Happy Monday! Sorry I'm a few hours late in posting. I've fallen asleep while editing. Thank you for the lovely comments. We are in London now. Let's see what happens. Happy reading and commenting!


Chapter Seven

Jane walked into the room, and Elizabeth's heart skipped a bit. They were very close, and explaining what was about to happen would take a great deal. She would have to break it down into bits, and she would end up revealing the main reason she was leaving, which was something that she did not want to do. Elizabeth did not want her sister to worry, and her sister had a way of asking the right questions, and there was not enough time to do that. She could not even lie to Jane; she loved her too much to let it happen. Elizabeth stood up from where she was packing and moved to where her sister stood, looking around the whole room with a confused look on her face.

"What is going on, Elizabeth?" Jane asked.

Elizabeth kept quiet, looking at her sister.

"I'm travelling to London. I want to get away from here," she said.

Jane nodded and asked. "Is everything alright? Is it about the mad man?"

"I feel like I need a break. Everything is coming to me, and I'm tired." Elizabeth said. That was not the complete truth, and she knew it. She could not tell Jane about the rest involving Fitzwilliam Darcy's father and his late mother. Jane would not fully understand and would think that Elizabeth was overreacting.

Surprisingly Jane did not ask further. She wrapped her hands around Elizabeth, basking in the sincere hug. Maybe Elizabeth truly needed it. They stayed like that for quite a while, and no one said any other word. The sisters went to their father and told him about Elizabeth's decision. Mr. Bennet understood Elizabeth's gift and strange needs. He arranged for a maid to go with her before Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth's younger sisters returned from their visit to Meryton.

~P&P~~P&P~~P&P~

"Do you know that the psychic is leaving? For London." One maid whispered. "She stopped practising after the strange man visited her cottage. She probably might not come back here anymore. Nobody was sure who the young man was, but we all have our suspects."

"I heard the young man who attacked her verbally at her cottage is no other person than the young Mr Darcy visiting our master. Do you think it is possible?" Another asked, whispering.

"He was very serious but quite kind to us compared to that snooty Miss Bingley. I do not believe it."

"How do you know that Miss Zeath is travelling out of town anyway? Where do you get such news from?" Someone else, another servant asked.

"Ah, but one of my friends wanted to consult her. She left a note in the cottage that she would be away for some time. I heard from other servants in the area that she usually goes to London when she is not here."

"I only wish she would have a rethink. I do not want her to leave to go so far. She is so kind and she helps the poor."

"Do you think that she would listen to us? Let us hope that someone else who is close to her would be able to stop her." A servant voiced out.

Fitzwilliam had ventured out to take a walk with his father to help both of them clear their heads, and Fitzwilliam wanted to get the psychic girl out of his mind badly. Maybe she had the powers, and she used them to invade his head. He had been unable to think about anything tangible since their last meeting, and his thoughts kept going back to her. He could not erase the image of her looking still and terrified at the end as she zoned out for a while. He could not forget how fine her eyes were. He was enthralled for a moment. The servant's gossip filtered to his ears, and he felt extremely uncomfortable. If she was moving out of town, she should not blame it on him. Maybe she had the intention to leave before, and now she was looking for a way to pin it on someone else. What more was he expecting from fraud like her?

He cleared his throat before continuing his conversation with a louder voice to let the maids know he was around. He would hate anyone getting into trouble because of him. He was sure that Bingley would not be pleased to hear they have been speaking ill of him. He watched them in satisfaction as they scurried off at the sound of his voice. That was what he wanted, for everyone to stay clear of his path. He wanted them to keep his name out of their mouth, especially discussions involving the psychic girl.

Fitzwilliam noticed the way his father's face fell. He knew it was related to the psychic girl, even though he did not want to talk about her anymore. The sadness that pulled his father's eyes made him feel worse, if not worse, than the news of Miss Zeath leaving Hertfordshire because of him, despite how he tried to deny it. He wanted to do something about the whole situation. Maybe help his father restore the lights in his eyes. And it could also help him with the plan he had in mind.

Once his father left to have a rest in his bedchamber, Darcy enlisted Bingley to visit Longbourn. Since the cottage Miss Zeath used, Darcy believed that the Bennets must have known who Miss Zeath was and harboured her to practise there. He suspected that Miss Zeath was a servant of questionable origin from Longbourn. He would decide what to do when he learned more about the situation. He also did not want his father to come with him on this visit. He did not like to acknowledge the Darcy's distant relations with the Bennets yet.

