Jane knew Mama was treading a fine line. She did not want to take sides, but she could not help thinking that Papa was right.
“I do not think I should ride over, Mama.”
Mrs. Bennet took out her handkerchief, a sure sign that she was growing agitated.
Kitty, who was rapidly becoming bored with the conversation, took advantage of the silence and spoke up.
“Do you think the weather will hold up long enough for us to walk to Meryton and back, or do you think it will rain?”
Mrs. Bennet sat up suddenly and put her handkerchief away.
“That is it! You have hit upon the perfect idea. Lydia, can you whip up some storm magic?”
Jane shook her head. Mama’s belief in Lydia’s magic abilities often reached absurd heights. “You know very well, Mama, that no mage alive can control the weather.”
But Lydia did not wish her abilities to be questioned.
“I can try.”
“Good. Then I have a plan. Jane will ride over to Netherfield to take the poor officers a basket with calves foot jelly and some healing tinctures, but then Lydia can create a storm, and she will be forced to take refuge at the house, at least until the storm passes.”
“Then, when they see her, they may take her on as a Healer. Is that not a fine idea? Then you will be well placed to tell us if any of the officers’ situation has improved, and you can introduce him to us. Or even better, if one of them were to take a fancy to you. It happens all the time. Young gentlemen often form strong attachments to young ladies who help them with their recovery. Your healing magic is strong. Go, get dressed. You had better go at once before the weather turns sunny.”
Before Jane could say anything further, Mrs. Bennet was prodding her up the stairs, shouting for the maid, Sarah, to find Jane’s best riding gown, and calling for someone to do Jane’s hair.
Jane sighed, wishing that she had not opened her mouth and said anything. In truth, she did not wish that. She would like it if they took her on at Netherfield. She would never seek out adventure herself, but sometimes she wondered what was the point of having a Talent if she did not do more with it?
***
WHEN JANE SETTLED INthe saddle, there was only a small hint of rain in the sky. The sky was overcast, but there were small breaks in the clouds. If Mama was wrong about the rain, then her trip to Netherfield would be for nothing.
Still, it was a pleasant day for a ride. She rarely had the opportunity to do so. More often than not, the horse was needed for other purposes. It would do her good to do some riding. If worse came to worst, she would hand her basket to the butler and then withdraw.
Being out alone in any case was a good opportunity to turn to her own reflections. She had been spending more time thinking about her future in the last two weeks. Since Lizzy had left them to go to join the Royal Mages for the second time, Jane had been trying to determine what she wanted out of her life. Mama had told her often that she was the most beautiful young lady in Hertfordshire. She had assured her she would marry well. But what was the good of being the prettiest if there were no eligible young men available?
If only she could have a Season in London! After all, she was mage-born, and although her magic was not as powerful as Lizzy’s, it was good enough for her to be desirable as a wife to a mage. But circumstances had prevented it. Although Papa was a gentleman, he had no relatives he could count on to introduce her to London Society.
If she had been given the opportunity to study at an Academy, she would have welcomed it. She loved healing others. She could not help feeling a tinge of envy that Lydia had been chosen to go. Of course, Jane was too old now to attend an Academy, as was Kitty. Sometimes she wished Papa had not chosen to resign from the Academy when he was younger. Then they might all have had the opportunity to go – except of course Mary, who was deaf to magic.
It was no use crying over spilt milk. She felt guilty now, for being envious of Lydia, and for being angry at Papa. After all, it was not Papa’s fault he had left. He had not deliberately planned it to prevent his daughters from receiving any formal training.
It was only three miles to Netherfield, but some time along the way, she emerged from her ruminations and realized the weather had changed. A gust of wind came out of nowhere, and rain came pouring down in torrents. Jane wondered if Lydia actually had the ability to control storms after all, though it was more likely that Mama had some very minor Talent in foreseeing the future.
Or it could be neither. Sometimes, rain came down. It was a fact of life, and there was nothing magical about that.
Jane put her hood up and pulled her cloak around her as the rain pelted down. Why could it not have drizzled just a little, or at least rained lightly? Her woolen cloak provided her with scarce protection against the elements. She would arrive at Netherfield thoroughly bedraggled. Instead of offering assistance as a Healer, she would be in need of Healing herself.
There was no point in blaming others. After all, she had made the choice to come to Netherfield herself. No one had forced her to do it. Nevertheless, a flicker of irritation against her mother emerged unbidden. She felt ashamed of it immediately. She told herself that Mama had a very hard time of it. If she were able to conjure up eligible young gentlemen from the air, she would have done so, but since that could not be accomplished, Mama had to use every possible method to find husbands for her daughters.
Meryton was not exactly packed with young eligible gentlemen. Most of the time, there were not even enough for them to dance with.
It was ironic that the one person that had always resisted Mama’s plans was the one who had married quickly after all, and by any consideration, Lizzy had married well. Though Jane did not envy her in the least. She herself would be loath to marry someone so severe and powerful as Mr. Darcy. He would impose his will on her, and she would have a difficult time opposing him in anything.
The wind was blowing harder than earlier, pushing forcefully against her as she rode, threatening to unseat her, and whipping her cloak so that she was hard put to see where she was going. The dim outline of a building appeared, and relief rushed through her.
The relief was short-lived. Her progress was painfully slow as she fought against the elements. It was as if the house itself did not want her to approach. She laughed to herself. She was being fanciful, of course. It was merely the wind lashing against her.
It was time to use her magic. She formed a protective bubble around herself, and imagined the wind parting and allowing her through. The bubble did not stop her from getting wet, but it helped her counter the resistance of the wind. Despite her bubble, the wind continued to buffet against her. It was as if she was facing an invisible wall.
