A/N: I just want to say a massive thank you to everyone for your reviews! I'm so flattered that you like my story, and have so many questions and comments! I never thought so many people would find this little fic so quickly. Thank you all for making me feel so welcome and motivating me to write more! I'm currently finishing off Chapter 20, so I'm not likely to stop uploading for a while - I'm aiming for one chapter a day.

Valerie1950 - your comments are lovely. I love your insights. Thank you for reading!

PixieKayGirl - I like the word resonance a lot. I was worried that this fic was a bit melancholy and dreary at the start. I like your description better!

A few people asked about the story Vathek from C1: It's worth looking up the wiki page if you're interested in its strange publication history, as the idea of a young woman reading it in the 1800s is probably the least peculiar thing about it.

I hope you all enjoy this next chapter! - Viv

Chapter 5

The first and best conquest that Jane made at the dance was not that of Mr. Charles Bingley, but rather his more severe counterpart, Miss Caroline Bingley. Miss Bennet had even charmed the taciturn storm clouds of Mrs Hurst into something of a fair-weather friend. The note which she received the next morning was undoubtedly from the former of the two women, and unlike her sisters she recognised the female hand immediately. Mrs. Bennet was not so perceptive, mistaking the upright thrusts of the consonants and the driving italics of the vowels for a masculine hand.

"It is from Miss Bingley," Jane took the letter from her mother's unapologetic clutches and opened it with her clean butter knife. Lydia took the opportunity to appropriate a slice of Jane's toast for, as she quickly defended herself, it would only go cold. She was correct; Jane's talents had never been shaped around the written word, and she wrote and read with a careful air that was more tailored towards the slow dance of embroidery thread and watercolours.

Today she read with even more of a ponderous air than usual, for her parents had spent the greater part of their breakfast thus far discussing their daughters' general foolishness, and although the sentiment had been directed at the younger girls, it was Jane's feelings which bore the brunt of the indignity. Seeing that both Mary and Kitty were as eager for distraction as herself, and Elizabeth's eyes were luminous with curiosity, she began to read the letter aloud.

My dear friend, If you are not so compassionate as to dine today with Louisa and me, we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives...

Then they are more like us than they would ever admit, Mary thought, privately amusing herself with the memory of those two ladies' superior airs. She hid her smirk behind her napkin, but Kitty had spied her humour. To Mary's surprise the girl grinned back – a shared moment of laughter, before Mary's sinking heart understood that her sister was merely laughing at the sadistic image of the two women fighting, possibly tearing at each others' bonnets in Lydia's imagined pantomime. Mary's smile faded, and she collected herself in good time to hear the end of Jane's correspondence. The gentlemen were to dine with the officers.

"She will be exchanging one group of sisters for another, then." Elizabeth murmured to Mary, with quick mischief in every word. As always, Mary found herself surprised at her sister's intelligence, for it never shone so bright as it did when nobody was looking for it.

Jane frowned, for without a gentleman's presence to affect her countenance she would have no call to ask for the chaperonage of her closest and dearest sister. It was unlike her to venture far alone in such a manner. Still, her spirits were high at the affection delivered within her note, and before her mother could lament the situation overlong she asked if she could use the carriage. Mrs. Bennet quickly refused, on the basis that a longer visit might well be brought about by a fortuitous fall of rain.

Every person assembled gaped, and even though Elizabeth attempted to make a joke her mother was implacable. When it transpired that the horses were occupied in the fields and no alternative was available, Jane was summarily dispatched. She parted from the company with a thick cloak and an air of abject humiliation.

"Straight shoulders, my love!" Mrs Bennet trilled, goodly woman and caring mother that she was. Her daughter must present herself in the best possible manner, or her motherly duty had fallen short.

Her daughter was indeed received with straight shoulders, but they were more frozen from the icy rain drops that soaked her cloak than drawn up in aristocratic grace. The elegant smile was rather a grimace of cold, and the kid gloves were ruined by the damp, but present herself she did.

Luke saw it all at a glance, and asked himself whether or not his new position in the Netherfield household was not more ludicrous than his feverish boredom at Lucas Lodge. He had never paid due attention to the eldest Miss Bennet, who he merely saw as fair and skilled as the rest of her sex, but he knew from Mary that the coiffed beauty had a gentle and unaffected nature. She certainly demonstrated it when, having needed to be helped down from her overlarge horse, she apologised profusely to the servant for having to rest in his arms for a moment.

"For I find myself very cold," she whispered, and shivered somewhat against the damp, "And my head aches so, I am embarrassed to even have my presence announced. Perhaps I had best return home."

