Dear Sunday friends, thank you for the lovely comments. Fitzwilliam is in DS. Let's see how Elizabeth responds to it. I'm not sure about the sequence in this chapter. I may edit it a bit later on. Let me know your thoughts. This chapter mentioned about reincarnation and some Asian folklore regarding afterlife. You can skip them if you prefer not to read about them. Thank you and happy reading!
Chapter Five
"Such a rotten man! I'm going to knock some senses into your head!" Elizabeth growled in another voice, coarser.
"Rachel, you are here finally!" Miss Lily exclaimed.
"No," Elizabeth called out in her own voice this time. "Please, Miss Rachel, do not do it. The man is not worth it. You will only harm yourself."
Darcy heard the fraud speak in two voices and scoffed. As if more harm could come to a dead person! He opened his mouth and was about to berate Zeath's cheap trick when a gust of wind blew into the room abruptly, extinguishing the candle on the table. He squinted his eyes against the dust and smoke that came from nowhere, stirred up by the wind. Suddenly he felt a sting on his face. "How dare you slap me! Do you know who I'm?"
"I don't give a darn who you are, ruffian!" The coarse voice said. "I have no time for a vile man in my afterlife. Thank Miss Zeath for your getting a slap only. I'd have wanted to knock you senseless. Now get out of my sight!"
The wind now turned to gale and Darcy couldn't stand still. He was knocked over and felt himself literally rolled out of the cottage door by two hands.
Bang! Darcy heard the door slam.
He tried to fight the fists of the so-called psychic. Surely, they were not Miss Zeath's as the hands were large like the branches of a big tree. And when Darcy tried to grab and push them away, he gripped onto nothing. On and on, he rolled until he landed on a patch of grass and the wind died down. Darcy cried out in pain as he felt the stinging of needles. He blinked open his eyes and saw that he had landed on some stinging nettle, almost twenty yards from the cottage. He pushed himself up, ignoring the sharp prickling pain on his hand and bottom. When he wanted to storm back to the cottage, his legs felt weighted down by rocks. After a few frustrating moments of struggling against heftiness, he gave up and turned to leave for home. His legs suddenly could function normally. Darcy then turned and charged back towards the cottage. But his movement was stopped again, like he was blocked by an invisible wall. With a loud growl of frustration and a burning sensation on his hands, Darcy gave up and marched back toward Netherfield.
Fitzwilliam felt mentally and physically drained. The red mark on his face and the sting on his hands took two weeks to fade away. He couldn't understand what had happened to him in and outside Zeath's cottage. He explained it to Charles by saying he walked into some damn bush! Charles and his servants eyed him suspiciously. Fitzwilliam sighed as he watched the servants move about Netherfield, carrying out their duties dutifully. Then the sound of a carriage arriving alerted them.
When the carriage stopped outside Netherfield, Fitzwilliam was standing outside with Bingley. Fitzwilliam recognised the Darcy's carriage. He knew it would either be Frank or his dearest Papa. He only hoped it was Frank and not his father because he had no idea if he was ready to face his father.
He was not so shocked when his father got down from the carriage. He excused himself from Charles and walked hastily towards the carriage. Bingley walked back and gave the father and son a distance. He knew his friend was not currently on good talking terms with his father, and they would need privacy to discuss their issues. But he would be a bad host if he did not stay to welcome Mr. Darcy senior to his estate.
"Papa, what do you want that made you come here by yourself? You could have written to me or sent a servant if it was urgent. I would have replied anyway." Fitzwilliam asked as soon as he got close to his father, and his father shook his head. He could see how frail the older man looked, and he swallowed whatever words he had for him.
