â Jane Branson {Of Pemberley} â
Jane Branson felt the wind caress the edges of her pale face. She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of spring and the peacefulness it forever carried with it. Jane often preferred staying outside, rather than to be locked inside of Pemberley with all of its chaotic cleaning and ideal atonement. Outside, it was calm, much like a dream to Jane; it brought the freedom that she envied for, and outside, she grasped it.
Jane's gaze met the book that rested on top of her lap. Reading carried her into a whole new world. It was a world full of romance, adventure, and despair. She often wondered why she enjoyed reading so much. Perhaps it was the imagination of a new life or a certain destiny. Her eyes ran up and down the pages, carefully tracing each word so that it would stay within her mind. Jane often went back to her stories in times of utter boredom so that she could escape the strict system of society. But was it society that struck her so badly? Was it the continuous day-to-day routines that never ceased to exist? Jane would never know.
She let out a small sigh and looked up to the familiar view. Magnificent trees lined the sight that stood before her. They loomed over the ground and produced a thick, dark shade. It was simply astonishing to Jane; it was almost like a wondrous painting.
"Lady Jane!"
Jane bit her lip as she listened to the shrill cry of one of the servants. She yearned not to turn around. She wished to stay still, forever watching the rise and fall of the sun, always thinking contently to herself. But that was not her fate, unfortunately.
Her fingernails dug into the thick spine of the book as she closed it, turning back around to see the tremendous view of Pemberley. She had to admit, it was a marvelous sight. It had largely spaced columns that supported the structure itself. They were detailed to perfection, just like her mother had wanted them. But alas, the interior of the estate held a dreary tone.
She stood up, putting her hand to her forehead to block away the sun shining down into her deep, brown eyes. She headed up the hill towards the servant that was waiting for her arrival. It was now time to revisit reality. Jane gave a slight nod to the maid as she entered the grounds of the estate.
Servants silently bowed their heads as Jane slowly walked through the beautiful, opened doors of Pemberley. She felt she did not deserve this gratitude, but she was a lady of wealth, and that is how they were treated according to everyone's perspective, except for Jane's. Elegance flooded the massive hallway she crept through. Glistening crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, exotic plants lined the walls, and expensive picture frames hung against the stenciled wallpaper.
Jane quickened her pace towards the spiraling staircase above her. She did not like to draw attention, but that is how everyone reacted in her presence.
"Lady Jane, would you like some help getting ready?" One of the maids spoke as she approached the staircase.
"No, that is quite alright." She turned towards the maid, lightly resting her hand on the rail of the stairs. "Thank you, though." She resumed her walk up the stairs, picking up the length of her dress.
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Dinner was always a great spectacle. Her father was the type of man who enjoyed pleasing others. Jane was annoyed with him in these times. Culture was changing, and her father had not recognized it. He was too busy holding onto the dreadful, yet elegant past.
Jane fastened the back of the pearl necklace that hung across her chest. She looked into the mirror and observed a sullen, empty girl. Her hair was tightly pulled into a bun. Numerous pins stuck out from her hair, prodding outwardly with matching pearls to complete her look. She wore an teal evening gown that was a bit too tight for her liking, but it would have to do.
She heard a knock. "Lady Jane?"
Jane turned around in her chair. "Come in."
It was Lydia, one of the maids, fumbling her hands nervously as she entered. "Lord Branson says it's time for dinner." She looked up at Jane, giving no certain expression. Her red hair framed the edges of her face.
"Thank you, Lydia. I'll come down in a few minutes." She gave Lydia a slight nod, and Lydia exited the room with a questionable smile. Jane turned towards the mirror, closing her eyes with a frustrated sigh.
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Jane walked down the hallway once more. As always, the staff of servants stood at attention to her. One by one she met their eyes and tried to give a caring glance. There stood Ursula, one of her favorite maids, and her petite, blonde self. Jane smiled in her presence. She turned to enter the gathering room.
She was greeted with her father's deep voice. "Jane, how nice it is to finally see you." He stood with his arm leaning against the fireplace mantle.
"I am sorry, Papa." she returned, "I have been-"
"Nevermind that," he interrupted, "I have some news I want to share with you and your sisters." His hand outstretched towards her younger sisters, who were now sitting down. Azrael seemed bored, as well as Rose.
"Very well, then." Jane tried to lighten the mood. "Let us eat."
With that, Thomas, one of the footmen, opened the doors to the dining room. She observed Thomas. He had always been rather blank. Many times she had tried to read his expressions, but nothing came out of it. He had been at Pemberley as long as she could remember. She recollected him riding his bicycle down to the estate every Sunday to deliver newspapers. That was when times were happy.
Walking forward, Jane gave a slight nod to Thomas.
Dinner was, of course, a huge situation. Lobster was prepared as well as fresh bread. Everyone sat down as their seats were scooted forward by the servants. Jane observed the detail of the ivory table cloth. She was sure it was more interesting than her father's announcement.
"Girls," he spoke, "I have mentioned the Bennet boys, have I not?"
Jane shook at the mention of the Bennets. She knew he wanted them to stay at Pemberley, perhaps to fall in love with one of her sisters, or herself. She defied this, though. She believed that love was true, not forced, as did her mother, but her mother was not here to argue with her father. That was Jane's duty, now. Something told her that they were probably arrogant, selfish men. Jane looked up at her father with widened eyes.
"Well," he began, "They are staying here for the summer."
Jane bit her lip. She wanted to yell, even scream at this statement. Her father knew how much she disliked this topic. He had tried to court her with someone before, but nothing ever worked. Jane was the epitome to stubbornness.
"When are they arriving?" Jane looked at her sisters with a worried expression.
"Tonight, actually," He took a sip of his wine. "After dinner."
Jane's heart skipped a beat. She couldn't stop the notion of speaking the words she thought. "What?"
Lord Branson narrowed her eyes towards her. The room had gone cold. "Jane," he started, " Do not act like this is a bad thing-"
"I am not." She concluded sternly. "But why couldn't you have given us time to prepare?"
"You would of tried to stop me." He looked at both of his daughters. "I have explained before that this is important for your future."
"But you are not in control of our future, Papa." Jane went on.
Her father pursed his lips. "That is not your place to say, Jane."
"Then who's place is it?" Jane felt her fists clenching on her lap.
"Jane Branson," He was beginning to turn red. "Stop this attitude immediately."
Jane slunk back in her chair. Her father looked sorry, sad even. They had once been close, but now, Jane disliked him more and more as the days went on.
"Girls, as you know, the Bennets live far off from Pemberley." He cleared his throat, "That is why they are arriving so late."
Jane heard her father mumbling in the background. She looked out of one of the grand windows, yearning to go outside and plunge herself into a story. But everything prevented her from doing that.
For a moment, she met eye contact with Thomas, who was now beginning to serve the evening meal. She felt pitied, as if someone felt sorry for her. She looked back towards the window, counting down the minutes before the arrival of the Bennet boys.