“I would suggest you ask him, but I don’t think the man is capable of telling the truth,” Mary said dryly. A worm of anxiety wriggled in Elizabeth’s stomach, and she nodded.
“Unfortunately I think you are right. I think it would require a miracle to get a true answer out of him.”
Mary looked sideways at her sister as the approached the door, and spared one moment to mutter a quick warning before they went in.
“Whatever you may be thinking, Lizzy, I beg you, do not. Do not start trying to fix this,” Mary said. But it was too late. An idea had already formed, and the idea of following it through was filling Elizabeth with a spark she hadn’t felt since she last saw Mr. Darcy.
***
The honey and herbs had been easy enough to acquire, though finding an opportunity to bless it during the solstice rituals was more difficult without facing question. Much like the monthly full moon ritual, the solstice rites were one of the rare times when the entire Bennet coven practiced together. Mr. Bennet would lead his daughters out of the house, through the fields, and to the clearing where he had been practicing since he was a child.
Each Bennet witch would take their place on a point of the pentagram that Mr. Bennet would make from sticks, remove their slippers, and then lift their hands to the sky. There was no clear magic done on such nights, per say, but rather an act of prayer. Just as they went to worship their spiritual lord each Sunday in mass, these monthly rites were their way of worshipping their natural deity: the earth.
It was not unusual for the girls to bring ingredients to bless during this rite to be used for the following month, and so it was with thankfully little suspicion that Elizabeth had brought the honey jar with her. Indeed, Jane had brought several small bags of herbs, Mary had brought several spools of thread, and Kitty had come with several jars of rain water.
“We take these gifts from the land, we give of ourselves to the Earth,” the Bennets finished chanting, and then sat to close their eyes, reflect on their worship, and allow the moon to refresh their energies. As the head of the coven, Jane lit the ceremonial herbs and slowly walked around the clearing, passing the smoke between each of her sisters.
Elizabeth bit back a smile as she was struck suddenly with an old memory of her and Jane, sitting by themselves in the clearing as their father attempted to show Jane the smoke ritual. She had sneezed so much during her first rites when the smoke would envelope her, and it had bothered Mr. Bennet excessively. As if on cue, Kitty sneezed next to her.
What am I to do when we no longer have this? Elizabeth thought as she looked around her. An overwhelming sadness seemed to wash over her as she spied her sisters, each with eyes closed, making their private prayers to the Earth. Her father, at the edge of the circle, looked so much older and more frail than she had ever seen him.
When Mr. Collins takes ownership, we will no longer meet like this. One of these family rituals shall be my last, and I will never know when that is. Could this be the last rite they ever did together in this clearing? She had failed to marry Mr. Collins, and as a result had lost the family magic. Was she ever to get anything right?
Help me choose the right path. Guide me to fix my wrongs. Help me find truth, Elizabeth beseeched the wind as she shut her eyes tight again. Please do not let this be my last rite with my family. The wind kissed her face softly, just as it had the night of her disastrous spell, and she was filled again with the panic and anxiety that had plagued her for weeks.
I have made a mess of so many things, I hardly trust myself anymore.
Shaking away these thoughts, Elizabeth attempted to clear her mind and focus on the rite ahead of her. In time, her breathing steadied, falling in rhythm with the deep breaths of her sisters, and after some time she had achieved a level of calm peacefulness, the first she had felt in months. Though the wind bit at her cheeks, she felt confident and secure in the plans she had laid. For once, she felt, something would go right.
XVI
Though the idea had formed in her mind, her recent disaster of a spell had made Elizabeth hesitant to act quickly, and so, despite preparing the ingredients, she chose to hold off.
On Christmas Day, Mr. Wickham joined the Longbourn family and friends in a gay mood. He requested songs from Mary, danced with Lydia and Kitty, and even enticed a somber Jane into a game of cards.
