Thank you for reading! I've made significant updates to the last chapter, making sure to include Mrs. Hurst, so if you were concerned about that and want to read the updates, feel free to check out Chapter 1 again. Thank you to everyone who pointed out the issue of propriety there!
Onwards to Chapter 2!
CHAPTER 2
The ballroom of the Meryton Assembly was filled with music and laughter. Mrs. Bennet bustled about, delighted that her daughters were mingling among the local gentry.
"Five daughters, all dancing at once!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed to anyone who would listen. "Jane has already danced twice with Mr. Bingley. Such a charming man, and so wealthy too! No doubt he has set his cap for her."
Jane's cheeks flushed at her mother's enthusiasm, though inwardly she had to admit she was quite taken with Mr. Bingley. His cheerful manner and kindly eyes made her feel at ease, and conversation flowed between them as naturally as the music. When he asked her to dance a second time, she gratefully accepted, wanting nothing more than to remain in his company a while longer.
While Mrs. Bennet chattered on, Elizabeth observed the aloof and brooding Mr. Darcy. His piercing gaze swept over the crowd with disdain before settling into a scowl, as if the revelry offended his sensibilities. Mrs. Hurst stood at his side in a gown of deep blue, whispering behind her fan. Though she smiled and nodded at the passing guests, her eyes were hard and watchful.
Yet now and then, Mr. Darcy's eyes would flick in Elizabeth's direction, a glimmer of interest passing through their stormy depths. Each time his gaze wandered to Elizabeth, Mrs. Hurst's smile faded. She glanced between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, her fan tapping an anxious staccato rhythm against her wrist.
Elizabeth held Mr. Darcy's stare, and her heart quickened at the subtle shift in his haughty expression, a flicker of curiosity replacing his customary scowl.
"Mr. Darcy says he has no desire to dance this evening," said Mary, peering at the gentlemen through the lenses of her spectacles, "but I believe you have caught his attention nonetheless, Lizzy."
Elizabeth laughed, shaking her head in denial, though she could feel a blush rising in her cheeks. "Mr. Darcy wants naught to do with the likes of us, Mary. He has already said he has no wish to dance. Let us find partners of our own."
The two Bennet sisters joined the line of dancers for a country reel. As the dance progressed, Elizabeth suddenly found herself face to face with Caroline Bingley. An unpleasant chill gripped Elizabeth as she met the woman's gaze. Her eyes flickered with a sinister green as the candles above spluttered, thrusting the room for a moment into stuttering shadow. A cloying metallic scent touched Elizabeth's nose, reminding her of the aftertaste of Netherfield's bitter tea, and Elizabeth shuddered.
The sensation lasted barely a step and turn, and as the dance led her to cross paths with another gentleman, everything was as it was: music, laughter, the scent of perfume and sweat. Elizabeth tried to shake the feeling of unease as the dance continued. Still, she couldn't ignore the sense of menace that seemed to lurk just beneath the revelry, as if an evil presence had tainted the gathering.
The dance ended, and a young officer led Miss Bingley from the floor. She laughed, fluttering her ostrich feather fan over her lips as the young man's cheeks flushed. Elizabeth sensed nothing ominous from Miss Bingley now. Perhaps it had all been her mad imagination. And yet, the taste of iron lingered in the back of Elizabeth's throat.
Elizabeth scanned the crowded assembly rooms, longing for escape. The heat and din pressed in on all sides when a familiar face caught her eye, a vision of gold and hazel making its way through the sea of revelers. Charlotte. Dear Charlotte.
Elizabet met her bosom friend's gaze. Charlotte gave a start, and soon wove her way through the crush, her hazel eyes filled with concern as she took Elizabeth's arm. "Lizzy, you look unwell," Charlotte said. Her golden curls shone in the candlelight, a vision of warmth against the strange chill Elizabeth felt.
Elizabeth shook her head, forcing a smile. "Just warm, I suppose. The crush of people and the heat of so many bodies in one place."
"Shall I fetch you some lemonade or fresh air?" Charlotte asked with concern.
"Fresh air, I think, though only for a moment." Elizabeth conceded. The fetid atmosphere within the assembly rooms seemed to close in, memories of dank halls and whispering shadows flooding her thoughts. She clung to Charlotte's arm like a lifeline, allowing herself to be led through the crush.
Charlotte guided Elizabeth to one of the open balconies, the chill night air a welcome relief. Elizabeth stared off into the garden. In the moonlight, autumn leaves huddled against their branches. She breathed the scent of damp earth and brick.
After a minute, Charlotte asked, "Are you sure you are not unwell?"
Elizabeth had longed to unburden herself of the strange occurrence at Netherfield, yet feared her friend might question her sanity. "Hardly. Sometimes I think Jane laces my stays too tightly." Elizabeth laughed, the sound as hollow to her ears as Mrs. Hurst's veneer of revelry.
Days had passed since Elizabeth's visit to Netherfield, and the place clung to her. Though she'd vowed to unlock the hall's secrets, a deep, animal part of herself longed to remain hidden. That part felt the eyes of something sinister in her dreams.
Pure foolishness, of course. Her papa would say this fear was the sign of an unchecked imagination. Perhaps too many tales of Greek monsters.
Elizabeth had hoped, should she cross paths with Netherfield's current occupants outside the oppressive walls, this sense of dread would ease. Instead, it had only grown.
From the doorway, she heard Jane call, "Charlotte? Lizzy? What are you doing out here?"
"Eliza felt overwarm," Charlotte explained.
Elizabeth, tiring of her own thoughts and unwilling to share her fears, took a breath and said, "Yes, but I am better now. And I should like to dance." If she could dance until her thoughts were nothing but music, she would be content.
