This act of defiance angered Caroline even further, but she bit her tongue aware Mr. Darcy had a soft spot for servants. Bingley had watched the man’s departure with confusion. David had been with them for years and had never been easily rattled. To respond so strongly to such a minor complaint seemed out of character.
Betsy, sensing Caroline’s growing rage, went to explain. “He’s just upset about Agnes, Mr. Bingley. Please, do not punish him.”
“Agnes?” Bingley asked.
“The scullery maid,” Betsy explained. “The one who died.”
Mr. Bingley was not one to engage in gossip, and given this particular piece of gossip was not widely circulated within his circle, he was completely unaware of this tragic event. He looked to his sister. “Caroline, do you know anything about this?”
Caroline looked annoyed, “I think Mrs. Butler said something about her. But there is no need to worry, we found a new girl to fill the spot.” Caroline waved her hand as if the whole topic of domestic servants was beneath her.
Bingley could not remember her by name, and Caroline seemed to think the news was of no import, but he felt a small amount of responsibility.
Darcy took his responsibility as a landowner very seriously and believed it was his duty to help and protect those who lived on his land. He felt those who served in his home were essentially family. Caroline’s utter disregard troubled him, and he was intent on steering Charles toward a more compassionate method of land management.
Darcy looked to Betsy. “Was she ill for a long while?”
Caroline answered, “Oh, Darcy, there is no need to fear. None of the servants have carried an illness into Netherfield. The girl died in an accident. But all that business is taken care of now.”
Judging by Darcy’s reaction, Bingley believed he should listen to his initial instinct. It was his duty, to some degree, to be involved in the private lives of those who served him. “Caroline, did you send her family money?”
“Of course, I did,” Caroline said in a huff. The suggestion she was not properly performing her duties as the mistress of an estate irritated her. “Her final wages were given to her family after the body was discovered.”
“I did not mean her wages,” Bingley explained. “Did you send them any funds to help with the funeral expenses?”
Caroline looked from her brother’s expectant face to the critical gaze of Mr. Darcy. Was she honestly expected to send money for such things and for a girl who had only worked for her since coming to a Hertfordshire?
Miss Bingley was spared from responding when David returned, this time carrying the calling card of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. As soon as she was shown into the room, the countenance of each member changed, except for Mr. Hurst who was focused on his sausage. At first, shock settled upon all who set eyes on the young lady entering the room. Had Mr. Hurst looked up from his plate, he too would have noticed with surprise the lower portions of the lady’s dress and petticoats were coated in mud.
After the initial shock of her appearance abated, Bingley, who knew of the close and loving bond between the two eldest Bennet sisters, looked relieved someone who cared as much about Jane as he did would be able to watch over her with impunity. This comfort, ebbed away at the rigid edges of Mr. Bingley’s fear and anxiety over Miss Bennet’s condition thus softening his expression.
Mr. Darcy again reveled at the novelty of the woman before him. Her ability to disregard decorum and frolic through the fields reminded him of his childhood. Knowing a lady of her age could care more for life than for the opinions of others was invigorating and refreshing. While concern for her sister was not fully absent from Elizabeth’s appearance, the sparkle of youth continued to dance in her eyes, and this captivated the gentleman’s heart while her folly plagued his mind.
Caroline’s face showed triumph. She questioned whether Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s actions were those of a lady. They were certainly not becoming of a mistress of an estate as great as Pemberley. Caroline was pleasantly surprised Miss Elizabeth Bennet had the skill to hang herself without having been given so much as a foot of rope.
Louisa simply looked amused. It was perfectly clear Caroline would use this opportunity to inform Mr. Darcy of Elizabeth’s shortcomings. While Louisa was interested in watching Mr. Darcy’s future unfold, her loyalties lay with her brother. She would be happy to support Caroline’s efforts to interfere with Mr. Darcy’s life for the sake of regaining her sister’s confidence, although judging by the expression on the man’s face, Louisa was uncertain the soon-to-be ensuing diatribe would have the intended effect.
Elizabeth, whose only concern was for her sister, ignored the attention she was receiving and was shown to Jane’s room. Jane’s condition, having had no signs of improvement, forced Caroline to reluctantly invite Elizabeth to stay during her sister convalescence.
“Jane, darling,” Elizabeth said, crossing the room to sit on the edge of her sister’s bed, “I have been invited to stay, so you will need to endure my company a bit longer. I shall do everything in my power to speed your recovery.”
Jane gave her sister a weak smile.
Noting Jane’s frailty, Elizabeth continued. “I do hope mama will not scold me too much for interfering with her plans to have you confined to Netherfield through the chains of ill fortune, but judging by Mr. Bingley’s deep concern for your health, I think he shall willingly bind himself to you even if it should be under more favorable conditions.”
Jane lowered her eyes in embarrassment. “Again you mistake his kindness for affection,” Jane retorted, knowing it was dangerous to let her heart assume she had captured the affection of such a kind and noble gentleman.
