I really enjoyed writing this chapter - definitely was one of the high points of this week! Writing this chapter felt like I'd reached the top of a roller coaster, and now we're starting to tip over first downward plunge. I hope it feels the same way to you too!

CHAPTER 5

Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst stayed another quarter hour before taking their leave to return to their breakfast. The air felt heavy in the small room. Finally, desperate for even the sight of sky, Elizabeth wrestled the thick curtains open. A weak sunbeam came in, lighting the dust. The stale air made Elizabeth crave any breeze. She worked at the latch, but, as before, the window refused to budge.

Elizabeth returned to the bed and took her sister's hand. Jane lay against soft pillows, less pale as she held the iron cross. An hour passed, and Jane woke. "Lizzy," she said, smiling. "You came?"

"You do not remember? I have been here since this morning."

"Oh, why?"

"I was worried."

"It is only a cold," Jane said, her laugh weak. Even so, the brightness of it made Elizabeth smile.

A knock, then Caroline and Mrs. Hurst entered in strong perfume. "Miss Bennet, you look well!" said Caroline. Her eyes narrowed at the cross in Jane's hand. "What is that?"

"To comfort Jane," said Elizabeth, meeting Caroline's challenging stare. She would not let Caroline intimidate her.

Jane looked between them, confused. She placed the cross on the bedside table with a small smile. "You are both too kind. I feel better, no need to quarrel on my account!"

"You seem much improved!" Mrs. Hurst's beads jangled as she clapped, grating Elizabeth's ears. Her laugh hid fears that restless eyes betrayed.

"Indeed. We should play whist!" suggested Caroline with too much enthusiasm. Her gaze flitted the cross as she leaned over to open the drawer the nightstand and pull out a deck of cards. "Deal, Miss Eliza," she said, pushing the deck into Elizabeth's hand. "Please, as our guest, I insist."

Elizabeth's hands trembled as she dealt the cards, sliding them across the table with forced nonchalance. The Fan spread before her, but she scarce noted the suits, her thoughts chasing shadows.

"Your play, Miss Bennet." Caroline's tone held a barbed sweetness.

With a start, Elizabeth recollected herself and played a card at random. Laughter bubbled from Mrs. Hurst's throat, discordant and shrill.

The hands progressed in a tense silence but for the occasional hollow pleasantry. Elizabeth's senses strained for any sign of corruption, probing Caroline's demeanor for cracks. But Caroline and her sister feigned mirth well, and soon Jane as laughing with them. With each hand, Elizabeth's stomach coiled with tension, wound as tight as the curls escaping her chignon onto her neck.

They played through the afternoon until the clock chimed three, and a knock heralded Mr. Bingley's arrival. He entered with a smile that faltered at Jane's wan face. "I hope I do not intrude. I wished to see how you fare, Miss Bennet."

"Much improved, thank you." Jane's eyes brightened as she spoke. A blush stained her cheeks.

Mr. Bingley approached the bed, perching at the edge. He took Jane's hand in his with tender care. "I am sorry to distress you. Dinner will soon be served, but I wanted you comfortably settled first."

"You are too kind," said Jane. Her hand remained in his, a trusting dove nesting there.

Elizabeth's heart swelled at her sister's happiness. Yet dread pooled in her stomach as night encroached. They would not return to Longborn until the morrow, at the soonest.

"Miss Eliza, do dine with us," Caroline suggested, her expression a mockery of her brother's amiability.

"It would be best if I stayed with Jane," said Elizabeth.

"No, Lizzy, you must go," said Jane.

"But—"

"I insist. All I will do is have broth and bread and sleep. And I shall rest easier knowing you take a fine dinner."

"Indeed," Mr. Bingley agreed. "I have called for a maid to bring a tray with that and your evening draught."

"It's no trouble to stay here," Elizabeth insisted.

Jane laughed. "It is trouble. You have been at my side since morning, and you need respite from nursing me."

Elizabeth needed no such respite, but if she continued to press the issue, the Bingleys would rightly judge her actions an insult. And now that Jane had the protection of the cross, she would surely be safe enough until Elizabeth returned.

With resignation, Elizabeth nodded her agreement.

Mr. Bingley bowed over Jane's hand. "I shall return to check on you again, if I may." At Jane's nod, he turned to the door, joy lighting his step.

Elizabeth's heart swelled to see tenderness restore her sister's bloom. As Mr. Bingley left, his sisters stood in a scritch of chairs and swish of skirts. "Come, Miss Eliza," Caroline said.

Elizabeth glanced back at Jane. "Are you certain you are well enough?"

"Go," Jane said, waving a hand towards the door.

Reluctance weighted Elizabeth's limbs as lead. Yet she forced a smile, unwilling to distress her sister further. Elizabeth glanced at the cross. Jane rested her hand over it in an almost absent gesture, and Elizabeth felt relief. Though shadows encroached, the cross stood guard.

Elizabeth waited for Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley to precede her from the room. She dared not risk her sister's safety by leaving Jane alone a moment with either lady.

-SCENE BREAK-

The dining room glowed in candlelight, an oasis of warmth and cheer at odds with the gloom without. An array of dishes burdened the table - roast goose and potatoes, tender greens dressed in oil, crusty bread to soak up savory juices.

At dinner unease choked the air. As Darcy and Elizabeth sparred. Elizabeth found his conversation both bracing and infuriating at once.

"A lady does well to improve her mind through reading," said Elizabeth, slicing into goose crisped to perfection.

