An Unnatural Inheritance: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Virginia Brand

  “And?” Elizabeth dug, smiling coyly.

  “He said he already knew, and proposed to me on the spot,” Jane said quietly, biting back a smile.

  Elizabeth hated herself for the pang of jealousy that ran through her at that moment, but she tampered it down and did not let her smile waver.

  “Jane, I am so happy for you,” Elizabeth said warmly, with true feeling. “Truly, I cannot think of anyone more deserving of such happiness than yourself.”

  “I hope that one day soon you will share such happiness. Perhaps with a certain handsome and disagreeable fellow we know?” her sister said with a smile.

  “Jane, I have hardly ever heard something so damning from you, not even in jest!” Elizabeth said with a delighted gasp, throwing a small pillow toward Jane’s lap. Jane shrugged with a smile and pulled the pillow into an embrace.

  “I have realized I have been naive about many things, Lizzy,” she said more seriously. “It may speak to my character to think the best of everyone, but does little credit to my judgement. I have endeavored to see things as they are, not as I wish them to be.”

  “You cannot say such things,” Elizabeth cried in mock alarm, “for very soon you shall be as jaded and cynical as me!”

  “You are hardly so,” Jane admonished. “You are just as sweet as everyone claims me to be, and a great deal quicker.” Jane paused for a moment, then took Elizabeth’s hand in hers.

  “I know you are worried about tomorrow, Lizzy. And though I do not know what all transpired between you and Mr. Darcy, I believe that things will sort themselves out. We know our craft, and we will do our best. He is a reasonable man, and he has allowed us to see her. All will be well in the end, I feel it.”

  Elizabeth smiled at her sister’s optimism, but said no more — for however much Jane may insist, she did not believe that anything good would come of that day’s conversation.

  ***

  Jane had warned her that Miss Darcy looked badly, but Elizabeth was not prepared for the sight that beheld her when they entered the young girl’s bedchamber the following day.

  Stretched out in her bed, the tiny girl looked like a corpse. Her blonde hair was spiralled around her, and her eyes were closed gently; indeed, she would have looked like a painting if it weren’t for her injuries. Large bruises mottled her face, and she had great gashes and cuts across her eyebrows, lip, and nose. A long cut ran from her left eye down to her tiny, delicate mouth, and Elizabeth resisted the urge to gasp in horror. This diminutive girl had been called a great beauty by everyone she had met; but if she lived, she would walk through life with dreadful scarring.

  Her arm was carefully cradled against her chest in a cast, and a thickness under the blankets on Miss Darcy’s left side indicated her leg was similarly set.

  “And she has not woken?” Elizabeth asked Mr. Darcy as she motioned for Colonel Fitzwilliam to set the small case she had brought on a nearby table. Mr. Darcy shook his head.

  “The doctor has said he believes she has a swelling of the brain. If not alleviated, he believes it will kill her.”

  Jane laid a tiny hand on the younger girl’s forehead and closed her eyes briefly. Mr. Darcy furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Elizabeth.

  “What is she doing?” he asked quietly.

  “She is attempting to determine the extent of her injuries,” Elizabeth responded. “Jane is terribly good at reaching within a person. She has a gift for pinpointing exactly what is wrong.”

  “Her will is very weak,” Jane said, slightly breathless as she stepped back and rolled up her sleeves. “Lizzy, let us act at once.”

  The two sisters nodded and spread out, Jane to the case to begin mixing herbs, and Elizabeth to the corners of the room to pull back the curtains and open the windows.

  “Is that advisable?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked. “She may catch cold.”

  Elizabeth turned around just in time to see Mr. Darcy place a hand on his cousin’s arm and say something quietly.

  “Magic relies on nature,” Elizabeth explained, opening another window. “It cannot be done in dark rooms where the wind cannot reach and the sun does not shine. Such rites should be done outdoors, but in our modern and refined age we have adapted our spells to the sick room.”

  “Mr. Darcy, may I beg you for some hot water? And a towel, if you please,” Jane called from the corner, her voice far more commanding than Elizabeth had hardly ever heard it.

  “I’ll get it,” the colonel said, slipping from the room. No servants had been allowed to enter while the sisters were there, and indeed Mr. Darcy had gone to great lengths to ensure no one within the household was aware of Miss Darcy’s visitors.

  When the colonel returned, Jane brewed the herbs into a tea and set the the cup near Miss Darcy’s bed. Elizabeth, taking a small ointment from the case, began gently rubbing it into the girl’s temples and across her wounds, whispering as she went. Reaching into the case, Jane pulled out a small jar of soil and emptied it into a bowl which she then placed between her and Elizabeth. Each sister dug their hands into the soil, and then Elizabeth gently took Miss Darcy’s uninjured arm and placed the girl’s hand into the bowl as well.

  In short order the two had linked hands over the bed, and were chanting just as Jane had learned. They stopped occasionally to light a candle or to urge Miss Darcy to drink, and at length they placed the largest of candles by the bed.

  “It must stay lit until the conclusion of the spell, and then we will see,” Jane said at last, sweating slightly. “This is not the rite I would wish for, but it is what we must make do with.”

