Lost in Austen: Reborn

Chapter 30 - Immortals

Author's Note - No, I haven't forgotten about the story! I thought a lot about this chapter and I knew I would have to research extensively for the way I wanted the chapter to go.

Every man is surrounded by a neighborhood of voluntary spies. - Jane Austen

"You are," she paused for a second and then continued with a nervous breath, "You are Elizabeth Bennet."

What? What? I stared ahead trying to focus my eyes on something-anything. Attempting to let this informational bombshell sink in proved to be unmanageable. If this was her idea of a practical joke, I was going to be the first to tell her it was not funny. But, I had seen much in the past few days, enough to remind myself the absurdity of what I was being told might not have been so far-fetched after all.

Who was this woman sitting across from me? Was it still safe to call her mum? The wheels in my head turned, and thoughts came in like a flood, filling every section of my mind. I was unsure of what to say or how to behave. I felt my body grow cold, and my stomach began to feel empty. A chill washed over me as I started to realize I barely knew the woman who raised me. My fingers shook as I tried my hardest to be strong.

I needed some answers. I needed answers, and I needed them right away. But, my mouth remained shut. The blow of everything that had happened was catching up to me. I wanted to talk. I wanted to ask all the burning questions running through my head. At long last, I found my tongue and cleared my throat

"So," I squeaked, "I'm Elizabeth Bennet?"

"Yes, you are." My mother answered.

"Darcy is probably wondering what to call me. One minute I'm Elizabeth, the next I'm Amanda and then, oh would you look at that, I'm Elizabeth again."

Darcy spoke, "What I am wondering is if you are Elizabeth, then who is this woman whom you call your mother?"

My mother smiled, "I knew this would become a concern. I will answer your questions over a hot meal. Have you two had dinner yet?"

"I'm not hungry." I looked down at my folded hands, "Just tell me the truth. I deserve that much, mum. I mean, Frankie? Um, person?"

"I made your favorite."

I could not resist my favorite dish. Beef Wellington and roast potatoes. Part of me wanted to resist, saying I could not eat, that I was not hungry. Still, my belly rumbled, and I knew I would succumb to it, bringing in every bit of the buttery, flaky crust, and the tender, juicy steak. My mouth salivated as I thought of the food.

I pursed my lips, "Fine. I'll eat, and you will tell me everything."

We stood up and followed my mother to the dining room. The table was already set as if she expected me to say yes to my favorite meal. My brow creased at the thought of this woman knowing me so well. At the center of the table was a whole Beef Wellington, Roast potatoes flanked its sides. My mother proceeded to cut the dish and place it on our plates.

Darcy and I sat next to each other, our eyes never leaving her. She had to tell us eventually, right? It sure seemed as though she was taking her time. Was she under the impression we would forget? There was no way I could forget. I was the most beloved character in romantic literature. Then, it sunk in; I was the most beloved character in romantic literature. I was Elizabeth Bennet. Oh my goodness, I was a character. I was fictional. I could fall in love with Darcy without any troubles.

But, why did I feel something was still wrong? I decided to think about it after eating the wonderful food in front of me. I grabbed my fork and began to dig in. Darcy began to eat as well, and I think it was more from politeness than hunger. He ate his food with all the proper manners of an aristocrat, never once did his elbows touch the table. Me, on the other hand, my only goal was to insert food into mouth. If I was truly Elizabeth Bennet, I needed the polish that living in modern times did not provide. In other words, I needed to be made into a lady.