Elizabeth, internally cursing herself for engaging in a topic Jane would feel compelled to respond to, decided instead to regale her sister in the amusing story of her arrival. “Oh Jane, you should have seen what a state I was in when I arrived this morning. I decided to walk from Longbourn, and I must admit I took a few shortcuts. While the rain was a most welcome visitor to the gardens, it simply did nothing for my petticoats. They were coated in mud, and the looks on Mr. Darcy’s and Miss Bingley’s faces when I arrived were simply priceless. I am quite certain Mr. Darcy was trying to determine if I were indeed myself or if a piglet had managed to breach the sanctity of this home. He simply would not remove his glare. Miss Bingley was also challenged to remove her gaze from my hem, but eventually she did look to her future husband hoping to share a less than a discreet laugh at my expense. I am sure she was sorely disappointed, as his horror was too consuming to allow her to catch his eye.”
“I am not certain, Lizzy, that Mr. Darcy shares Miss Bingley’s vision for their future,” Jane said thinking of the interactions she had witnessed between the two over the course of her acquaintance with Miss Bingley.
Elizabeth frowned. “I cannot decide if I am saddened such a disagreeable man might escape the tortures of Miss Bingley or if I am happy such an awful shrew will fail to secure her prize. I suppose, above all other emotions, I fear that if they do not find each other, some other poor unsuspecting individuals may fall prey to their charming fortunes and discover the miseries of life. On the other hand, I suppose anyone so silly as to be blinded to their faults by the glitter of gold deserves their misfortune.”
“Oh Lizzy, Caroline is truly not so bad. In fact, she seemed rather keen to find out more about you. I rather believe she is hoping to forge a friendship with you. And given Mr. Bingley’s great admiration for Mr. Darcy, perhaps we should consider giving him a second chance.”
Elizabeth smiled at her sister, who was incapable of seeing anything other than the good in people. “Jane, close your eyes and I will read to you. You will never get better without your rest.” Elizabeth withdrew a small volume she had borrowed from her father’s library and read until her sister’s breathing was steady. Then she slipped into her own room and prepared for dinner.
After dinner had concluded, Elizabeth returned to Jane with a tray, hoping t
o entice her sister to fortify herself. She was pleased to see her sister had awoken from her nap, but Jane craved Elizabeth’s company over the more tangible sustenance. “Lizzy, how was dinner?” Jane asked trying to sound chipper but failing miserably.
Elizabeth smirked. She had been reminded during their last conversation any slights, even those made in jest, would prompt her sister to defend the honor of the injured party. Lizzy could not mention she sat next to Mr. Hurst and had contemplated clipping a lamb chop to her hair to garner his attention. She could not criticize Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley for their obvious air of superiority or for the discreet glances Mr. Darcy had cast in her direction hoping to find her spilling food on herself to prove to his sycophant he had correctly identified her as a piglet. Instead, Elizabeth decided she would focus on the only man worthy of her attention and the man who most interested her sister. Elizabeth provided Jane with every detail of Mr. Bingley’s dinner from what he wore and what he said to the expressions he displayed. Jane listened with rapt attention while eating a small portion of her meal. Eventually Jane closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.
Elizabeth knew as a guest, her duty now dictated she return to the lions. She tried to take comfort in the knowledge Mr. Bingley would be present and attempted to convince herself of the wisdom in her sister’s suggestion. As she entered the room, she felt as though she had interrupted a conversation in which she was the topic. It was a feeling she was starting to grow accustomed to in large part thanks to her time at Netherfield Park. She smiled politely and took a seat. She found reading to be an impossible task when surrounded by such unique company. Her own family, while silly and unconventional, was far more tolerable than the vain and proud individuals surrounding Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth took great delight in hearing Miss Bingley’s and Mr. Darcy’s ridiculously impossible qualifications for accomplished women. She determined she would need to take notes so she could relay the delightful details to Jane after Jane had recovered her strength. After announcing her disbelief at the standards against which women were being measured, Elizabeth took her leave aware her opinions were unpopular and unwanted.
As she exited the room, Mr. Darcy contemplated her retort. Having viewed the list of attributes needed to deem a woman worthy of being considered accomplished excessive, Miss Bennet had questioned the existence of any such females. Mr. Darcy could not help considering this same woman gliding out of the room was, perhaps, one of the most accomplished women of his acquaintance. How she could fail to see what was so obviously in front of her amazed him. Her modesty only added to her charm. His thoughts were interrupted by Caroline who most definitely had enough pride for all the women of Meryton. Mr. Darcy knew how tiresome Miss Bingley could be. He resolved to find Miss Elizabeth Bennet the next day and, after she had tended to the needs of her sister, offer to escort her to the bookstore in Meryton. A break from the society of Netherfield would do them both some good.