  “What do you mean?” Mr. Darcy asked quietly, not looking up from his spot near his sister’s side.

  “We are not at home in Longbourn, where our magic is greatest, and we do not have our full numbers. The city dampens much of our power because there is so little nature here. I have done what I can, but I worry it will not be enough. If it had worked, she would have woken already. At best, we have eased her broken bones and scars. But for magic of this level, we need more power,” Jane said, fretting. “Mr. Darcy, would you consent to us writing our sisters to come aid us?”

  “No,” Elizabeth responded before Mr. Darcy had the opportunity to answer. “Dragging the coven over the country and in and out of Mr. Darcy’s home is not a good idea. And I do not think it will work; we are too weak here.”

  “That is what I had feared,” Jane said quietly.

  Moving to the other side of the bed, Elizabeth sat in a nearby chair, exhaustion from the rite causing her to almost collapse into it.

  “Mr. Darcy, would you consent to bringing Miss Darcy to Netherfield? Closer to our home, we would have our full numbers and full strength, and I truly believe we would succeed.”

  Mr. Darcy looked up at her a moment, and she saw his exhaustion again clearly, etched onto his face beside worry and despair.

  “I wish to try all conventional medicine before I have her undergo such a journey,” he said tersely. “Thank you for your offer, I will think on it. But I do not see what good can come of another attempt.”

  Standing, he straightened his jacket and turned to the sisters.

  “I thank you for your efforts today. I can see you are clearly tired, and I bid you to return home. If there is any change in her condition, I will be sure to let you know.”

  With a small bow, it was clear that the sisters were dismissed, and gathering their supplies were quickly shown home.

  “Do you think he will consent to taking her to Hertfordshire?” Jane asked during the ride home, and Elizabeth could only shrug.

  “I do not know, Jane. He is a terribly stubborn man and is very protective of his sister. He may not be eager to deliver her into the arms of those who have injured her. But he is reasonable to a fault, and would see the sense in attempting such an endeavor. My largest fear is that he does not know how to ask for help, even when it is offered.”

  It appeared that Elizabeth’s prediction held true; a week and a half
passed with no word from Mr. Darcy or even Colonel Fitzwilliam, though brief intelligence from Mr. Bingley showed the situation to have no improvement.

  Elizabeth despaired at his stubbornness but had settled into a begrudging acceptance of his decision when a knock at the door of the Gardiner residence tore her from her distracted reading early one morning, far before the acceptable time for visitors.

  When Mr. Darcy was shown into the parlour, Elizabeth was by herself, and had hardly a moment to greet him before he had spoken.

  “Miss Elizabeth, I need your help,” he said, removing his hand and staring at her intently. He looked aged and exhausted, and had clearly come to the end of his rope. “Tell me what I must do.”

  XXVII

  Mr. Darcy sat rigidly in the seat before Mr. Bennet, his eyes locked onto the older man’s face as he was examined from top to bottom. Elizabeth’s eyes flitted to the far wall of the study, where her father’s books usually were piled haphazardly. In her absence, someone had organized them neatly, and, it appeared, alphabetically, with a methodicalness that could only belong to Mary.

  “Mr. Darcy, there are things I must discuss with my daughter in private,” Mr. Bennet said at last, pulling a hand up to his temples as though struck by a sudden headache. Mr. Darcy went to rise, but Elizabeth shook her head, putting out a hand to stop him. She pulled her hand back just shy of touching his elbow, but he paused regardless.

  “Papa, Mr. Darcy knows all. When I said I told him the truth, I truly meant it. Our discussion involves his sister’s well being, and I do not think it is right to exclude him, not after all I have done,” she said calmly, though she felt anything but. “Please, let him stay; I have nothing to hide from him any longer.”

  Both men looked at her sharply, and at another time she would have blushed, but she no longer felt herself capable of such useless embarrassment. She had laid her sins and faults bare to the man, exposed him to her family, and snuck him into her home before visiting hours, far before the rest of her family was awake. Should her mother have appeared downstairs at that moment to find them cloistered with her father, she still did not know if she would have the energy or care to be embarrassed.

  “Very well then, Lizzy, I shall speak plainly, for you. Mr. Darcy, forgive my forwardness. Lizzy, I am greatly displeased that you have revealed our secret. The only task I have ever charged you with is the responsibility and protection of our family’s greatest gift. I used to believe you were my cleverest child, but I have seriously begun to wonder if you are as stupid and silly as your sisters,” Mr. Bennet said. Mr. Darcy’s knee jerked slightly, and Elizabeth could not tell if he was surprised or angry — for her part, she felt the latter, as well as a large dose of guilt. “But you have pledged yourself to help, and as such I must agree. I will request that your sisters help you.”

  “Thank you, Papa,” she said quietly. “I appreciate your understanding.”

  Mr. Bennet sighed loudly and sat back in his chair as he surveyed the two young people before him.

