Matters of Chance

Chapter 23

The Bennet household had lost its usual liveliness. It was as if someone stole the spirit from the home. Elizabeth's mother refused to leave bed. She cried for her remaining four daughters to bring her food and water as she snuggled under the blankets, sobbing. She shrieked about how she would never find Lydia again, and how their family would never be the same. Jane reassured Mrs. Bennet as best as she could, but the older woman never snapped out of her hysterics.

In Lizzie's opinion, her father was worse. Sure, he was standing and walking around, but the teasing sparkle in his eyes had been replaced by bags. Elizabeth's father had always been sarcastic and witty, but any semblance of that had left him. She had never seen him look so tired. His shoulders sagged, his steps shuffled, and his movements were clumsy. It was like he was sleepwalking. Guilt was written all over his face. Her father brushed off problems easily, but for the first time, he looked like he had failed. His abrasive attitude towards his daughters had always been his personality, but below that, he would sacrifice anything for them.

Seeing the emotional damage caused to her family made Elizabeth's chest hurt. The letter from Darcy burned a hole into her pocket. Guilt seeped into her bones. She couldn't hide this anymore. It was her fault for not warning anybody sooner. It was her fault for assuming that George Wickham was out of their lives.

Elizabeth gathered everybody except for her mother in the living room. She didn't think her mother could handle the additional emotional weight. As the eyes of three of her sisters and her father stared at her, Elizabeth felt like she was on trial. She shook her hands out, and with a shaky breath, told them about Ginny's experience with Wickham.

They all silently listened, their eyes on her, but Elizabeth couldn't bring herself to look up at them. The fact that none of them spoke made it worse. She missed Mary pointing out the obvious or Kitty saying something off topic. When Elizabeth had finished speaking, she held her breath. She didn't offer any excuses of why she didn't tell them earlier. It wasn't the time for those. She waited for her family to say something, anything, to break the tension.

Jane pulled Lizzie into a hug, "I understand why you didn't tell us," she said, "Thank you for being brave."

Elizabeth kept her arms at her sides. Despite how inviting her sister's embrace seemed, she felt like she didn't deserve it. Jane eventually let go, giving Elizabeth a sympathetic glance. Lizzie wanted to scream. She didn't need her sister's sympathy right now. It didn't change their current situation. It didn't change that Lydia was gone.

Her father spoke in a low voice from across the room, "Elizabeth, thank you for telling me this," he said, "But you were the closest to Wickham. I'd like to ask you some questions in my office."

Elizabeth sniffed and nodded, standing up. She felt rigid, her limbs only existing to move where she might be helpful. Together, her and her father walked into his office. Elizabeth shut the door behind them. Usually, Elizabeth appreciated the cavern that was her father's office. The walls were lined with dark shelves packed with books and all of the furniture was a warm brown, lit by soft lighting. However, today, the lights seemed blinding, the dimness of the office felt like an interrogation room. Her father sat behind his desk. Elizabeth sat across from him. He stared at her for a couple of long seconds before speaking up.

"Tell me everything you know," he said.

She did. She gave him George's number, let him read her texts with him, and told him every single detail she could remember about him. Her father asked questions, which Elizabeth answered as best as she could. However, Mr. Bennet wasn't the only one learning new things. He told Elizabeth everything that they did in the last 24 hours to find her. They filed a missing person's report, went to social media, and contacted the Oakland police department. Next, they'd try to track his cell phone.

The time that passed was only 20 minutes, but to Lizzie, it felt like hours. She walked out of the room sweaty and shaky, but feeling as if she did something useful. She paced around the house, walking in and out of the kitchen tirelessly before Jane stopped her, and directed her towards her bed. It was then that Elizabeth finally came into her own body.

Stale sweat lined her skin, heavy bags hung under her eyes, and her hands trembled, unable to stop. She didn't have an appetite, but she hadn't eaten since she had pizza in San Francisco. Elizabeth, the empowered, headstrong woman, was crumbling. After Jane assured her that she'd wake Lizzie up if anything happened, Lizzie finally let the exhaustion hanging off her limbs pull her down, and she fell asleep.

A gentle shake pulled Elizabeth into consciousness. Her eyelids resisted opening, her eyelashes tangling, before finally letting the light in. It was Jane, hovering over her and softly telling Elizabeth to wake up.

Jane had gone out and gotten dinner for the family. It was late, but both of their parents were too tangled up in Lydia's situation to even remember dinner. The eldest sister came to the rescue and brought back pasta from their favorite Italian restaurant.

It was 8:30 when Jane brought the food into their shared bedroom. In an event that never happened, Mary and Kitty ate with their older sisters in the bedroom. It seemed like none of them could bear to be alone, and none of them could be around their hopeless parents. Together, they stuffed pasta in their mouth without a word. It seemed odd that the one time that nearly all of the sisters got together peacefully was during a tragedy. For the most part, everyone kept their heads down, staring at their plates as they ate. Elizabeth glanced around the room at her sisters.

Jane kept a calm expression, though it didn't fool Elizabeth. She could see the worry in the lines of her face and the slight twitch of her lips into a frown. Elizabeth could see sleepiness in her sister's eyes. She assumed part of it was jetlag, but most of it was the current situation.

Mary would always boast about having a great poker face, but everyone who met her could tell that she wore her heart on her sleeve. Mary, like their father, made biting remarks towards the family that could come off as a little mean. Just like their dad, she loved her family dearly. Mary had always been the most at odds with Lydia. The two of them were polar opposites. Mary dressed in dark clothing and hoodies, studied most of the time, and didn't care much about making friends. Lydia, on the other hand, always dressed with the trends, was super popular, and spent most of her time on social media.

While Mary's expressions were usually negative or annoyed, the one on her face right now was a different level entirely. Elizabeth could only describe it as stunned. If Elizabeth would have guessed which sister would be in some sort of denial, she would have said Kitty. Instead, it was Mary. The middle child's eyes were fixed on her food and she ate in a slow, repetitive motion. Occasionally, she'd look at her phone, as if Lydia might text her back.

The biggest impact must have happened on Kitty. She hid it well. Of all of the sisters, Kitty Bennet showed the least grief. She was dressed fashionably as always, she didn't look tired, and she scrolled on Instagram like it was any other day. Lydia and Kitty were best friends. Kitty's lack of worry shocked Elizabeth at first, but it only took her a few minutes to figure out that the younger Bennet was putting up a front. Elizabeth could see it in her sister's eyes.

There was evidence too. Elizabeth caught Kitty sending an endless stream of texts to Lydia, but with no answer. Elizabeth saw Kitty walk out of the bathroom, her eyes red rimmed and puffy. The biggest hint was as Elizabeth stared at her from across the bedroom. Kitty looked up at Lizzie, making eye contact. It was only a few seconds before the normalcy that Kitty plastered on her face completely shattered.