Lizzy's POV

I woke up, my eyes adjusting to the faint rays of light filtering in through my window, hitting the map of the world on my wall with stickpins stuck into it of the places I had been. I sent God a quick prayer for my day. As soon as I finished, my yesterday came rushing back. Hitting the deer, my smashed-up front end, waiting on my dad and the tow truck, dad driving me back to my house, Mr. Darcy, spilling wine on Mr. Darcy, and one of my students thinking my love life was so pathetic that I needed to date her brother.

I squirmed and stretched under the covers, then rolled over sighing, and finally pulled my quilt off, swung myself up into a sitting position, and put my feet on the rug.

It can only get better. Right?

Jane and I's schedule had us working on the interiors of the Knightley house today. Several furniture items we had picked out showed they had shipped and arrived since the last time we were there when we painted a couple of rooms. We would get the pieces arranged, and I would probably go to one of our storage units to find other decorations that fit the style of the Knightleys. We would obviously have to ride in her car since mine was getting fixed and would probably be in the shop for several weeks.

I had time to go on a run, and we could get to their house at about eight or nine. Runs always help clear my head and give me perspective. They especially give me time to think about things in light of eternity, instead of continually falling prey to dwelling too much on present nuisances that I so easily get caught up in.

I made my way through my morning routine and changed into a sports bra, a too-large t-shirt from a Lauren Daigle concert, and some workout tights. It had been a nice t-shirt until I got paint splattered on it one day. Now I wear it for painting at houses or around our house, on occasion I wear it to town if I feel like wearing a funky outfit. When I got back from my run, I could rinse off, put my makeup on, get changed into nicer clothes, and eat.

I emerged from my room to find Charlotte groggily preparing her morning coffee. She couldn't function without it in her system.

''Good morning!'' I sang as I made my way to the shelves to get a glass to fill with water.

''You are too chipper for this early in the morning,'' she grumbled.

I rolled my eyes as I filled up my cup.

Typical Charlotte.

''Guess who I quite literally ran into last night?''

''No idea.'' Came her short response.

''And who even held me in their arms...'' I said with an utter fake romantic sigh.

She stared at me blearily through her glasses. Charlotte only ever put her contacts in after she had her coffee.

''Still no idea, it is six-thirty in the morning, and at this point, I can't tell if you are being sarcastic, but I know you didn't sleep with anybody.''

''It was a man that goes by the name of Mr. William Rude-as-can-be Darcy.''

''Excuse me. What.''

I leaned against the counter and took a sip of water. ''Mr. Darcy even insulted me in French.'' I continued.

Charlotte huffed, ''Fine. Tell me the story.''

As I recounted the story of last night, I felt even madder at Mr. Darcy and ashamed of the way I had taken the bait and lashed out. By the time I finished, Charlotte was beginning to come alive and had been laughing into her hand for quite some time.

''What is so funny?''

She choked on one last giggle then said, ''Do you even realize how many girls would kill to be in that position of physical contact with Mr. Darcy?''

I downed the rest of my water, set the glass on the counter, and shrugged. ''I would have gladly traded places with whoever wanted to be in that position. He's a rude jerk.''

Charlotte raised an eyebrow, ''Are you sure? I mean, if this was the 1800s, you probably would be considered compromised and would have to get married if anyone saw y'all holding each other that close.''

I glared at her. ''Goodbye. I am going on a run.''

She smirked, ''Bye.''

I unplugged my phone from the charger and checked it for any urgent messages, and, not finding any, slid it into my workout tights side pocket. Then, before I went outside, I flipped my head down and finger-combed my hair into a high ponytail, and headed out the door. I breathed in the fresh, albeit muggy, summer air and paused on the driveway to do my warmup stretches, and then I started to jog down the sidewalk.

Nothing struck me as odd until I was at least a quarter-mile away from the house.

Jane's car hadn't been in our driveway.

I paused in my run under the shade of one of the old oaks in the neighborhood. The branches covered with leaves offered protection from the sun to the sidewalk and road below. At that moment, I didn't care. I pulled my phone out of my pocket to recheck my messages. I didn't have any from Jane from last night or this morning.

Quickly I called her phone number, but it went to voicemail. I texted her, telling her to call me the minute she got a chance.

Next, I called Charlotte. She immediately went into Jane's room and looked to see if the clothes she had worn yesterday were in her closet or clothes hamper. They were nowhere to be found.

As a last resort, I frantically called mom but tried to make it sound like everything was fine.

Jane wasn't at their house either.

I told mom she was probably at the store and hadn't left a note.

Thank goodness mom doesn't have us on Life360 anymore. Speaking of... I switched to that app.

Nope. That didn't work either. Jane had turned her location off a couple of weeks ago.

