September Storm Relay Story Part 5

This is getting personal. Our own Abigail Reynolds is in the path of a tropical storm.

Meredith Esparza of Austenesque Reviews is in the path of Hurricane Dorian.

So is Samantha Whitman, another JAFF author who generously donated a cameo and critique for this fundraiser.

Let’s show our own our love and support right now.

Click here to donate to Americares to support victims of Hurricane Dorian. More donations mean more chapters!

We hope everyone experiencing storms can find a little relief in our silly story.

Here’s the fifth scene from Monica Fairview. Read part 4 here.  Or start at part 1.

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Lady Catherine was outraged. Thoroughly outraged! What kind of family forced their guests to share a bedchamber? The Bennets, obviously. It was exactly what she would have expected of an upstart like Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who was without connections or fortune. 

A loud, blood curdling scream rose from the hallway.

Miss Bates put her hand to her heart with a gasp. “Bless me, Lady Catherine! What was that sound?” 

“Nothing we need concern ourselves with. There are gentlemen who can take care of such matters. We are going to sleep.”

“Of course, your ladyship. How silly of me,” said Miss Bates, climbing into bed. “I —

“–you, Miss Bates,” said Lady Catherine, “may sleep in the chair. I am compelled to share the bedchamber, not the bed.”

Miss Bates scrambled out of bed hastily. “Oh, dear, of course, your ladyship. I’m a woman of no consequence, no consequence at all. To be sure, I would never have dreamt of sharing a bed with such an important person as yourself. I –”

“Silence!”

Thoroughly intimidated, Miss Bates opened and shut her mouth like the fish Lady Catherine had found earlier.

Satisfied that she had put Miss Bates in her place, and exhausted by her muddy ordeal, Lady Catherine promptly fell asleep.

***

Meanwhile, everyone else had gathered in the hallway. Miss Morland was standing there, wringing her hands in terror.

“There was a ghost,” said Miss Morland. “I saw it. It was creeping through the window. I knew the house is haunted.”

Everyone traipsed into Miss Morland’s room. Catherine Bennet was sitting in bed, hugging her knees and looking petrified.

“Did you see the ghost, Kitty?” said Elizabeth, trying to get to the bottom of the situation.

Kitty began to nod, then, at Elizabeth’s severe look, she shook her head. “Miss Morland saw it. I was asleep.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam marched to the window and looked out, then gave out a great bark of laughter. “Was the ghost white?”

Miss Morland nodded vigorously. “It was white, and it slithered into the room.”

“My dear Miss Morland, I have found your ghost.” As he threw open the window, everyone craned to see the ghost. “Now that the wind has died down, and the rain has stopped, a thick fog is rising from the river. See? It is swirling.”

There was embarrassed, relieved laughter.

“Oh,” said Miss Morland, ruefully, putting a hand to her mouth. “I am so sorry to have woken you up.”

Everyone by now was eager to go back to bed, realizing how ridiculous they all looked in their nightgowns and their nightcaps. They began to shuffle out of the room. Darcy stole a look at Elizabeth. He had never seen her look so delightful, with her tousled hair loose around her face and her gown showing off her curves in a most delicious manner.

“Ahem. I suggest we all retire to bed and get some sleep,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Darcy?”

Darcy realized that Fitzwilliam had caught him staring. He pretended to examine a picture on the wall behind her.

“I was admiring that charming landscape,” he said, pointing to a poorly executed watercolor. He turned away briskly. “Quite right, Cousin. We all need a good night’s sleep. We have important work tomorrow. We have to repair the bridge if we want to return home.”

In fact, that would not have been his preferred outcome at all, but with so many people crammed into Longbourn, it was unlikely he would be able to spend a minute alone with Elizabeth.

***

Lady Catherine was woken up suddenly from a dream in which she was trouncing Elizabeth Bennet with her stick – very well deserved, in her opinion – to the sound of a pig grunting in her room. Had the pigs escaped? Surely not? Disoriented, she reached out to light the candlestick on her usual bed-table and tumbled straight onto a wooden floor. Fully awake now, she pulled herself to her feet, and realised the grunting was in fact Miss Bates’s loud snoring.

This was what happened if you were obliged to deal with such common people, thought Lady Catherine. First, the fools had managed to get her clothes wet. Now she was to be prevented from sleeping. It was the last straw. She was not having any more of this nonsense. It was not to be endured! She was going to find that despicable young Person – the Bennet girl — and demand to be given her own room, as befitted her rank and status.

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