by Jemma Thorne
“Yes, I can see how you would have grown accustomed to certain fine things.”
“That I must choose a wife based at least in part on her dowry… I would prefer it were otherwise.”
My stomach knotted and I changed the subject in a hurry. “Darcy ought to take a wife, if he is in want of such a constant companion, instead of having you traipsing across the countryside.” The words were daring; they shouldn’t have left my lips.
“He does not always need me for such. Why, he spent almost the entirety of last summer with his good friend Mr. Bingley.”
A sweet little wren landed on a branch nearby, and I watched it. It twitched its head this way and that, listening to the day, so full of energy that there was no possibility of remaining still. I understood how it felt.
Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “Darcy isn’t all gloom and arrogance. He cares for his friends – helps them. Bingley is proof enough of that.”
My spine tingled. What was this? “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
“Darcy got him out of some scrape to do with a young lady he fancied. He was quite proud of the fact he managed to separate them. Crowed about it a good deal on the ride out. So you see the man does take care of his friends.”
“Why… how did he separate them?” My pulse raced and it was all I could do to maintain a friendly expression. I had no doubt that it was my Jane that Colonel Fitzwilliam was now speaking of, though he had no way to know it if Darcy hadn’t told him. How dare Mr. Darcy treat Jane’s happiness with such callous disregard? He crowed about it?
“I have no knowledge of the arts he used.” Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled genially, not realizing that my blood currently ran cold. “But separate them he did, and he is certain it was done for the better.”
“What could make him do such a thing?” I asked, masking my craving for his answer in polite curiosity.
“There were objections to the girl.”
“Whose objections? Mr. Darcy’s?”
“You impugn him with no knowledge of the situation at hand,” Colonel Fitzwilliam accused, wagging a jolly finger at me with a twinkle in his eye. It seemed he did not much care if I mangled Darcy’s image in front of him.
“But what the objections could there have been?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked bored with the conversation. He shrugged. “Something to do with her family. Let me see, what did he say? They were not of an appropriate station, and a bit about being too forward in their social opinions.”
My cheeks burned. He could not know the reason, but still I was eager to be away from him.
Chapter 6
That night I did the unthinkable. I chose not to attend a dinner at Rosings that we had all been invited to. Mr. Collins wrung has hands over what Lady Catherine would think of it. I didn’t care a whit. I couldn’t face Mr. Darcy at the moment. I wasn’t even sure that I could face Colonel Fitzwilliam without him seeing that something was very wrong.
I needed to write Jane, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that either. Instead I sat, paging through one of Lady Leticia’s books in an effort to do something useful with my mind.
I was frustrated with my thoughts and the position I’d been thrust into. That Mr. Darcy would brag over how he had pulled Bingley and sweet Jane apart was unfathomable to me. It should not be. I had understood how arrogant the man was. Or at least I had understood it until recently.
How could he be so against Jane and yet seek my company again and again?
Clarice popped in and greeted me solemnly. She understood my mood without having to ask and that was a blessing. She looked at the book in my hands. “Have you learned anything new?”
I had, in fact. “If Mrs. Jenkinson steps foot in that trap I am not sure what precisely will occur. I’m worried that it may leave a lasting mark we will have trouble erasing. It may even bring her harm.”
“It is set now. We must wait and see what comes of it.”
I nodded, though my belly rumbled uncomfortably and my thoughts rioted in my head. We had made our choice when we set the trap. Fretting about it wouldn’t do any good. There was only so much that I could learn from books that did not directly address the circumstances we found ourselves in.
A knock at the door startled me and Clarice disappeared from view just before Darcy opened the door and walked in, his eyes on my face. His expression was full of an open yearning that I had never seen there before. I shivered as gooseflesh rose on my arms and blamed the breeze he’d carried in with him.
“Miss Bennet…” He paused and blinked at me. He finally said, “You were missed at dinner. Are you well?”
