Chapter 2
I stare at my old bedroom with sickening nostalgia. I hate memories, no matter how happy. They always seem to make themselves seem better than the present and I cannot deny that I have an awful habit of feeling undeniably sorry for myself. The room seems so much smaller now but then I suppose I have grown. I don't feel grown up, I feel as scared and unsure as ever.
I sit on my now small bed and give a rather self-pitying sigh but suddenly jump a foot in the air and let out a screech as the little white door rattles without warning. "Stupid door" I mutter spitefully and resume my seat on the bed, wondering where the draft had come from. With little hesitation or pause for thought I swing the little door open and there to my surprise, standing hunched over in a regency era dress, is a woman who I do not know.
"AAAAAAHHHH!" "AAAAAHHHH!" we both start to screech simultaneously, her with as much fright and surprise as me, and I swiftly and firmly shut the door. The empty house is silenced again. I take a deep breath and try to lower my heart rate before clenching the doorknob and once again open the little white door.
"AAAHH!" I scream again half-heartedly whilst the woman looks pale. "You're still there" I point and clutch my forehead as the woman steps out of the cupboard with a wary look about her.
"It seems I am Madam, do excuse my excitement, only I am not all that used to having such life-like dreams. However you do not seem like something out of real life at all now that I look at you" the strange woman examines me like a strange specimen, crosses way over the personal boundary as she stares inches away from my face before giving my cheeks a harsh pinch and I yelp in pain.
"But you do seem real enough, how very strange" she continues and starts to pace about the room. I stand speechless as she examines the walls of my old room covered in photos and drawings from my early teenage years. "Pray, tell me your name" the woman turns back to me abruptly and many moments pass whilst I gawp like a fish at the strange lady.
"My name is Isabella Hartwell, who the hell are you? And what are you doing in my house?" I find my tongue and begin to stare the woman down with as much condemnation as I can manage.
"Do calm down Miss Hartwell, for I am as much the victim as you. My name is Elizabeth Bennet but since you are a figment of my imagination you may call me Lizzie" she raised an amused eyebrow as I started to laugh out loud at her words.
"Oh forgive me dearest Lizzie for I did not recognise you" I played along with this ridiculous hallucination I was having. "But I must regret to tell you that you are a figment of my imagination" I chuckled at the confused face of one of my most beloved heroines.
"I assure you Miss Hartwell" she began but I now confidently butted in saying "Please do call me Izzy" I smiled triumphantly again at what she obviously did not understand.
"Izzy, I assure that you are in fact a rather strange figment of my imagination and I will not permit my own imagination to torment me so" she announced causing me to raise my eyebrows in disbelief.
"There is no point denying it dear Lizzie, I have finally gone mad thanks to too much bloody Jane Austen" I shook my head as if it didn't matter anymore, truly in the belief that I was losing the plot. "But it was worth it" I smiled fondly as I picked up my mother's edition of Pride and Prejudice, and then gestured to the rest of the shelf.
"Well Miss Izzy, if I am not dreaming, why did I open the door to the pantry, hear it shut behind me then find myself in your tiny peculiar cupboard?" Lizzie argued back, seemingly determined not to be beaten.
"I don't know but I suppose I'll find out when I end up in your pantry, wont I?" I laughed as I grabbed my handbag off the bed and bent over to climb into my old cupboard.
"Oh dear God, is this a pantry I see before me?" I teased my own hallucination and gestured around the back the empty cupboard, turning my back to the woman.
"Oh you insufferable woman" I was surprised to see that madness had gone as far as the woman being able to kick the door shut behind me and grabbled in the dark for a moment.
Quickly finding the door and pushing it open, I found it was a lot heavier than I remembered and as it opened I found a cold wind hit me, much colder than anything from my little bedroom. I look around wildly, my eyes unaccustomed to the darkness and rush to a near window where the moon gleams through and from there I see that I am standing in a large unfamiliar kitchen. Rushing back to the door I see that just as Elizabeth had said, it is a large pantry and without thinking I climb in and squeeze my eyes shut. I stand there for God knows how many minutes, feeling ill and swaying minutely from side to side.
"Isabella, Isabella dearest" I hear a voice with feels familiar to me and fling open the door to find that I am still in the same old kitchen only know there is an old man who joins me in a rather comical nightgown, like something out of Charles Dickens. "Izzy dear, what would your mother say if she saw you down in the pantry at this time of night. Why she'd positively have a fit" the old man's eyes sparkled humorously at this, as though he almost liked the idea. "Oh I know I am cruel" he continued when I did not reply and ushered her out of the pantry. "Don't forget your book dear" he picked up Pride and Prejudice which had been lying open face down on the floor.
"But my handbag, where's my handbag?" I panicked at the remembrance of it and scrambled around on the floor in despair.
"You can find the thing tomorrow, it is late and dark, now off to bed with you my dear" he kissed my forehead before heading out of the room and I was forced to follow as the light of the moon was now dim and hardly there at all. What a strange man he is.I follow him upstairs and that is when I realise that this must be Mr Bennet and this must be the Bennet house.
"Goodnight dearest Isabella" the old man smiled fondly and hands me my book before continuing down the corridor and into his bedroom. I look at the door which I had stopped in front of and opened it tentatively. Nobody sounds from inside and I see a candle lit beside an empty bed. I close the door behind me and tiptoe carefully to the bed as my strangely bare feet cannot stand the cold wooden floorboards. This is when I look down at myself and see that I no longer wear my old jeans and warm hoodie, but a white nightgown, just as ridiculous as Mr Bennet's. I quickly to the dressing table opposite the bed and am relieved to find that it is still my own face that stares back at me.
I collapse onto the bed still clutching Pride and Prejudice to my chest. At least I can rely on Jane Austen in my time of need. I open the book at a random page but find that it is blank and so are the next, and the next, and the one after that. Startled by this, I go back to the beginning of the book and find that only the very first line remains. Only it is different and as I read it, my head feels like it might implode.
"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a young woman who finds herself in a strange new place, must be in want of an adventure".