Ever since she could walk, Elodie Bennet had expectations set upon her, expectations that all young women had. As the second eldest, she was meant to care for her younger sisters and do what was asked of her without complaining.
This also meant...
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THE POWER OF NOBILITY.
The room—adorned with lavish furnishings and expensive antiques— was deathly quiet as Lady Catherine's gaze scoured the two women. Elodie felt that even the smallest wrong movement would bring shame upon her family.
"So you are the Bennet sisters." She drawled, glittery earrings clicking together at her head's every move. For a moment, as if drinking in her powerful presence, the two girls didn't respond.
Squawking ripped through the room, making Elizabeth turn her head to peer at a plentiful amount of caged birds; some of which she had never seen in her entire life.
"We are but two of six, ma'am." Elodie said with the prettiest smile she could muster. Lady Catherine's eyebrow lifted and she hummed thoughtfully, almost making Mr. Collins go limp from his nerves. He clearly wanted the approval of her so-much-so he would completely humiliate himself if it meant making her happy.
Turning to the young woman beside her, who wore circular glasses and curly brown hair, she presented her with an open palm to the two.
Elodie noted inwardly that the poor girl looked rather pale and sickly.
"This is my daughter." The girl said nothing but gave a weak smile, which was reciprocated. It was a very awkward experience for Elodie, but she decided to fight through it nevertheless.
As Mr. Collins divulged Lizzy in the expense of the parlor, Elodie heard the grand door open and a gust of cool, fresh wind spilled into the room. A figure walked in immediately after.
The stray strands of hair caressed Elodie's face gently and tickled her nose as she turned towards the sound.
Her heart began to beat as fast as a drummer when she saw the rather familiar riding boots which supported long legs that held up a slim torso. The midnight black coat that the person wore fluttered from his strong pace.
His presence made her feel as if she was watching a play in slow motion.
"Mr. Darcy." She said breathlessly, amazed that he was even there to begin with. She had assumed he had stayed with the Bingley's after they departed from Netherfield so suddenly.
He merely stared at her as he stepped closer, his eyes boring into her as he took in her appearance— which she was then so self-conscious of. One of the many things that had frustrated Elodie about him was that his expressions were always so hard to make out. "What are you doing at Rosings?" She scoffed.
