by Jemma Thorne
There was no time to explore it. I heard a noise just below and realized someone was coming. I shoved the pendulum into my reticule and moved to descend the stairs. For some reason, although the pendulum wasn’t in my hand but in the small bag I carried, I could feel it still. I shook my head, trying to turn completely from the phrase that still called me to explore.
Are there any spirits here?
I was curiously lightheaded as I approached the steps. I hoped I was not getting ill.
And then the strange feeling diminished – as did the feeling of connection with the pendulum I carried in my reticule. The words no longer echoed in my mind. I took a deep breath and determined that the next time I saw Lady Leticia I would ask her advice about this experience. I’d never felt anything like it and it scared me more than I would ever admit.
At the bottom of the stairs I saw Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy staring at a large painting of two horses following the hounds in a hunt. He was tapping one hand against his thigh and seemed a touch out of sorts.
He turned as I reached the bottom and gave me a nod. He did not smile, but the look he gave me was not unfriendly. Where he’d been happy to comment on my lack of attractiveness weeks ago, now his eyes seemed to follow me whenever I was in the room.
I returned to the party. I was speaking with Colonel Forster – encouraging him to host another ball, for a recent bout of bad weather had held us too often indoors and I was eager for more parties and much more dancing – when I noted that Mr. Darcy had joined us. Though not speaking, he seemed to have much interest in my exchange with the Colonel. So much so that I chose to tease him for it when he followed me again when I stopped to talk to Charlotte. It was as if he knew I was speaking of him. Charlotte knew a challenge to my ego would provoke me into provoking him, thereby winning her a half hour’s entertainment at my expense. So she provoked me, and I turned to Mr. Darcy right there to have it out.
“Why, Mr. Darcy, you heard my conversation with Colonel Forster just now – what do you think of having another Meryton ball?”
“I am certain many a lady will thank you for the suggestion. Ladies do tend to be energetic on the subject.”
“Many a subject can make us so,” I teased. He seemed uncomfortable with my speaking directly to him, which made it all the more interesting that he’d been following me around the room and listening to my conversations.
“Eliza, I believe your turn to be teased will come about soon enough. I’m going to open the instrument, and you know what follows.”
“Ah, and bully me into playing for you? I would rather not in the company of those who must be used to hearing the very best performers.” I did not glance at Mr. Darcy, though I spoke of him.
Soon it was as she said – I set my shoulders and stood the attention as best I might. I didn’t have the best voice or the most accomplished training, but I had a sense of humor and did not fear teasing. I gave it my best over two songs, and when the second faded I saw Mary rise and approach. I moved aside for her and suffered through an embarrassing stretch of at least thirty minutes in which she cawed like a crow to my one side while my mother spoke on about how well Jane was getting on with Mr. Bingley. There were too many ears here, listening to my unfashionable family.
A glance at Mr. Darcy showed him absorbing too much of it. He looked up and caught my eye. His jaw was clenched. I reminded myself I need not worry what he thought; he was likely here for only a season.
And then the embarrassment was over and the dance began again. If possible, I wanted to try the pendulum at the top of the stairs again. For a moment I thought I’d found something there – the pendulum had never reacted that way and I wanted to know if it would occur again.
I assessed the Lucases and found them all engaged. Sir Lucas was speaking with Mr. Darcy and as I passed, I heard, “…Mr. Darcy, you cannot refuse to dance. Miss Eliza? Why are you not dancing?” He turned back to Mr. Darcy. “You must allow me to present this young lady to you. Miss Eliza is a very desirable partner and I am astounded she is available at all.”
Mr. Darcy stepped forward and reached for my hand. “Miss Eliza, may I—”
I took a simultaneous step back from him and gawked. I cleared my throat, for I hadn’t expected a confrontation like this, but I had no intention of dancing. “Indeed, sir. I thank you for the compliment, but you mustn’t presume I moved this way in search of a dance partner. I do not intend to dance.”
“Oh, but you can’t deny us the pleasure of seeing you.” Sir Lucas crowed. “Mr. Darcy has no love of the sport, to be sure, but a dance with you may yet change his mind.”
I didn’t care to change stuffy Mr. Darcy’s mind about anything.
As soon as I might, I escaped the awkward exchange. But to my chagrin there was no time now to visit the upstairs hallway again.
I left soon after with my family, but not before I caught both Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley staring at me. I wasn’t sure which of their expressions made me more nervous, the intrigue in Mr. Darcy’s eyes or the hatred stamped on Miss Caroline Bingley’s face when she realized it.
Chapter 4
The season was changing, moving toward the desolate winter. I mourned what would surely be the loss of free time afield as the rains began to take their usual portion of our days.
And then a note arrived for Jane one day, inviting her to Netherfield.
Jane,
We grow bored with long days kept indoors. The men have gone to dinner in Meryton. Should you not come at once and stay for dinner with us, Louisa and I may be found when our brother returns, below the highest point of Netherfield Park, after we throw each other from it. Please do come, it would brighten our day considerably to see you.
Caroline Bingley
“Throw each other from the windows? That doesn’t do at all. You must go, dear,” Mother said. “It is such a pleasure to receive the invitation!”
