yo why are there so many of you
Sorry for the delay, immediately after I posted chapter 1 I came down with something, which sucked. I also wanted to clarify a couple of things based on reviews that I got on the first chapter.
1. When I say 'slightly more adult content', I do mean slight. This story will contain no explicit content, probably the most lewd scene in the book will be the one with Wickham in the first chapter.
2. I am not attempting to emulate Jane Austen's writing super carefully, which means I will probably use words that did not exist in this time period. However, the first known use of the word "saccharine" was in the 1660s, so that one is fine :)
Wednesday, 27th November, 1811
Longbourn, morning
It was a clear autumn day when the news reached them.
Elizabeth had tucked herself away in a corner of the drawing room to read, doing her best to avoid Mr. Collins's attentions. Unfortunately, Mrs. Bennet had refused to allow her to retreat to her room for as long as Mr. Collins was present, so Elizabeth had chosen the most discreet location that she could find to curl up with today's choice of reading material.
Frankly, she was in little mood to suffer any of her family but Jane at the moment, after their varying displays of foolishness at the Netherfield Ball the previous night. Lydia and Kitty had cemented their reputations as coquettish half-wits, Mary had made a proud display of her lack of skill on the pianoforte, Mr. Collins had seen fit to acquaint himself with Mr. Darcy without an introduction, and Mrs. Bennet had spent the entire evening gossiping loudly about their host and Jane marrying soon. It was a wonder to Elizabeth that they had not been thrown out in disgrace.
Her mother was not at home at the moment, having gone into Meryton with Lydia and Kitty to speak of new winter clothes with the dressmaker. Mr. Bennet was in his library, as per usual, Jane had left only minutes before to walk in the shrubbery, and Mary was practicing on the pianoforte several rooms away. Elizabeth was not sure where Mr. Collins was at present, but other than Mary's playing the house was quiet.
The stillness was interrupted by the sound of muffled voices through the window behind her, and Elizabeth turned to look over her shoulder to see her mother and two younger sisters coming up the walk to the front door with her aunt Mrs. Phillips in tow.
Elizabeth emitted a quiet sigh and turned back to her book. She had hoped that they would remain in town for at least another hour, to allow herself some peace and quiet and time for her irritation with them to cool, but it seemed she was not to be so fortunate. She merely steeled herself and focused intently on her book as the front door swung open to admit her mother, aunt, and two youngest sisters.
Immediately, a cacophony of voices spilled into the drawing room, and Elizabeth lifted her chin with a frown at the tension in Mrs. Bennet's voice. To be sure, for her mother to be hysterical was no uncommon thing, but this sounded more urgent than her typical fits of nerves.
"Come, Teresa, let us go to my room in order to speak of this further," Mrs. Bennet was urging her sister. Elizabeth stood as Mrs. Phillips agreed, closing her book and coming around the corner in order to investigate. She was promptly accosted by Lydia and Kitty, who came around the partition at the same time and nearly ran straight into her.
"Lizzy!" Lydia exclaimed before Elizabeth could recover. "You will not believe what we just heard in town." She and Kitty collapsed into fits of nervous tittering, and Elizabeth took a step back to frown at them both. She was not at all sure what could have prompted such a reaction in her youngest sisters, unless a second regiment of officers had come to winter in Meryton.
"Well, tell me then," she prompted.
"We were at the butcher's when we ran into Aunt Phillips," Lydia began. "And she told us- oh dear, you won't believe it - they found a girl in Barnetton last night, dead!"
Elizabeth's hand flew to her lips. "Dead?" she exclaimed.
"Stabbed!" Kitty jumped in eagerly. "With a butcher knife, from the kitchen-"
"I was telling her!" Lydia interrupted loudly. Kitty gave her a withering glare, but relented. "With a butcher knife, from the kitchens of the inn they found her in," Lydia went on. "The innkeeper said that she came in with a man, but they haven't found him yet. I think it was one of the serving girls, they say this girl was so pretty, she likely-"
"Lydia!" Elizabeth interrupted, aghast. "Kitty! For Heaven's sake, a girl is dead! I beg you to have at least some shame, and not make a spectacle of her memory!" Her sisters had the grace to look at least somewhat penitent. "Now," Elizabeth went on. "I will not have you two spreading such gossip any more than you already have. Discussing her death will not save her, we can only pray that her murderer is found and sentenced promptly."
"Yes, Lizzy." Lydia said with obvious reluctance. With that, Elizabeth shooed them away, and returned to her seat in the drawing room.
She sank into the chair and opened her book, but found that she could not focus on the words. A young lady, murdered! And only a few miles from Meryton. For someone to be killed at all was upsetting and all but unheard of, and a violent death even more so. If there was any clue to the killer's motive, Lydia and Kitty had not offered it, but Elizabeth found herself uneasy at the thought of herself or any of her sisters walking into town alone.
She comforted herself with the reminder that Meryton currently housed a regiment of militia, and red-coated officers frequented the public spaces. Surely, with so many soldiers about, she and her sisters could safely travel about their home town.
