Most Ardently

by Sheena Austin et al.

  Mrs Bennet felt like that self-satisfied partridge in the pear tree as she watched the last of her guests leave that day, knowing that though her family were now entering a period of mourning, she had given the best celebrations she could this week and that her daughters had married good men, and would have strong marriages that would last throughout the years.

  Epilogue:

  29th December 1813

  All Meryton was buzzing with gossip. When Mr Bingley had been ready to accept social invitations once more, many of the families had tried to attract him to their daughters, but he had steadily resisted all attempts to engage his affection. Shockingly, he had announced his engagement to Miss Lydia Bennet about six months after the death of her sister, but they had postponed their wedding until their sisters’ wedding anniversaries. The reason for this had been simple, both of them had been hurt badly on that day, and they wanted to remember the day as a day of joy and not sorrow.

  THE LITTLE LONGBOURN Church was neatly and tastefully decorated and the flowers were beautifully and artfully arranged. The groom stood at the altar a slightly grave look on his face, as he looked out over the congregation. The bride’s mother had done well to arrange this, and he was grateful that after Jane’s strange behaviour and early death he had been granted this second chance. The bride’s sisters had all come for the wedding, despite that they had all given birth within the last year to strong healthy young boys. The young heirs were now nestled in their mothers’ arms, oblivious to the importance of where they were and what was happening.

  It briefly occurred to Bingley to wonder what had become of the Wickhams. When they left Meryton to re-join his regiment, there had been an air of decided ill will towards the brother that had eventually accepted that Mrs Wickham had wanted the elopement as much as Mr Wickham. Bingley knew that Darcy had never embraced the union, and both he and Colonel Fitzwilliam had refused to honour the full thirty-thousand-pound dowry that Georgiana had inherited, as the dowry was dependant on the good will and blessing of her guardians. As she had married a man without their consent and who they knew to be a wastrel, they had eventually offered half the original dowry. The other half had been given to Lydia who the young couple had grievously wronged.

  Bingley also had time to consider the fate of Fanny Price. She had married Mr Hastings, but tragedy had struck the poor young woman. The assumption she and others had made that the swelling in her stomach was due to pregnancy had proved wrong. Nobody had ever touched her. Edmund Bertram had known that but had chosen to remain silent when she had suspected it. A month after her marriage Mrs Hastings had written to her cousin complaining that she was bilious and that her skin had turned a horrible yellow. Mr Hastings had refused to call an apothecary or doctor until it was too late. Fanny Price was now bedridden and was not expected to live very much longer due to her liver failing. Had she still been at Mansfield Park, and the surgeon from town been called in quickly, it is likely that she would have lived. The guilt that Edmund held about his cousin was already leading to his withdrawing from family life with his wife. His marriage would never be the same easy one it had once been.

  The wait for Bingley’s bride seemed to be so long. Was she late? He looked at his watch again, no, it was barely a minute since he had last looked. Where was the bride? Where was her mother? What was going on? Right on time, the church doors opened and the congregation rose. A sober and restrained Mr Bennet walked his youngest daughter down the aisle and gave her away to the young man standing at the altar. The bride’s face was wreathed in smiles, but the redness around the eyes, and the absence of Mrs Bennet told another story. Something was wrong. The ceremony had been short and their vows were exchanged. They signed the register held at the church and were about to leave the church when Mr Bennet stood up.

  “I am sorry to inform you that there will not be a wedding breakfast due to the fact that my wife passed away just before we left for the church. The family are grateful for your attendance and support for the couple, and I hope that you will all forgive us that we once more retreat from Meryton society.” With that Mr Bennet stepped aside and the bridal couple left the church. Many congratulations were given, and much condolence also.

  It was only back at Longbourn that Mr Bingley and the rest of the family found out what had happened. Mr Jones had confirmed his diagnosis of what killed Jane within two weeks of Jane’s death. When her skull had been opened up a large growth was clearly visible to the eye spreading across a large portion of her brain. The shock and the anger that Mrs Bennet felt had caused her own nervous anxiety to get worse for a time, yet she would have slowly recovered. During this time the pains in her heart began to get worse. This information she kept between her and Mr Jones, who kept her on a strict diet and aided her as much as he could. Halfway through the year she began to show signs of forgetfulness, and eventually she showed the same signs that Jane had. Her character had slowly changed, but she still managed to carry out her duty and arrange everything for her daughter’s wedding. With six months of warning, she had everything ready and planned within two months, enabling her and her husband to hide the fact that she was steadily declining in health and that her character was changing. Mr Jones suspected that she had a slower form of what Jane had suffered, but what killed her was none of the existing health complaints, but a sudden and unexpected apoplexy that morning.

  Mrs Bennet was dead, she had achieved all that she set out to achieve and was now resting in peace.

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to say thank you to all who have helped me on this project. Many of my beta readers have had personal problems, but they have brought me through, so without further ado thank you to Debra-Ann Kummoung, Beverlee Swayzee, Kathy Langstein Berlin, Morgan Osborne, Ashley Haskins and Luanda Pérez Brayer.