Jane looked at me, fear rising behind her eyes. I shook my head. She only need investigate if it was what she wanted. I didn’t want Jane to be fearful.
“Why, we shall say the coach is occupied,” Mother went on, oblivious to her daughter’s misgivings. “You shall ride to Netherfield. It looks to rain and you will no doubt be required to stay overnight.”
I looked at Mother. Her scheming knew no end. I may have inherited a trait or two from her after all.
Oh, if only I’d been invited, too! It was the perfect opportunity to gain access to the part of the house that required my attention as soon as I could manage it.
But there was no changing the invitation, and Jane rode forth soon thereafter. Before ten minutes had passed, the rain started—and not only did it start, it poured!
Ack. Poor Jane. I didn’t imagine my sweet sister was enjoying that experience one bit. She would arrive at Netherfield bedraggled by the choice of horseback. Luckily the men were away, for I knew she would die of mortification if Mr. Bingley should see her in such a state.
It rained until the early hours of the morning.
The sunlight sparkled over the still wet morning when we Bennets broke our fast. At least the clouds had parted to allow us a bit of beauty. I hoped it would last. I did not want to be locked indoors with my sisters and mother all day and all night.
Was Jane brave enough last night to see what she could find about the house? She had likely slept in a room off that same hallway. I hoped she hadn’t been too scared. She had not reacted well to the place before.
A note arrived later that morning, written in Jane’s hand.
Lizzy,
Do not fear for me, but I have taken cold after riding in yesterday’s rain. I am not well enough to ride, and the Bingleys insist I stay on until I am much improved. If you hear the doctor has been called, do not fear, it is only a trifling thing.
Jane
Mother read it over my shoulder and both gasped and giggled in an annoying fashion.
“It appears Jane will have more time at Netherfield than even I had hoped!”
I had handed the note to Father and now he said, “And if your eldest daughter has taken more than a trifling cold—on your advice—I do hope you’ll be satisfied with yourself then.”
He walked out.
I turned my back on Mother and peered outside. The sun still kept up. There was scarcely a cloud in the sky.
“Mother, I fear as does Father that Jane would not write to me if it were so trifling a thing. You know she would not complain to the Bingleys.”
“She told us not to fear, dear. I will take her at her word and trust she is well cared for at Netherfield.”
“I am going there to see for myself how Jane fares.”
“The coach is occupied, Elizabeth. Jane will be fine, and soon married if we let well enough alone.”
“I will walk,” I said. I promptly walked out of the room, leaving her no space to argue with me.
The exercise was precisely what my body and spirit had been demanding. I’d been too often kept indoors of late and a good long walk would do me good. My skirt, however, was not faring as well. The mud was thick and nearly impassible at some junctures.
Still, I was sure I was needed at Netherfield, for Jane’s sickness—if she truly was sick, for I suspected that was partially played up in order to entice me there in exactly this fashion without raising Mother’s suspicions. If she had investigated and found a presence or other explanation for her previous feelings about the place, pleading a cold would be the perfect explanation for her sister coming to care for her. Meanwhile, I would be back inside Netherfield and able to resolve the happening in the woods and the phantom presence in the house at night long before the Bingleys or their servants arrived.
All of this held my thoughts enough that the walk passed and I arrived abruptly outside the very woods that I had worried over for days.
I looked down the road that led to the house, but decided to first explore the woods while I had the benefit of daylight. Again I tried to take the path that seemed most likely from that moonlit night. I was not sure I was successful, but the hairs on the back of my neck rose almost instantly upon my entry into the copse of woods.
This time would be different—I would find something, I could feel it.
Welcome sunlight filtered through the tall trees. More debris littered the ground now, leaves of gold and red brought down by fall storms. No matter how quiet I wanted to be, I couldn’t see the branches underfoot that I’d been mostly successful in avoiding that night a month ago.
I stopped once I’d left view of the road, and retrieved my pendulum. I looked around, trying to remember the details of the landscape that night. How far off could I be? I walked until I was as sure as I could be that I was close to the spot where I’d stood that other night.
I held the pendulum in front of me, above my flattened palm. In a wavering whisper that still seemed to carry through the odd silence that filled the afternoon, I asked my question.
“Are there any spirits here?” I asked. I focused on the echo of the words in my mind, silently asking again and again.
The pendulum quaked and I felt something brush against the bare skin at my neck. I whirled, but nothing was there. A soft laugh in my ear made all of the hairs on my arms stand up. I wanted to run.
Instead I asked again, “Are there any spirits here?”
A gust of wind whooshed into me, swirling my skirts at my knees and forcing me to take a step back. The trees nearby whispered as it whipped through, and a sprinkle of leaves rained down on me.
I stood my ground and refocused my attention on the pendulum. “Is there a body buried here?”
The wind died as the woods seemed to hold their breath. And the pendulum shook to life with a quiver that ran up the chain to my fingers, and began to circle my palm. The circle grew wider and wider and my heart sank to my stomach.
Yes. There was a body buried here.
As soon as I mentally acknowledged the answer, the pendulum stilled with an unnatural speed.
