Master of Puppets: A Pride and Prejudice variation by Elin Eriksen

Author:Elin Eriksen [Eriksen, Elin]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2022-12-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18 The Trickles of Spring

April 1813

It was strange how she had adapted to the chilly weather. What had felt like excruciatingly cold at the beginning of winter had taken a few weeks to adjust to. She had since grown comfortable with the weather and often ventured out of doors.

The snow mellowed all sounds into a tranquil silence. With spring in the air, a dam had broken within; it was like her inner self had sprung to life. Her spirit felt light, adding a spring to her step. She danced down the garden path to the pond. A few patches of snow remained in the shady parts of the garden; everywhere else, the brown and dreary grass from yesteryear was turning lush and green. Who could feel listless surrounded by such splendour? Certainly not Elizabeth, who had just found the season’s first coltsfoots. She left them unmolested and returned to the house to break her fast with a newfound resolution.

She and Laird Eilein were at a stalemate, as her father would have described it. He made no attempt to importune her, sat quietly and stared at her when she was in his company, but never tried to breach the gap between them. She had been given all the keys to the castle, including the sought-after tea cabinet, and had the final say in household matters. It was a small consolation in her dreary existence that he did respect her and thought her capable of being the mistress of his house. At least in the aftermath of the New Year’s Eve festivities their relationship had not deteriorated, but she surmised that one could not break what was already broken.

Miss Moira MacGregor had shunned her since the Hogmanay party that had continued unabated until the second of January. It was by far the longest party Elizabeth had ever attended, but it had made her forget her woes if only for a few blessed hours. The contrast had been stark when the guests had left and she had yet again been left alone with Laird Eilein and his servants. 1813’s first months came bringing merciless gales and temperatures so low they would have given her frostbite in a matter of minutes had she dared venture out of doors, her new muff and winter boots notwithstanding. Not until halfway through February had it relented. At the end of March, the temperature had risen a few degrees above freezing, and it felt like a balmy summer day in comparison.

She was the last to enter the breakfast parlour, but nobody paid her late arrival any particular attention. They had grown used to her rambles and no longer commented. Like she had grown accustomed to dining with the grieve, housekeeper, and their offspring. She had gathered from what Laird Eilein had related, in addition to bits she had overheard, that they had practically raised him. Lady Anne had been ill since his infancy, and his great-grandfather had been of advanced age when he arrived. His parents had never been mentioned by anyone.

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