Dear Sunday friends, it's dark and gloomy with heavy raining here in Sydney. Some areas are under evacuation order due to the risk of flooding. I hope all of you stay safe.

I've corrected one or two things in the last chapter. And you may need blue couch to read this chapter. Thank you for the lovely reviews too. Keep them coming! Cheers Enid


Chapter Thirteen

"Have you changed your vocation, Collins?" Churchill jumped in. "I didn't know that you have become a doctor and have the expertise to declare Mr. Darcy and Fitzwilliam sick."

"I agree," Judge Darcy said. "And what is this nonsense about Matlock petitioning to take care of my brother, nephew and Pemberley? I wonder who came up with this grand idea for wealth and when?"

"Don't tell me you believe this ghost business too, James," Matlock said. "Or I will need to talk to the Lord Justice about conducting a review on the sound minds of selected presiding judges."

"I am right here, brothers!" George Darcy said. "Let us not quarrel. Think of the ladies present. I might have been derelict of my duty in the past three years due to my grief for Anne, but I've put it past me. And Fitzwilliam has been doing a wonderful job in managing the estate. I'm really proud of him. Matlock, you do not need to worry about Pemberley and us."

"George, but we are one of your closest relatives," Lady Matlock said. "and neighbours. Of course, we worry that you and Fitzwilliam may fall prey to some unknown scheming women." Augusta raised her eyes fleetingly towards the Bennet sisters, earning a glare from Fitzwilliam and Bingley. "But enough of that, if George said he is fine, we should talk about something else. Charles, when will your parents return from their holiday?"

After that deliberate diversion, the dinner discussion turned to more mundane topics. After a short evening music display by the women, the party retired. The three Darcys reconvened at Mr. Darcy's private study, where Judge Darcy expressed his concern about Collins and Matlock's intention. Fitzwilliam had given the vial bottle to his uncle earlier. The Judge had sent his men to get it tested. The results should be in the next day or two. George Darcy agreed to direct his men to investigate his brother-in-law's finances and to track down how Lord Matlock turned around his debt a few years ago.

The following morning, the sun shone brightly. Elizabeth wanted to walk to Lambton to explore the woods and the market town five miles from Pemberley. Bingley and Miss Bennet begged off to explore the house instead. Fitzwilliam could not accompany her but encouraged her to take a phaeton and her maid. The rest of the party had decided to stay at Pemberley.

About ten minutes since Fitzwilliam had seen Elizabeth off, on the road towards Lambton, she encountered Mr. Collins catching up with her.

"Ah, Miss Elizabeth, what a coincidence!" The reverend eyes wandered over both Elizabeth and Heather's bodies. "Are you heading towards Lambton? May I escort you there as I have business with the apothecary this morning."

Elizabeth felt uneasy with Mr. Collins's presence. Looking towards the fork ahead, she made a quick decision. She replied, "Thank you, Mr. Collins, but we are going south, along River Derwent. Mr. Churchill told me that it was a delightful drive."

"Indeed. Churchill and I are both intimately familiar with Derbyshire's landscape." Collins said with a small smile. He nodded his head and led his rein towards right to the road to Lambton. "I wish you a safe journey!"

Elizabeth waited at the fork for a few minutes until she was sure that the reverend would not double back. She then turned the phaeton to the left, taking the road along the river.

"The reverend gives me creep, Ma'am, if I'm allowed to say so," Heather said once they were on their way down south.

"Of course, I feel the same," Elizabeth replied. "Do you know what is along this road? I made up the whole thing about Mr. Churchill recommending me taking this road, as I don't want the company of Mr. Collins."

"I heard there is another small market town Rowsley, about four miles down south. It is smaller and less busy than Lambton, as the Darcys usually favours Lambton. Many servants working in Pemberley came from families around Lambton."