By this point, I was pacing on the sidewalk. I couldn't decide what to do. There was no reason for me to go back to the house, but I didn't want to continue my run when I had no idea if my twin sister had been abducted or was dead.

Thankfully Jane called me.

Except it wasn't Jane. 

"Jane!'' I exclaimed breathlessly as I answered the phone, ''You scared me so bad! Where are you?"

"Elizabeth," a voice answered, that was distinctly not Jane's. I yanked the phone away from my face to check the caller ID. It said Jane, but it wasn't Jane's voice. It sounded posher and accented? Did it sound like- Caroline Bingley?

"Caroline?" I asked cautiously.

"Yes, this is Caroline. I am so glad you called! I couldn't figure out how to get ahold of one of you."

"What happened to Jane?" I asked, my panic rising once more.

"She's at our house. She has food poisoning and hasn't been able to get out of the bathroom at all. I finally had the time and was about to figure out how to contact you when you called."

"Poor Jane!"

"I agree. Do you think you would be able to come over this morning?"

"Absolutely. I will be there in about 30 minutes."

"Great! It is so sweet for you to come," she said with an all-fake tone. "I know Jane would love to have you here, even if it is just for a little while. When you come over, would it be possible for you to come in through the back? There is um, some uh, well, just don't come up the front. There is a blockage that I really wouldn't want you to get caught up in."

"Um, okay. Bye."

"Bye, Elizabeth."

I hung up and started to jog towards the Netherfield Mansion. My thoughts were spinning.

Jane was food poisoned? Why wasn't Caroline food poisoned too? They should have had the same food. Why didn't Jane have her phone at any point last night? That was totally not like her. She could have spared 20 seconds to grab her phone. What was this blockage in the front? Did her car crash into the gates? Was Caroline flat out lying? What had happened?

As I ran, I prayed everything was alright and that I was just overreacting. To distract myself from horrid scenarios that my mind easily jumps to, I thought about the mansion Charles had rented. To put it simply, it is gorgeous.

The style is based on an old southern plantation mansion. It's a white, two-story house with wrap-around porches. There are brick walls on three sides of the property, but the side with the front of the house has a low, black, metal picket fence. The only entrance/exit for vehicles is in the front through a pair of tall and stately black gates.

In total, the Netherfield property takes up two blocks. The house is set to the back of the property, making room for oak trees to line the driveway in the front, making a canopy over the driveway. I love to drive by it because the grounds are always maintained so well.

Jane and I have coordinated several parties there in years past, all of which turned out amazing. The decor inside is the same classy, traditional, southern-style that the outside is. It really is a dream house.

I ran past several historic houses in our historic district on my route to the Netherfield Mansion. Some were falling into disrepair, with paint chipping off, leaning porches, and weeds in the yard, while others had meticulously cared for exteriors, and the type of landscaping I aspire to have.

The street I was running on was a block over from the mansion. As I neared it, I saw about 10 vehicles in front of the gates.

That's odd. What are those vehicles and why are they there?

I couldn't tell why the vehicles were there. None of them looked like emergency vehicles, nor did they have lights flashing. Because of that, I didn't check them out too seriously.

Maybe just adoring fans of Mr. Darcy's.

I pushed some of the hair that was stuck to my forehead out of the way and kept running to the back.

I must look horrible.

Sweat was running down me, all over. My hair was plastered to my face because of the sweat. I didn't have any mascara or lip stuff on, which on a normal day is fine because I can convince myself I look good without it in certain outfits, and often go without it. However, when I am sweating, and probably have red splotches all over my face, not so much. I felt the lower strands of hair that had fallen out of my high ponytail slapping on my shoulders with each bounce. Not to mention my attire. It didn't matter if I wore Gucci there. I would never be accepted by them.

I am okay for the purpose I am going there for. To see Jane, that is all I need to worry about. I will be fit to see her. And figure out what the heck is going on. I am priceless in the eyes of God and that is how I need to define myself.

Finally, I got to the back wall and jogged the entire expanse, but I didn't see a gate or door that led in. I tried to calm my breathing and called Jane's phone, hoping someone would pick up. Caroline answered within the first few rings.

"Hey, Caroline. I don't see a back entrance."

She laughed, "Well no, of course not. There isn't one. I'm sorry if I made you think that there was."

Was she kidding me?

"Well, you did." I said in a hard voice, "how do you expect me to come in? Scale the wall?"

"Oh," she started in an airy voice, "just climb up the tree on the outside of the fence and jump down inside."

Can I throw the phone down and scream? What is the big deal about the stuff in the front?

"Caroline. What the heck. Why on earth would I do that if I could just walk in the front? What is going on up there that I can't go in over there? You make it sound like I would be shot and killed."

"Nooooo! Don't come in the front." She sounded panicked, "Yes, you would be shot."