  “However, I must warn you that this may not work. I am an old man, weak and unpracticed, and not up to this task,” he said with a shrug. Elizabeth tamped down a flare of annoyance at his refusal — for how often had she seen him called thunderstorms alone, or weave magic without thinking — but she bit back any retort that came to mind, and simply thanked him again.

  “I’m not finished. Lydia will not be able to help either, as she is in Brighton with Mrs. Forster. She left just this week. So it will only be the four of you. Will that suffice?” her father asked, knowing perfectly well that it wouldn’t.

  “It will have to,” she said sharply, looking sideways at Mr. Darcy’s unreadable face.

  “Very well, you have my permission. I will help oversee it, and we will do it tomorrow night, on our land. The moon will be full, which should be the best chance possible,” Mr. Bennet responded. “Mr. Darcy, it was not a pleasure to see you, but I hope we will have cause to meet on happier terms in the future. Now leave, both of you, for I’m sure Lizzy has some new foolish mistake to make before noon.”

  The two rose and went silently out of the study, and Elizabeth led Mr. Darcy to the front door. Gesturing for him to follow her out to the enclosed garden at the rear of the house, she set off at a march.

  “Please forgive my father, he is an eccentric man,” she said at last as they stopped behind a protected shrubbery. Mr. Darcy squinted his eyes and shrugged.

  “He is doing me a great favor, and as such I can find no reasons for censure,” he responded dryly.

  “Forgive me if I have a difficult time believing that, sir. All the same, I thank you for your kindness, even though he was not particularly kind to you.”

  “Nor you,” he added sharply, causing her to look away.

  “My father has high expectations, and I believe my recent failures have greatly shaken his opinion of me. I fear he may be like you — his good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.”

  “I am not so resentful as we might have once thought,” he said quietly, turning to inspect something in the shrubbery. “Acting a fool has the peculiar effect of making one more tolerant of other’s follies.”

  Elizabeth stared at his broad back, wondering if any further statement were coming, but he remained silent. Unsure of how to answer, she instead chose to deflect and ponder his comments another time — for there was too much at stake to worry about parsing through Mr. Darcy’s sentences.

  “It would be better to do the rite on Longbourn land, in the grove where our ancestor’s magic was bound. If you are willing to transport her, I should like to do the rite outside, but if that is not possible, we can come to Netherfield,” she said at last, switching the subject.

  Mr. Darcy turned back to her and shook his head.

  “I do not believe in half-measures; I will bring her to you. What time?”

  “Midnight,” she responded, then hesitated. “I imagine you will wish to bring Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Bingley?”

  Mr. Darcy blinked, and shrugged.

  “I had not thought of it,” he answered.

  “I only ask because… well, the rite we will do is old magic. It is indelicate. We could not ask you to leave your sister’s side, but it would be most prudent and proper if the other gentlemen were not present.”

  Mr. Darcy nodded, though he appeared confused, and consented. After reiterating their arrangements again, the man at last nodded and offered a stiff bow, and, after Elizabeth stole out to check for signs of her mother or passing neighbors, Mr. Darcy mounted his horse and rode out of the Longbourn gardens.

  ***

  It was just before midnight when the sound of a horse slowly approaching could be heard through the trees. Elizabeth stood from her spot near the fire and padded toward the sound, leaving her siblings in the clearing behind her. Within moments Mr. Darcy’s tall horse came into view, his sister settled across the front of his saddle, still asleep. Steeling herself, she reached out for Mercury’s reins, and for once the horse did not startle, allowing her to hold him steady as Mr. Darcy dismounted and reached up for his sister.

  “We wish her to be on the ground, but we have prepared a spot that should make her as comfortable as possible,” Elizabeth said to him instead of a greeting, and motioned for him to follow her to the center of the clearing where the sisters had laid out a swath of blankets. Mr. Darcy lowered his sister gently onto the small pile, and in the light of the fire Elizabeth saw that Miss Darcy’s bruises and scars had greatly reduced, to the point of being almost imperceptible.

  So we did manage some good after all, she thought to herself thankfully. Straightening up, she cleared her throat.

  “The moon will be out in just a moment, so we will begin. You can stand near my father, if you wish,” she said, gesturing, but Mr. Darcy hesitated.

  “Will she be safe?” he asked her quietly, leaning closer to speak. She ducked her head, afraid to look too closely at him, and nodded.

  “I believe so. We
will be careful, I promise you,” she responded, expecting him to step back, but he didn’t.

  “She is all I have, Elizabeth,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Elizabeth’s stomach flipped at the sound of her name as she looked up and met his eyes, and nodded again.

  “I will care for her as if she is one of my own sisters,” she vowed, belatedly realizing that there had once been a time when such a relationship may have actually been possible.

  She stepped away from him then and hurried to her sisters, who had formed a circle around the pale girl lying near the fire. Glancing up at the moon, Jane nodded, and one by one the girls began to slowly remove their shoes and stockings until they were barefooted, and rolled up their sleeves.

  Jane repeated many of the steps she had taken the first time they attempted to heal the girl, mixing herbs, bidding her to drink, and then throwing the remainder of the herbs in the fire. The four sisters joined hands and sent up a request for blessing, and began to chant; quietly at first, then louder.