Influence & Grace | Mr. Darcy [PPZ]

VI

six | 06.

PROMISE OF RAIN.

"Truly, I'd much rather go by coach." Jane pleaded, her voice strained as she adjusted her grip on the reins of the gray mare beneath her. Her delicate features were tight with worry, and Mary could see the reluctance etched in every line of her sister's face.

The clouds overhead were darkening rapidly, the promise of a storm, and the new chill in the air seemed to seep into Jane's bones.

Mary watched in silence, her eyes narrowed as she stood a few paces away, the breeze tugging at the loose tendrils of her hair.

Their mother, standing beside Jane, was practically vibrating with a barely contained glee that Mary found both frustrating and unsettling.

    The moment Mrs. Bennet had learned of Jane's invitation to dine at Netherfield, she had set about devising her schemes, her mind turning over every possible way to extend Jane's stay there, no matter the cost.

"It would be much safer in the coach." Mary interjected softly, but her voice was lost in the flurry of her mother's excitement.

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Bennet waved her words away with a dismissive flick of her hand, her expression fixed in a smile that did not reach her eyes. "You had much better go on horseback." Her voice took on a saccharine manner, dripping with false innocence. "It seems likely to rain, and then you will have to stay all night."

The satisfaction in Mrs. Bennet's smile made Mary's stomach twist with dread.

    The woman's single-minded determination to see Jane lodged at Netherfield, no matter the risks, was maddening.

Did she not understand the dangers that lurked just beneath the surface of their seemingly idyllic countryside?

    Zombies were drawn to the damp, to the soft, wet earth that offered them a chance to claw their way up from their shallow graves.

The rain would not just inconvenience Jane; it could very well place her in mortal peril.

Mary rolled her eyes, exasperation welling up within her. "Mama, you know how treacherous it can be when it rains. The roads will turn to mud, and the woods—"

Mrs. Bennet cut her off with a sharp, imperious look. "That is enough, Mary. Jane must go. The coach would be too much of an imposition, and this is an opportunity that must not be wasted."

    Her eyes flashed with a dangerous sort of zeal. "Mr. Bingley undoubtedly likes you, Jane, but in nine cases out of ten, a woman had far better show more affection than she feels."