  Author’s note

  WRITING THIS NOVELLA has for the most part been a challenging but a fun time for my beta readers and me. However, it took an unexpected turn as two of my characters suffer from serious health complaints that the symptoms can be easily missed or dismissed. I had no wish to dwell on the dark or the macabre, therefore I have glossed over many of the signs and symptoms that my characters suffer. In both liver disease and a brain tumour, the symptoms are slow and generally dismissed. The symptoms in many cases can also cross over to other conditions. Therefore, while I hope that you enjoy the story, if you or someone you know shows any signs of the symptoms I’ve mentioned or anything else that seems minor please go to the doctor and get them checked out, so that they can be treated.

  About the Author

  DEBORAH FOUND HER LOVE of Jane Austen’s work when she was 15 by watching the 1995 adaptation of Pride and Prejudice by Andrew Davies. She then read Miss Austen’s books multiple times and began reading fan fiction books, which led her to begin writing her own Jane Austen Fan Fiction (JAFF) in 2010.

  Deborah’s burning passion is to empower others through the written word. Deborah left school in 1997. She has many varied hobbies including watercolour painting, playing the piano, violin and the flute. She loves reading a broad spectrum of material which ranges from Philosophy through to the latest fiction. She is a life-long Norwich City Football Club fan. She loves sewing and excels at Cross Stitch. If she is not writing the one thing that she loves is to spend several hours just walking around her favourite beauty spots.

  To contact Deborah:

  Email: deborahpearson.authorjaff@gmail.com

  Blog: https://deborahpearsonblog.wordpress.com

  facebook.com/DeborahEPearson

  twitter.com/dp_authorjaff

  instagram.com/deborah_e_pearson_author

  Other books by Deborah E Pearson

  THE MERYTON WAR

  The Longbourn Conundrum

  The Darcy Legacy Series:

  1811-1812 How It All Began Part 1

  1812 How it all began Part 2.

  The Demon and the Christmas Curse by Charlene Johnson

  Chapter 1

  Des
iree Black saw the crisp white envelope stamped with the letter A and cringed. It was not what she expected to see the moment she entered her San Francisco apartment. She reluctantly picked it up from the entryway table.

  Dammit, I’m in trouble again, she thought with trepidation and threw her keys on the table. She was in no mood to read one of Amadeus’ condescending missives.

  She walked into the kitchen and took a bottle of chardonnay from the refrigerator. She filled a wineglass and went into the living room to settle on the sofa. Before opening the envelope, she took a long drink of chardonnay, wishing it was tequila.

  Desiree,

  I am requesting your presence as soon as you read this. Do not delay. We have much to discuss.

  A.

  Shit! A summons from her leader was never good. How many had she gotten over the last few months? She missed her quota of pure human souls for the fourth month in a row. Amadeus, Lucifer’s demon leader of human souls, was on her ass to deliver. The dark master was desperate to get enough pure souls to negotiate his release from Hell. At the slow pace demons were collecting pure souls, he would have to remain in his fiery prison. He was not happy about that and made Amadeus suffer for it.

  Amadeus hated the impossible role given to him by the leader of the underworld. He passed his displeasure along to the demons working in his service. Currently, Desiree was the singular object of his wrath. It was her job to collect ten pure souls a month. Seriously, when was the last time her leader had been to the surface? Did he have any idea how hard it was to find a pure soul nowadays, let alone ten? It was damn near impossible. The last five souls she secured were so corrupt, Amadeus immediately cast them into Oblivion.

  Oblivion was the worst place in Hell to spend eternity. Human souls and demons out of favor with Lucifer were trapped in Oblivion and remained there in a constant state of limbo. The demons, desperate to be free, invaded the darkest souls and escaped to the surface each time a new soul entered. Once demon-possessed souls were back on Earth, they were malevolent beings with no memory of their past. They spent their days wreaking havoc on the Earth until Lucifer sent demons to the surface to capture them. The demons were separated from their host souls and sent to the deepest pit in Hell, from which there was no escape. It was forever. The souls were cast back into Oblivion to be preyed upon again by other demons.

  Desiree considered ignoring Amadeus’ summons. If she did, he would send one of his minions to retrieve her. Their conversation would go from bad to worse in a nanosecond. Amadeus did not like to be kept waiting.

  She finished her glass of wine and went to change. She chose a black pantsuit, a sapphire blue silk blouse and heels to match. It wouldn’t do for her to show up in blue jeans and a tee-shirt. He’d banish her to the deep pit with the soul-stealing demons. She looked in the mirror and ran her fingers through her long, deep red curls. She sighed. Her hair always did what it wanted. She could do nothing about that. She applied antique rose lipstick and steeled herself for the confrontation.

  Amadeus was laughing with a beautiful, blonde woman Desiree recognized when she flashed into his posh, state of the art apartment. He pulled the woman closer until their bodies touched. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. The woman moaned.