I wanted to confront him, but it was so inappropriate I could not bring myself to speak the words. Instead I gave him a brief nod and remained silent.
“Miss Bennet,” he began again. “I have come to say…you must allow me to tell you, Miss Elizabeth, how ardently I admire you. I have tried to ignore the rapid beating of my heart when you are near, but I can no longer pretend it away. I find I must be near you, despite my better judgment.”
I was mortified. The words that streamed from him only showed his character to be exactly what I thought. This was his idea of ardently admiring me? He seemed truly bereft at his inability to leave me alone. I could solve that problem for him.
“Mr. Darcy, please—”
“I know it is unexpected, but Miss Bennet, I am in love with you. Will you consider…will you marry me, Elizabeth?”
I shook my head and his face reddened, his eyes growing cold as I began to speak. “You cannot be serious. In what world should I end up as Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy? Neither of us think kindly of the other…what is this love you speak of?” I raised a hand as he made to interrupt me. “You have no love in your heart for me. You have not a single kindness to speak of my sister Jane. In fact, you went out of your way to separate her from Mr. Bingley. Out of your way. Why would you do that if you love me? I love my sister, sir! She is wounded at your hand. And that is not to speak of Mr. Wickham—”
“Oh, please Miss Bennet!” Mr. Darcy sneered. “Do not speak of Mr. Wickham. You know nothing of the man, except for his pretty face. You ruin your credibility with concern for him.”
“I have no credibility in your eyes to begin with.”
He stepped toward me, bridging the gap between us and making my heart leap alarmingly. “That is not true. You are the most captivating woman I have ever known.”
My pulse roared in my ears. His proposal was serious? Still, my mind was set on a certain course. He had interrupted my brooding over his actions with a turn so sharp I felt I was behind the cart about to be whipped into the current course.
What would I feel when my heart rounded the bend?
I couldn’t stop my mouth. “I have never liked you, Mr. Darcy. This love you speak of is foreign to me. I have known for some time that you are the last man I could be happy with. I cannot accept your proposal.”
His eyes narrowed. “Is this…will you give me no further consideration? Am I that repulsive to you?”
I did not answer, except with my eyes, which I knew held all of my contempt and anger.
He retreated a step unconsciously, horror filling his expression. I realized then – my heart catching up – that he had felt his words and meant them. And my response was…cruel.
“I will leave you then. I will trouble you no longer.” Darcy retreated swiftly, the door closing with a bang behind him. The air in the room felt stiff with anticipation. But he did not return.
I stared after Darcy for what might’ve been a full minute after he walked out. I realized I had raised one hand to cover my mouth in silent mortification and my lips were stretched wide as if I might scream. I felt disconnected, as if what had just happened could not possibly have just happened.
Darcy had proposed. More than that he had proclaimed love. And I had sent him away without a single kind word.
It had all happened so fast. My hot temper had gotten away with me and now I was horrified.
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Clarice appeared and stretched one hand toward me, imploring.
I shrugged my shoulders and walked past her, ascending the stairs rapidly to throw myself on my borrowed bed. I could not take Clarice’s presence right now. No one should be able to witness my shame.
The spectre knew me well enough to leave me be.
* * *
I pleaded a headache the next morning and tried to sleep late. In truth, I was staring at the ceiling, thoughts swirling in a mad dance all through my mind.
When I finally rose, the others had already eaten. I took a biscuit from the sideboard and went outdoors. The sky was gray, the clouds densely packed and fit to burst. Without thought my legs took me to the row of apple trees whose blossoms quivered and spun in the chill breeze.
Through that shower of white I saw a figure. It took only a moment to recognize Darcy, and to see that he had spotted me. He approached swiftly and held out an envelope. “I do not presume to bring up what we spoke of yesterday, only to explain that which you have found so dishonorable about my behavior.”