“Are you…” I whispered, “called Bertram?”
The pendulum trembled, and started to arc across my palm in a straight line that soon swung from my fingertips to my wrist.
No. Not Bertram. I tilted my head to the side, watching and listening for anything. But now that it was answering me, the spirit wasn’t raising the wind or the hairs on my arms. It felt like it wanted me here.
I shivered, but I wasn’t going to let fear get the best of me. I would ponder the ramifications of this ghostly exchange later, in the safety of my own home. Today, I had to find out what I could and go on to see Jane. Goodness did I have news to share with her now.
A slight bluster went past me, as if the spirit were reminding me to focus.
I looked at the pendulum, still above my palm despite the gust of wind. “Is the body that is buried here yours?” I asked.
The pendulum launched into a circle, spinning faster and faster. A voice whispered in my ear but I couldn’t make out the words. Again I felt the touch at my neck, wanting, entreating…
Yes. It was the ghost of whomever Bertram had murdered. The answer felt…emotional…as if I’d reminded the ghost of her identity. I realized with a start that the spirit’s gender was solid in my mind. In fact, I had the oddest feeling she was murdered because of her gender.
I clutched the pendulum to stop its movement and thrust it back inside my reticule. I moved back the way I came, quickly, and didn’t stop until I reached the road.
As soon as my feet touched the path to Netherfield, I crouched and tried to get my breath. What, oh, what had I gotten myself into? The thing had answered me, had tried to communicate more than I wanted to know. Had practically shoved knowledge straight into my mind, proving it had access to what I’d formerly believed was mine alone.
What was I doing?
I slowly straightened and brushed myself off with shaking hands, my eyes never leaving the woods. My heart still beat rapidly and I was a little worried I’d faint.
When I’d recovered enough of my wits, I took stock of what I could see of my dress, noting the two inches of mud at the hem of my skirts with irritation. I smoothed my hair, and resumed my walk to Netherfield Park with new haste.
Chapter 5
The entire household was gathered in the breakfast parlour, save for my sister. Mr. Bingley greeted me graciously, seeming a bit taken aback to see me but easy in his manner. “Have you eaten? We are just finished with breakfast. I can call for a plate for you,” he offered.
I shook my head. I was in no state to eat. Of course I had to be polite, having just infringed on their household so early in the day and with no warning at all, but what I really wanted was to see Jane as soon as possible.
Miss Bingley also looked happy to see me, at least to see me in the state I was in. “Did you really walk here? Whatever made you think of it? Jane is ill, but she isn’t on her deathbed, my dear.” She made a show of glancing at the muddy hem of my skirts and looked over at Mr. Darcy to be sure he was taking in the view.
He was. He’d been staring at me since I walked through the door, and I believed he was still watching as I left the room again to check in on Jane. Bingley led me to the upstairs hallway and I tried to ignore the trace of alarm that wound up my spine and raised the hair on the back of my neck. I thanked him and he turned to descend the stairs as I put my hand on the cool doorknob. I gave the hallway another glance. No voices here. At least not right now.
Jane was sitting up in bed, her cheeks rosy. “Lizzy? What on earth are you doing here?” She glared at my skirts. “You walked? Oh, please don’t tell me everyone saw you in this state.”
I nodded. “I don’t believe it changed their view of our family, sister dear, and I don’t have time for their nonsense, no matter what they think.”
She leaned forward. “You found something.”
I sat next to the bed. “I stopped in the woods and used the pendulum,” I whispered. “There’s definitely a spirit there. I felt it.”
“You felt it? Did you see it?”
I shook my head. “No, but I heard her and she responded to my questions and made the wind gust.”
Jane lay back against her pillows. “Lizzy, do you know what this means?”
“We need to figure out who she was. I think the house and the woods are connected after all.”
“You keep referring to a she.”
“Yes, the spirit was female in life. Don’t ask me how I know; I just do.”
“Lizzy…the sight.” She was staring at me, her face gone white. “You have it, too.”
We stared at each other for a long moment. I couldn’t argue. I’d just been so focused on what I felt in the woods that I hadn’t processed what it meant for me. I wasn’t sure that now was a good time to do so. I shrugged.
Jane put her hand on my arm. “It’s going to get stronger…stranger. You think you can’t explain now…just wait until you’re seeing things no one else can.”
I patted her hand. “Don’t worry about me. I think…I think I’ll be fine. I’ll adjust.”
Jane shook her head sadly. “Not me. Lizzy…I don’t want to see them anymore. I just want to be me, to enjoy what other women of my age enjoy.”
“Like a handsome husband and a large house?” I grinned at her and she giggled. “Mr. Bingley doesn’t seem cross over your illness forcing you to stay.”
“Charles is never cross.” Jane sighed.
“You’re becoming attached to the man.”
“I am. Lizzy, I really am.” Her smile brought a little more sunshine into the room.
My heart ached.
I would do whatever I needed to make sure Jane had the life she wanted, even if it took her from me.
* * *
Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley joined us in Jane’s room before dinner. Jane wasn’t well enough to converse much but they didn’t let that stop them. A never-ending stream of chatter issued forth from their unstoppable mouths.