“She will not admit it, but you can ask Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, or even Lord Matlock, and they will tell you the same. Lady Catherine is a hypocrite, and so, Cousin William, are you.” She marched past him, snatched her bonnet from the vestibule before he could refuse her that as well, and left the parsonage, resisting the temptation to slam the door behind her.
Had he really cast her out with no means of getting home?
The door opened behind her and Mr. Collins flung Pepper onto the path. He did slam the door.
Elizabeth crouched down beside the cat. “Pepper, are you hurt?”
Pepper sat and began to primly wash her face. Was that blood by her mouth? She did not seem injured, so it must not be hers.
“Good Pepper! I hope you bit him hard,” said Elizabeth vindictively.
The cat gave her look of great satisfaction.
How could Mr. Collins throw her out without the means to care for herself? If Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy were not there to help her, she would have no choice but to start for London on foot, hardly a safe proposition for a young woman alone. Walking in slippers never meant to be used out of doors, her feet would be bleeding long before she arrived. And Faerie could no longer be a refuge for her, not while there were glamour traps.
“We might as well start out for Rosings,” she told Pepper. She had to do something. Walking through the grove would be easier on herslippers than the gravel on the road. If only she had her half-boots! But she would never see her half-boots again, the ones that had fit perfectly and kept her feet dry, nor her beloved blue dress, nor the shift of the finest linen Mrs. Gardiner had given her for Christmas. All those would be nothing more than ashes soon. Her breath caught on a sob. How utterly unfair this was! Lady Catherine was despicable, despicable. She had engineered this, no doubt in revenge for Elizabeth revealing her magic. Wicked, detestable woman!
What would Mr. Darcy say when he learned of this? She could picture him descending on Mr. Collins like an avenging angel. The thought almost made her laugh. Yes, far better to think about that than what she had lost. But Mr. Darcy had left for London that morning. What if Colonel Fitzwilliam had decided to go with him? Then she would have no recourse until they returned. Perhaps Charlotte would manage to help her somehow, to put money or food outside the window, but it would be a long, cold night without her pelisse. Oh, damn Mr. Collins!
She stopped short and, suddenly weak, leaned against a tree. Losing all her possessions was the least of her worries. Mr. Collins would insist on writing to Sir William Lucas with the news she had been exposed as a witch. Within days everyone in Meryton would know. She squeezed her eyes shut. Here she was again, facing the fate she had worried about if Mr. Darcy guessed her secret. And it had been so lovely, those few days at Rosings when she had felt no need to hide her magic! Now she would have to go away after all, to leave everything, and move to a refuge for wisewomen. No home, no family, no friends.
“Mrrow.”
“Yes, at least I will still have you, Pepper,” she said in a shaky voice. “That will be a comfort.”
Her eyes must be red, but she did not care. It did not stop her from knocking on the door of Rosings House.
When the gaunt butler opened the door, she said, “I am here to see Colonel Fitzwilliam.” If the butler thought it was inappropriate for a single lady to call on a gentleman, that was his problem. Elizabeth no longer cared.
He looked down his nose at her. “Lady Catherine has given instructions that you are not to be admitted under any circumstances.”
Elizabeth gritted her teeth. “Then I will ask you to take a message to Colonel Fitzwilliam telling him I wish to speak to him.”
“I cannot provide you any such services. Good day, Miss Bennet.” He closed the door in her face.
Astounded, she glared at the door, her distress overpowered by fierce rage. Lady Catherine meant to make her helpless and destitute.
Elizabeth refused to oblige her, no matter what it took. She would find the colonel somehow. She could probably go in through the kitchen door since the staff were accustomed to her presence at Rosings, but she might be seen if she had to wander from room to room hunting for him. If she knew where he might be, it would be feasible.
“Pepper? Would you be willing to look in the windows to see where Colonel Fitzwilliam is?”
Normally Pepper would have considered such a request and perhaps waited to be bribed with a treat, but this time she simply walked behind a bush and emerged as a raven. She must realize how desperate a situation this was. The bird flew to the house, pausing on each windowsill for a minute or two, seeming to pick random windows each time.
Pepper flew out of sight to the other side of the house. Elizabeth chewed the side of her thumb, a habit she had left behind in childhood. What would she do if she could not find the colonel? Darcy had intended to return tomorrow morning, but he could easily change those plans. There was no need for him to return before Beltane. Two days away. Two nights when she would have no shelter and no way to protect herself. Her stomach churned.
Her nerves were nearly shattered by the time the white raven returned and perched on the same bush. “Where is he, Pepper? Will you show me where he is?”
The bird only tipped her head to one side.
Foreboding choked her. “He is not there, is he? That is why Lady Catherine thought she could do this to me.” He must have gone to London with Mr. Darcy, leaving her helpless and alone. Was Lady Catherine watching her through the window and laughing?
At least she could discover whether Colonel Fitzwilliam had left or not. She set off for the stables. Apparently no one there had been instructed not to speak to her, as the stable master greeted her politely and asked how he could help her.
“I understand Mr. Darcy left for London this morning,” she said.
“Aye, so he did, miss.”
“Did Colonel Fitzwilliam accompany him?” She held her breath.
