“Papa?” she asked as she rushed to his side. “Oh, dear lord, whatever have I done?”
Jane bit her lip. She had not expected the princess to blame herself for the state of her father's ill health, though she was hardly surprised. Perhaps, however, it would do Elizabeth good to have a purpose, a distraction from her constant state of expectation. If she could restore Mr. Bennet to his former health, mayhap the princess would be drawn from her perpetual melancholy. Jane could only hope.
“Eliza? Is it ye? Why, my child, you have grown round! What has that bird-witted nurse been feeding ye?”
Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her father's neck for a moment and brushed a kiss over his wrinkled forehead. She pulled back and offered him a warm smile. “Papa,” she said gently, “I no longer require a nurse. I am a married woman now.”
“Married? To Mr. Wickham, no doubt. Aye, but ye are a charming couple, so bright, so happy. He is a fine lad. I do not regret our ruin.”
“Ruin?” Elizabeth glanced at Jane, dread in her eyes.
“Had I sold ye into marriage with the Blackheart, ye would have never forgiven me. I am thankful I came upon my senses at the very last.”
“But—”
“Mrs. Wickham, I should think your Papa would like to see his chambers,” Jane interjected. “Guard, pray escort him.”
The guard gingerly took the unsteady man's elbow.
“See to his comfort,” Elizabeth called after them. When the door was closed and they were alone, she wrenched her hands together and moaned. “My husband is off at war, and I walk with a swelling belly. My papa is mad and believes me married to a man who my actual husband may very well be fighting. I cannot stand the sight of butter or eggs. I have a single friend. And Lady Caroline Bingley still sleeps beneath my roof! Jane, I do not think I can bear another thing!”
Her heart aching for the princess, Jane embraced Elizabeth firmly and ran her hands over her friend's back. She whispered words of comfort to the frightened and apprehensive girl while she led her to the sofa. Once she had her sitting, Jane ordered tea and, after it arrived, nearly force-fed the overwrought mother-to-be. Jane was sturdy and could help, but this pain affected her to her soul.
“Matters will work out how they are supposed to, my lady. Your papa may seem distressed now, but you may be the very solution he needs to put his world right again. I am convinced that he should very much prefer to find himself well enough to welcome his grandchild.”
Elizabeth nodded her head and nibbled at a small water biscuit absently while she stared out the window. As if revelling in a new thought, she said, “Perhaps you are right. If I can get Papa well, maybe my luck will change, and my husband will return safely, and I can finally be rid of the Wrong Dishonourable Lady Caroline.”
Jane giggled at the unflattering soubriquet. “Concentrate on the tasks at hand, my lady. Mind your papa's health and that of your babe. The rest shall fall into place.”
Elizabeth nodded and ate another water biscuit with care. Jane was careful to watch her as she waited a few moments, making sure she would not be ill again. Then the princess sought the company of her father. Jane released a heavy sigh. When William came home, all would be well.
* * *
Caroline had known better than to think George would survive the battle. In fact, had bets been taken, she would have wagered against him. He was more useful to her dead than alive. And, after scrying, she could be confident that he was dead as well as she could write her own name. She could not, however, determine whether or not Darcy was still alive.
She had scried; she had uttered incantations and burned incense; she had mixed herbs and offered blood, but to no avail. The Fates were no longer listening. It did not matter. The witch still had power.
“Where are you?” She called to them.
“Daughter, you have acted treacherously.” Three disembodied voices rolled together in a perfect harmony of rage and disgust. “You have spilled innocent blood, and that is an unforgivable sin. You are interfering with plans that were in place before your soul was weaved into existence. For this you must be punished.”
Caroline’s power faded away like a candle flame trapped beneath a jar. Her heart began to beat faster at the sensation of loss deep within her.
“No! You cannot do this! He should be mine! Nobody loves him like I love him, like I have always loved him!”
“You are right. Nobody has loved him as you have loved him. The High Lady Elizabeth's love has not ended in the death of an innocent soul. She is pure and has been in all the lifetimes they have spent andwill spendtogether. They were cut from the same oversoul, they are intertwined eternally, and nothing in this universe is capable of destroying their connection.
“Right Honourable Lady Caroline, former daughter, you are disgraced. Do not call upon us again. If you do, your punishment shall be more severe than the ones the humans shall inflict upon you come the day of your judgment.”
“Wait!”
But naught answered her plea. The silence was so loud, she became afraid her eardrums might burst. She leant against the wall, unaware that her palms bled where her nails had sliced through the thick, meaty flesh. For the first time in her life, Caroline was without power. She could not even will a candle to light. She might as well have suddenly run out of breath, that essential component of life; it was such a loss of what she had thought sustained her.
She inhaled deeply to steady herself. Yes, she was still alive.
She stiffened her spine, gazing at the tall, elegant woman in the mirror before her. “I am the Right Honourable Lady Caroline Bingley. It may not be magic, but I still have power I can manipulate. I am not yet defeated.”
* * *