Mistress and maid took their time to enjoy the excellent weather. They stopped several times to look at herbs unknown to them down south in Hertfordshire. About three-quarters of an hour, the phaeton drove into Rowsley. It was pretty charming. They stopped the phaeton by a milliner shop and decided to explore the place.

But then Elizabeth couldn't stop noticing the hard stare from some of the shopkeepers. Their eyes spat hate on her like she had killed one of their loved ones. She was confused because she didn't understand why. She was a visitor in Meryton, visitors were always welcomed with open arms. Hence, she wondered why things were so different here in Rowsley. She tried not to pay attention to this, though. She noticed a string of dawdling children around the baker's little bow-window eyeing the gingerbread. Elizabeth walked past a young girl and her mother. She gave a small smile, determined to enjoy the day, "Uh, what a lovely-"

"Don't speak to my daughter!" Her mother spat. "You want to initiate her, right? Into your evil coven."

Elizabeth frowned, offended by her words. "I don't want to initiate anyone into anything. I'm not—I just want to say hello and go into the baker to buy some cookies? Is that something your town is against? "

The woman scoffed at Elizabeth's sass. "You better watch your mouth." Elizabeth ignored the woman, went into the baker's, and made her purchase. She decided to return to Pemberley as she was uncomfortable with the situation at Rowsley.

About five minutes on their return journey, Elizabeth was met with a sight she hadn't seen coming. Several people gathered around a bend, some holding rakes and others burning torches. "W-what is going on?"

"We know what you are. The news has gone around Stapleford, and this will show your kind that people like you are not welcome here."

"Seize her!" One of them shouted, walking up to Elizabeth.

She flicked the rein in fear, but before the horse could flee the angry mob, Heather and she were pulled from the phaeton. She tried to utter words that failed to come from her mouth.

"One of them is a witch, and she's the reason behind our poor business this year." Elizabeth was ghost white as she heard those words. The cookies she had just bought fell from her hands. She shook her head, but they didn't look like they were going to listen to anything that would come from her lips.

"You think we wouldn't know? You think we wouldn't find out?"

"You're crazy. I don't know what you're talking about. "Elizabeth bumped into a woman grasping Heather's shoulders. The woman let loose her grip. Elizabeth yelled, "Heather, run!" She tried to run away, but one of the burly men grabbed her and pulled her to his chest before pushing her down to the ground. The impact was painful, and Elizabeth cried in pain. She raised her head to see the people gathered around her. Luckily she could see that Heather seemed to run free. Elizabeth hoped her maid could get help in time.

She shuddered in fear at what they planned to do to her; there was no pity. Everyone stared at her in hate and disgust. "I haven't done anything. Leave me alone." Elizabeth replied in a firm voice, her head held high.

"Liar!" A woman shouted and spat. The saliva landed close to Elizabeth's already bruised knee when she was pushed to the ground. The woman ran to Elizabeth and pulled her scarf, throwing it down on the dirty floor and stepping on it. She turned back to the men. "What do we do to witches? She should be burned at stake."

A chorus of support went up. Before Elizabeth could process what was happening, a big foot was coming straight to her face, hitting her directly in the forehead and almost knocking her out.

"We burn the witch!" The woman shouted again. Elizabeth was raised by two men holding her up by her arms. They dragged her away with shouts while the others followed, most in support and curious to see what would happen.

Elizabeth tried to fight, but it was useless. The men wouldn't let her go, and whenever she tried, they would tighten their grip on her arm, causing her even more pain. "Let me go." Elizabeth refused to believe that this was how things would go. "I'm not a witch. You have got it all wrong," But her pleas all fell on deaf ears. They took her into the woods, and after a few minutes' walk, they came to a clearing. Much to her surprise, the mob had already set up the stake where they intended to burn her like it was all planned.

All the way there, Elizabeth had gotten spat on, scratched, and called names. Her clothing now looked like rags, and she had cuts and bruises on her legs and arms. Her hair had been messed with and was now wild, pointing in all directions. She looked around the crowd for a kind heart, someone she hoped would come to her rescue, but no one. Everyone looked at her with venom.