Watching him interact with her family so easily sent a pain through Elizabeth’s heart as her thoughts inevitably drifted to Mr. Darcy. Would he ever look so at ease among her family? She could not picture him in Longbourn’s sitting room dancing with her silly younger sisters, though the thought of the unusually tall gentleman leading Kitty around the furniture made her laugh despite herself.
She wished she could trust Mr. Wickham. He was handsome and kind, and he seemed to truly enjoy her family. His openness and affability should suit her, and yet whenever he was in the midst of some grand story, Elizabeth found herself wishing for Mr. Darcy’s silence. At times as they spoke or laughed together, Elizabeth felt some shame; for reasons she could not explain, her friendliness with Mr. Wickham felt like a betrayal to Mr. Darcy, even though she owed the gentleman nothing.
Elizabeth bided her time, attempting to consult every magical form of advice she could. Mr. Wickham’s discarded tea leaves read of misfortune and betrayal, which seemed to align with his story, but also read of deceit. When she threw the leaves into the fire, they burned blue, which warned of danger. Her runes foretold danger and deception. It was the confirmation she had been looking for that her suspicions weren’t ill-founded, but it gave her little ease. She had some knowledge now, but what to do with it? She attempted to distance herself from their conversations and walked with him less, but he was still a fixture at Longbourn, and beloved by her family.
Her sisters paid very little attention to her warnings, for she couldn’t provide any true reason to avoid him other than her own feelings and vague signs. Jane, who had no great warmth for the man to begin with, was the only one who listened.
To Elizabeth’s intense discomfort, the more she distanced herself from Mr. Wickham, the closer he became with Lydia. One evening after the gentleman and several other officers had dined at Longbourn, Lydia came to Elizabeth and Jane’s room and collapsed on the bed.
“Lizzy, I have come to call in my favor!” Lydia declared, still giggling from the evening. “I had the most wretched conversation with poor Wickham, and I’m determined to help the man.”
Elizabeth glanced at Jane, her eyes wide in alarm, both at the thought that Lydia might reveal some of their magicking to Jane, and also in wonder at what Lydia could possibly need help with.
“And what is it that Mr. Wickham needs from you?” Elizabeth asked tightly. Lydia propped herself up on her elbows and rolled her eyes.
“He didn’t ask me for anything, Lizzy, don’t be so negative. Honestly, I don’t understand why you’ve suddenly decided to be against him. He’s perfectly wonderful, and he has been very kind to you. Not to mention that he’s been treated terribly enough by your Mr. Darcy!”
“He is hardly Lizzy’s Mr. Darcy, Lydia, be reasonable,” Jane scolded softly as Elizabeth stared down at the floor. “Now what do you want our help with?”
“It’s the most dreadful thing I ever heard. Mr. Wickham has a cousin or a niece or some relation, I don’t remember, but anyway, she is the only living relation he has left, and she has become quite ill, apparently! You should have seen him talking about it Lizzy, he was so sad! Apparently he has spent all his income trying to provide for her medicine, and he can’t afford to keep doing it, and he’s absolutely wrecked,” Lydia spit out, barely taking a breath. “The poor man doesn’t know what to do, and he’s considering selling his commission. Have you ever heard anything so awful?”
Jane and Elizabeth exchanged knowing glances.
“And what do you expect to do to aid him?” Elizabeth asked her sister dubiously.
“I’d like to magick him some money! Or send some good luck hi
s way, or conjure him something he could sell. He simply can’t give up his commission, it would be too horrible,” Lydia responded.
Jane let out a long, hissing breath and closed her eyes for a moment.
“Lydia, such magic does not exist. You cannot create wealth; if you could, do you not think we would be rich by now? These spells do not exist, and would not work. Attempting to send luck someone’s way would surely result in bad luck being sent your own way. Magic is a fine line, which requires a delicate balance, and should never, ever be used for monetary gain,” Jane said, her voice tight as she lectured her younger sister.