I gulped and took it from him. When our fingers brushed I felt the heat of him clear through me. His eyes, his earnest stare, were forefront in my mind as I looked down at what he’d handed me and ran my fingers over his lettering. I cracked the seal and drew the letter forth. When I looked up to thank him I saw only his back as he walked just as swiftly away from me.
I read the letter.
I sat down hard on the ground and I read through it again.
Oh, brilliant fool! You’ve made a mess of everything! A groan escaped my tightly pressed lips. I wished a hundred times as I sat there that I could take it back, take it all back. I had misread so much.
Mr. Wickham… The man had played me for a fool and it wasn’t the first time he had played a woman so callously. So he thought to turn my mind away from Darcy, to encourage my impression of him as aloof and arrogant. In fact, the letter told that Mr. Wickham had attempted to elope with Darcy’s younger sister when she was but fifteen years old. How was I to know it? But I had chosen to take Mr. Wickham’s side even though I didn’t know half of the situation and what I had learned was spotted with falsehoods.
And Jane… She was a casualty of our mother’s loose tongue. His letter cast Jane and I in a high regard, but Darcy maintained we were the only Bennets able to stand our own in society. At the Netherfield ball, he had heard Mother speak of the promise she saw in a match between Mr. Bingley and Jane. I had been next to her and heard it myself. I had seen Mr. Darcy hear and take note. So I knew his words for truth. If Jane and I had anyone to blame for the change in Bingley after that ball, it was the woman who had given us birth.
Oh, I am such a fool! And there is nothing to be done…nothing that can mend this blunder or set things right between Mr. Darcy and I. It is I who owes him apology after apology, a thousand times over.
I remembered his face when I declined his proposal yesterday.
I wanted to scream, needed to scream. I could feel it rising in me, yet I could not give it voice. I could not give my pain life. I did not deserve to scream. I had ruined everything with my own pride and ill-informed logic.
That very evening a carriage passed by on the road past Hunsford House, carrying Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mr. Collins came to the sitting room to tell us so. I blinked and tried to absorb this additional news through the fog that had attended me all day.
“So the cousins have left us,” Charlotte said. And she paused and peered at me. “Are you all right Lizzy?”
I straightened my shoulders. “I am fine.”
Chapter 7
After retiring to our respective rooms, I could not fall asleep. I was thankful that Clarice hadn’t visited me tonight because I didn’t think that I could handle conversation, even with the spirit of my long dead ancestor.
I felt a curious heat rising along the side of my body, concentrated around my right hand. I glanced down, and then I remembered the fourth crystal, hidden in a slit pocket in my skirt.
“It’s working!” I hissed.
Clarice appeared a heartbeat later, proving once again that she kept herself quite close to me. As long as she didn’t attempt to advise me or speak about the awkward interactions with Darcy in the last twenty-four hours, I would worry about my lack of privacy later.
I dressed again without lighting a candle. I didn’t want to alert the rest of the household to my wakefulness.
The third stair from the top creaked so loudly that my heart near burst out of my chest with alarm. I waited but no one called out to me. None of the doors in the hallway at the top of the stairs opened to investigate the sound. It had probably been louder to me because my nerves were alight with tension. Adrenaline coursed through me and lent its power to my natural inclination to avoid my own problems by chasing a mystery such as this.
We gained the outdoors without being accosted in the dark and I closed the door gently behind me. I breathed in the cool air and groaned a little at the mist that was falling and coating everything in tiny, silver droplets.
I clutched the crystal, its heat radiating up my arm. The urgency of it drove me. Our trap had worked. What would we find when we arrived?
Clarice stayed by my side as I moved quickly, keeping to the edges of the paths through Rosings Park to avoid any chance of being noticed. The cool mist fell no longer, but all of the paths and plants were slick with it.
My breath was coming fast as we reached the lakeshore. This was the spot where Darcy joined us that day and asked me to walk with him. I could see it now as a turning point. He sought me out as he began to understand his feelings toward me. I was so far behind him…
I couldn’t think about it now.
