I felt like this story started in the middle, so I started it over. Let me know what you think. This story is unbeta'ed.

Chapter 1
Spring, 1799

Eight-year-old Elizabeth Bennet followed her elder sister, Jane, sneaking as they made their way into the stables. "Jane," she hissed, "Papa will not be happy if he finds us here. The stables are always off-limits, especially when a mare is foaling."

"All will be well," ten-year-old Jane replied. "Besides, Papa never gets angry with you when you sneak into the stables."

"Not when a mare is foaling. Papa has made it clear that while he will overlook the occasional visit, we are not permitted into the stables at certain times. This is one of them," Elizabeth replied.

"Lizzy, I have followed you without question on any number of adventures. This time, it is you who must follow me. Come," she demanded.

Praying their father would not discover them and become upset, or worse, their mother, Elizabeth reluctantly went with her sister into the stables. Nearly all the stable hands were standing outside the stall containing the expecting mare, their attention fully absorbed by the imminent birth. This distraction allowed the sisters to slip inside unnoticed.

The stables were faintly lit, the doors flung wide to let in air and light, and a few lanterns were lit at strategic locations to provide enough light so that those who needed to see could. The scent of hay and horses lingered heavily in the air. Jane, moved with a determined excitement, her eyes wide with anticipation. Elizabeth, on the other hand, felt a knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach. She glanced around nervously, half-expecting to hear the stern voice of their father or the disapproving tone of their mother.

Jane pressed forward, reaching the stall where the mare stood. The mare's sides heaved with each laboured breath, and the stable hands whispered among themselves, offering gentle words of encouragement to the animal.

"Look at her, Lizzy," Jane whispered.

Elizabeth nodded, her eyes darting between the mare and the stable entrance. The thought of getting caught weighed heavily on her. She replied quietly, "We shouldn't be here, Jane. If Papa finds out—"

"He will not," Jane interrupted, her tone resolute. "We will just watch for a little while. Please, Lizzy."

Elizabeth sighed, her resistance weakening. She could not deny Jane this small joy, especially when her sister's enthusiasm was so palpable. "Just for a few minutes," she conceded.

As the sisters watched, the stable hands' murmurs grew more excited. The mare was getting closer to delivering her foal, and the anticipation in the air was almost tangible. Elizabeth found herself momentarily forgetting her worries, caught up in the miracle of new life unfolding before her.

The mare gave a final push, and the soft sound of a newborn foal hitting the straw-covered floor filled the stable. Jane clasped Elizabeth's hand in her own, her eyes shining with wonder at what she saw. Although they had known it was a messy business before, they were amazed by how easily the mare seemed to bear it and how naturally it all happened. For the most part, the men just stood back and watched, only ready to assist if necessary. They had not been necessary in this birth.

Suddenly, they were startled by an unexpected noise. Inadvertently, they had backed up and now stood directly in front of the stall that housed their father's stallion. The horse did not like anyone except their father and one groom and did not like when anyone else approached. Elizabeth heard the noise and tried to pull Jane away from the door, but somehow, when the horse kicked, the door flew open, knocking Jane down.

Elizabeth scrambled toward her, trying to pull Jane away from the horse, but someone grabbed her by the waist, picked her up, and pulled her away from the stallion. The horse bolted toward the group of men, causing them to scramble, and it made for the open stable doors.

In just a moment, it was over. The stable hand holding Elizabeth set her down, and she rushed toward Jane. It was obvious she was injured, but Elizabeth could not be certain how bad it was from a distance. Jane's head was bleeding, so she used her own skirt to apply pressure to the wound, attempting to stem it. Soon, others joined her, and Mr. Bennet scooped Jane up in his arms, carrying her into the house. "You should not have been in here," he said tersely to Elizabeth.

As soon as Mrs. Bennet was made aware of what had happened, she began shrieking. Seeing Elizabeth following, she immediately began to berate her least favourite child. "This is your fault. I am certain this is your fault. My darling Jane will die or be disfigured, and it will be all because of you. I should have your father throw you out of my house for injuring my darling girl."

Elizabeth's heart sank. The truth, that it had been Jane who wanted to stay and watch, was irrelevant to their mother. Mrs. Bennet only saw her most beautiful daughter, her first-born child, injured, and it must be that awful Elizabeth's fault. It was always Elizabeth's fault, whatever trouble the two got into. The truth never mattered, and no matter how many times Jane attempted to tell their mother that it had been her idea, Mrs. Bennet never believed it.

Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears as her mother's accusations continued to rain down on her. She glanced at Jane, her face pale and anxious. Jane said nothing, made no attempt to defend her sister or to explain that it had been her idea to enter the stables. Mrs. Bennet's tirade showed no signs of abating, and Elizabeth knew from bitter experience that nothing she said would change their mother's mind when she was like this.

The injustice of it all burned within her, but she swallowed her retorts, knowing they would only make things worse. She stood there, taking the blame, as she always did, feeling a familiar mix of hurt and resignation. This was her role in the family, and no matter what she did, it seemed she could never escape it.

When Jane finally made some token protest to her mother's invectives against her sister, Mrs. Bennet quickly brushed them aside.

"You are my most perfect child, Jane. The only problem is you are too easily influenced by that Lizzy. I do not know why God gave me such a troublesome child. Sometimes, I think she must be a changeling. The fairies came and took the boy I should have had and gave me that unnatural child in its place. You must stop spending so much time with that girl."

Elizabeth had heard comments like this all too frequently during her short life. Now, she was worried about Jane, worried she would die, and felt bad for worrying about what her mother might do to her should Jane die. Mrs. Bennet would blame her—she had already begun to do so—and what that might mean for her future. Would her mother insist her father cast her out? Would her father agree? She began to cry—for Jane and for herself.

The apothecary arrived soon and rushed upstairs to tend to Jane. For hours, Elizabeth sat in the hallway outside Jane's bedroom. Mrs. Bennet had been sedated long ago—her cries and incessant complaints were distracting, and her presence in Jane's bedroom was in the way of those who needed to give her care. Elizabeth heard only small snippets of conversation, but they ignored her presence. At one point, the housekeeper did chide her to go change, apparently forgetting that Elizabeth and Jane shared a room. Elizabeth could not change her clothes, not without entering Jane's room, and she already knew she would not be allowed.

Eventually, the house stilled, the apothecary left, and Jane was assigned a maid to sit up with her. Elizabeth attempted to sneak in to see her sister.

"She is well, Miss Lizzy. Mr. Jones gave her some laudanum, and she will sleep well tonight. I think she will have some pain tomorrow, but she will recover."

Relieved, Elizabeth thanked the maid for her reassurance and went back into the hallway. Her tears, which she had held back all day, filled spilt. Jane would be well.

All was not well.

The day after the accident, Elizabeth went into Jane's room. "Jane," Elizabeth said softly, ""do you want me to sit with you for a time? Perhaps read to you?"

Jane hesitated, then shook her head. "I am tired, Lizzy. I would like to go to sleep."

Elizabeth watched her sister for a moment, a lump forming in her throat. "Goodnight, Jane," she whispered, before leaving the room and shutting the door quietly behind her.

From there, things did not get better. Jane recovered quickly and was out of bed the next day, but now Jane wanted little to do with her next sister. This change was difficult for Elizabeth. Her sister had been her closest companion, her confidante, and her playmate. Their shared laughter, secret whispers, and adventurous escapades had always brightened Elizabeth's days. Now, Jane's absence left a void that Elizabeth didn't know how to fill. She missed the way Jane's eyes sparkled with excitement, the warmth of her smile, and the comfort of knowing she always had a friend by her side.

"Jane, would you like to go for a walk in the garden?" Elizabeth asked a few days later, her voice hopeful.

Jane looked up from her sewing, her expression distant. "No, Lizzy, I think I prefer to stay here," she replied softly.

Elizabeth's heart sank. "But the roses are in bloom. You always loved the roses."

"I know," Jane said, forcing a small smile. "Perhaps another time."

Elizabeth nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. She missed the Jane who would have eagerly jumped at the chance to explore the garden, who would have laughed and chatted with her as they strolled among the flowers. Now, Jane's polite refusals and lack of enthusiasm were like a constant reminder of how much had changed.

As painful as Jane's withdrawal was, it also meant that Mrs. Bennet's treatment of her second daughter grew worse. Mrs. Bennet, always quick to find fault in Elizabeth, seemed to take out her frustration and fear over Jane's injury on her more than ever. Every minor mistake Elizabeth made was met with sharp criticism. Every attempt to defend herself or explain was dismissed out of hand.