Lydia sat up and crossed her arms in annoyance.
“It’s not for my gain! Or even for his — it would all be going to help his cousin,” Lydia insisted, but Jane shook her head.
“Lydia, consider that we have never heard of this cousin before,” Elizabeth said more gently. “Isn’t it strange that Mr. Wickham has portrayed himself as so wholly alone in the world, only to produce a sudden dear relative in need of financial assistance?”
Lydia furrowed her brow for a moment, but quickly shrugged her shoulders.
“It does not matter. I wish to help him, and you have promised me you would help me in the future, didn’t you?” Lydia said petulantly. Glancing sideways at Jane, Elizabeth nodded quickly.
“Very well, but give me time. I wish to research the best way to do it, to ensure it is done properly,” she told her younger sister. Lydia flashed her a wide smile and clapped her hands in childlike delight.
“Perfect! Thank you, Lizzy. He will be so excited!” she giggled, leaving the room. No sooner had the door closed behind her than Jane turned to Elizabeth in horror.
“You cannot possibly mean to help her with this. You know how impossible it is, let alone entirely wrong, Lizzy,” Jane admonished, but Elizabeth just nodded.
“Of course not! But I do have a plan, dear sister.”
***
Though Elizabeth was convinced of her plan, Kitty wasn’t.
“I don’t know Lizzy, your last spell was so frightening. I do not think I have that in me again,” her younger sister said in a hushed voice, glancing around the hallway of Longbourn. In the other room, strains of Lydia’s laughter drifted toward them, carried on the notes of one of Mary’s dreadful dirges.
“This will be nothing like that, I promise. It is a simple truth spell; nothing dark. I only need someone to help ground me,” Elizabeth pleaded. Kitty’s eyes went wide, and she shook her head vigorously, causing a strand of wispy blonde hair to fall into her eyes.
“Oh, Lizzy, no! You cannot do that, it is far too dangerous!” Kitty whispered, her color rising. “I have done this spell before, and it barely worked and was not at all worth it. And the price was horrible; I felt nauseated for months, and I could not stop coughing!”
“When did you cast a truth spell? Why?” Elizabeth hissed. She remembered Kitty’s persistent cough, which had only just seemed to go away, and had provided endless annoyance to their mother.
“You cannot tell her, but I cast it on Lydia to make her confess to father that it was she who spilled jam all over his notebook of spells, not me. She blamed me for it and I was in so much trouble, and it was unfair! So I…” Kitty broke off and glanced around again. “I cast the spell to make her tell the truth. It was not worth it Lizzy, not at all.”
At another time, Elizabeth may have been stern with her sister for her confession, but her desperation had mixed with a self awareness of her own hypocrisy, and as a result she instead attempted to force back a laugh. At last, an answer to Lydia’s sudden and uncharacteristic penitence for the jam incident! Everyone had been so shocked by her truthfulness that they in fact considered it to be merely a scheme — including Mr. Bennet, who was so shocked by her truthfulness that he did not even punish her.
“You were ill because you did not have a grounder! Such spells need two people to work, unless you are an extraordinarily powerful witch, and alas, neither of us are. But I promise to do all the work. I simply need you to aid me, so that I do not suffer as you did,” Elizabeth whispered.
“I don’t know, Lizzy… why are you so concerned about Mr. Wickham? He’s so friendly.” Kitty asked as she bit her lip in hesitation. Elizabeth let out a long sigh and sat down on the stairs behind her and propped her head up on her hand.
“I do not trust him, Kitty. Everything hints of danger and deceit, but no one will listen to my warnings. I think he may be a serpent in disguise who will harm our family one day, and I wish to understand the situation better,” Elizabeth said. “I think he is lying about a great many things, especially Mr. Darcy.”
“But why is it your place to become involved? I know you loved Mr. Darcy once, but that is gone now, right? What does it matter to us if Mr. Wickham is lying?”