Bingley jumped at the idea of visiting his angel. Unfortunately, Miss Bingley finally heard wind of Darcy's presence in Netherfield. She returned and joined the party. The visit to Longbourn proved to be very fruitful for Darcy. He learned that Mr. Bennet was an indolent master who did not even deign to greet the Netherfield party. Mrs. Bennet was loud and vulgar. She tried to push her youngest daughter to Darcy after Miss Bingley arrogantly declared that he was heir to a very prosperous estate. Miss Lydia, very pretty, was not yet 15 years old and yet the most determined flirt he had met in the county. Equally handsome, the second youngest daughter, Miss Kitty, tried to compete with her sister for Darcy's attention. Miss Mary, the middle sister, was pompous about her so-call musical talent. All three of the girls behaved in such an improper manner that disgusted Darcy. He would not acknowledge their relations for a king's ransom! The sole gentlewoman of elegance and beauty was the eldest, Miss Bennet.

Darcy also noted that the second sister had left for London with a maid. That was entirely too convenient. He ruled out that Miss Elizabeth could be Miss Zeath. While Longbourn was not well managed, Mrs. Bennet and her daughters dressed quite finely, even though their dresses were not as fashionable as Miss Bingley's. The Bennets looked like open books to Darcy that they could not have engaged such fraudulent activity. It had to be the maid Heather. Miss Bingley proved to be quite helpful in ferring out information about the whereabouts of Miss Heather. It seemed Mrs. Bennet connection was very undesirable. Her brother, Mr. Gardiner, was a tradesman who lived in Cheapside. Darcy could see that Miss Bingley couldn't contain her smirk as she now had ammunition to dissuade her brother from offering for Miss Bennet. On seeing Darcy's haughty expression, she thought Darcy would be her alliance.

Darcy returned from the visit to Longbourn with a list of actions. He wrote to his man of business and asked him to investigate Mr. Gardiner and his link to a psychic called Miss Zeath.

Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy stayed in Netherfield for a few more days only, much to Miss Bingley's disappointment. About two weeks after their return to London, Fitzwilliam suggested to his father, "Should we visit Miss Zeath and see whether she would help you speak to Mother?"

Mr. Darcy shook his head, "But the famous psychic has left Meryton. I shall never have such a chance."

"I've found out that Miss Zeath is here in London and will be holding private sessions inside a draper shop at Fenchurch Street tomorrow." The shop at Fenchurch Street was less than a mile from Mr. Gardiner's home at Gracechurch Street in Cheapside. A very convenient location for the maid Heather to journey to without raising suspicions.

"How?"

"I have my sources," Fitzwilliam said. "Everyone seemed to be sure of her gift and her ability to speak with the dead. Maybe she would be the answer to your sadness? I could even bring Uncle James to help appeal to her?" Fitzwilliam asked, and he watched relief fill his father's eyes. Maybe he was doing something right after all and making her father happy. He knew Miss Zeath would dare not extort his father of money with his presence. And Fitzwilliam would ask his Uncle James to help. With Judge Darcy there, she would have no choice but to arrange a summoning.

~P&P~~P&P~~P&P~

"He has gone back to his old ways," Fitzwilliam said to his uncle, Judge Darcy, who was seated behind his desk in his office. "I'm telling you. You should have seen the way Father went after this psychic. It was without a single word to me."

Judge Darcy considered his nephew as he sucked on his pipe and let out a cloud of smoke. "And you are here because you want me to—" he stretched the word. It wouldn't be the first time family had come to him for favours, especially within his capability.

"Help me arrest this Miss Zeath he's gone to meet."

"And her crime?"

"She's a fraud. A deep-seated liar of a woman, fraudulently posing herself to be a psychic."

"Right."

"This is serious, Uncle. Father has become obsessed with her. Obsessed."

"Good God, don't stress it, Fitzwilliam. I will help you. I promise. But then, you better be sure she is a fraud, not just a gifted individual." Judge Darcy frowned at him.

How was he to know that, Fitzwilliam thought?

"You are taking Father's side, aren't you?" Fitzwilliam asked.

"I know my brother," Judge Darcy replied, "and right from when we were little, he never ventures into anything lacking in substance."

"But you weren't there when Father went off the rail in the past three years."

"I know, nephew. I was busy. But as a man of law, I believe everyone is innocent before proven guilty. And as you know, I am a liberal man too. I have nothing against spiritualism, psychics, mediums and so on; as long as they are not criminals. I bear no promises of consequences. Just this, boy. Should she be gifted, you can be certain I will see to it that she's NOT behind bars. Let's go."

Fitzwilliam, his father, and Judge Darcy left together in a carriage. The ride to Fenchurch Street was about three miles and was as silent as a graveyard, each man to his thoughts. The thought of begging Miss Zeath to help his father irked him, and Fitzwilliam hated that he would have to swallow his pride and speak to her first. He had promised himself to steer clear of her path, considering how she was creating unwanted feelings and emotions in his head. She was doing so effortlessly without having to try at all. It was messed up. She was just a maid, and he was heir to Pemberley. He must conquer his fascination with Miss Zeath. Maybe she would receive them warmly this time, but the chances were zero.