"Who incited your hate?" she tried to understand. Then she remembered. "Stapleford? Don't believe a word from Mr. Collins! I'm no witch!"

"Stop badmouthing our wonderful vicar, witch!" One of the women slapped Elizabeth. "The vicarage of Stapleford is just a mile from here! The good people of Rowsley have much to thank Mr. Collins for. And we heard that a female witch is casting doubt at our vicar and Lord Matlock. We wouldn't allow it!"

The woman threw Elizabeth to the stake they had set up, getting ready to tie her up.

"No, you've got it wrong!" Elizabeth argued.

"Shut up, you hag!' An older man shouted, going down to pick a stone and throwing it straight at Elizabeth, but luckily for her, it missed her with a few inches.

"Don't throw stones yet," the one who seemed to be in charge said. "We don't want her unconscious. Let her feel the pains from the flames when she dies and is burning in hell. she would learn her lesson that in her next life, she should never turn to dark practices."

Elizabeth screamed at the crowd. "If you kill me, you will be killing an innocent woman! You all throw stones, calling me evil while you go about doing your vicious deeds. You are not innocent or holy yourselves!"

"Perhaps she's not a witch," one woman said timidly. "What if the other one was, instead?"

"The other one ran away. Big Jack will get her. Let's burn this one first."

A chorus of yes drowned the voice of the lone objection. The mob didn't seem to care much about what Elizabeth said either, and they lit the torch. Elizabeth fought with the ropes, although she knew they would only get her again and drag her back to the same spot if she managed to free herself. Elizabeth raised her head to the sky with a scream as they lit up the stake.

The crowd went up in cheers the moment this happened. Some even danced around like they had achieved a miracle.

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

Back in Pemberley, Fitzwilliam and his steward Walker had finished overseeing the fence-mending on the southern border. They rode through the woods back north to the house when his horse was spooked. Horse and rider galloped widely into the woods for a few minutes until he was knocked off from his mount by a low-hanging branch.

"Ouch!" Fitzwilliam stared at the sky and caught his breath.

"Son!"

"Mother?" he sat up with a start, surprised by the sound of his dead mother close to his ears.

"You must hurry, son!"

"Mother? Where are you?" Fitzwilliam whipped his head around, trying to see if Lady Anne had appeared. But all he could see was the wind brushing the branches, creating moving shades in the woods. "Where must I hurry to?"

"The woods near Stapleford. Hurry there! Elizabeth is in danger!"

Fitzwilliam didn't need the ghostly voice to repeat. He jumped up and ran to his horse and remounted immediately. Why would Elizabeth go to Stapleford? Did she not say she was going to visit Lambton? Could his mother be wrong? He almost drew his horse to a stop to turn right towards Lambton but then thought better of it. If Lady Anne chose to knock him off his horse and warn him of Elizabeth's danger, he must listen to his mother. She couldn't be wrong.

Fitzwilliam rode like a mad man with a devil chasing after him. Walker met up with him and cried out, "Master Fitzwilliam, is everything all right? Aren't we not going back to Pemberley?"

"No, no, I'm off to Stapleford."

"Why?"

"Elizabeth is in danger!"

The loyal steward didn't question his master's sudden action nor that he called Miss Bennet simply as Elizabeth. He followed his master south in case he needed help.

Midway towards Stapleford, Fitzwilliam met maid Heather driving the phaeton towards Pemberley in alarm speed. He stopped her and asked where her mistress was. After a quick discussion, Heather explained the situation and that she had somehow knocked a big burly man unconscious with her whip to escape. Fitzwilliam congratulated Heather's strength and sent her back to fetch more help. Walker had caught up by then. Master and servant galloped towards Stapleford woods in haste.

