Page 7 of A Most Beloved Sister
Since that day, Darcy did his best to discourage misbehavior with arrogance and condescension, while silently lifting burdens. His words to Bingley at the assembly were the result of years of habit.
It’s much easier, he thought,when the person isn’t someone of my station. How do you face someone again when you’ve spoken so poorly of their loved one?
Chapter 2
Elizabeth looked down the corridor that led to Longbourn’s front door. Before her was Jane, standing at a distance, her delicate features touched by an uneasy light. Her presence seemed to flicker like a fragile candle in a gust of wind.
The corridor stretched into an abyss, echoing with footsteps that resonated with foreboding. A sense of helplessness gnawed at Elizabeth as she watched Jane’s figure become enveloped by the gloom. It was as though the very air around her sister grew heavy with uncertainty.
Then, emerging from the depths of the corridor, like phantoms summoned from the shadows, came Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley. They moved with deliberate intent, their faces almost hidden by a veil of a mysterious haze. Behind them prowled burly men, followed by a doctor with a malevolent look in his eyes.
Jane hesitated, her eyes reflecting the same confusion and fear that Elizabeth herself felt. But there was something inexorable in the approach of Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley, something that could not be denied.
As the figures advanced, a dark, misty shroud took form around them, revealing their sinister aim. In their hands, they held chains that snaked along the ground, echoing with eachominous clang. The chains, though corroded and heavy, seemed to have a life of their own.
“Come with us, Miss Bennet. You must come with us.”
The words of Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley repeated in haunting unison, their voices both cold and resolute.
Elizabeth watched in silent agony as her sister turned to flee. Jane’s footsteps echoed loudly in the corridor, but the distance to escape seemed to stretch endlessly, with no exit in sight. She desperately tried to run to Jane, to reach out for her sister and pull her to safety, but her feet refused to lift from the ground.
Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley pursued with relentless determination, their chains dragging behind them like malevolent serpents. The chase played out with a horrific intensity as Jane’s desperate efforts to escape grew more futile with each passing moment.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth awoke with a start.
She quickly sat up in bed; her heart was still racing, and it took her a minute to realize exactly where she was and all that had occurred the night before. Sinking back into her pillows, she let out a sigh of relief.It was only a bad dream.
She burrowed under the cocoon of blankets as the dream released its hold on her. She clung to the warmth of reality, grateful that the nightmare had been her own, and that Jane was safe in the realm of wakefulness.
The sun’s rays were just beginning to peek over the horizon, so after indulging herself in the comfort of her bed for a few moments more, she put on a simple morning dress and laced up her boots for a walk.
The quiet serenity of chirping birds and rustling leaves were a balm to her troubled mind, and she watched as her boots crunched the autumn leaves on the path.
Flashes from her nightmare of Jane being taken away by burly men and a doctor under orders of Miss Bingley’s nasally voice and Mr. Darcy’s stony face faded away. They were replaced, instead, with the certainty that their new neighbors could do no more damage than use words to wound her sister.
“Hello, Lizzy!”
Elizabeth looked up, and—as if sent by Providence as a sign that all would be well—she saw the cheerful face of Jamie, the adopted son of Mrs. Hill.
When Elizabeth was twelve years old, she had been visiting her aunt and uncle Gardiner in London. Mrs. Gardiner, having only just given birth to their second child, had requested her niece’s presence to help the nursemaid with their lively three-year-old.
Elizabeth and said nursemaid had taken the young boy to the park to play. She could still remember it as if it were only yesterday: the ducks on the pond, the warm summer sun, and the smell of the grass. Compared to the typical smog and noise of Gracechurch Street, the few hours spent in nature were a bit of heaven.
Little Edward had broken away from Elizabeth’s hand and dashed around the corner out of sight. Elizabeth gave chase, but as she turned the same corner, she collided with a young man about a foot taller than herself. Bracing for a chastisement, she was astonished to discover that, instead, he burst into noisy tears.
Uncertain of what to do, Elizabeth simply gaped at the sight of a grown man—for at age twelve, a young man of about sixteen appeared full-grown—sobbing as loudly as her sister Lydia in the midst of a tantrum.
Thankfully, the nurse was able to catch up with Edward, and the two returned swiftly to where Elizabeth stood awkwardly with the weeping lad. As she waited, she noticed that his body was oddly twisted, as was his face. One arm was quite shorter than the other, and his skin was splotched with large, red marks.
“Come, miss,” the nursemaid said firmly, tugging on Elizabeth’s arm. “It’s best we return home.”
“I’m sorry for running into you,” Elizabeth said kindly, before turning away and following her cousin and the nursemaid.
To the poor nurse’s dismay, the man trailed after them, tears streaming down his face. The nurse quickened their pace, until they were almost at a run by the time they reached the Gardiner residence.
Once the chaos was sorted, Mrs. Gardiner was able to determine that the young man’s name was Jamie. He had been born with severe physical deformities, and he was orphaned at the age of ten when his mother—a seamstress—passed away. He had recently been turned out of the orphanage where he had been living due to being too old, and he had nowhere to go. His impairments made it impossible for him to find work, and he had nowhere to sleep and nothing to eat.
