Chapter Ten #2
“How can you say such things?” Elizabeth’s voice emerged rough with barely suppressed tears. “How can you speak of my death with such indifference?”
“Indifference?” Anne’s eyebrows rose. “I am not indifferent, Lizzy. I am simply realistic. That body was dying already, long before you inhabited it. The chemicals I breathed during my studies, the powders and vapours from my father’s experiments, they accumulated in my lungs, in my blood, weakening everything from the inside.
” She paused, and something like bitterness crossed her stolen features.
“My father died the same way, you know. Coughing up blood in his final months, unable to draw breath without pain. He sacrificed his health for knowledge, and I have done the same. But I have succeeded where he failed – I have escaped my fate.”
Elizabeth’s stomach turned at the casual revelation, at the matter-of-fact acknowledgement that Anne had poisoned herself through her alchemical studies.
And now Elizabeth was trapped in that poisoned body, condemned to suffer the consequences of Anne’s choices, to die slowly from damage she had not caused.
“You are a monster,” Elizabeth whispered, and this time she could not prevent the tears from gathering in Anne’s pale eyes, could not stop them from spilling down her borrowed cheeks.
“You have condemned me to die so that you can steal my life, and you speak of it as though you have done nothing wrong.”
Anne reached out and wiped Elizabeth’s tears away with Elizabeth’s own hand, the gesture almost tender if one ignored the cruelty in her expression.
“I have done what I needed to do to survive. To have some taste of life before this body failed entirely. You may think me a monster for it, but I think you are a fool for having wasted the gifts you were born with.”
She pulled her hand back and placed it on the pianoforte beside Elizabeth’s, both sets of fingers resting on the polished ivory keys.
Elizabeth’s strong healthy hand and Anne’s frail dying one, side by side, a visual reminder of the theft that had occurred.
“And you should know, Lizzy, that I am very good with poisons. With potions and draughts and tinctures that can make death appear natural, like the simple failure of an already failing body. So if you attempt to interfere with my plans, if you try to expose me or cause trouble, I will ensure your suffering ends more quickly than it otherwise might.”
The threat hung between them, absolute and chilling in its calm delivery. Anne was promising to murder her if she proved inconvenient, to poison her and make it look like the natural progression of her illness. And no one would question it.
Elizabeth forced air into her borrowed lungs, forced herself to think despite the tears still streaming down her face, despite the horror threatening to overwhelm her. She needed some leverage, some way to shake Anne’s confidence.
“You will be discovered,” Elizabeth said, her voice emerging stronger now despite the tears.
“At Longbourn. My sisters know me too well, have lived with me their entire lives. Jane will see through you immediately. Even Kitty and Lydia will notice the differences. You cannot possibly replicate me well enough to fool my own family.”
But Anne’s expression showed only amused contempt.
“You cannot imagine I would willingly subject myself to that dreadful place. Five unmarried daughters cramped into a modest house, a mother whose only conversation consists of officers and caps and gossip, a father who has abdicated all responsibility for his family’s future.
No, thank you.” She shook her head, Elizabeth’s curls moving with the gesture.
“I had quite enough of hearing about it from you and your endless prattling about dear Jane and your concerns for your sisters’ prospects. ”
The cruelty of it struck Elizabeth like a blow. Anne had observed her, had listened to her speak of her family with affection, and had judged them all unworthy. Had decided that once she stole Elizabeth’s life, she would simply excise Elizabeth’s family from it entirely.
“They are my family,” Elizabeth whispered, her voice breaking. “You cannot simply pretend they do not exist.”
“Can I not?” Anne’s eyebrows rose in challenge.
“Watch me. Once Darcy proposes, which I expect will happen very soon now that I have shown appropriate interest, we will marry in London. A special licence can be obtained quickly for a man of his standing. Perhaps at St George’s in Hanover Square, something appropriately elegant.
” Her smile widened. “And then we will retire to Pemberley as husband and wife, and by the time anyone at Longbourn thinks to question why they have not been invited to witness the ceremony, it will be far too late.”
The plan was brilliant in its simplicity, Elizabeth realised with sick comprehension.
Anne would marry Darcy before Elizabeth’s family could intervene, before Jane could meet her and recognise the wrongness, before Mr. Bennet could observe her behaviour and question whether this was truly his second daughter.