Wednesday, 27th November, 1811
Netherfield Hall, morning
"...and utterly dreary." Miss Bingley's words were punctuated by the loud clicks of her shoes on the wooden floors of Netherfield Hall, approaching the sitting room where Darcy had been sitting with his host The men had been invited with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst to accompany them on their trip into the small town of Meryton, where Miss Bingley had been hoping to find an appropriate winter cap to accent one of her gowns. As he was interested in neither womens' fashion nor Miss Bingley, Darcy had declined the invitation, preferring to stay within Netherfield Hall and enjoy a glass of brandy with Bingley. From the sound of her complaints, it seemed they had been unsuccessful.
Miss Bingley flounced into the room a moment later with Mrs. Hurst at her heels, the former's pompous nose pointed up in the air in indignation. "I do hope you do not intend to remain here long, Charles," she moaned with no small amount of melodrama. "There is only one dressmaker in town, and everything available is sadly behind the times."
"You are welcome to return to London whenever you wish, Caroline." Bingley said patiently, taking a sip from his glass. "I would not hinder you."
"Yes, well, I-" Miss Bingley stumbled briefly over her words before composing herself. "I do appreciate the change of pace, if only for a short while. Mingling with the country folk has been…" She screwed up her face in a sour expression. "...remarkable."
"I am pleased to hear it," Bingley said cheerfully. "As it stands, I do intend to return to London for a short time in the coming days, as I have business matters that I must settle in person. Perhaps you can do your winter shopping then, hmm?"
"Oh, perhaps so." Caroline glanced at Darcy, then selected the couch adjacent to his seat and made her way over to sink down onto the cushions. "I happened upon the Bennet family in town," she began, "making a commotion, as they are wont to do."
"Oh?" Bingley leaned forward in interest. "Which of the Bennets?"
"Mrs. Bennet, and two of her girls, the two youngest I believe." Caroline placed her hands in her lap, looking over briefly as her sister sat beside her. "Oh, and this is all the talk in town- evidently, a young lady down the road in Barnetton was killed last night."
"Killed?" Bingley exclaimed, and Darcy looked up, his interest piqued. "How dreadful."
"Is it not?" Miss Bingley agreed. "Such a terrible tragedy. The girl was found dead in an inn, half-dressed in bed. The killer has yet to be caught, and I fear I am no longer willing to venture into town without an escort." Bingley did not respond, swirling the brandy in his glass and appearing deep in thought. "I do indeed look forward to returning to London," Miss Bingley went on. "For I am sure that such a murderer would not be allowed to roam free there! This entire matter unsettles me greatly, and I'm sure that dear Louisa feels the same way."
Abruptly, Bingley stood, draining his glass and setting it aside. "I must take my leave of you all for now," he announced. "I will be back in time for dinner."
Miss Bingley exclaimed in shock. "Charles, whatever is the matter?"
"Nothing at all, Caroline, I merely have some business that I must attend to." With that, Bingley marched from the room, leaving his sisters and Darcy in stunned silence in his wake.
Darcy's brow furrowed as he stared after him. He had not been aware that Bingley had business that required his attention today. Had the news of the murder upset him so greatly? Darcy had never thought his friend to be one to be squeamish.
Darcy could not deny, however, that the news made him apprehensive as well. Generally when a murder occurred it would be over a serious disagreement, or, rarely, a duel or a burglary gone wrong. For a girl to be murdered in her bed was an unsettling prospect indeed.
If the Bennets had been in town, surely they would have heard of such a thing as well. Darcy could only hope that the Bennet daughters, indeed, all the women in the area, would be wise enough to keep themselves out of trouble.
Wednesday, 27th November, 1811
Longbourn, noon
"I do hope the murderer is caught before long," Jane murmured, her deft fingers working her needle in and out of her embroidery. "That poor girl."
"Indeed," Elizabeth mused from her seat in the corner. "Until then, I do not think any of us should go to town unaccompanied."
"I quite agree."
"Lizzy!" Her mother's voice drew Elizabeth's attention from her sister, and Elizabeth lifted her head wearily as she heard her mother's footsteps approaching the drawing room in which she had taken refuge. "Mr. Collins, I am sure there can be no objection." Her mother entered the room with Mr Collins in tow, and Elizabeth's heart leaped into her throat. "Jane, come with me," Mrs. Bennet commanded. "I need you upstairs. Mr. Collins has something he would like to say to Lizzy."
Obediently, Jane stood, and Elizabeth shot her a wide-eyed look. "Don't leave me," she mouthed, but Jane could only give her an apologetic glance before turning to follow Mrs. Bennet out of the room.
Before she could get far, however, there was a heavy knock on the front door in the adjacent hall. Elizabeth and Jane exchanged a glance, and Mrs. Bennet muttered something to herself. "Mr. Barlow!" she called. Their butler appeared a fraction of a second later, passing through the drawing room on his way to the front door, and Elizabeth stood to see who could have come to call.
She drifted around the corner with Jane at her heels as Mr. Barlow opened the door, and Elizabeth was shocked to see Mr. Bingley standing on the stoop, his clothing disheveled and his hair mussed and out of order. "Good noon," he greeted their butler. "I am sorry to call without giving notice, but I must speak with Miss Bennet at once." His gaze traveled down the hall to where Jane stood, her hands clasped to her chest where she stood in stunned silence. "If she will allow me?"
Mrs. Bennet looked at Mr. Bingley, then to Jane, and she exclaimed, "Oh! Oh, Lizzy, Mr. Collins, with me! At once! Let us give Jane and Mr. Bingley a moment alone."
fun fact: my given name is Lydia. not after Lydia Bennet though, I promise.