Chapter 9
The following morning, a request from Jane brought her mother and younger sisters to Netherfield Park. After their visit, Jane fell asleep and Lizzy retreated to the library hoping to escape the critical sneers from Mr. Bingley’s sisters and the esteemed Mr. Darcy. The morning visit from her mother and sisters had left Lizzy drained. As much as she loved them, she could not help but feel the sting of mortification as she recalled her mother’s behavior. ‘With the exception of Mr. Bingley, she did not embarrass me in front of anyone whose good opinion I seek,’ she reminded herself. As she continued to examine this morning’s events, she determined she could not truly fault Mr. Darcy for his scorn. Her mother had woefully misconstrued his comments and had essentially insulted him. But in terms of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, their reproach was not based on a personal attack but rather on her mother’s general ignorance and inappropriate comments. Elizabeth asked herself how she would have reacted to her mother’s behavior had she been in Miss Bingley’s position. She was convinced she would react much as she had to Mr. Darcy’s rude behavior at the assembly. She would attempt to remain polite but would find her opinion of the person negatively altered. This, she concluded, was a far more civil way to respond.
Lizzy curled into a corner chair, which faced a window. The sunlight streamed in and warmed her, and she began to read one of volumes on philosophy she’d found on the shelf. It was no more than fifteen minutes until she had found an escape from her active mind and the fatigue it had brought. Sleep had claimed her.
Elizabeth walked down a deserted street. Although she did not recognize the street, the number of buildings and smells around her told her she was in London. A low fog had rolled in, obscuring the cobblestone street. But the fog did not mar the night sky, which remained dark and ominous. Clouds shifted over the full moon often eliminating the moon’s bright presence, but occasionally the clouds would break, allowing the moon to bring clarity to the scene. Lizzy listened. The only sound she could make out was the clicking of her shoes against the stone sidewalks. She felt cold and afraid. She turned down street after street searching for a someone…anyone. But the streets remained empty.
She walked past a darkened doorway, trying to remember why she was here. She wanted her family but she did not know where to go to find them. She thought she heard Lydia’s voice or a faint and distant whisper of it. She was laughing but it was not her normal laugh…it was sad and forced. “Come to the ball Lizzy. We will have so much fun together,” the voice beckoned. Elizabeth called out looking for her. She reached forward and the fog rose from the street shifting into an image Elizabeth could have sworn showed her sisters Lydia and Kitty. Her hand touched the fog and it swirled away.
“My mind is playing tricks on me,’’ she said out loud to remind herself of the truth. Her heart had begun to race, and her panic was being held back by the thin veil of reason. Then she heard it. The quiet rustle of a man’s overcoat. She spun around to see who was there, and a man whose face was obscured by darkness, spoke in a low growl.
“Why are you out? Do you not know the curfew was implemented for a reason?”
Elizabeth could feel the danger in this man’s presence. The hairs on the back of her neck pricked up. Her eyes darted about looking for an escape route.
“There is a reason London’s population has dwindled to only four and twenty families,” the man continued with a wicked laugh. Lizzy knew then the figure before her was not a man but was death himself. He had been prowling the streets searching for his next victim and tonight, he had found her.
She opened her mouth to scream but was unable to make any sound. Death approached her and circled his victim. He toyed with all the ways he could take her. He had been busy recently and he was tired, but this one seemed special. She had a spark in her eyes, which told him she was more than just alive. She was living. He wanted to savor it as he drained her of her being. He wanted to hear her shrieks and pleas. Death never was sure which he enjoyed more, the screams of pain or the tears of regret. He promised himself tonight he would get plenty of both.
Death stopped circling her and lifted her chin until her eyes met his own. She could feel the boney fingers. They offered no heat. In fact, his entire body radiated a chill that was almost tangible. “Lizzy,” he said with an icy voice. He took his time making sure she would comprehend he had known her name all along. In fact, he knew everything there was to know about each one of his victims. It was this knowledge that allowed him to give each person a very special personal gift. He was searching in her mind, pulling out each and every horror this woman had faced in her life. Every moment of pain, hurt, sadness, embarrassment, and regret were falling into his hands, and he would use them for his own amusement. He smiled, pleased with himself and with the knowledge she would be allowed to relive these moments one by one while he watched her die. Yes. He would enjoy watching her relive her life, at least parts of it, before taking it from her.
His smile sent shivers down her spine. She could smell rot oozing from his body. She knew he had something terrible
in store for her but she was not sure what. The sound of an owl echoed, but when she looked up to find it, all she could see was a large vulture watching her. It was waiting — for her.
She could feel the walls moving in around her, the darkness suffocating her. There was someone else here. Someone behind her. She felt a hand on her shoulder and her elbow flew up and jammed into the nose of her attacker. She turned to see the impact of her attack and saw the face of Mr. Darcy.
“Ahhhhh…. Bloody hell!”
A sound woke her from her dream. Elizabeth found herself sitting in Mr. Bingley’s library in her corner chair and quickly glanced around. It had all been a dream. “Ahhh…” Elizabeth turned to see the source of the noise. Behind her stood Mr. Darcy holding onto his nose with one hand and fumbling around in his waistcoat pocket for a handkerchief with the other. Elizabeth quickly connected the dots.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy!” she exclaimed, “Am I responsible for that?”
Mr. Darcy had secured the handkerchief, and as he pressed it against his nose it was quickly soaked through with blood. Mr. Darcy shook his head and said, “No madam, it was I who snuck up on you. You were merely startled by my rash actions.”
“You were trying to wake me, were you not?” Elizabeth asked. She was still a touch groggy from sleep but guilt and embarrassment were beginning to rise to the front of her mind.
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