Elizabeth turned her head sharply to stare at her little sister.
“Kitty, a man’s character is defined by his core values. If his tales are fabrications, what does that say about his morality? How could you trust a person who would malign a good man for no apparent reason?”
“But we don’t know Mr. Darcy is a good man. You said yourself, he’s horribly rude and arrogant. Why should we help him?”
Elizabeth flushed and was silent for a moment.
“I believe it is the right thing to do. You have noticed how close Lydia and Mr. Wickham have become. Do you feel comfortable with your sister possibly marrying a man who has built an entire acquaintance on lies? He has been pressing Lydia to do magic for him, and that is a dangerous road,” she said at last.
“You should know,” Kitty muttered under her breath, causing Elizabeth’s flush to deepen. But instead of chastising her sister, she laughed.
“Indeed, I should! My folly has led me down poor paths, and I am possibly the loudest hypocrite in all of Hertfordshire. But I cannot rest easy without knowing the truth. Please, Kitty.”
Kitty was silent as she appeared to mull over the idea in her mind, and at last gave a small nod.
“Fine, I will help. But if we get caught, I am blaming it all on you,” her sister said at last.
It took longer than Elizabeth and Kitty had expected to be able to complete their spell, for no sooner had they decided on a plan than Mr. Wickham was sent on a series of errands all over the county. As such, it was several weeks before they saw him again. During that time, Kitty had apparently forgotten about the plan, and the gentleman’s removal from Longbourn eased much of the ever growing anxiety that Elizabeth had felt about the man.
So when he appeared for tea one blustery day in March, Elizabeth and Kitty were caught quite off guard. The day was cheery and bright, but a frightful wind had persisted throughout the night and early morning, rattling at Longbourn’s windows and causing a broom in the kitchen to fall over repeatedly as the servants went in and out. The sound, which echoed down the hall and through the house, had put Mrs. Bennet on edge, and caused her to cry out in excessive irritation each time she heard it.
The Bennet women were seated in the morning parlour, each working on their own endeavors, when the gentleman was announced; they scarcely had time to hide the various litter that was scattered around before he was introduced. There was a brief moment before his name was announced when both Jane and Elizabeth had looked expectantly toward the door, both silently hoping for a very different gentleman to enter, and thus were quite disappointed to see the flash of a red coat come through the doorway.
Kitty’s eyes went wide, and for a moment it seemed as though she was going to swoon from Mr. Wickham’s sudden arrival and the remembrance of their plan. Elizabeth rose to go toward her sister, and smiled at the man.
“Mr. Wickham! How wonderful to see you again. Please, take that chair near the fire. You must be dreadfully cold, coming in all this wind!” she chattered amiably, feeling uncannily like her mother for the first time in her life. She rang for the tea service, then looked at her mother, who appeared both confused and delighted by Elizabeth’s
behavior.
“Mama, do you mind if Kitty serves the tea today? She was telling me just this morning that she wished for some experience, and as we are all friends here, it would be acceptable, do you not think?” Elizabeth chatted, a smile on her face. “I will happily assist her and teach her what to do.”
“Kitty? But why not Lydia?” Mrs. Bennet asked. Across the room, Lydia laughed.
“La, let Kitty do it mama! I will be far too busy, as I will be talking to Mr. Wickham,” she exclaimed. Mrs. Bennet nodded, as if this was a perfectly reasonable answer, and flapped her hands in Kitty’s direction.
“Very well, but have Lizzy show you what to do!” Mrs. Bennet instructed. Kitty nodded nervously, looking on the verge of illness, and Elizabeth excused herself from the room for a moment.
Dashing up the stairs, she retrieved the honey and herbs that she had hidden under her bed all those weeks ago. Clearing her throat, she muttered a quick incantation over the jars before hurrying back downstairs. She reached the door of the parlour just as Mrs. Hill appeared in the hallway with the tea service.
An Unnatural Inheritance: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 16
