Allison Smith [Smith - Prince Darcy

* * *

Several Weeks Prior

No man wants a sickly wife, no matter how comely...and Elizabeth is such a clever girlclever girls never wed.

Elizabeth stabbed at the loamy earth, uncaring of broken nails and dirt caked in her nail beds. How dare that woman speak in such a dismissive manner? She cared little for her stepmothers opinion regarding herself, but Janeinsult to Jane roused her temper, stoking determination to find a way out. Somehow. Away from Longbourn, though the thought of leaving her childhood home exacerbated an unsettled ache in her heart since the death of her father three years ago.

Standing, she picked up the brown wicker basket filled with the wild plants she came to the forest to pick for Janes restorative tea. There were people, even in these modern times, who denied the existence of magic and the wild, herbal arts of wise women. Elizabeth had never been one, especially not since she could be accused of using some of their skills on Janes behalf. People were fools, however. There was nothing magical about knowing the right plants and methods of preparation. Though even were her sister in perfect health, she would find an excuse to flee to her outdoor sanctuary. Out here the only sounds were the sigh of the wind through the forest canopy, the chatter of birds and rustle of small creatures. No critical stepmother, no tittering younger half sisters. Just peace.

Before she sought peace or adventure, perhaps her own chance at love with a man who appreciated her clevernessa man worthy of respectshe must see Jane wed to a gentleman who would dote on her. As the loveliest of all the Bennet sisters, it should not be so hard to find Jane a husband. If not for their modest dowry and the constant, subtle sabotage of their stepmother, the second Mrs Bennett, Jane might have wed years ago.

Elizabeth walked, weaving through trees and underbrush until she came to the common path that traversed the forest. It was an hour until she returned home and she had spent twice that time finding her plants. She skirted the front entrance and entered the house from the side, going straight to the kitchen where she sat her basket on the wide working table and hung her threadbare shawl on a peg.

Heavy footsteps came down the hall that led to the rest of the house. Elizabeth turned, taking a half empty tea tray from Mrs Carsons hands.

You were gone a good while, Mrs Carson said, a warning in her voice. Mrs Bennet missed you at tea.

I doubt she missed me. She may have complained I was not present.

Tormenting Jane was beneath her stepmother, as Jane was soft spoken and rarely spoke back. Her own daughters Adelaide Bennet doted on, which left only Elizabeth for the woman to subject to her constant dissatisfaction. She dared not displease their remaining servants. Mrs Carson fulfilled the roles of two servants, due to her loyalty to the deceased Mr Bennett, without demanding the pay.

Well, go on upstairs and clean up before she sees the dirt caked in your nails. Ill bring a tray up.

No, do not trouble yourself. I will come back down and help you with dinner.

Not right. A daughter of the house helpin in the kitchen.

Elizabeth kissed her cheek. Cease your grumbling. It has not killed me yet.

Mrs Carson flicked a towel at Elizabeth. Get on with you, daft girl.

Grinning, she left the kitchen, walking as quietly as possible through the hall to the stairway that led to her and Janes small, shared bedroom.

Elizabeth!

She stopped, taking care to smooth the grimace from her face before turning. Her stomach clenched as always, throat dry from the effort to swallow imprudent speech. Stepmother.

Mrs Bennet was a tall, slender woman with ash blonde hair and a perpetually dissatisfied expression in her hazel eyes, her dress a touch too ornate for an afternoon tea with family. Pearls adorned her ears and neck, mouth thin with restrained temper.