Page 12 of Searching for Elizabeth (A Pride and Prejudice Variation)

—the next morning—

Elizabeth Bennet hoped Mary would come that day. If Mary did not come with more supplies, she would have to purchase some food for herself or find someone to purchase it for her.

While she waited for her sister, Elizabeth wrote in her journal, carefully copied the last story for Tales from the Hedgerows, wrote a long and tragic poem—an ode, she decided—and then dove into writing another one of her humorous children’s stories.

She ate a small breakfast and sipped some tea. Later, when she took a walk, she would get more water from the nearby spring, she thought. It was grueling, living alone like this.

Lizzy could not help it; she needed to cry again. It was so unlike her, but her life had been turned upside down, so who knew what was “like her" in this new reality? She pushed aside her empty cup and plate, and she crossed her arms, laid her head down on her arms, and sobbed.

Mary did not come. Lizzy felt desperate for a walk and needed more water, but she did not want to leave the house if Mary should come. She realized that she needed to make an arrangement—a secret place outside of the house, where she would leave a message if she left. It would be best if it could be big enough for Mary to leave food or other supplies, as well.

She went outside, carefully listening and then scanning to see if anybody should happen to be near. As usual, the forest surrounding her was full of the soft sounds of small animals moving about, and occasional birdsong. She heard nothing that indicated that people were nearby.

Lizzy left the door of the cottage unlocked, and she kept the cottage in sight, in case Mary arrived. She was looking for a tree hollow, or a hollow stump or log, where things could be stowed and hidden.

Finally, she found a small log that had a surprisingly large cavity. It might just do, and she managed to carry it, a few steps at a time, until she positioned it quite close to her front door, tucked under a holly bush.

Mary still had not come. Lizzy was positive that she would have come, and she would have been carrying more food, if she could have slipped away without being spotted and waylaid by Mama. She knew how hard it was for Mary to get up as early as Lizzy did, and the fact that she had come so early the day before just made it less likely that she could have risen at dawn today.

Well, this was her life now, Lizzy thought. She wrote a message just in case Mary came, after all, and she positioned it in the hollow log so that one corner of the paper stuck out. Then she got the large pitcher she had purchased for the cottage, years ago, and she locked the padlock on the cottage door. She hurried to the spring for some fresh water and walked back again as swiftly as she could. A part of her hoped that Mary would be there, standing at the door of the cottage, waiting for her, but of course she was not.

Before she could think this is my life now again, Lizzy entered the cottage and diligently got to work again. She wrote in her journal, brainstormed story ideas, and wrote part of a new story.

She felt lonely, but she pushed that thought away, along with all the exhaustion and worry. She was fine. All would be well.