Page 246 of Pride and Prejudice Resolutions

But the music would not come.

Instead of Bach, her mind conjured a mop of unruly, windswept red hair. Instead of arpeggios, she felt the phantom warmth of a hand touching hers in a library aisle.

She remembered the card party at Lucas Lodge. The way he had watched her across the room—not with the polite indifference of society, but with a hunger that had stolen the breath from her lungs. And then, the tactical error.

Item Four:Strategic Blunder.She had smiled at Colonel Lindon. She had done it to be safe, to be witty. To prove she could. And when she looked back, she had seen the light go out of Mr Bingley's eyes.

Was it jealousy? Or was it relief?

She wanted to march out of the house. She wanted to saddle a horse—or perhaps a mule, given her current mood—and ride to the North Pasture. She wanted to grab Mr Bingley by his lapels and demand a citation.

Did you look at me with longing? Do you love me? Or are you merely kind, and I am merely starving?

"Mary, do stop fidgeting," Mrs Bennet admonished, not looking up from the Viscount's prose. "If you are to play, play. If not, sit down and hem a handkerchief. Your restlessness is disturbing my nerves."

Mary slammed the lid of the keys shut. The sound was a thunderclap in the quiet room.

Kitty jumped, droppingThe Crypt of Eternal Sorrows. Charles hissed at Kitty.

"I am not fidgeting." Mary's voice trembled a little—a fracture in the porcelain. "I am thinking."

"Well," Mrs Bennet adjusted her cap, "try to think more quietly. You will give us all a migraine."

Before Mary could retort that her mother's nerves were selective enough to survive a hurricane if a Viscount was involved, the universe decided to intervene.

A genuine boom of thunder shook the house. The purple sky finally tore open. Rain lashed against the glass, transforming the garden into a watercolour smear of grey and green.

"The windows!" Mrs Bennet shrieked, clutching her letter. "The velvet drapes! Kitty, move!"

As her mother and sister scurried to save the upholstery, Mary stood frozen in the centre of the room. A cold, leaden weight settled in her stomach, pushing out the jealousy and the logic.

Mr Bennet was out there.

Mr Bingley was out there.

An hour passed, and the deluge continued with the persistence of a very boring guest who refuses to take a hint. Suddenly, under the drumming of the rain against the glass, a different sound grew louder.

"A horse," Mary whispered.

The front door slammed open. The sound reverberated through the floorboards, followed by the heavy, wet tread of boots invading the sanctity of the hall.

"Hill!" Mrs Bennet abandoned the window, smoothing her cap with frantic vanity. "If that is Mr Bennet, tell him to wipe his feet! We are not a stable!"

The drawing room door flew open.

Colonel Lindon stood on the threshold. Water streamed from the brim of his hat, carving rivulets through the dust on his face. His coat was sodden, black with rain, and his chest heaved as if he had run the last mile himself, dragging the horse behind him.

"Mrs Bennet." The Colonel did not bow. He did not smile. He stripped off his gloves, wringing them out with a brutality that sent a cascade of water splashing onto the rug.

Mrs Bennet stared at the puddle forming around his boots. "Colonel? My carpet... you are drenched. You will ruin the pile."

"Mr Bennet has fallen."

The words landed in the room heavier than the thunder.

Kitty gasped, clutching her throat with the hand that was not holding her novel. "Fallen? Into... into a crypt? Into the abyss of eternal night?"

"Into a ditch," the Colonel corrected, his voice tight, clipped, stripping away the London polish to reveal the soldier underneath. "Near the boundary line. The animal spooked at the first crack of thunder. Gravity did the rest."