"I've missed you, Fitzwilliam. I wish you would come home with me. I deeply regret all I have done by causing you trouble in the last few weeks; no, it was since your mother died. I assure you that it won't repeat itself anymore. I needed to come here to tell you myself to let you see how sincere I am. Pity this old man and come back home," His father replied weakly, and Fitzwilliam watched the frail man who used to cause fear in him as a child. It was true that old age indeed did things to the body and mind. Instead of replying, Fitzwilliam opened his arms and took his father in a deep embrace. He had no words to respond to the older man, and he felt that he was no longer angry at him anymore.
In the end, Bingley persuaded Mr. Darcy to stay for a few days and do some hunting in the country.
~P&P~~P&P~~P&P~
"Did you know that I have been here before?" Mr. Darcy said to his son as they walked out a few days later.
"Netherfield Park?" Fitzwilliam asked. "How could that be?"
"You remember that your great grandmother was born to the second wife of your great grandfather Lord Saye."
"Yes, great grandfather married twice, I was told. But I didn't know that great grandmother Emily hailed from Hertfordshire."
"It was never discussed in the Saye family because your great grandmother's father John Bennet gambled Netherfield away to a Scottish Laird. He also had to auction off his young daughter to your elderly great grandfather to pay for other debts. Luckily Lord Saye was a good man. Your great grandmother had a happy marriage, despite the twenty-year age difference. Otherwise, you and your mother would not have existed!"
"Bennet? Great grandmother Emily's maiden name was Bennet?"
"Yes, but of course, no one talks about it."
"Charles said the next most prominent family in the neighbourhood is a family called Bennet. He has five beautiful daughters."
"Haha, trust your friend to find pretty angels wherever he goes. Yes, the year after your great grandmother died, about two years after your mother and I got married, Anne said she wanted to trace her maternal family members. She went through all the paper, diary and whatnot and finally found that your great grandmother hailed from Hertfordshire. When we arrived in Meryton, none of John Bennet's branch remained. Netherfield Park has thrived under the Laird in the past decades, even though his family only visited Hertfordshire in the winter months. And the scoundrel Bennet's remaining family estate Longbourn was inherited by another branch of the Bennet. I believe they were originally from Ireland. But I heard that there was a secret marriage between one of the Bennets and a mysterious woman from the Orient."
"Interesting!" Darcy murmured. "Did Mr. Bingley find the estate through you?"
"Yes, John said his Caroline wants an estate within easy distance from London. I remember Meryton, a quaint little village just a few hours' carriage ride from town. John's lawyer then enquired about any estate for leasing and Netherfield's name came up. I told John how beautiful it was. He told me he rode three days down from Scarborough, spent half a day inspecting it and then signed the lease immediately."
Fitzwilliam shook his head. It seemed Charles inherited his impulsiveness from his father.
"Netherfield is just as beautiful as I had remembered," Mr. Darcy continued. "If anything, the current owner is doing a very excellent job. See the meadowsweet there! Decades back, your mother had vowed to grow something similar around the pond in Pemberley. But the plant didn't seem to survive on the soil in Derbyshire, and sadly, your mother is no longer here either. I would have loved to bring her back on a visit to see how Netherfield Park and the meadowsweet still looked beautiful despite many years after."
"Tell me truly, father. What made you come here?" Fitzwilliam sighed.
George Darcy took a deep breath. "I had missed you a lot, my boy. And I was worried too, even Frank said that he had not got any word from you yet. I felt bad since it seemed like you would not come back unless I showed some sincerity in my change. I thought I would come here to Netherfield and make everything alright and then we would go back home together. It sounded like a great idea, and I began to set up for the journey. And though, I did remember that the last time I went on a journey, it did not end very well." George Darcy said.
"Those crazy psychics!" Fitzwilliam muttered.
"Frank did not trust me to go out alone in London, though, but I had to assure him that I was coming to see you here in Hertfordshire. He did not even trust me to go out like that anymore because I believed that I could speak to the dead and ghosts with the help of those thieves and criminals."
"It's okay, father," Fitzwilliam said.
