisa. Well, I hope you find whoever is responsible and make them pay.'

'Oh, we have found the person responsible,' replied Mr Bingley, a chill in his voice. 'In fact, she is in this very room, sister dear.'

Miss Bingley looked about, her gaze landing and staying on Elizabeth. 'She? You mean all of this is Miss Eliza's fault?'

'Darcy, what was the description given of the lady who dismissed the footman?' asked Mr Bingley.

Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned behind his hand as Mr Darcy said, with a suspiciously blank face, 'A red-haired harridan.'

'And did he say where this lady resided?'

'He did. At Netherfield.'

Miss Bingley's voice hit a new level of shrillness. 'How dare he!'

'So you see, Caroline, why this news is important,' continued Mr Bingley with a grim smile. 'Thanks to your dismissal of an employee who should have been cared for here, thus containing a deadly disease that we brought here from London – do you remember the doctor telling us there was an outbreak in town? - smallpox has instead been spread throughout the neighbourhood. The family that found the poor wretch suffered the most, with most there becoming ill. Their two youngest children did not survive. The footman was found by a stablehand who works for Sir William, leading to the infection of Maria Lucas and many others who attended their party, including Mrs Bennet and Miss Lydia. You were so busy trying to show off your skills as Mistress to Darcy here, you forgot all about the compassion required to BE a good Mistress.' He paused and sighed. 'There was another much more personal cost to your actions however.'

Miss Bingley, who had been making scornful noises until his last words, paled and fell silent, staring at her brother.

'You effectively caused the death of your only sister.'

Mr Hurst had been silent until this point. He stood, pushing back his chair so hard it toppled to the floor, drawing all eyes to him. 'My Louisa, my child…' He choked, his face flushed and he turned angry eyes on Miss Bingley, '…were lost because of her.' 'Caroline, you may have been my sister by marriage but no longer. I recognise you no more.'

He turned to Mr Bingley. 'Bingley, I apologise. You are still my brother, but I can no longer bear to spend any more time with this… this harpy. I will await you in your study and we can decide on Louisa's interment.'

Mr Bingley nodded, and Mr Hurst strode from the room without a backward glance.

Miss Bingley sat there, red faced with her mouth hanging open.

Elizabeth, sat on Miss Bingley's left side, was the only person able to see her brush away the tear that ran down her left cheek before she stood and hastily excused herself, saying she was returning to her room.

Once she had left, Mr Bingley said, 'I know it was harsh to confront her so and I must apologise to you all, but especially to you Miss Elizabeth, as you were unaware of our findings.'

Elizabeth, who was feeling a little dazed by the revelations of the morning, said, 'No need to apologise, Mr Bingley. I am shocked, I have to admit, but the truth must out, and it is sometimes painful.'

Mr Bingley stood. 'I must go before Hurst drinks too much brandy. We have plans to make that will require a clear head. Darcy, will you join us?'

Mr Darcy dabbed his lips and stood. 'I will. Lead the way, Bingley.'

Elizabeth followed them with her eyes as they left the room and the footmen entered to serve fresh coffee to those left at the table.

Caroline remained in her room and was not seen again that day, taking her meals on a tray. The relief felt by many of those at Netherfield was immense. Caroline and her sharp tongue were not missed at all.

Mr Hurst was pouring himself a brandy when Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy entered the study. He looked up at them, nodded and held the decanter up in question.

'Bit too early for me, Hurst,' said Mr Bingley.

Mr Darcy shook his head to decline the offer.

'Dashed early for me too,' he said, 'but Caroline… She would drive an angel to drink.'

The men gathered by the fire and settled into the armchairs there. There was silence for a time, while Hurst sipped his drink.

'Bloody awful,' Hurst said, shaking his head. 'Never thought I'd be burying the wife. Always thought I'd go first.'

'Where do you want her buried?' asked Mr Bingley.

'Thought the family tomb, but quarantine scuppers that.'

'Not necessarily,' said Mr Darcy. 'It only need be delayed a few weeks. A sealed coffin kept in a cool place will allow that, and the season is not against us.'

Mr Bingley looked up. 'The ice-house?'

'That or the wine cellar.' Mr Darcy, replied. 'It is cool down there. A lead-lined coffin would be best though, especially for a contagious disease. Quarantine will be over for most in a week or so. We're all vaccinated now, so our families outside the area would be safe.'