"Elizabeth, how many times must I tell you to keep your things tidy?" Mrs. Bennet scolded one morning when all the Bennet sisters were sitting in the parlour sewing. "Your sampler is a disgrace."

"But, Mama, I was just—" Elizabeth began, trying to explain that she had been helping Mary who sat directly beside her.

"Enough of your excuses!" Mrs. Bennet snapped. "Why can't you be more like Jane? She never causes me such trouble."

Elizabeth bit her lip, feeling the sting of her mother's words. She felt as if she were walking on eggshells, always one step away from another harsh rebuke. She tried her best to avoid doing anything that might provoke her mother's ire, but it seemed that no matter how hard she tried, she could never do anything right in Mrs. Bennet's eyes.

One evening, after yet another scolding, Elizabeth found herself in the kitchen, helping the maid with the dishes, a punishment for some perceived wrong she had committed during dinner. The warm, soapy water was soothing, and she found comfort in the simple, repetitive task.

The door opened behind her, and Elizabeth turned to see her father enter the room. He looked at her with a mixture of concern and sadness. "Elizabeth," he said gently, "how are you, my dear?"

"I am well, Papa," she replied automatically, then sighed. "It is just... Mama makes it difficult. She blames me for being in the stables and influencing Jane."

"I know," Mr. Bennet said, stepping closer and placing a hand on her shoulder.

A week after the incident, Uncle Gardiner arrived at Longbourn. Elizabeth saw him step out of his carriage, his expression stern and serious. She felt a flicker of hope—perhaps he would intervene, perhaps he would make things right. When he entered the house, he looked angry, but he smiled gently at Elizabeth and told her to go pack her things.

"You will be coming to London with me for a time," he said. "Your aunt and I want you with us."

Elizabeth stared at him, her heart pounding. "Why, Uncle?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"It has been decided that a change of scenery would do you good," he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Elizabeth did as she was told but saw her uncle's face turn angry again as he burst into her father's study without so much as a knock. After asking Mrs. Hill to bring a trunk down to her room and begin packing her things, she slipped into the small room by the stairs, where she could overhear what was said in the study.

She heard her father first. "Fanny will not allow her to stay any longer, not after Jane was injured again in her presence."

"From what I heard you say, Elizabeth did not cause the injury. Both she and Elizabeth insist it had been Jane's idea."

"It does not matter whose idea it was. Fanny wants her gone. She will not allow Jane to spend time with her and is constantly referring to her now as a changeling. I am afraid she will actually injure Elizabeth, as her anger has only worsened. I think she is expecting again, which is perhaps contributing to her uncertain emotional state."

"If I take Elizabeth, it will be for good. She will not return here. I want it in writing."

"Of course, whatever you say."

"I had my solicitor draft this agreement before I came. She will continue to receive one hundred pounds per annum in your lifetime. You owe it to her to give her at least that much."

"I will do as you insist."

"There is no going back on this."

"Yes, she is yours. Call her Elizabeth Gardiner if you like. Fanny would certainly prefer it."

"Will you write to her?"

Nothing was said, and Elizabeth assumed her father had declined. He never wrote any letters that he did not absolutely have to.

"Sign the damned paper, Thomas. Elizabeth is now my daughter, not yours. You will never have a claim on her again. If she is not allowed here, then neither will I visit."

"You will cut off your sister and her family?"

"You are allowing her to cast off her child. Elizabeth will not be welcomed back here; you have said as much."

"I suppose you are correct. When will you be leaving?"

"As soon as Elizabeth is packed."

With that, Elizabeth turned and ran toward her room, where Mrs. Hill was finishing packing her things in a second trunk. Many things had already begun to be packed, as Mrs. Bennet no longer wanted the two girls to share a room and had intended for Elizabeth to move into a bedroom upstairs, near where the servants stayed.

"I am going to London to live with the Gardiners."

"I know, Miss Lizzy."

"I will not come back. Ever."

"I know."

"Why does Mrs. Bennet hate me?"

Mrs. Hill shook her head. "I have never understood it, my dear. But you will be happy with the Gardiners. They are very good people. It will be better for you there."

Elizabeth nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Hill."

It did not take much longer for the rest of Elizabeth's things to be packed into two trunks. Mr. Hill carried them downstairs and had them attached to the back of Mr. Gardiner's carriage, and soon, the two were on their way south to London.