In the woods, Elizabeth continued to look to the sky, crying out for help from the Lord. As she felt the encroaching heat that came nearer and nearer, licking fleetingly at her boot and the hem of her skirt. The fire would touch her clothes any second now, and she would be burned alive.

She was exhausted. Her throat was dry, and her head felt heavy. She dropped her eyes from the sky and wanted to stare down the murderers. But out from the crowd, she saw Fitzwilliam rushing towards her just before the heat of the flame began to hurt her. The winds howled loud, thank the Lord, working in favour of Elizabeth as they helped push the fire in a different direction.

Fitzwilliam grabbed a knife from his boot and cut the ropes holding Elizabeth together. The people gathered and watched in disbelief, speechless.

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth whispered his name, sounding breathless. "You came for me." He didn't say anything, though, just nodded. "You came for me," she repeated as he pulled her away from the flames.

"Master Fitzwilliam, what are you doing?" One of the women asked. Clearly, the people from Rowsley and Stapleford knew the heir to Pemberley. While Elizabeth's maid was correct in recounting Rowsley's history, Heather didn't know about young Mr. Darcy's recent action. He had helped rebuild a bridge and several cottages around Stapleford and Rowsley during extreme weather in the past three years. These kind neighbourly gestures won him the heart of many people in the area. Lord and Lady Matlock and his vicar were in London, enjoying a bit of society during those time.

"She's a witch. She deserves to be burnt." Another man said.

"The only one who deserves to burn is you all. If she had died, you all would suffer for the rest of your life. How dare you try to kill an innocent woman?" He stared at the unknown man. He wondered who instigated the attack and why some people didn't look like the villagers of Stapleford or Rowsley. He turned back to Elizabeth. "Let's get you home."

One of the unknown men stepped forward, trying to block Darcy from taking Elizabeth away but other villagers who had known Master Fitzwilliam stopped the man. Walker also strode between his master and the mob, ensuring no one would attack young Mr. Darcy from the back.

"Thank you," Elizabeth said to Fitzwilliam before losing consciousness.

Elizabeth found herself at a big party. People were all around her, chatting, drinking with cheers, and walking around every corner. She was sitting like a child in the middle of the room. She looked around, trying to find a face she knew and what party she was in. She didn't know anyone. "Hello," she called out to the person closest to her. "Please, where am I? What's going on?" But no reply came. She frowned and tried to sit up, but she couldn't. It was as if she was glued to the chair, but it wasn't just that. She couldn't even move her face and fingers, and she hadn't realized it until she tried. "Hey!" She shouted this time, trying to get the woman's attention. She was finally successful. "What's going on?"

The woman turned to look at her, and Elizabeth didn't recognize this woman, but she looked vaguely familiar. She reminded Elizabeth of Bingley. "Oh, you. Why? We are at the family reunion." She grinned. "Cheers!" She said before walking away.

"Family reunion?"

"This is the party," A voice whispered in her ears. She didn't have to turn and look, and she knew that voice. It belonged to Lady Anne. "When I'm frustrated, I come back to this dimension, trying to see if I could find the one that might have caused my death." Lady Anne's voice commanded the air on Elizabeth's neck to rise, sending a chill running down her spines that had her toes curling. "But now you must go back, go back, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth frowned. "Go back, to where? Where am I go..." Everything began to turn, and a bright light appeared from a corner in the room. "Christ!" Elizabeth shouted, her eyes snapping shut immediately. She would have used her hands to protect her eyes, but they were still stuck. Also, this wasn't her only problem, but now her body was in pain. She couldn't describe or explain how, but she felt pains in multiple parts of her body.

"Am I dying?" Elizabeth whispered.

"No, you are not dying. Please come back to us, to me. My dearest Elizabeth!" Elizabeth heard the deep voice of a young man. He sobbed. She could feel his tears wetting her hands, his heat warming her chilled body. She wanted to squeeze the man's hand, comfort him, and smooth his hair. But she could do none of that. She was so tired, so hurt. It would have been so easy to let go and rest forever.