"Indeed," Mr. Darcy agreed, his expression contemplative. "A well-read woman is an asset to society, though I maintain that a lady must possess other fine qualities as well." He sipped wine, eyes intent on Elizabeth over the glass's rim.

"You do our sex a disservice, sir, if you dismiss our intellect so." Elizabeth met his gaze, unwilling to yield.

Mr. Hurst hummed an eerie tune, a strange counterpoint to the lively discourse. He lounged in his chair, disinterest carved into fleshy features, and raised a glass of claret in salute to none.

"Your arguments are well-made, as ever, Miss Elizabeth." Mr. Bingley hastened to soothe ruffled feathers. "I believe there are merits to both sides."

"You are too kind, brother." Caroline's knuckles whitened on her knife. "Some ladies forget a woman's place is to please her men, not prattle on about books as though she had a mind."

Elizabeth's cheeks flushed. "I see no reason a woman cannot do both, if she is so inclined."

Flame guttered in a draft, shadows flickering at the table's edge. Mr. Hurst hummed louder. Mrs. Hurst, at his side, stared down at her plate as she stabbed ineffectually at her meat.

A scream rent the air, sharp as the knife that slipped from Elizabeth's grasp.

"Jane!" Elizabeth cried, pushing back from the table. Her chair toppled as she fled.

Elizabeth ran, the others fast behind. Strange shadows fled her pounding feet; the stair rose up, a mountain to scale.

At last, she flung open the door to Jane's room. On the bed, Jane lay as though in deathly rest, her face bleached, still and wan.

"Jane!" Elizabeth cried in anguish, rushing to her sister's side. She clasped her sister's hand, searching for warmth, a fluttering pulse, but Jane's skin remained cool. Only the faintest breath passed bloodless lips.

The others crowded in, exclamations voicing disbelief and fear.

The cross! Where was it? Panic seized Elizabeth in claws of ice. She had made a terrible mistake in letting down her guard. Any servant could have taken it at their master's, or mistress's, orders.

Elizabeth frantically searched the night table and felt along the bed. "It was here—" Her voice broke. She whirled on the others, anger and dread roiling within. "You were here—you must have seen—what happened to the cross?" She searched each face.

In Caroline's eyes a strange light woke, then hid behind a mask of care. "I know not of this cross, Miss Eliza."

"You lie!" The walls seemed to close in, menace seeping into stone and mortar. Elizabeth trembled before whatever force had struck her sister down and still watched with pitiless eyes. "It should have protected—"

Mrs. Hurst twisted a pearl necklace round her throat, her gaze downcast and lips sealed tight.

Mr. Bingley blinked in confusion. "A cross? But I remember—" He shook his head. "There must be some mistake. We will search again and find where it fell." His smile held fast against the gloom, his teeth glinting in the dark.

"You brought the cross to protect her? Why would your sister need protection in our home?" demanded Caroline.

Elizabeth stifled a bitter laugh. The reason prowled and lingered and poisoned the air with every breath. "You know as well as I."

Caroline scoffed. "You speak nonsense and offend our hospitality!" Her eyes gleamed emerald fire.

Mrs. Hurst stook a step back, her fingers tightening on her necklace as Mr. Hurst hummed on.

Only Darcy dared draw close to Elizabeth. "Miss Elizabeth is clearly distraught," he said. "She means no insult."

Elizabeth stiffened. She had meant every insult, but before she could speak, Mr. Darcy leaned closer and whispered, "Trust me. Please." Then, in a louder voice, he added. "Bingley, call for the apothecary. And have a maid bring hot bricks and honeyed tea."

Mr. Bingley gave a start. "Yes! An apothecary, at once!" None dared refuse his summons, the master still within his walls. "And the rest. Mrs. Hurst, run for a housemaid."

Mrs. Hurst nodded, her shoulders slumping in relief as she edged out of the room.

"Fear not, Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Bingley declared. "We will have Jane well again soon."

Caroline relaxed her guard. "Miss Elizabeth. Perhaps I overstepped. My brother and I understand your concern for Jane, and we share it." Her simper mocked them as she glided to her brother's side.

Mr. Hurst's hum rose to a fevered pitch, a mad accompaniment to tragedy unfurling in their midst. Caroline's lips twisted in a smirk of dark delight at the surrounding chaos. But Mr. Bingley, intent on Jane, failed to note his sister's pleasure.

An apothecary, Elizabeth knew in her soul, would do no good now. Her sister was not plagued by a physical illness, but something else. The same malaise that echoed through these wretched halls.

Elizabeth tore free of Darcy's gentle grasp, thoughts racing, tears rising to blur her gaze. Her heart was leaden with the weight of guilt and fear for her sister's fate. The cross had to be somewhere. One could not easily melt such heavy iron.

Thick stone walls loomed, and menace clung like shrouds as Elizabeth ran through the corridors, pulled almost as though an invisible hand down the main staircase and towards the estate kitchens. If one had wanted to destroy such a work, the kitchen hearth would still be lit. It was a good a place as any.

As lingering tendrils of terrible dread coiled ever tighter, a faint glimmer of hope sparked that the cross somehow remained intact. If Elizabeth could reclaim that last defense, she might turn the tide against the closing darkness. The fire was her enemy and salvation both; the end and the beginning; grace and damnation in one.

THANK YOU FOR READING! And thank you for your wonderful comments - they light up my world! I'll have the next chapter up this weekend. I always think it's good to go, but then I read it over and have to make changes. So it goes. Hope you're having as much fun with this as I am because I'm having a blast!