Mary Bennet and the Blood of Innocents

Mary of Longbourn #11

De: Carrie Mollenkopf

Narrado por: Virtual Voice

“Springtime, I hate it. Human and animal alike, all seem to bear children in spring,” Mary declared, slipping exhausted into her place at the table. Her own babies, having been fed early and were long asleep, seemed unaware of her constant absence. But she felt it, along with guilt, for the promise to remain at Longbourn all but two days a week had long since been disregarded. Was this the price to pay for wanting a vocation? As if reading her thoughts, Atlas agreed.
“The constant change in weather has half the town suffering from chest ailments. And I am still waiting for some of my needed supplies to arrive. Campion does not give much hope that the culprit who destroyed my pharmacy will ever be caught.”
“No, not that it would matter. The damage has been done, but at least there is one small happiness to which we may look forward. Flora Ramsay’s plan for a school fundraiser is set for next weekend. I stopped by her place on the way to visit a few patients. She is so excited, I do hope it is well attended, the school could use the money.”
Despite Mary serving on the town council that had chosen to hire Miss Ramsay, there had never been any thought as to how any necessary supplies would be funded beyond Mary’s initial donation. Prior to the fire, Lucas Lodge and Longbourn together, had been the biggest benefactors, but with more children in need of education, and Sir William Lucas no longer a resident of Meryton, the cost might soon become a problem. And although it was not Miss Ramsay’s obligation to do so, Mary was glad of the teacher’s efforts to keep the school solvent. The mistress of Longbourn had far too many irons in the fire, and the strain was starting to take its toll. Staring down at her plate, she found her appetite gone, but knew that not eating would only exacerbate the feeling. Unfortunately, before the first bite could be taken, one of the maids interrupted.
“Pardon me, Madam,” she began, but addressed Atlas as to the reason. “Walter from Lucas Lodge is here, he says it’s an emergency.”
“Did he say what?” Atlas replied, ignoring the use of the lodge’s former name. It would take some time for everyone to adjust.
“Only that one of the guests has taken ill.”
“Send him in,” he continued, for unlike Mary, Atlas was famished and now, began to eat with the speed and manners of one starved. Of this, Mary never ceased to be amazed, it was a habit that evolved from years working in one of London’s busiest hospitals where leisurely meals were a luxury not to be had. Nearly finishing his plate as the young man relayed his message, Mary rose to notify Mrs. Filmore of the departure.
“We may be some time...” she added, but the woman dismissed Mary’s worries.
“I understand completely, don’t you worry about a thing here. If Mrs. Campion wishes to go home, I can manage by myself, besides, Molly and Anna are here.”
Of this reliance upon servants, Mary was indeed grateful, and was soon beside her husband, making a house call. By rights, especially at this late hour, she should have remained home, where she belonged, not catering to some strange old biddy. But when the footman from Hawthorne had said the emergency involved one of the Adams sisters, she felt compelled to go, more so when he explained the reason.
“Its Miss Myra, she won’t wake up. Mrs. Grundy sent me to fetch you, but if you ask me.... I think she’s dead, and it will be Miss Michaela who needs a doctor.”