"No, Fitzwilliam." George Darcy sounded tired. "I could not even go to your mother's room in the townhouse due to my guilt. I wished she had been there to scold me or given me the silent treatment. I would have preferred that to all of this trouble. I left with only one intention: to apologise to you, my son, and make sure that you come home with me. As the carriage drew nearer to Netherfield, I had actually felt uneasy. That was because I had no idea how I would apologise, but I knew that I had to do it. You would refuse to come home unless I did; you did take after me in that aspect, you stubborn boy." Mr. Darcy clapped his son on the back.
"Mother would be happy to know that you are doing this. To try to make peace. This was what she used to do when she was alive." Fitzwilliam said.
"Anne was a peacemaker. She enjoyed helping out and settling disputes with everyone else in Pemberley. If she was alive, she would not have allowed me to leave Pemberley's management to you without so much of a letter of concern. She would have looked for a way to settle the whole thing."
Fitzwilliam heard the remorse tone in his father's voice. He hoped his father really did what he said and stayed away from the psychics.
~P&P~~P&P~~P&P~
"I've never ever seen this man all my life, Jane. He just walked in and talked about how I was extorting people and making them poorer. He said I was too pretty to be a thief, that I should have been a whore or a mistress instead! Can you imagine that? Insufferable man! How insulting!" Elizabeth told her eldest sister when Jane asked her why she had stopped her session for two weeks.
"Luckily, most people have left, scared off by him throwing the chair about. Or my reputation will be in tatters! You should have heard all the accusations and lies he kept on spewing. He began to talk about how psychics were all scoundrels and thieves. He said once we have extorted the money from them, we would blackmail them and make them fulfil our dreams so that we could live luxurious lives. If that is what he thinks, Jane, I might as well grab Papa's gun and begin to rob people on the streets, right?" Elizabeth looked at her sister, expecting her to be as cross as she was.
"Actually, I think you should calm down, Lizzy. He does have a point that I agree with, you know?" Jane said and Elizabeth turned to her, her face hot.
"What in the world are you saying?" Elizabeth threw a pillow at Jane angrily.
"No! I meant that you are gorgeous. Too pretty to be a psychic, but definitely not a mistress! Maybe a wife to some great Lord. Pity your latest ghostly friend did not allow the man to say who he is. Perhaps he is the next Duke of Devonshire from Derbyshire that Aunt Madeline told us about! You could be his duchess!" Jane replied, putting the pillow away.
"Maybe I am pretty. I was actually considering emptying the cup of tea right on your face, but you made amends; so I would just pardon you. For now." Elizabeth replied with a smirk, and they both laughed.
"That man was beastly though," Elizabeth said. "Those words felt like physical blows and I wished I could retaliate with some actual iron fists against his face. That would be good, would it not?"
"Miss Rachel already slapped him for you," Jane said. "And there was the nettle sting. I'm sure he has enough punishment for the day. But what did you mean by Miss Rachel harming herself by dealing out punishment to the crazy man?"
"According to our Oriental ancestors, dead people queue up to drink the Soup of Forgetfulness and cross the Bridge of No Return to be reborn into a new life. Ghosts are those with unfinished business in this life and refuse to drink the five-flavoured soup and reincarnate. Ghosts have to leave the queue to interfere with the living. They also become weakened. It will be dangerous for Miss Rachel when she is stuck in this world, full of angry and frustrated ghosts."
"Oh, that is terrible!" Jane said. "What have you done for Miss Rachel?"
"Her heart was tied to her little puppy Bear. Originally her sister and brother were going to give Bear away. They now promise Miss Rachel that they would look after Bear themselves. Miss Rachel is happy and has re-joined the queue for her Forgetful Soup. I will go back to the cottage in a few days to see if she has crossed the bridge."
"That is great! Then do not let whatever it is that mad man said get to you. People who have lost their senses say all manner of things, you know? He is like a mad dog and you won't kick a mad dog, right?"
