Posted on 2009-10-31

Elizabeth sat on the sofa in the vast drawing room at Rosings, wishing she could move to the seats nearer the fire. However, moving nearer to the fire would mean moving nearer to Lady Catherine and Elizabeth decided that being a little chilly was the lesser of two evils. Not for the first time, she wished she could remember just where she had left her favourite shawl. In Mr Collins haste to leave the parsonage before dinner, she hadn't had time to look for it and she regretfully supposed that it was currently warming a chair in Charlotte's sitting room. She became aware that Mr Darcy had crossed the room to sit beside her and she turned to look at him.

"Still handsome", she thought.

"That's an interesting trim on your dress," Darcy said, frowning as he looked at her sleeves.

Elizabeth supposed he was trying to draw attention to the fact that the dress was at least two years old and that he had seen her wear it on several occasions.

"Still an ass," she thought, a polite smile on her face as she said nothing having decided his comment was not worth an answer.

"Have you enjoyed your trip to Kent?" Darcy asked.

"Yes. It has been very pleasant, indeed. The countryside is very beautiful here, is it not?"

"There are some lovely sights, it's true."

Elizabeth decided that she couldn't be bothered to keep up her end of the conversation and glanced around the room to try and find a method of escape. She saw Colonel Fitzwilliam watching her. He caught her eye and raised an eyebrow in silent sympathy at her predicament. She refrained from rolling her eyes at him. Just.

The Colonel cleared his throat. "I was wondering, Miss Elizabeth, if you would favour us with some music. I have so enjoyed hearing you play."

"Of course, Colonel," she said, rising from her seat and crossing to the pianaforte.

As she passed by the Colonel, her lips formed a silent and fervent "Thank you.". Colonel Fitzwilliam got up from his chair and followed her across the room, ostensibly to turn the pages for her. As she settled at the piano and laid her fingers on the keys, he lent over the music and whispered softly in her ear.

"Will you meet me later tonight?"

A faint blush stained her cheeks as she nodded. Then she turned her attention to music in front of her.

The evening was over and Lady Catherine had retired to her bedchamber. She prided herself on her aristocratic composure and her ability to remain unruffled, no matter what she faced. However, she was now agitated and angry. For years she had planned the marriage of her daughter to Mr Darcy and now it appeared she was expected to sit quietly while Darcy courted another lady right under her nose!

"Lady?" she harrumphed, "Nobody, more like!"

But what to do? The obvious answer was to ensure that Miss Elizabeth Bennet made a speedy return to whichever godforsaken from whence she came. But what was to stop Darcy from following her there, outwith the reach of her influence? No. Something had to be done and it had to be done before that upstart chit left Kent.

Lady Catherine was nothing if not pragmatic and she recognised that Darcy was reluctantly attracted to Elizabeth. So, should she suddenly disappear from the picture, then there was every reason to suppose that he would quickly come to regret his feelings and look about him for a more suitable bride. And who more suitable than Anne?

Leaning back in her chair, Lady Catherine pondered the problem. She could try talking to Darcy but she was fairly sure that such a course of action would only make Darcy more determined in his pursuit.

"Men can never resist the lure of the forbidden," she thought disgustedly.

She tapped her fingers thoughtfully on the arm of her chair as she considered, and quickly rejected, the idea that Anne could be made to make herself more attractive.

Grudgingly she allowed that Elizabeth had charm in abundance and just the sort of pert, coming manner that was sure to interest men. There was no use in using Colonel Fitzwilliam to persuade Darcy as any fool could see that he was as bewitched as Darcy. Could she persuade the Colonel to come up to scratch, cutting Darcy out?

"That woman shall not marry either of my nephews!"

That left only one option, the most unsavoury of all but the one most likely to yield a definitive and irrevocable solution.

Frowning, Lady Catherine reached into a drawer and withdrew a flat object, wrapped in crimson velvet cloth. She took a deep breath and unwrapped the cloth to reveal a mirror whose surface appeared dull and pearlescent. The metal holding the strange glass was heavy and ornately worked and very, very old. Staring into the glass, Lady Catherine began to sing softly under her breath and, in answer, the surface of the mirror began to emit a ghostly and sickly pale green light.