"You have already been announced, Miss, and it will only grow colder. The rain looks fair set to snow." Luke comforted her awkwardly, and turned her over to the more appropriate flour-dusted arms of the house cook. This kindly woman took the girl straight into the kitchen, for the great rooms of the hall held such enormous fireplaces that even a fairly prodigious blaze would not warm more than half the hearth, and certainly not a young woman.

Jane was summarily dried, and given hot milk to drink and ginger biscuits to calm her burning throat. On receiving information that her sickness had made the ladies of the house quite nervous to be in her company lest her fever spread, Miss Bennet was quickly taken to bed.

The Bennets heard it all, or the parts of it that were not too disquieting, the next morning. The expected snow had not fallen, and Luke found that he could cross the few miles to the Bennet household without undue distress to either himself or his attire. He delivered the message, and loitered in the dripping herb garden to await their response.

"Luke!"

The herb garden provided few places to hide, and after a brief moment of panic the gentleman decided it was better not to make the effort. The young lady had already seen him, and her summons could hence not be ignored. He raised his chin and returned her greeting.

"Miss Mary."

"My sister, is she... is Jane...? The note did not clarify..."

"I understand that she has taken cold, Miss. I would not worry. She has been well tended since arriving in the hall."

"Since..." Mary felt the laboured sting of his words keenly, and her happiness at hearing that her sister was not in danger looked marred. "She would have been well tended here."

"She would not have taken sick in the first place, and you are well aware of that, miss."

Mary blushed, and looked aside. "I did not have any part in it."

"Of course you did not. I imagine you said nothing at all."

What a retort! And how Mary paled at it, looking almost furiously at her oldest friend before drawing a deep breath for her own reply. She found she could not make one; not because of the slowness of her tongue, but because of the slowness of her mind. As clever and quick as she could be, she could not fathom the depths of his outrage. She understood that his affection for Jane was far less than her own, and his anger was wholly misdirected, but she knew not from whence it came.

She turned about and returned to the house, for within its walls her silence was a habit and not an accusation. Unknowing her own actions, she found her steps taking her towards Elizabeth's room, where the woman was in a fierce confrontation with her mother.

Mrs. Bennet, finding that her daughter was determined to walk to Netherfield, had insisted that a box be made up for the servant to carry back with him, ahead of her daughter's arrival. Elizabeth had agreed, for there are some essentials of the feminine toilette which a guest deigns to entreat from hosts far more compassionate than Miss Bingley. She soon found, however, that her comprehension of essentials was much removed from that of her mother. Where she had selected a modest grooming set, necessary garments and enough shifts that a fever-sweat would not outrun the laundress, her mother had taken an elaborate silken dress from the chest.

"They are a most respectable gathering, and they must entertain in the evenings." The woman was insisting, brandishing green silk before her like the English flag. "You regarded their attire at the ball, Lizzie, so do not scold me now for wanting my dearest girl to look her best. She cannot appear to cards dressed in cotton!" And at this she glared at her daughter's dress, which was indeed made of a light blue cut of that same cloth.

"I do not think," Elizabeth insisted with heavy patience, "That Jane will wish to appear at all. How would she present herself with her head aching and her nose red from cold?"

That gave Mrs. Bennet pause, and while she was considering her daughter perceived Mary standing by the door. With a quick smile she summoned the girl to her side, and in a few directions they had filled the small chest with necessaries before their mother could collect herself enough to chose another frock. Defeated, the lady retired to her own room.

"And yourself?" Mary asked Elizabeth. The older girl shrugged, and now that she was in comfortable company she let the weary consternation show on her face.

"I only wish to be with her. I let her go alone, and follow mama's direction, and she has come to this!" This last was declared with some anger, which was rapidly disguised. Turning to her sister, Lizzie rested her soft palm on the girl's cheek. "And you must care for all who are here, especially father, and let it be known that they do not need to intervene any more than they have. They are not wanted, but tell them instead that they are not needed, if it gives you more comfort."

"You are angry," Mary whispered, and saw that emotion at last on Lizzie's face. "I w...wondered..."

Something set behind Elizabeth's eyes.

"You do not see," she declaimed, "The great harm which our mother can do. You were never her only charge, as Jane and I once were, and Lydia still is. Although she may have surrendered you to us before we were ready, we thank God daily that it was so. She must be loved and obeyed in all things, but if it comes to it then I would rather Jane and I be parted from her entirely than allow her to interfere in our lives as much as she would wish."

"It was just one ride in the r...rain."

Elizabeth looked at her archly, and was suddenly the distant older sister once again. "You do not understand." She said, and turned away. "Ask Jane if you wish to, but do not ask me to speak of it again, for I never will."