"I know, Jane." Elizabeth then growled and pounced on her sister, pretending to be a demented dog. Their loud laughter and racket continued for a few minutes until Mrs. Bennet's flight of imagination took hold. She cried for her husband's help, as she was sure that the French had unleashed frenzied animals to attack Longbourn.
~P&P~~P&P~~P&P~
A few days later, Fitzwilliam and his father took another walk. They passed a group of servants carrying several baskets. A few moments later, they heard the servants talking on the other side of the bend.
"I so much want to visit the psychic. Unfortunately, in the last two weeks, since a stranger accosted her in Nettle Wood Cottage, she has stopped her sessions of helping to communicate to the ghosts for people. I feel so bad because she is so good at what she does." A female servant said, probably louder than she intended, but Fitzwilliam and his father heard it anyway.
George Darcy paused his walking, and Fitzwilliam gritted his teeth, knowing that his father would want to listen to the rest of the story. He knew that when his father heard 'communicate to the ghosts', he was hooked.
"I heard that the stranger who went to thrash her cottage was a wealthy scoundrel, and he called her all sorts of names. He even called her a thief and he said she usually robs innocent people of their hard-earned money. Zeath would never do that to anyone. She rarely accepted payments for all of her consultations, and she has saved a lot of people from being scammed by other fraudulent psychics. I wonder who had the guts to say untrue things about her." The other servant chipped in, and Fitzwilliam saw his father try to hide a smile. His father had got the person's name, and he knew finding her won't be difficult since she was popular among the servants.
Fitzwilliam sighed as his father pretended to study the flower in the garden while he was obviously listening.
A few more servants spoke about Miss Zeath. Anger brewed in Fitzwilliam's chest and he was sure his father would find his answer soon. There was no way to prove Miss Zeath a sham unless Mr. Darcy somehow visited her. Knowing his father, Fitzwilliam knew that that was just what he would have done.
~P&P~~P&P~~P&P~
Elizabeth was putting some of her things into a bag when she felt the presence of an outsider. She heard three gentle knocks at the door of the cottage. She put on her veil and with a calm voice, she asked the person to enter.
A man entered, and Elizabeth stopped what she was doing and she looked at him before going back to her cards and other tools.
Elizabeth had pretended not to see him because his face vividly brought memories she wanted to forget. The elderly man looked like the mad handsome stranger who had the guts to tell her pretty face would have made her a suitable candidate for a mistress or a whore. She hated the whole feeling and all of that, and she was unsure whether this older version of him was here for the same purpose or if he wanted her help. Either way, she would not let this elderly gentleman insult her, nor was she going to help him if he needed her help. His relative, probably his son, was the sole reason she stopped doing what she enjoyed doing most. She missed helping people create a connection with their dead relatives so that both the ghost and the relative that's still living would not negatively affect each other.
"Miss Zeath, I am George Darcy. I had heard from some people back in Netherfield that you can speak to ghosts, and I would love it if you could help me talk to my wife. Anne died almost three years back, and I would do anything to speak to her." The man declared softly, and Elizabeth almost burst out laughing to his face. She found it very stupid that the son had accused her of being a thief and here, his father— or maybe, his uncle was there to beg her to speak to his dead wife. Elizabeth wanted to repeat his son's harsh words back to him, but she instead let it go. She wasn't going to be as vile as the young man. She just turned Mr. Darcy down and told him that she was not involved in supernatural matters.
Mr. Darcy begged Elizabeth to change her mind. After his appeal did not seem to work, he resorted to bribing. He promised Elizabeth all that she wanted would be hers if she only conducted a summoning for him.
Elizabeth felt disgusted. Wealthy people thought they could do whatever they wanted because they had the money, power, and riches.
"None of these would work, Mr. Darcy. Not an appeal or a bribe. So please, leave here this instant." Elizabeth said in a gentle but firm voice.
George Darcy sighed and left dejectedly.