Fitzwilliam's head was filled with ideas of Miss Zeath even though he tried to tone it all down, but he was failing miserably at it. Part of him wished she didn't hate him as much as she did, but there was nothing he could do about it. He would always stand for the truth. When the carriage stopped by the draper shop, Fitzwilliam hesitated before going in. He had only one thing on his mind, and he was doing this for his father's sake. He had to make his father understand that the woman was a lying cheat! A fraud!

Elizabeth scoffed as soon as the party was shown into the room at the back of the shop. She did not even bother to acknowledge them. She had her broad skirt covering her legs crossed in the sitting position. The room was somewhat hazy with the smoke from incense. She hated how they stood staring at her, and she did not want them to disturb her.

"Please," Mr. Darcy begged, rid of all sense of pride for someone who wanted to speak with his wife, "perform a summoning for me. Please, I'm begging. I want to speak with her. I want to apologise to her for the wrong I did to her. Please."

"Yes, Miss Zeath." Fitzwilliam said, dragging out her name. "Please."

"If you refuse, young lady, the proprietor and you might get taken away on the charge of violating the permit of this business." Judge Darcy said with a stern expression

Elizabeth could see through young Mr. Darcy's fake apology. She was not worried about the sternness of the other more formal gentleman. His words might be threatening, but he seemed less judgmental than the young man. However, she was amazed at how emotionally drained George Darcy looked.

Well, he sounded desperate too. It could only be the case when one was in love. But then, Elizabeth didn't want to perform the summoning, not because he was the angry young man's father. It was because she was genuinely afraid of what Lady Anne would say. Now, the elderly gentleman was almost about to go to his knees, and she couldn't allow that in all her good graces. Lord had given her a gift, and Elizabeth always felt that she must use it to benefit those who need them, even at her own emotional expense.

Elizabeth stretched forth her hands in a way to say, 'please don't'. "Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth started, "that won't be necessary. I will..." She was about to agree to help Mr. Darcy. But when her hand touched the arm of the elderly gentleman, the moment turned to ice, becoming still.

Fitzwilliam could see that Miss Zeath's eyes turned dark to emerald. She did not freeze out as she did during their last encounter.

He could see his father's eyes lit up in surprise as Elizabeth greeted absently, "Lady Anne."

"George," Came Lady Anne's voice in the room, audible, refined, and sweet, just like those who loved her remembered.

Fitzwilliam's jaw dropped.

"Your husband is here," Elizabeth said. "He wishes to speak to you."

"George. My love," Anne said.

George Darcy's lips were quivered. "Anne. Oh, dear Anne. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, forgive me."

"You did nothing to offend me. Although, I do sense the presence of Fitzwilliam and Brother James. And I know what they have come for. As you both can see, Miss Elizabeth is not a fraud. Hauling her to court would win you my disapproval. I approve of her and her methods, of course. Be careful how you treat her, Fitzwilliam."

Fitzwilliam's mouth gaped open. His legs wobbled as he stood, threatening to give way beneath him. It was evident that Miss Zeath was no fraud at the time. But why did his mother call the psychic Miss Elizabeth instead? He turned to look at his uncle. Judge Darcy looked at Elizabeth and shivered.

Suddenly Elizabeth slumped sideways, but Fitzwilliam was by her side in an instance, supporting her, helping her regain her sitting position. Fitzwilliam could feel that his mother was no longer in the room; that was why Miss Zeath slumped. He was amazed, and for the first time, he had experienced something out of logic. His mother had been right in this room with him, and he could feel her. He could hear her voice, just like she sounded before her death. She still remembered him as her son even though many folktales told stories of how the dead no longer remembered their family members.

Fitzwilliam felt alive at the sound of her mother's voice, and he never realised how much he genuinely missed her till he heard her voice again. Although the summoning was done for his father, he felt like he needed it. Hearing her voice ignited a fire in him. He was doing something right. He held their little family together even though his father had tried to tear them apart multiple times with his reckless attitude. He was grateful they still had each other.

With eyes closed, Elizabeth said, "I'm exhausted." Her breathing was heavy. "I need a break. Please." She whimpered, and Fitzwilliam held her close. He wondered how many of her energies would it consume to summon a ghost, and he waited for her to regain her breathing pattern. She was breathing too fast, and he needed her to calm down. Fitzwilliam had a strong urge to rip the veil from Miss Zeath's head and see if her face was as handsome as her mesmerising eyes. But he told himself to keep his urge down. There would be nothing good for him to be infatuated with a maid. He should focus on his mother instead. He felt Lady Anne's appearance was too short. Seeing Miss Zeath's exhaustion, he could not urge her to re-establish the link with his mother. But he also didn't understand why the psychic did not have such a reaction when she summoned Miss Rachel at the cottage the other day. Why was communicating with his mother more trying for Miss Zeath?