They returned to the assembly floor. Elizabeth gazed about, her senses heightened after the strange encounter with Caroline Bingley.
Instinctively, her gaze sought Mr. Darcy's. She found him standing against the wall, watching the dancers with a brooding air. There was an intensity to him that intrigued her, a hidden depth she longed to understand. When their eyes met from across the room, a spark seemed to pass between them, and for a fleeting moment, his expression revealed the barest hint of a smile.
Elizabeth's breath caught at the transformation, minor though it was, finding herself captivated by the gentleness it lent his features.
Mr. Darcy made his way across the room, his gaze locking with Elizabeth's. Her heart fluttered in anticipation, wondering if he meant to ask her to dance. But before he could reach her side, Caroline Bingley stepped into his path, grasping his arm to steady herself.
"Do you mean to dance with that miss?" said Caroline, her tone sharp as she glanced Elizabeth's way.
Mr. Darcy frowned, glancing at the two women. His eyes fell upon Elizabeth, and his features hardened into disdain. "Miss Bennet is not handsome enough to tempt me to dance," said he, an arrogance entering his tone that extinguished the gentleness she had glimpsed.
The words struck like a blow, and Elizabeth's cheeks burned with humiliation. She opened her mouth to deliver a sharp retort but found she could not speak. Hurt and anger warred within her. Her throat tightened and her eyes stung, but she refused to grant Caroline the satisfaction of tears.
Mr. Darcy's features betrayed a flicker of regret as Caroline clung to his arm. Elizabeth's gaze shifted to Caroline, noticing a triumphant gleam in those malicious eyes, and she realized then Mr. Darcy's cruel words had not been his own.
Rage burned through the haze of Elizabeth's hurt, and she lifted her chin, staring Caroline down with defiance. Caroline's eyes flashed green again, and Elizabeth smelled sulfur. The punch table shook, rattling the crystal cups and decanter. Elizabeth started, glancing about for the source of the disturbance. But nothing seemed amiss, the others continuing their merrymaking without pause.
One of the punch bowls toppled from the table, shattering with a resounding crack against the floor. Dark liquid seeped across the wood, deep crimson in hue. An unnatural chill rippled through the room.
Elizabeth shivered, clutching her wrap more tightly about her shoulders. Mr. Darcy's gaze met Elizabeth's, and she thought she spied a flicker of concern in those depths. Then Mr. Darcy turned away with a disdainful sniff, Caroline still clinging to his arm.
Elizabeth's hands curled into fists so tight, her nails bit into her palms. Laughter and shouts erupted around Elizabeth as another punch bowl toppled, spilling its ghastly contents across the floor.
The dancers continued gayly as though they could not sense the heaviness of the air, thick and oppressive as a gathering storm.
Elizabeth danced with the next gentleman who asked her, a young officer whose uniform seemed a touch too large for his awkward frame. When the dance finished, she returned to her sisters. Someone had refreshed the drinks, and Jane sat, a serene smile on her face as she sipped a glass of ratafia.
Across the room, Mr. Darcy stood against the wall, arms folded over his broad chest. His gaze strayed in Elizabeth's direction, lingering for a moment. A muscle in his jaw twitched, as if struggling to contain some powerful emotion. Pride? Disdain? Or something more?
Despite his refusal to dance, Elizabeth couldn't help but feel drawn to him. Some part of her sensed he had not intended to hurt her with his rejection.
It had seemed, in that moment, almost protective.
As the night drew to a close, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy shared one final look, a mix of conflicting emotions simmering between them. Attraction and suspicion. Curiosity and dread. Whatever mysteries and dangers lurked beneath the surface of their acquaintance, a spark had kindled which neither could extinguish.
Their gazes remained locked a long moment, and Elizabeth glimpsed a flicker of wistfulness in his eyes before it was shuttered again behind a mask of indifference.
"Lizzy! Jane!" Mrs. Bennet called from the entrance of the hall, waving both to join her. "Come, our carriage awaits!"
Elizabeth stepped out into the chilled night, leaving the warmth of the assembly rooms behind. A low, white mist drifted over the ground, blanketing the narrow dirt roads she had walked since childhood. The darkness Elizabeth sensed in Netherfield had spread. Its insidious threads bound her to Mr. Darcy in a dangerous dance, whether for good or ill, she could not say.
As the carriage started back towards Longborne, Mrs. Bennet clapped her hands together in rapturous glee. "Oh, our Jane has certainly caught the attention of Mr. Bingley," she cried. "Two dances. He asked her for two dances! She shall surely be Mistress of Netherfield by winter!"
Jane smiled, demurring even as her eyes shone, and her cheeks flushed at their mother's proclamation.
Mistress of Netherfield.
Elizabeth shivered. "Surely they will not stay long at such an… austere residence," she said.
"Austere! Hardly!" Mrs. Bennet protested. "It is rich with history. Why, I remember the balls they hosted there, back when me and Mr. Bennet were young. Magnificent, I say. Surely our Jane will bring a much-needed lady's touch."
"There are two ladies there already," Elizabeth said, a bit dryly.
"Lizzy, if you were not my child, I would think you were jealous! Of our Jane!"
"I am not jealous."
"Merely cross, then. Well, it is not fair to ruin your sister's happiness because you are in one of your moods."
The carriage rattled into the night, bearing them away from a poison that had already begun to spread. But its claws had sunken deep. And if Mr. Bingley truly intended to court Jane, and Jane, as it appeared, returned the gentleman's affections, then Elizabeth's beloved sister was running straight into that darkness.
To that, Elizabeth could not remain indifferent.
THANK YOU FOR READING! This was a total whim idea - let's do a horror style P&P variation. It's not vampires, as some have guessed. It is something weirder. This will end happily though for ODC. Thank you so much for your support and comments. I am working busily on the next chapter!