Sorry about the wait on this! I'll be writing a bit faster now. Things have gotten slightly less hectic, hehe. But I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Chapter 3
Autumn sun filtered through the rustling canopy outside the Bennets' drawing room. Elizabeth sat by an open window, gazing at trees ablaze with crimson and gold. A crisp breeze carried the earthy scents of leaf and loam as a lone crow cawed mournfully in the distance.
Though the familiar view typically filled her with contentment, today an inexplicable melancholy gripped her heart. The gaiety within felt forced and grating, echoing against the chill walls of a mausoleum entombing her carefree spirit.
Her attention was drawn from the window by a trill of laughter. The rest of the Bennet clan was gathered around the wooden table at the center of the room, upon which Jane had spread the contents of the post. Mrs. Bennet occupied her usual armchair by the fireplace, hands clasped in delight as Jane read aloud from an ornate letter. Lydia and Kitty shared the sofa, leaning forward in anticipation, as Mr. Bennet looked on from behind his newspaper with a wry smile.
Only Elizabeth remained aloof in her place by the windows, an icy feeling of dread stealing over her as she observed the cozy scene. The space, typically so comforting, suddenly felt stifling as the warmth and cheer of her family was soured by the dark visions invading her mind.
"It's an invitation to dine at Netherfield this very evening!" Jane exclaimed. Her eyes were alight with joy as a chorus of delighted gasps arose. Mrs. Bennet let out an audible sigh of contentment, gazing at her eldest daughter with pride.
Kitty clapped her hands together, "An invitation to dine? With the new occupants?" she cried. "La, Jane, you must go! They will be the handsomest men in all England, I'll wager."
Jane blushed prettily at the teasing. "Miss Bingley sent this request," she said, glancing at the ornate script on the page. A wistful sigh escaped her lips as she clasped the letter to her bosom, no doubt imagining an evening in Mr. Bingley's company.
Elizabeth watched as joy infused her family, their cheers and laughter resonating through the cozy space. And yet, she could not escape the feeling that something sinister haunted the halls of Netherfield. Elizabeth recalled the Meryton assembly, the chill in meeting Miss Bingley's gaze, and the flash of green in her eyes as candles spluttered and punch bowls shattered and bled.
Swallowing down the memory of iron in the back of her throat, Elizabeth said, "Jane? Are you quite certain an evening at Netherfield is... wise?"
A hush fell over the room as all turned to Elizabeth. Jane's smile faded, a look of concern furrowing her brow. "Whatever can you mean, Lizzy?"
Elizabeth flushed, grasping for words to express the foreboding which gripped her heart. "I... there are unusual tales of that place. All near Meryton know of them."
Mrs. Bennet released an indignant huff, leveling a stern gaze at Elizabeth. "Posh and nonsense! You would seek to frighten your sister with silly stories and rob her of a chance at courtship?"
Elizabeth flushed at her mother's accusation, glancing to Jane in dismay. Her sister's eyes had welled with hurt, a small gasp escaping her lips.
"I mean only to warn her of potential dangers, Mama," Elizabeth replied. And yet, even to her own ears her concerns seemed foolish and unfounded.
Jane sank onto the window seat beside Elizabeth, meeting her gaze with an earnestness that made Elizabeth's face heat. "Lizzy, do not trouble yourself so," Jane said. "I shall be perfectly alright." She gave Elizabeth's hand a tender squeeze.
Though her sister's touch brought comfort, Elizabeth could not ignore the icy tendrils of dread coiling ever tighter around her heart. And yet, gazing into Jane's radiant face, she could not bear to dampen her sister's joy. Elizabeth forced a smile, swallowing her objections as she replied: "Then I shall not trouble you further."
And as Jane's own brilliant grin returned, Elizabeth pushed aside her worries. Her sister deserved this chance at happiness, and Elizabeth would not be the one to stand in her way. Jane threw her arms about Elizabeth, embracing her with warmth which seeped into Elizabeth's very bones. "Thank you, Lizzy! I cannot bear the thought of your unhappiness."
Elizabeth returned her sister's embrace, a bittersweet joy filling her breast. As Jane bustled off to prepare, a flurry of skirts and laughter, the rest of the family bubbled with cheer.
Only Elizabeth remained subdued, an outsider peering through frosted glass at a scene of warmth and merriment in which she could not fully partake. The golden afternoon light seemed garish and false; a gilded veneer concealing the grim shadows which stalked the halls of Netherfield and now darkened the corners of Elizabeth's own heart.
- SCENE BREAK -
Though the rain had passed, the warm glow of late morning streaming through the drawing-room windows did little to lift Elizabeth's spirits. An unopened letter lay on the table before her, the Netherfield seal ominous as a raven's wings furled against scarlet wax.
Elizabeth had spotted the letter as soon as she entered, left on the desk by a servant after the morning post. The sight of Jane's hasty scrawl upon the direction filled Elizabeth with a nameless dread.
At length, Elizabeth broke the seal with fingers gone cold. The words leapt out, searing into her mind: Jane was ill. Elizabeth gasped, a hand flying to her breast as her heart clenched in dismay.