Mt Hurst nodded. 'Don't want her buried here, all alone. Want her with family. Mine or yours, Bingley. Either will do.'

'I will contact the local coffin-maker and arrange for a suitable casket,' said Mr Bingley. 'Darcy, could you inspect the ice-house and wine cellar and see which is best suited?'

'When the time comes to remove, transportation will be needed. If she's going to your family estate, Hurst, it would be best to come from there. You should write to your family, inform them of Louisa's death and the preparations needed.'

Mr Bingley left not long after his meeting with Mr Hurst to visit Meryton and the local coffin-maker. Afterward he went to Longbourn and as Jane was with her mother, spent some time talking with Mr Bennet. When Jane was finally free, they walked the gardens, finding sheltered spots to seek comfort in each other.

At Mr Bingley's suggestion, a note was dispatched to Netherfield, summoning one of the two nurses there to help care for Mrs Bennet and to take some of the load from his betrothed, who was showing signs of the strain from nursing her fractious mother.

For the other inhabitants of Netherfield, the day passed more quietly. Darcy was reading in the library, which was where Elizabeth found him when she came down to find a new book.

He was engrossed in his book when she entered the room, and it took a few seconds before her subtle lavender scent made him aware of her presence. He looked up as she hesitated at a table containing a selection of books close to where he was seated, then jumped to his feet.

'Miss Elizabeth, are you well?'

She startled, almost dropping a book she was holding. 'Oh, yes. I found myself in need of new reading material,' She held up the book in her hand, 'but the selection here is so…' She hesitated.

'Limited, yes indeed. Bingley's library leaves much to be desired. I have a selection of books that might be of interest, if you wish to browse them?'

'I believe this one is yours, so I would happily swap it for another from your excellent collection.'

He smiled and indicated a set of shelves further back in the room. 'I had my books shelved in here yesterday, please feel free to help yourself whenever you need another.'

She smiled her thanks and moved toward the shelves. He pretended to read as he watched her extract some folded paper from the book she was returning and then place the book on a shelf. As she examined the titles for another, he held his breath wondering which she would choose. She selected one and was browsing the first pages when he spoke again.

'May I enquire as to your sister, this morning?'

Elizabeth turned to him and smiled. 'She is as well as can be expected, according to Doctor Williams. Nurse Mason is sitting with her now and she seems well satisfied with her progress.'

'I am glad to hear it.'

Her smile faded and she held up the paper she had removed from the book, 'I received this note from Jane this morning. Kitty returned home yesterday, but I am hoping that Mr Bingley brings better news of mamma back when he returns from his visit. Jane is obviously worried about her.' She moved toward the fireplace and took a seat, holding up the book she has selected so that he could see the title. 'I think I shall give this book a try. It is new to me and the introduction seems interesting.'

'A good choice. I enjoyed it very much.'

Quiet fell in the room as she read and he watched, fascinated as her fingers again twirled that unruly curl that always seemed to escape from whatever style she chose to wear her hair. His fingers itched to touch it and he made a fist, rubbing his thumb hard against his index finger to dispel the need. She looked up, caught his eye, blushed and looked away. He flushed to be caught staring, but could not look away for long, his eyes drawn back to her almost involuntarily. She looked up again, but this time did not look away but raised an eyebrow.

He tried to say something but could only croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. 'How are you finding the book?'

She flashed a small smile. 'More interesting than you seem to find yours.'

He flushed. 'I am glad to hear it.' He stood, too embarrassed to remain. 'I… I will leave you in peace.' He bowed and moved toward the door.

'Mr Darcy…'

He stopped but did not turn.

'Can I… I would like to express my gratitude for the other night, when Lydia… You were very kind to us, and I am grateful. I have not had the chance until now to thank you properly.'

'I did nothing that any other person would not have done in the circumstances.'

'On the contrary, many others would have condemned us all for Lydia's ruin, despite it not being her fault.'

He turned to face her. 'Society can be unyielding, that is true, but I do not place fault where no fault is to be found. The only villain here is Mr Collins, Lydia is blameless.'

'And for that liberality I am truly grateful.'

He nodded and left the room. Her gratitude galled him, but he was please they could now talk without the ghost of his disastrous proposal looming over them. Maybe he could begin again with her.