Chapter 5


Sitting alone in the coldness of her room, Elizabeth recapitulated the events of the past few days and how her feelings about coming to Rosings had radically changed from the joyous anticipation she had felt on receiving Charlotte's invitation to the growing necessity to leave the place and return home that she felt now. Not once had she imagined that her stay at Rosings would present her with so much evil and malicious machinations. No one, in the few weeks she had been at Rosings, had been spared from Lady Catherine's awful treatment and her abuse had been constantly and equally distributed among the servants, her tenants, the Collinses and even her, on occasion, with no regard as to whom was the recipient. And now it had reached Mr. Darcy himself!

The accusations that Lady Catherine had laid at Mr. Darcy's door had been heavy indeed. More shocking had been the fact that the gentleman, in not refuting them, had proven them to be true. Even though completely unaware of the particulars, Elizabeth had heard enough to understand that Mr. Darcy had failed in successfully executing the guardianship of his sister, that his negligence had almost resulted in a scandalous elopement and that Miss Darcy had left written proof of her dealings with the man with whom she had apparently developed an undesired attachment. And also that, by some capricious design of fate, such information had fallen in Lady Catherine's unscrupulous hands. 

Albeit her understanding of Miss Darcy's character was scarce, and almost entirely founded in comments she had heard from others, Elizabeth considered that the information she beheld was enough as to allow her to form an opinion of her. The young lady was said to be refined, accomplished and proud. Yet, neither her superior education nor her accomplishments had prevented her from choosing the wrong path as, with her actions, she had proved that she was far from being the tractable and docile creature the colonel described in some of their conversations but the possessor of a wild, indomitable temper that was not better than that of her own sister Lydia.

Still, neither Miss Darcy's supposed recklessness nor Mr. Darcy's obvious negligence in rightly supervising his sister's education, justified the application of such unorthodox methods of persuasion such as those Lady Catherine was using now. Not even Elizabeth's deeply rooted dislike for said gentleman -which, after the colonel's revelation had reached astronomic proportions- was reason enough to wish such fate to befall upon him. If he was not inclined to marry his cousin, there was nothing that Lady Catherine could do to force him.

In spite of its sinister undertone, the whole tale was producing a strange fascination in Elizabeth. It reminded her of those mystery novels full of intrigues and machinations that had captured her interest so many times in the past, where she feared what the next page would bring but still could not fight the unrelenting impulse to turn the page and discover what would happen next. Would Mr. Darcy yield to his aunt's wishes? Would family honour and respectability weigh more than freedom? Would he sacrifice his sister's happiness in order to keep his? 

According to Mr. Wickham, her most reliable source in what the Master of Pemberely was concerned, Mr. Darcy was a liberal and generous man, virtuous in every aspect, whose heart swelled with familiar pride. He would never do anything to disgrace the family name nor do something that would mean the loss of influence of the great Pemberley House. But, opposed to this, his affection for Miss Darcy was also praised, both by Mr. Wickham and Miss Bingley and he was said to be very careful in the guardianship of his sister. 

"Not so careful," Elizabeth said to herself, "if he allowed that to happen. Had he been more involved in his sister's concerns, her Ladyship would not have him at her mercy at present."

The storm was still persistent outside, with no sign of its yielding. Looking around the room, Elizabeth wondered if the house would resist the constant batter of wind and rain for much longer. She dismissed the thought with a smirk, laughing at herself for her childish fears, knowing that there was no chance that a stone building as solid as this one would suffer merely because of a heavy downpour. 

"No," she sighed, "Rosings was built to stand forever, as well as the evil contained in its walls."

The events of the day were taking a toll on Elizabeth who was finally succumbing to her tiredness. She slid under the covers and stared blankly at the ceiling for a while, not yet courageous enough to blow out the candle that was the only source of light in her chambers. 

There was a faint knock at her door. "Lizzy! 'Tis me, Charlotte."

Elizabeth rushed to the door, thankful for having some company during this horrible night. "Charlotte, Maria, please come in."

"We were wondering if you were feeling as scared as we are, Lizzy," said Maria with noticeable apprehension in her voice, "I have never seen a storm such as this in my life. It looks as if the sky will fall on our heads. Do you think that the house will resist?"

"Of course, Maria," Charlotte rolled her eyes at her sister's innocence, "you heard Lady Catherine. Rosings had faced greater tempests and still stands." Elizabeth, having sketched those same thoughts herself not a moment ago, refused to comment. 

The following hour was spent in deep conversation. Charlotte left first, claiming that she needed to return to her husband so Elizabeth and Maria remained awake for a little longer, exchanging their impressions on the recent events and how a day that had begun so enjoyable had turned into such a dreadful night. Elizabeth never said a word about the conversation she had overheard between Lady Catherine and her nephew, for she knew this to be a private matter, one in which secrecy was of greatest importance. When sleepiness overcame her, she declared herself to be exhausted and encouraged her friend to return to her own bed.

"Will you accompany me, Lizzy? Charlotte took the candle with her."

"Of course, dear," said Elizabeth, searching for her robe.

The girls left the room, Elizabeth illuminating the corridor with her candle stick, Maria tightly holding her hand.

"You were very fortunate," Elizabeth said lightly. "Your room is the closest to the family's chambers."

Maria opened the door. "I would not consider myself fortunate for sleeping so close to Lady Catherine. But the room is pleasant enough. Pray, come, I will show you."

Indeed, Maria's room was prettier than Elizabeth's. The walls were adorned with an elegant fabric, the rest of the room, disregarding patriotism, was decorated according to the latest dictates of French fashion. 

"I think it is time to return to my room, Maria, I am indeed tired." Elizabeth declared nearly one hour later.

"Stay a little longer, Lizzy, please."