She glanced around the familiar room, its once comforting details now portents of the sorrow to come. The scents of spice and lavender from the gardens below seemed to cloy with the bitterness of an unwanted truth.
Elizabeth lowered the letter to the table.
A moment later, Mrs. Bennet bustled into the room in a flutter of skirts, the familiar scent of rosewater preceding her. "Well, has a letter come from Jane already? I daresay she means to tell us of all the diversions and society at Netherfield."
Wordlessly, Elizabeth passed her the letter. She watched as her mother read it, color rising to her cheeks.
"Ill?" Mrs. Bennet grinned, folding the foolscap and handing it back to Elizabeth. "It is exactly as we hoped."
"We?" Jane had hardly seemed excited to go on horseback, risking her health in a storm. Though she had ultimately agreed to their mother's plan.
Mrs. Bennet nodded. "Our Jane will certainly ingratiate herself in the course of her stay, earning the sister's pity and Mr. Bingley's affection."
Elizabeth stared at her mother in disbelief. "Can you be so hard-hearted? Jane may be gravely ill, alone and suffering, and yet you dismiss it so easily?"
Mrs. Bennet waved a hand, as if to bat away her objection. "You worry yourself over silly trifles. Our Jane is not so fragile as all that! And soon she will be Mrs. Jane Bingley, with five-thousand a year! That is certainly worth enduring a sniffle and cough."
A retort sprang to Elizabeth's lips, but she stilled it. Mama would not be swayed, that much was clear. Elizabeth thought of Netherfield, the heaviness of it. If Jane was ill, such a place would hardly be conducive to her recovery. And certainly, Jane should not endure it alone. No matter how well she liked Mr. Bingley.
Elizabeth's path was laid, her duty clear. She met her mother's gaze, jaw set. "If you will not go to Jane, then I shall walk there myself at once."
Mrs. Bennet's eyes widened in alarm. "Walk to Netherfield? Pray do not be foolish, Lizzy. You will arrive disheveled and mud-soaked, and frighten away Mr. Bingley once and for all!"
Elizabeth sighed. Must her mother view each circumstance through the lens of scheming and matrimony? "My concern is for Jane, not Mr. Bingley. She may need care, and as you decline to go-"
"Decline?" Mrs. Bennet frowned. "I only think it imprudent for us both to descend upon Netherfield, when Jane merely has a cold. You know how she exaggerates trifles for the sake of drama!"
In all Elizabeth's twenty-years of life, Jane had done no such thing. If anything, she so preferred harmony as to minimize her suffering at every opportunity. "If Jane says she is ill, I believe it genuine," Elizabeth countered. "Mr. Bingley will surely understand a sister's duty and think all the better of our family for it. Unless you mean for him to discover later what poor affection we show one another?"
Mrs. Bennet paled at the notion. "You are quite right, Lizzy, I did not think! Mr. Bingley must see what devoted sisters his Jane has. You must go to her directly and nurse her back to health!"
"Thank you." Elizabeth felt a trifle unsteady at her victory, so swiftly won when moments before, her mother had refused to budge.
"Yes, go!" Mrs. Bennet cried, shooing Elizabeth from the room with brisk motions of her hands. "Make haste, before the day wanes much further! Give Jane my fondest affections, and tell her not to fret - we shall have her wed and removed to Netherfield before Christmas!"
As Elizabeth stepped into the corridor, she wondered what new scheme her mother was hatching now to ensnare Mr. Bingley. She shook her head, banishing such thoughts. Her sister needed her, and for now, that alone would occupy her mind.
Yet first, she meant to make a slight detour. Her father's study door stood ajar, a beam of midday sun slicing across the entrance. She crept forward on silent feet, peering within.
Her father reclined upon the sofa, snoring peacefully as dusty motes drifted through the air. The familiar scents of leather-bound books, pipe smoke and brandy embraced her. Mr. Bennet had clearly enjoyed one glass too many of the latter, to still be abed and asleep at this hour.
Elizabeth squeezed through the narrow gap, eyes scanning the shelves for what she sought. There, behind a stack of correspondence - her father detested attending to letters - something metal glinted. She reached up on tiptoes, fingers closing around the iron filigree cross, tucked behind a ledge and coated in years of neglect.
As she eased it free of its dusty confines, her father snorted loudly in slumber, shifting upon the cushions. Elizabeth froze in alarm, hands clenching around the cross, pulse pounding in her ears.
"Ancient ones," Mr. Bennet mumbled, his tone ominous. "Madness."
Elizabeth tasted metal in the back of her throat. Her breath caught. But then Mr. Bennet snuffled sleepily, murmuring, "Those confounded birds... always pecking at the apple trees..."
The only madness here was Elizabeth's overweening imagination. She nearly laughed out loud at her own foolishness. Holding the cross, Elizabeth stole out of the study on wings of renewed purpose, her father's eccentric ramblings fading behind her.
Taking her shawl and donning her boots, Elizabeth left. She could not stand the thought of her beloved sister alone and suffering within the drear confines of Netherfield. All else could wait until Jane was safe, her health restored.
THANK YOU FOR READING!
I'm busily working on the next chapter. I hope you are enjoying this so far. It's been a blast for me to write! Let me know what you think in the comments :)