Author's note: The conundrums that the characters face resemble the current corona crisis so this might be distressing for some. I am trying to keep the tone mostly light and humorous. But it is a dangerous new disease and this is the Regency when the doctors had fewer cures available for diseases that they were familiar with, so there is a chance that I might accidentally kill someone off.
SUSPENDING PLEASURES CHAPTER 1 - BREAKFAST AT BINGLEY'S"The Times says that there is a dangerous contagion spreading," Mr. Bingley said at the breakfast table, putting down the newspaper with a worried frown.
"Oh, I hope there is a cure," Mrs. Hurst said.
"Unfortunately not," Bingley responded. "The doctors say there is little they can do to treat the symptoms so it is better to try to avoid it altogether."
"Yes, I agree. I am all for avoiding diseases," Mrs. Hurst said. "How are we supposed to manage that?"
"The government is recommending some measures to contain the outbreak."
"Oh, really? What are they saying we should do?" Mr. Darcy said.
"To keep away from the sick, I suppose," guessed Mr. Hurst and ate a piece of toast. "It will not be a problem - I have always kept away from the sickroom."
"Oh no, we visited Miss Bennet's sickroom," Mrs. Hurst exclaimed.
Miss Bingley sipped her tea delicately. "That woman had a lot of nerve to come here just to fall ill and expect us to nurse her."
"I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet nursed her," Darcy said. He was drinking his coffee black.
"I am sure Miss Bennet did not fall ill just to annoy Caroline," Bingley said.
"Maybe not but so irresponsible of her," Miss Bingley said. "She had no thought that we might have caught the disease from her."
"How do you know that we did not?" Mrs Hurst asked.
"Well, you are not ill, are you?" Miss Bingley said.
"I do not know," Mrs. Hurst sighed. "I am feeling a little odd."
"Maybe those eggs do not suit you," Miss Bingley said. "I never like eggs in the morning."
"This ham is nice," Mr. Hurst said.
"I wonder if you can get ill from too much ham," Mrs. Hurst said.
"Never have so far," Mr. Hurst said cheerfully.
Miss Bingley was not interested in talking about ham. "Is there anything about the court in the paper?"
Mr. Bingley took the newspaper up again and checked. "Apparently the Regent is considering social distancing."
"What does that mean?"
"He is going to invite fewer people to his parties."
"Good for him," Mr. Hurst said. "A huge crush might be considered a success but there is such a thing as too many people in the same room."
"He probably knows less than half of the people in his parties anyway," Mr. Darcy commented.
"It seems like he is afraid of catching a disease from the partygoers."
Mr. Hurst laughed raucously. "You have to be careful who you..." There was a pause as he was looking for a suitable word. "...Associate with, if you catch my drift."
"Yes," Miss Bingley said primly. "It does no one any good to associate with those who are beneath them."
"That might be lonely for him as he could hardly associate with anyone," Mrs. Hurst said.
"There is no raspberry jam," Mr. Hurst said, buttering his toast. "I do not like strawberry jam with the toast."
"We will ask if the cook can find raspberry jam for tomorrow." Bingley was always willing to help.
"They may not have heard of raspberries this far from London," Miss Bingley said.
Mr. Darcy stared at Miss Bingley for a long time. Then he turned to her brother. "What were you saying about the disease?"
"Oh yes, it seems quite frightening, and easily infectious."
"Is it smallpox?" Miss Bingley asked.
"No, it is like a violent cold. It has been going around for several weeks now but the doctors are just starting to realize that the cases may be connected."
"Oh, then it is no matter," Mr. Hurst said. "I never get colds."
"I get colds," Mrs. Hurst said.
"Getting smallpox would be so dreadful." Miss Bingley shuddered. "One of the coachmen we saw at the Bromley inn had had it and he was terribly disfigured."
The sight had thoroughly discomposed Miss Bingley and she had had several nightmares about it. "How could one ever begin to cover those dreadful pockmarks?"
"With a veil, I would assume," said Mr. Hurst practically.
"Oh, Caroline is too beautiful to wear a veil," Mrs. Hurst said.
"Not after she gets smallpox," Mr. Hurst said.
"It is not smallpox," Mr. Bingley said.
"Which measures are being recommended?" Mr. Darcy asked. "Is there something we should be mindful of?"
"It is advisable to avoid any unnecessary journeys as you may come into contact with contagious persons."
"Oh, that is such a great idea. I wish people would do that," said Mr. Hurst. "When we go back in London it will be a much more pleasant journey if no one else is about."
"Can we go back in London now? If I die of smallpox, I do not want my funeral to be held in Hertfordshire," Mrs. Hurst said.
"It is not smallpox," Mr. Bingley said.
"You can never tell where you can get smallpox these days," Mr. Hurst said, taking another piece of toast and spreading such a generous helping of strawberry jam on it that one would never have guessed that he did not like it.
"It is probably easier to get smallpox in London, as it is more densely populated," Mr. Darcy remarked.
"Or on the road. The people in roadside inns may come from anywhere and have any diseases," Mr. Hurst said. "Most of them are probably travelling for frivolous reasons and should stay at home."
"If they stayed at home it would be safer when we go to Ramsgate," Mrs. Hurst said.
"Much more comfortable too. Crowded inns are the worst thing," Mr. Hurst declared.
Miss Bingley disagreed. "Smallpox is the worst thing."
"This new fever is pretty bad too," Mr. Bingley said.
