Page 15

Elizabeth arrived back from her walk, still unsettled over Wickham, though uncertain of what more she could do. Yet, as soon as she entered the house, her thoughts were forced elsewhere. Mr. Collins had arrived.

She quickly retreated upstairs to change before being formally introduced.

The evening proceeded much as she remembered from years before, though she could not help but note the subtle improvements Charlotte had managed to effect in her husband’s manner.

Mr. Collins was still pompous, still insufferably enamored with Lady Catherine de Bourgh, but his worst excesses had been tempered. Charlotte was a miracle worker, indeed.

During dinner, Mr. Bennet, ever eager for amusement, steered the conversation towards Lady Catherine.

As expected, Mr. Collins launched into a speech on her affability, condescension, and unrivaled wisdom.

He recounted every instance of her notice, from approving his sermons to advising him on the placement of shelves in his parsonage.

His fervent praise extended to her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, whom he insisted was a model of beauty and refinement, despite her delicate health.

Mrs. Bennet, ever pragmatic, was less interested in Lady Catherine’s virtues than in Miss de Bourgh’s fortune, but her inquiries were met with the same unwavering admiration.

Meanwhile, Mr. Bennet delighted in provoking his cousin, his expressions of mock seriousness sending Elizabeth amused glances.

However, Elizabeth, wearied by the evening’s ordeal, was in no mood for the entertainment her father found in their guest. She merely endured it.

After dinner, the ladies retired to the drawing-room, where Mr. Collins, ever eager to improve their minds, offered to read aloud.

Upon realizing the available books were novels, he recoiled and instead selected "Fordyce’s Sermons.

" Lydia’s immediate and irreverent interruption put an end to the reading entirely, much to Elizabeth’s quiet relief.

Mr. Collins, affronted, turned his attentions to backgammon with Mr. Bennet, who accepted with undisguised amusement.

Elizabeth sat in front of her vanity, running a brush absentmindedly through her curls, when a soft knock interrupted the stillness of the evening. She turned to see Mary hesitating in the doorway, hands clasped before her, her brows knit together in uncharacteristic uncertainty.

"Mary?" Elizabeth said, setting the brush down. "Come in."

Mary stepped inside but did not immediately take a seat.

Instead, she lingered near the door, her eyes scanning the room as if searching for something.

"I know we are not given to confidences," she began, her voice measured, "but you are my sister, and I love you.

I may not have Father's intellect or your wit, but I observe, and I care. Something is troubling you."

Elizabeth stiffened. "I assure you, I am quite well."

Mary tilted her head, unconvinced. "No, you are not. You have been... different. Ever since you recovered from your accident, you have changed. I know others may not see it, but I do. Your demeanor, your words, your thoughts—they are not as they were."

Elizabeth forced a light laugh. "Am I to take this as a compliment or a reproach?"

Mary did not smile. "Neither. It is merely an observation. But that is not all."

She finally took a step closer, folding her hands tightly together. "You played a song the other evening that I have never heard before, and I have searched for the sheet music, yet it is nowhere to be found. Unless you are hiding it here in your room, which would be most unlike you."

Elizabeth inhaled sharply but kept her expression neutral. "Perhaps it was a piece long forgotten? Something buried in the collection that we have overlooked?"

Mary shook her head. "No. I know every composition we possess. I may not be a great player, but I have spent years studying them. That song—there was something about it that did not belong."

Elizabeth turned away, feeling exposed under Mary’s quiet scrutiny. "What exactly are you asking me?"

Mary hesitated, then said, "I do not know. But I know you are keeping something from us—from me. And I do not mean to pry, but if you are in distress, if you are frightened or burdened, then I would rather bear it with you than watch in silence."

Elizabeth swallowed hard, her instinct to deflect warring with the undeniable truth in Mary’s words. She had underestimated her younger sister, always believing her to be preoccupied with moral philosophy and good conduct to the exclusion of deeper feeling. And yet, here she was, proving her wrong.

"Mary, I..." She faltered, looking at her sister’s earnest face. Could she trust her? Dare she speak aloud the impossible truth?

Her fingers trembled as she reached for Mary’s hand. "If I tell you something, will you swear it will go no further?"

Mary’s grip tightened. "On my word as your sister. "

Elizabeth exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of her secret pressing against her chest. "Then listen closely, for what I am about to tell you is not something you will easily believe."

Mary, ever analytical, crossed her arms and regarded Elizabeth with a mixture of concern and skepticism.

"You have certainly been different, Lizzy.

More serious, more... deliberate. I cannot pretend that I have not noticed.

But if you have some great revelation, I must warn you that I do not place stock in flights of fancy. "

Elizabeth almost laughed. "Oh, Mary, if only it were a mere flight of fancy.

That would be far easier to bear." She hesitated before continuing, choosing her words carefully.

"I woke up with memories that do not belong to this life—not yet, at least. I have lived before, or rather, I have seen a life that is yet to come.

It was so vivid, so real, that I believed it to be a dream at first. But then—then, things began happening exactly as I remembered.

Conversations, events, all unfolding as they did before, unless I change them. "

Mary's brow furrowed. "That is quite a claim, Elizabeth. And yet..." She paused, choosing her words as carefully as Elizabeth had. "You have changed. I had assumed it was because of your accident, but this? This is something else entirely."

Encouraged by Mary’s measured approach, Elizabeth pressed on. "The song I played the other evening, for example—'Ode to the Happy Heart' by Haydn. You will not find the sheet music for it, because it is very old and difficult to find. The Darcys would have it, as Lady Anne loved music."

Mary blinked. "That is... unlikely. But I will admit, I have searched for it and found nothing. "

Elizabeth shook her head. "There is more, Mary.

Since returning from Netherfield, I have been in turmoil because I know what is coming.

Tomorrow, Mama will redirect Mr. Collins toward me by implying Jane is engaged.

Lydia will insist we walk to Meryton, where we will meet a man—Mr. Wickham.

He is charming and pleasant, but he is not what he seems. He is an enemy of Mr. Darcy. "

Mary, still hesitant, studied her sister’s face. "And why does this trouble you so?"

Elizabeth sighed. "Because Mr. Darcy already suspects I am in league with Wickham.

He does not know how I played his favorite song—yes, Mary, it is his favorite—or how I know about his sister.

He has not fully formed his suspicions, but if he sees me speaking with Wickham so soon after, it may confirm his worst fears. "

Mary clasped her hands together, deep in thought. "You realize how mad this all sounds, do you not? And yet... how else could you know such things? "

Elizabeth reached for her sister’s hand, her voice earnest. "I know it is difficult to believe. I would not believe it myself were I in your place. But, Mary, I swear to you—I am telling the truth. I do not know why or how this has happened, but I cannot ignore it."

Mary exhaled slowly, her mind clearly weighing logic against the impossible. Finally, she nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Very well, Elizabeth. I do not know what to think, but I will listen. Tell me everything you remember."

Elizabeth told Mary all that had happened up to this point, She hesitated, then allowed herself a small smile. "On a different note, would you perhaps want Mr. Collins's attention instead? I will never have him, but perhaps we can direct him your way, or shall Charlotte have him?"

Mary was silent for a long moment, considering. "You said I do not go on the walk with you tomorrow? Perhaps I should. I will observe him, learn more about him, and then decide."

She paused, then added, "As for Wickham and Mr. Darcy.

.. I see your dilemma. We cannot prevent our youngest sisters from going into town tomorrow, nor stop Mr. Darcy from seeing them meet Wickham, even if you are not there.

I am not saying I believe you fully, but if this plays out as you say tomorrow, I will have to reconsider my doubts.

In the meantime, we must think of something. "