The Reverend WIlliam Collins stared myopically into the fire in his study. In the half hour since returning from Rosings, he had listened quietly to the comings and goings as his household settled down for the rest of the evening. Now, as was his custom, he sat in his study and prepared to read his bible and say his evening prayers.

He opened his prayer book and squinted at the small print. He sighed in frustration. He knew he ought to wear spectacles but he couldn't rid himself of the nagging feeling that his congregation would not respect his authority if he was staring at them through glass lenses. The fact that his congregation had such little respect for him that the wearing of spectacles would not cause him to sink any lower in their estimation had completely escaped him. Mr Collins was nothing if not proud to the point of pomposity of his position and calling.

He looked up from the page and was surprised to see Lady Catherine pacing in front of the fire, clearly in some distress.

"My Lady! I did not hear you come in! Were you not announced? I shall see that the servant is..."

"Mr Collins, I am in great need of your assistance."

Mr Collins bowed his head in acquiescence.

"As you know, I have long intended that my daughter and Mr Darcy should be united in marriage."

"A noble endeavour and one which I..."

"Alas, it appears that you cousin, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, has designs on my nephew and has bewitched him."

"Elizabeth certainly has her way of attracting the superior sex but I would hardly..."

"Bewitched, I say!" Lady Catherine stopped her pacing and fixed her stare squarely on Mr Collins whose poor eyesight prevented him from seeing
the unearthly green light in her eyes.

"A witch is an abomination before God," Mr Collins said sternly.

"Exactly. She must be dealt with."

"How, my Lady?"

"She must die, of course! How else will we all be cleansed of her evil taint?"

"How else..." he agreed.

"Will you undertake this task? I shall see that you are amply rewarded."

"You may count on me. I shall perform the task this very evening."

Mr Collins blinked in the firelight and looked around, bewildered by the sudden disappearance of his benefactress. He supposed that he must have dozed off and that she had slipped away without disturbing him. He could recall none of the specifics of their conversation but he knew now that Elizabeth was possessed of a malevolent power and must be eliminated.

Elizabeth pulled Charlotte's shawl tighter against the evening air as she walked smartly along the path that led to the river. She had still not found her errant shawl. In fact, both Maria and Charlotte had reported items of clothing going missing. It was all very unusual and mysterious and while Maria was inclined to blame a band of gypsies who had passed through Hunsford the previous week, Charlotte leaned more towards a dishonest laundrymaid.

Although she was annoyed about the loss or possible theft of her shawl, Elizabeth was really not that bothered - she had far bigger things on her mind. The trip to Hunsford had given her much to think about. Firstly it had confirmed her belief that she and Mr Collins would not have suited. Secondly, it had caused her to realise that Mr Darcy, while easy on the eyes, was definitely not quite right in the head. In fact, the only thing he appeared to wish to discuss with her was the latest fashions and she was convinced that this was merely to amuse himself by seeing how ignorant she was.

However, the most pressing and constant thoughts during her stay had concerned Colonel Fitzwilliam. He had rescued her from both Darcy's and Lady Catherine's attentions on numerous occasions. He had engaged her in conversation on many varied and interesting topics and she had the sense that they had gradually been coming to an understanding of some sort. The thought had crossed her mind that the younger son of an earl might reach far higher than a mere gentleman's daughter from Hertfordshire and, indeed, at the beginning of their acquaintance he had intimated something of that sort. However, of late, she had fancied that she saw a certain softening in the Colonel's eyes when he looked at her that caused her heart to beat a little faster. There was no doubt that a life spent following the drum would be interesting and exciting and a small part of her longed for a little adventure.

She rounded a turn in the path and saw Colonel Fitzwilliam standing by the river's edge, his hat in his hand, gazing downstream towards the bridge. He turned as she approached, holding out his hand to her. She took it, and he led her down to a log that was just the right height to make a comfortable seat.

For a few moments, they sat in companionable silence, her hand loosely clasped in his.

"We shall be leaving in a few days," he said, his eyes fixed on the opposite bank.

"As shall we," she replied, deliberately keeping her voice light and even.

"I shall miss you." He turned his head to look steadily at her and she began to blush under his regard.

"Really?"

