Ever since she could walk, Elodie Bennet had expectations set upon her, as many other women did. As the second eldest, she was meant to care for her younger sisters and fulfill her duties without complaint.
Being one of the eldest also meant mar...
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MY CUP OF SOOTHING POISON.
Elodie and Elizabeth walked quietly beside each other, drawn once again to the heart of the manor.
The room they entered bore the unmistakable air of habitual comfort, and Elodie imagined the Bingleys frequently passed the hours here in genteel idleness—chatting over cards, thumbing through books, sipping something chilled from cut crystal.
They had missed supper, though neither sister felt it. The stress of the day had dulled their appetites.
Already, the room was occupied. Mr. Bingley sat on a velvet settee with his sister Caroline draped elegantly beside him, her posture too poised to be entirely relaxed. Their refinement was striking, like portraits come to life.
Not far from them, Mr. Darcy was stationed at a writing desk near the window, bathed in the last slant of daylight.
His quill scratched steadily across parchment, the intensity of his focus lending him an air of solemn gravity. His brow was furrowed in thought, dark eyes sharp with concentration. He looked more like a man drawing battle plans than penning correspondence.
Every time Elodie entered a new room in Netherfield, she had to fight the instinct to gawk. Everything from the gilded moldings to the floral arrangements in porcelain vases seemed plucked from the pages of a novel she was not meant to read.
Compared to this place, Longbourn felt like an aging house in mourning: ivy-cloaked, draft-ridden, held together more by habit than structure.
"Is Jane well?" Charles Bingley's voice broke gently through Elodie's thoughts, drawing her eyes to his eager, boyish smile.
Before she could answer, she noticed Mr. Darcy's quill pause ever so slightly, his attention momentarily stolen. Though his gaze remained on the page, he was listening.
Elodie hesitated. The truth was that Jane had improved significantly. Enough, perhaps, to begin thinking of the journey home. But revealing this would unleash her mother's fury, who no doubt hoped Jane's prolonged stay might further endear her to their generous host.
"She remains much the same as when you last saw her." Elodie said after a beat. "There's not much new to report."
Elizabeth offered a small nod of agreement. Between the two of them, they had learned how to navigate such delicate omissions. Their mother would be satisfied, or at least, not scandalized.
"A shame she was caught up in such unfortunate weather." Caroline Bingley chimed in. Her voice carried the quality of civility, but her words were barbed beneath their pretty exterior. She gestured to the empty chairs across from her, an invitation wrapped in command.
