Eliza and Will

Chapter 24

"Oh no, what's happened?" Asks Charlotte on the train to university the next morning.

"Nothing I lie," avoiding her gaze. "Just have a headache that's all, Mondays," I joke with little enthusiasm."

"I feel you," she sighs, plugging in her earphones and putting her head back against her seat, zoning out. Since my encounter with Willian, it has left me in a foul mood and the last thing I want to do is interact with anyone.

The day drags along slowly as my lectures seem to last for an eternity. When my final class is over, it almost feels too good to be true and I let out a big sigh of relief. However, it is cut short as I notice people scrambling in their bags for their umbrellas in front of the exit ahead of me. "Great," I moan, zipping up my coat as of course there has to be torrential rain on the day I am unprepared.

As if the day couldn't get any worse, my train is delayed and I have to stand outside in the cold for half an hour. The train shelter does little to shield me from the storm outside as the wind and rain pelt down at a sideways angle, soaking me even further.

"You are never leaving the house without your umbrella again, Miss Bennett," I fiercely whisper to myself - a lesson learnt.

I find my mood shifting slightly as my stop is approaching on the since arrived train, one step closer to a warm bath and cup of tea. Finally, I return home and close the door loudly behind me, kicking off my shoes and coat.

"Welcome home Elizabeth," jokes dad, peering in the porch at me.

"Don't even start, I'm not in the mood," I warn, humour in my eyes.

"Is that Eliza?" I hear mum's voice call from the kitchen.

"Unfortunately yes," I reply.

"Look what has arrived for you!" She issues frantically, running towards me with an envelope in her hand.

I take it from her, staring at it in awe and confusion. The only letters I receive are formal ones, I haven't been given a proper letter since I was little. It couldn't be a card, since my birthday isn't close and there has been no special occasion.

"Oh my, don't tell me my Eliza's getting admirers like Jane!" Mum exclaims. Kitty and Lydia overhear and laugh hysterically, teasing me with "Ooh" sounds.

Here we go, I think to myself. "That's enough," I declare, ignoring their continued immaturity and hurry upstairs with the mysterious letter in hand."

I debate whether or not to open it after I take a bath but curiosity gets to the better of me. I reach the top of the stairs and carefully rip it open.

"Dear Eliza," it reads, making my heart sink as my eyes scan over the perfect joint writing, realising that it could only be from one person. My thoughts are proved right as it is signed;

"With regret, William Darcy."