"Truly. This has been a welcome respite from the battlefield but I must return with Darcy to Derbyshire and from there I must rejoin my regiment."

Elizabeth looked down at their joined hands and wondered where this conversation was leading.

"Elizabeth..." He raised her hand to his mouth, turning it over to place a kiss on her palm and then closing her fingers over it. "I cannot promise you anything."

"Ah. I see." She smiled wryly. "After all, I do not have the requisite dowry to purchase the son of an earl."

"I fear you have misunderstood me."

She looked carefully at him.

"I cannot promise you anything until this blasted war is over. I have very little leave and I must go north to visit my family before I return to the continent and I cannot in all conscience expect any woman to wait for me indefinitely."

Elizabeth swallowed suddenly, fighting tears. "I would wait for you, you know."

"I know, but I will not ask that of you."

"May I ask something of you, then?"

"Anything," he said, squeezing her hand.

"Promise me that when you come home for good that you will waste no time in coming to see me."

"I promise." He grinned boyishly. "I shall have something very important to ask you."

Darcy pulled his bonnet down a fraction and bowed his head to hide his face, watching his feet carefully to avoid tangling them in his skirts. He could hear low voices in the trees ahead and he was anxious not to be recognised. As he came closer he recognised his cousin and Miss Bennet and, shocked, he heard them talk about waiting and questions and the war.

He raised his eyebrows as he realised that, in a roundabout fashion, Richard was proposing marriage and he couldn't help but wonder if he knew what he was getting himself into. After all, her family were hardly desirable. For a moment he felt a pang of jealousy; he had considered Elizabeth as a possible wife but he had rejected her because he knew she would never understand his love of feminine dress. He smiled as he crept past them, just in time to see them kissing, and made his way towards the parsonage. He had an urgent appointment with another of Mrs Collins' dresses which he knew would be hanging on the washing line, ready for him to take.

Mr Collins was unaccustomed to taking walks in the evening; the dusk made him even more conscious of his weak vision but tonight he had no choice.

He had crept into Elizabeth's room, intending to smother her with a pillow but had found the chamber empty. A few questions of the servants had gleaned the knowledge that his cousin was in the habit of sneaking out every evening.

"No doubt to plot her nefarious deeds!" he thought.

Having ascertained that she usually walked down to the river, he had decided to follow her. The riverside would be quiet and no one would see him if he pushed her in. When her body was found, it would simply be assumed that she had slipped and fell in the darkness.

He stopped suddenly in his tracks as he saw a figure standing quietly by the riverside, head bowed as she pulled her shawl closer around herself.

"That's funny," thought Collins, "I could have sworn Elizabeth was not so tall..."

Quietly, he crept closer, praying that she would not turn around. Finally he was within touching distance of the woman. She still appeared taller but Collins told himself that it was nerves that had skewed his perspective. Besides, she was wearing a vibrant red and cream shawl that he knew belonged to his cousin.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed hard and his victim fell into the river. The splash seemed to Collins to be loud enough to wake the whole village but no one came running. He had been terrified that she would scream, but the weight of her skirts pulled her under and she did not resurface.

Pleased at having performed his duty, Mr Collins made his way home.

"Has my nephew risen yet?" Lady Catherine looked severely at her butler.

"The Colonel has gone for a ride and Mr Darcy is yet abed, milady."

"Send for him."

She was a little puzzled that there had been no commotion from the parsonage, heralding the news that Miss Bennet was dead but it was early yet. She wondered just how she could throw Anne and Darcy together and had decided upon a trip into town to visit the bookshop when Ferguson entered and informed her that Darcy's bed had not been slept in and that he had apparently gone missing.

"Have my carriage brought round to the front," she ordered, "We are going to look for him."

Mr Collins arose feeling refreshed and content that he had fulfilled the request made of him by his benefactress. As he dressed, he idly wondered what form her reward would take. A bigger parish? A bishopric? Who knew where her bounty would take him?

He whistled tunelessly as he came down the stairs and entered the morning room. His merry tune died on his lips at the sight of Elizabeth sitting at the table, happily engaged in spreading raspberry jam on her toast and chatting to his wife. He raised a trembling hand and pointed at her.

"You...you...you're supposed to be...what are you doing here?"