I followed Clarice through the gap in the hedge, holding my breath and fearing what we would find. Moonlight sparkled off the lake and filtered through the trees, the light making its way through a crack in an otherwise overcast sky. I could see Mrs. Jenkinson’s bulk splayed out on the ground before we reached her. I rushed to her side, carefully avoiding the triangle of the crystals. Mrs. Jenkinson was not moving but I thought I could see her chest rising and falling with breath.
My thoughts frightened me. Had I worried she would die?
I realized the answer was yes. Since I had read more I had been worried the trap would kill her and yet a part of me hadn’t cared enough to stop it. I had felt the woman deserved what was coming to her. I put a hand over my stomach, which was knotting with anxiety. This was not a choice I should’ve made. How dare I set a trap for a woman I could not prove was involved in anything nefarious at all? How dare I play God?
Clarice was watching me. I felt her spectral eyes on me. I looked at her and the expression on her ghostly face chilled me to the marrow of my bones. “We should have done with her now,” Clarice goaded. “Think what she will do, what she will say, when she awakens.” Her lips turned downward in a sneering, pouty frown. “Just think of what she will do to poor Anne.”
I looked back at Mrs. Jenkinson.
I blinked, my mind slow to process Clarice’s words. She couldn’t possibly mean what it seemed she meant. But still her eyes were on me. We should have done with her now.
I would not be the cause of harm to Mrs. Jenkinson.
Something skittered through my peripheral vision and I turned to find a thick black smoke filling the small space between the branches of the trees. The air shook as if drums had been struck. I could feel the vibration through the ground below me, too, though I heard no sound.
The wraith.
It lowered until it hovered a couple of feet above Mrs. Jenkinson’s still form. There it flattened, as if it were trying to press down upon her.
It couldn’t reach her. My trap worked! I nearly crowed with satisfaction, until the malevolent cloud began to twist in my direction.
I closed my eyes, reaching for my still center and the capacity to do what needed to be done. I held my right hand out toward the wraith, and as I spok
e the words of a banishing spell I felt the change ripple through the air.
The wraith quivered, and I spoke the words again, my voice gaining strength. It was working; I could feel it.
“Lizzy…” Clarice said, her voice seeming to come from just beside my ear. “She wakes.”
Sure enough, Mrs. Jenkinson stirred. She hadn’t yet opened her eyes; in fact they were tightly closed as if she feared to open them.
I spoke the banishment again and the wraith lifted toward the trees, but did not dissipate.
“What will you tell her?” Clarice’s frustration was clear as a bell. But I didn’t understand it.
I glared down at the writhing form of Mrs. Jenkinson. From her expression she may as well be waking from the grips of hell.
I took a chance. I prayed it was the right one.
I dropped my hands to the quartz crystal nearest me and picked it up, tossing it aside to break the triangle.
“Now you’ve done it!” Clarice hissed. She gave a loud cry, of anger or fear I was not sure, and I spun to find that she was no longer there. I moved the other two quartz crystals out of their formation and finally touched Mrs. Jenkinson’s clammy skin. I heard a whisper in the trees behind me and frantically tried to spot it without leaving Mrs. Jenkinson’s side. The voice seemed to come from different directions, multiple directions at once. I couldn’t place it, but I was certain that it had in fact placed me.
“You are mine…do not fret… I will…show you what must be done.”
I was comforted. Some part of me was convinced by this disembodied voice that there was nothing to fear, although I could still see the ominous presence swirling above.
I closed my hands over my ears and shook my head. I couldn’t let it convince me—
“What…?” Mrs. Jenkinson sat up straight and before I could breathe a word she let loose an ear-shattering scream. I was blessed to have my hands covering my ears.
I removed them now and clapped one hand over her mouth. “Shh!” I commanded. She took me in, her expression all shock. But she did not resume the screaming.