Darcy, arrogant as he was, would probably think that Elizabeth preferred not to have her family present lest they embarrass her in front of his important friends and relations; it would make perfect logical sense to him.
The marriage would be complete, legal, binding, and any revelation afterward would cause scandal that would destroy everyone involved.
“But Charlotte,” Elizabeth said desperately, grasping at the one person currently present who might still notice, might still question. “Charlotte watches you strangely. She knows something is wrong. She will not simply accept your behaviour without investigation.”
Anne’s laugh emerged quiet and genuinely amused.
“Charlotte Collins, who married a pompous fool for security rather than affection? Who chose a comfortable home over any hope of happiness?” She shook her head with that same mocking expression.
“What precisely might Charlotte suspect, Lizzy? That her dear friend Elizabeth has finally come to her senses? That she has recognised Mr. Darcy’s interest and decided to secure him before he loses patience with her stubbornness? ”
The words struck with horrible accuracy because they were exactly what Charlotte would think.
Charlotte, who had counselled Elizabeth to be more accommodating, who had suggested that not every marriage needed to be a love match, would attribute any strangeness in Elizabeth’s behaviour to pragmatism finally overcoming pride.
“She will think you have matured,” Anne continued, her confidence absolute.
“Have learned to value security and position over romantic notions and wounded pride. She will be pleased for you, Lizzy. Will congratulate you on making such an advantageous match. Will perhaps even feel vindicated in her own choice, seeing that her sensible friend has followed her example.”
Elizabeth’s throat closed around any response.
Anne was right. Charlotte would never suspect witchcraft or body swapping.
She would simply assume Elizabeth had changed her mind about Darcy, had decided to encourage his interest, had chosen to pursue the advantageous match she had previously spurned.
And Charlotte, having made a similar calculation herself, would find nothing strange in such a transformation.
Anne’s expression shifted then, satisfaction giving way to something almost like pride.
“It was not even particularly difficult,” she said, and her voice carried the quality of someone who could not quite resist bragging.
“The planning took time, certainly. Waiting for the right opportunity, ensuring I had all the necessary ingredients, choosing my moment carefully. But the execution?” She paused, and her smile widened into something terrible.
“It took no more than a little hair and a well-made draught. I was careful, of course. Precise. But alchemy itself is quite straightforward once one has the knowledge.”
The words landed with the force of revelation.
Anne had needed Elizabeth’s hair and some kind of potion, and those two elements had been sufficient to swap their bodies.
Elizabeth’s mind seized on this information with desperate intensity.
If a potion had caused this, then perhaps a potion could reverse it.
If hair had been required to create the connection between them, then perhaps hair could be used to break it.
Hope flared in Elizabeth’s chest, painful and bright. Anne had revealed the method, had been so confident in her success that she had carelessly disclosed the very information Elizabeth needed most.
Elizabeth forced her borrowed face into an expression of defeated acceptance, let her shoulders slump in apparent surrender.
She needed Anne to believe she had given up, had accepted her fate, posed no threat.
Because if Anne suspected Elizabeth might attempt to reverse what had been done, she would take precautions, would ensure Elizabeth had no access to the materials or knowledge required.
“You have won,” Elizabeth said quietly, and the defeat in her voice was not entirely feigned. Anne had won, at least for now. But Elizabeth had information now, had the beginnings of a plan, had some thread of hope to cling to.
Anne studied her for a moment, and something like wariness crossed her stolen features.
Had she realised her mistake? Had she recognised that she had revealed too much?
But then her expression cleared, satisfaction returning as she apparently decided Elizabeth was too defeated, too trapped, too weak to pose any real threat.
“Yes,” Anne agreed simply. “I have won.”
Elizabeth met Anne’s gaze directly, allowing the tears to spill freely down her cheeks.
Let Anne see defeat in her expression, let her believe Elizabeth had surrendered.
But beneath that defeated exterior, Elizabeth’s mind was already working, already planning, already calculating how she might obtain what she needed.
Somewhere in that journal, there had to be a record of the exact formula Anne had used.
And if it contained the spell to swap bodies, it might also contain the spell to swap them back.
Elizabeth Bennet had never surrendered easily, had never accepted defeat without a fight. Anne had stolen her body, her life, her future. But Elizabeth would find a way to take it all back. Would discover the method, obtain the ingredients, reverse what had been done.
She simply had to survive long enough to accomplish it.