Elizabeth paused in the act of raising her toast to her mouth and looked at her silly cousin.

"I am eating breakfast, Mr Collins," she said, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

"But...but...what witchcraft is this! Out of my house you fiend of hell"

Elizabeth dropped her toast and positively gaped at him.

"William!" Charlotte remonstrated, "What has come over you?"

Mr Collins face was red with indignation as he grasped hold of a bible and held it towards Elizabeth.

"I command you by the name of all that is holy to get out of this house and to cease this foul necromancy."

Charlotte calmly got up from the table and plucked the bible from her husband's clammy hands. She directed him to a seat at the table and walked out of the room to summon a manservant to bind him to the chair until his madness passed.

This done, she sent a maid for the doctor and she and Elizabeth sat anxiously by and listened to Mr Collins' ravings.

They looked up as the door swung open with some force, expecting it to be the doctor. Instead it was Lady Catherine who burst in, her bonnet and pelisse wet and her eyes mad.

"He is dead! He is dead!" she exclaimed.

Charlotte and Elizabeth exchanged glances and Charlotte rose to fetch the manservant and some more rope.

"Who is dead, Lady Catherine?" asked Elizabeth.

"You have done this, you with your evil arts and allurements have caused him to dress in woman's clothing and drown himself in despair at your bewitchment! Can you deny that you have done it? No, not when he is lying cold, dead, dripping wet and in feminine attire in my carriage!"

Lady Catherine cast herself into the chair vacated by Charlotte and burst into tears, incoherently muttering about her thwarted plans. Elizabeth, utterly bemused by all of this, sat quietly deciding that discretion was the better part of valour and that it wouldn't do to irritate the mad people.

In the month following Darcy's hideously embarrassing death, Colonel Fitzwilliam had remained at Rosings to see to the details of obtaining care for his mad aunt and her equally lunatic parson. He had managed to secure a small, family funeral for Darcy – no mean feat considering the gossip surrounding his demise. Georgiana had been understandably upset and shocked by the events and it was with some relief that he had waved her off after the funeral, accompanied by Anne, to go and be comforted at Matlock by his parents. He had fulfilled his duty and now he was ready to move on from the insanity of recent time. After all there now appeared to be light on the horizon and he had every reason to hope for a brighter future.

As he strode purposefully towards the parsonage, he thought of Elizabeth. Like him, she had stayed behind in Kent – to help her friend get ready to move back to Hertfordshire and her family. They were to leave the following morning and Richard desperately wanted to speak to Elizabeth before her departure. As he was shown into the sitting room, Elizabeth rose and came towards him with both hands held out. He took them and held them in a comforting grasp as he looked down at her and smiled.

"How are you?"

"I am well, Richard. And you?"

"Much better now that things are done and dusted. I concluded my business with the lawyers today and I shall be leaving Kent at the weekend. "

They sat down on opposite chairs beside the fireplace.

"I shall also be glad to be back at home with my family, as you must with your regiment. When will you leave for overseas."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I'm leaving the Army and will be heading for London to arrange to sell my commission."

Elizabeth looked surprised. "You're leaving? But why?"

"Well, we had the lawyers here today to deal with handing over of Aunt Catherine's estate but we also had the reading of Darcy's will and there was something there that might interest you."

"I'm curious, but I can't see what Darcy's will has to do with me."

"Obviously he has left Georgiana well provided for and my guardianship of her is to continue until she is of age. However, it appears that Pemberley and the remainder of his estate is to go to me."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Elizabeth smiled at him. "I'm sure you will be an excellent landlord and master."

"I hope I will be. So, you see why I have to resign my commission, I must concentrate on the estate."

"All, this is very well but I still fail to see why it concerns me," she said with a slight frown.

"Well, it means that after I conclude my business in London, I will be riding straight to Hertfordshire with a special licence in my pocket to obtain your father's permission for us to marry."

Richard grinned at her, his face boyish and handsome in his joy, as he got down on one knee in front of her.

"Will you be my wife, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth blushed and put one hand up to her mouth as she looked at him. "Of course I will!" she said, smiling.

Richard leant forward and took hold of her hands, pulling her down to kneel on the floor. He put his arms around her and kissed her thoroughly and passionately.