  Melissa. Ugh, Desiree thought. Was she ingratiating herself with Amadeus again, or was there something more going on? After seeing them, she believed it was the latter.

  Demons weren’t permitted to have sexual relationships. They were created from the souls of humans to serve the dark master. Unlike some of her fellow demons who had broken the rule and were punished severely for it, Desiree never did. She had to admit the temptation of sex was alluring but not worth the punishment.

  It appeared the rules against intimacy didn't apply to Amadeus or his lovers, she thought wryly.

  Amadeus and Melissa turned and looked at Desiree. He let go of the woman in his arms and stepped back, a smoldering red glow in his eyes. He frowned, and his mouth tightened into a thin line. Melissa’s eyes flashed with irritation and her lips pursed with disappointment. She had interrupted something. As much as she didn’t want to be there, she was glad she preempted their little tryst. She wondered how long their little affair had been going on. Was that what she had to do to get ahead? Amadeus was attractive but a little too metrosexual for her taste.

  Melissa leaned in and kissed Amadeus’ cheek as she gave Desiree a scorching glare. “I’d better let you get to it.”

  His eyes swept seductively over her. “We’ll talk again soon about that new position we discussed.”

  What position was that? Desiree wondered. Was it the one where Melissa was down on her knees?

  The blonde gave her a saccharin sweet smile as she passed by her and left the apartment. Shit, Desiree said under her breath, I’m really in trouble now.

  Amadeus watched the apartment door close and shifted uncomfortably. He turned away but not before she saw the rather large bulge in his pants.

  Double shit, she was definitely in trouble.

  “Come, Desiree,” he ordered. “Let’s sit and discuss your future.”

  He motioned to the white leather couch in the center of the room. Everything in the room was white - white marble floors, white throw rugs, ornate white table lamps. The abstract paintings were the only splash of color — odd décor for an apartment in Hell.

  She cringed at his words. “My future?”

  “Yes,” he said in a clipped, arrogant tone. “The one in which you spend the rest of your existence in Oblivion.”

  There it was, her fate. Amadeus never minced words. She should be grateful for that though she wasn’t feeling it.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You should have expected me to say that given your recent track record. You are the least productive demon I have,” Amadeus declared, his eyes turning blood red. “What is it, Desiree? Are you too lazy to do your job or have you lost interest? You used to be one of my best procurers of pure souls. My other demons manage to make their quotas, why can’t you?”

  How could she answer him without sounding pathetic? Pure souls were impossible to find. She had no idea where Melissa and the others were acquiring theirs. How were they doing it? Were they using magic to disguise the corrupt souls and dupe their leader? If so, she wished one of them would share their secret with her, but she knew that would never happen. Her fellow demons only cared about themselves. In that, they were not so different from humans.

  “I won’t make excuses, sire. I’ve always taken pride in finding souls for Lucifer, but pure souls are getting harder and harder to find.”

  Amadeus nodded. “I agree the surface world has become more corrupt over the centuries. But how are your fellow demons finding pure souls?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You better figure it out. The master grows impatient to get the pure souls he needs to barter for his freedom. We must all make it our number one priority.”

  “I understand.”

  Amadeus crossed his legs and leaned back against the white sofa; spreading his arms along the back. “I’m under significant pressure to produce, and that means everyone in my organization. My future in the master’s executive team is in jeopardy, and I will do whatever it takes to keep my position. That includes sacrificing you. I’m giving you one last chance to make things right. Produce at least one pure soul, or I will have no choice but to banish you to Oblivion.”

  Desiree swallowed, the bile rising in her throat, trying to find her voice. She was running out of time. “How long do I have?”

  Amadeus smiled, and his crimson eyes churned like the burning fires of Hell. “Since it’s nearly Christmas and the season of giving, I’m feeling generous. You have until Christmas Day to bring me a pure soul. No more excuses, Desiree. One pure soul is the price of your freedom.”

  Chapter 2

  DESIREE WAS NAUSEOUS when she rematerialized in her apartment. She had three weeks to find a pure soul and deliver it
to Amadeus. Where the hell was she going to find one?

  She took a long, hot shower and changed into silk pajamas before going into the kitchen for the bottle of chardonnay and a wine glass. Not hungry, she went into the living room and turned on the large flat-screen TV. She flicked through the channels and stopped on the BBC station. It was as good as any. Trolling for souls was a fulltime job and left her little time to watch TV. She thought about her dilemma again. Dammit, she wished she had another job.

  As a lower demon, good jobs were hard to find. The competition to get ahead was as cutthroat as it was on the surface. To get one of those coveted jobs, she would have to live in Hell, and she refused to do that. She liked her apartment in San Francisco and wasn’t too keen on giving it up. But it was a double-edged sword.

  Collecting souls paid the bills. She’d been living on her savings to make ends meet since her dry spell. That would have to change if she wanted to stay where she was. Soon, she would no longer be able to afford her rent. Amadeus would never give her an advance. It was her choice to live on the surface. Most of the other demons lived in the underworld.