"Let me see that article, please," Mr. Darcy said.
"It is a severe pneumonia that has killed several people already, and the doctors think it is highly contagious." Bingley had lost his appetite.
"Oh no, how scary," Mrs. Hurst said. "What are the symptoms?"
Darcy consulted the paper. "The afflicted may present with a dry cough and a high temperature, and later it may turn into a more serious lung affliction."
"How does it spread?" Mrs. Hurst asked.
"It is not known," Darcy said, "but according to the article the doctors think that people can spread the disease even if they are feeling healthy."
"Oh no, are any of you feeling healthy?" Mrs. Hurst touched her forehead as if trying to gauge her temperature. "I am feeling healthy. Do you think it is serious?"
"The government says we may end up in chaos if everyone gets sick at the same time," Bingley said.
"If you can get the disease from healthy people there is nothing we can do," Miss Bingley said. "We cannot shun all the healthy people forever."
"It is going to be dashed hard to avoid if no one knows where you can get it from," Mr. Hurst said.
"Yes," Darcy said, "and that is why one of the things they recommend in the paper is that everyone suspend all the non-essential pleasures that involve gathering a lot of people in a confined space at the same time."
"Well, you have never liked crowds so it will be no hardship for you," Bingley said.
"Say, can we skip church?" Mr. Hurst thought church always started at the most inconvenient times.
"Does church qualify as a non-essential pleasure?" Bingley asked.
"Maybe not... The local vicar is quite boring and tedious." Hurst yawned. "Maybe one more piece of toast..."
"Some might think that another piece of toast is a non-essential pleasure," Mrs. Hurst said. "You have already had at least seven."
"Not that you are counting... The day is young yet, I might get up to a round dozen."
"All vicars are boring and tedious," Miss Bingley said. "It is part of their job description. They could not keep people on the straight and narrow if the sermons were just a collection of funny stories."
"I just wish they could keep me on the straight and narrow without making me fall asleep every Sunday morning," Mr. Hurst said.
"Perhaps you ought to try to stay awake next Sunday so you can pray for our health," Mrs. Hurst said. "I do not want to become ill."
"We should pray at home," Mr. Hurst said. "What if some of the parishioners are sick and you get it from them at church?"
Miss Bingley scoffed. Once it had been established that smallpox was not an immediate threat she was no longer worried. "With our luck, we do not have to go to the sick people, the sick people will come to us. Look at those shameless Bennets who just moved in for a week with their coughs and fevers."
"Thank God they are gone," Mrs. Hurst said warmly. "Miss Bennet is a sweet girl but we could all have caught that illness from her, and then what would we do?"
"Fortunately we could convalesce in Hertfordshire for months without missing any interesting social events," said Miss Bingley, ever the optimist.
"Speaking of social events, do you think we should cancel the ball?" Mr. Bingley said, looking at Mr. Darcy.
This caused an immediate uproar.
"Oh no, Charles!" Miss Bingley cried out. "I have gone to so much trouble for the preparations. Surely you cannot think of cancelling the ball for a trifling cold that goes around."
"I do not know, Caroline," Bingley said thoughtfully. "It does not sound trifling, the way it was described. It sounds quite serious."
"Let us not make a mountain out of a molehill," Mr. Hurst said. "These things come and go, everyone gets a cough once in a while."
"Once in a while someone dies of it," Mr. Darcy said.
"Oh well, do not fret, Mr. Darcy," said Miss Bingley. "Nobody lives forever, and I think we deserve to have a little amusement, after such a trying time in these backwaters."
"It would be a shame if everyone missed the punch," Mr. Hurst said. "Sir William Lucas told me that our cook has the best recipe in Hertfordshire and he is looking forward to tasting it again."
"I am sure the cook could make it for you whether we hold the ball or not," Mr. Bingley said.
"You cannot be serious, Charles," Miss Bingley said. "How would it seem if we sent out the invitations and retracted them straight away?"
"Do you not think that people would understand if we postponed it and explained the reason?" Bingley looked a little uncertain.
"They would think that you are an odd, rude creature."
"Oh, certainly not," Darcy said.
"The cook has already done so much for the refreshments, and what would we do with all the white soup if we cancel?" Caroline was incensed by the thought of cancelling the ball because she considered the event to be her audition for the role of Mrs. Darcy . Surely if she was the hostess of the best party Hertfordshire had ever experienced, Mr. Darcy would see her excellent qualifications to be the Mistress of Pemberley. He had been quite friendly during their sojourn in Netherfield Park.
"White soup aside, it says in the paper that so far science is not aware of any cure for the infection, and decreasing social contacts is currently the only thing that can halt the spread of the disease and spare lives," said Darcy who had finished reading the article.
"Oh, the scientists are always so cautious. But you are so strong and manly, so I am sure that a mere cough and a fever are not going to kill you, Mr. Darcy."
"A cough and a fever killed my father, Miss Bingley."
This embarrassed Miss Bingley for a while and she murmured something inaudible that might have been a nursery rhyme just as easily as a show of sympathy.
"My father died while sleeping," Mr. Hurst said. "But I am not going to cancel naptime."
"There is no danger, I am sure. The people who are ill will not want to come to the ball," Miss Bingley said.
"According to the news the doctors believe people can spread the disease even if they are not feeling poorly," Darcy said.
"I am not feeling poorly," Mrs. Hurst said. "Do you think I have it?"
"There is no way to know," Darcy said.