"No, I must go. Try to sleep. You will see that there is nothing to fear."

The girls wished each other a good night and, candle in hand, Elizabeth left for her chambers. 

Elizabeth had just closed Maria's door when a flash of lightening illuminated the dark corridor and the figure of a man's body was outlined against the wall. Such was her scare that her scream came soundless. The light persisted for an instant and, on overcoming her initial fright, Elizabeth was finally able to discern that the man standing a few steps away from her was none other than Mr. Darcy.

The gentleman's disturbance for the unexpected encounter was not different to hers. His features were pale and his contorted countenance revealed that the shock had been mutual. He bowed his head in silent apology for frightening her in that manner, she replied with a quick curtsy and they both parted in opposite directions.

---

Elizabeth found that her chances to achieve a restful sleep that night were scarce. The wind was howling outside and every time she closed her eyes, frightful images of shadows in the corridors scared her to the extreme of not allowing her to rest. 

At some point in the night, her sleeplessness was such that she thought of getting out of bed and going to the library for a book to keep her mind occupied. But the mere thought of happening on the mysterious Mr Darcy again -or rambling alone through those dark corridors- convinced her that it was far better to stay abed and wait for sleep to conquer her. So there she remained, curled on her side, watching the small flame of candle light flicker softly in the chilly draught that filtered through the window panes. Her eyes lids grew heavy, her body surrendered and dreams finally came.

Her dreams, though, were neither comforting nor relieving. The experiences she had lived at Rosings during the past weeks were still fresh in her mind and those unpleasant memories were coming back to haunt her in her sleep. 

She dreamt that she was lost inside a big, dark castle, with tall stone walls and endless corridors. Why she was there was a mystery to her. All her attempts to abandon the castle had been futile and every door she opened led her to a prison where helpless creatures -that shared too many similarities with Lady Catherine's tenants and servants- had fallen captive of the monstrous evil that governed the house. 

Her ramblings through halls and corridors took her to a ballroom. As she entered the large room, her surroundings suddenly began to look dreadfully familiar to her. Though certain features were different, this room reminded her very much of one she had seen at Rosings manor.

Any doubt she could have about where she was and who was hosting this ball was erased the moment she saw Lady Catherine sitting in one of the armchairs, surrounded by whom Elizabeth had come to name 'her Ladyship's court'. As usual, occupying the most privileged spaces (if one could consider sitting next to Lady Catherine a privilege) were Mr. Darcy and Miss de Bourgh and slightly apart, Col. Fitzwilliam shared his seat with the Collinses. 

Elizabeth's entrance attracted everyone's attention, and she walked the long line to Lady Catherine and her retinue with dozens of eyes focused on her. They did not seem to stare out of curiosity; they appeared to be studying her, for whispered words and looks of mistrust followed every step she made towards her destination.

The ball began and Elizabeth's hand was solely required by Mr. Darcy. Oddly, the elaboration of such request did not shock her in the very least, in spite of the strong antipathy she felt for the gentleman and the dislike she knew he felt for her. As for his reasons to do this, she was left to guess. Perhaps he was, in his distant, aloof manner, attracted to her but she was more inclined to believe that he was merely using her as an instrument to provoke his aunt's ire while publicly slighting his intended.

"I hope you are aware of the inconvenience of your request, sir, your aunt looks very displeased with your choice of partner," said Elizabeth when the dance joined them in the centre of the line.

"What my aunt thinks is of little importance to me." 

"Perhaps you enjoy the power you have of doing what you like, of having everyone at your disposal, but your conduct today is only another proof your selfish disdain for the feelings of others. By requiring my hand for this dance, you are not only neglecting your betrothed's sentiments but exposing me to your aunt's wrath."

"Is this warning designed to guard my cousin's sensibilities or merely to protect yours?" He smirked. 

"Both." Elizabeth could not believe his arrogance. "Neither of us have the authority nor the liberty to confront your aunt the way you do, sir. I would not wish to be one of her victims." 

Darcy took her hand as she passed by him and, smiling haughtily, stated, "Miss Bennet, you give too much credit to my aunt's maliciousness."

"And you, sir, are underestimating it. You are using all us to provoke her without any consideration to those of us who cannot defend from her abuse. Your aunt holds dangerous information against you and you still endeavour to treat her with contempt and ridicule." Elizabeth replied boldly. 

The gentleman coloured and grabbed her by the wrist. "You know not what you are saying. The information to which you refer is false."

"She has proof!" Elizabeth tried to free herself. She looked around, looking for help, but they were now alone in the room.

With a quick move, Darcy brought her closer to him and crushed her against his chest. Her attempts to release herself only made his grip grow tighter. "That proof no longer exists. It was destroyed. She can no longer harm us."

The room was crowded again, with dozens of judgemental eyes focused on her. With her heart racing with fear, Elizabeth noticed that Lady Catherine was gone and that together with her, the evil she that ruled this house. The smiles of conspiracy shared by those around her -which were alarmingly similar to the one Mr. Darcy was sporting now- told her that they were all rejoicing with the disappearance of the person they hated most. 

Elizabeth knew then that she had to leave the place as soon as she could or the same fate would fall upon her. She succeeded in freeing herself from Darcy's hold and, terrified, ran away with the hope that no one would follow her. But she had not that luck. They were coming after her and her legs felt so heavy that she could not escape. A heavy hand grabbed her by the arm and shouting a soundless plea, Elizabeth fought her captor until she had no more strength left. And as suddenly as the dream came, it ended, and left her struggling against blankets and covers, fighting against demons that only existed in her head. The nightmare was over, but the fear remained. The screams she thought were her own persisted, but they did not come from her lips, but from the outside, from the gallery, echoing horrendously through the corridors of Rosings manor. 

Chapter 6

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