“That was there already!”
“Itwas not.”
Lydia huffed and looked towards Elizabeth, as if expecting a ruling. But instead of defending herself, her expression changed—her brows raised, her lips pursed. “Unless…” she began slowly. “Maybe it wasn’t Kitty. Maybe it was…Longbourn’s ghost.”
Kitty snorted.
Elizabeth crossed her arms. “Do not be absurd, Lydia.”
Lydia tilted her head. “Why not? Everything’s been strange lately. Footsteps. Things are going missing. Maybe great-grandmother Bennet is back from the grave, searching for her silver thimble.”
Elizabeth tried to muster a scoff, but the image of the flickering light in the window—and the candle melted across her own dressing table—rose too quickly in her mind.
“Ghosts do not light candles,” she said flatly. “And they do not rummage through wardrobes for sweets.” She turned and headed downstairs before Lydia could retort.
The drawing room was empty, and the household still sleepy from the night’s excess. Elizabeth crossed the foyer and paused before her father’s study. The door was slightly ajar.
She tapped once and pushed it open. “Papa?”
Mr. Bennet glanced up from behind a book. He sat at his desk, spectacles perched low on his nose, surrounded by crumpled bits of correspondence and his untouched breakfast tray.
“I am going for a walk,” Elizabeth said, pulling on her gloves.
He looked over his glasses. “I hope the air might help settle your nerves. You were rather affected last night.”
Elizabeth stepped further in. “I only wished to make you aware…about a candle. In my room. It had been lit while I was outside. Left burning. It nearly set the dressing table alight.”
He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Lizzy, I hardly think this warrants another inquisition. You must have forgotten you had left it burning.”
“I did not.”
He shook his head. “You were distracted. It was a lively evening. These things happen.”
Her chest tightened. “I have not forgotten a candle in years. Someone was in my room—again.”
“And yet, no one saw them. Nothing was taken. And the house remains perfectly intact. Save perhaps your composure.” He gave her a sharp look. “I left the company of Sir William and the warmth of the fire to conduct a full search of this house last night—at your behest. I found nothing. No stranger. No ghost. And no grand conspiracy. Perhaps you are not so unlike your sisters as you would hope.”
The words hit harder than he seemed to realize. Elizabeth stood still, stunned.
“I am not making a pretense,” shesaid quietly.
Mr. Bennet waved a hand towards the door. “Have your walk, Lizzy. Perhaps some fresh air will put things into perspective.”
She stepped out without another word, the door clicking closed behind her.
Mr. Bennet
He hated dismissing Elizabeth's concerns, but hoped his casual attitude would ease some of her fears. Mr. Bennet's natural indolence felt like shackles. He fought with his very nature, mind insisting he investigate while his desire for peace protested. What was a gentleman to do? His fear for his family mounted steadily, and he hoped everything could be resolved without too much trouble or inconvenience.
The air outside was damp and sharp, the fog lifting slowly as she made her way down the path that wound through the Longbourn grounds. Fallen leaves crunched under her boots, gold and brown and curling with frost. The sun pressed weakly against the mist, turning the landscape into a blur of soft color and shadow.
Elizabeth walked quickly, trying to push the sting from her chest.
It should not have hurt. Her father had always been flippant, always avoided seriousness when it did not serve him. But this—this—was different. He had dismissedher. Not merely her concerns, but her voice. It was easier, she realized, for him to believe she had been careless than to face the possibility that something truly was wrong.
To believe her meantdoing something.It meant disrupting the quiet order of his world. And Mr. Bennet would always choose convenience over confrontation.
So he would call her fanciful. Silly, even. Just like Kitty. Just like Lydia, and that, more than anything, made her heart ache.
