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The train arrived in Kent on a late March morning when the sky was veiled with milky clouds promising rain. Elliot stepped onto the small station with a single suitcase and a bag across his shoulder, breathing in the damp spring air saturated with the scent of awakening earth and first flowers.
Sheridan was waiting for him at the exit.
Elliot barely recognized him.
In three months Sher had changed. Not physically he was still the same slender figure with delicate features. But something in him had become... less. As though he'd shrunk, become more inconspicuous, even more faded. His scent of dried lavender, old paper, and cold tea was so weak that Elliot barely caught it, even standing beside him.
"Ellie," Sher smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "You came."
"Of course I came," Elliot hugged him and felt his friend tense for a moment before carefully returning the embrace. "I promised."
They got into a modest but decent car and drove through picturesque countryside. Sher drove in silence, his hands gripping the wheel tightly.
"How are you?" Elliot asked carefully. "Really?"
Sher didn't answer immediately. He stared at the road, his face absolutely calm.
"I... exist," he finally said. "William isn't cruel. He's just... empty. He only talks about two things: his duties as a clergyman and Lady Catherine. Sometimes I think he's more married to her than to me."
"Sher..."
"Don't," he shook his head. "I made my choice. I'm living with it. I have a beautiful house, good food, a library where I can spend my days. It's... it's enough."
But his voice sounded as though he were trying to convince himself, not Elliot.
"And the de Bourghs?" Elliot asked. "What are they like?"
Sher was silent so long that Elliot decided he wouldn't answer. Then:
"Lady Catherine is a tyrant in velvet gloves. She controls everything and everyone around her. Every word, every action must meet her standards. William worships her. I... I just try to stay out of her sight."
He cast a quick glance in the rearview mirror, as though checking that no one was listening, and lowered his voice:
"Ellie, be careful here. Lady Catherine... she's strange. She asks a lot of questions. So many questions. About people, their families, their... peculiarities. William says she's just curious. But I think it's something more."
Cold ran down Elliot's spine.
"Do you think she knows? About me?"
"I don't know," Sher gripped the wheel even tighter. "But she specifically asked William to invite you. Said she wanted to meet 'William's special cousin.'"
"Special?"
"Her words."
A pause. Then Sher added even more quietly:
"And also... her nephew, Mr. Darcy. He hasn't visited since Christmas," Sher cast him a quick glance. "Usually he visits his aunt this time of year, but this time... Lady Catherine said he had business in Pemberley and London. She was displeased by his absence, but it seems he'll come after all."
Elliot's heart plummeted.
"Darcy? Here?"
"Maybe," Sher looked at him sympathetically. "I'm sorry. I know that after everything that happened with James... but I couldn't not warn you."
Elliot stared at the passing landscape and felt anxiety coil into a knot in his stomach. He'd come here for Sher, but perhaps he'd walked straight into a trap.
***
Rosings Park was exactly as Elliot had imagined it: grand, cold, and impeccable.
The estate rose on a hill, surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens. White stone walls gleamed even in the overcast light. Tall windows looked out at the world like blind eyes. Everything was too clean, too proper, stripped of any sign of life or warmth.
The Collins house where they would be staying was a modest cottage on the edge of the estate. Pleasant, cozy, with a fireplace and a small library. But even here one felt the pressure of the main house looming over everything like a crown or a prison.
William met them at the door, emanating waves of wilting lilac and cheap lotion.
"Dear cousin Elliot!" he exclaimed, spreading his arms wide. "What joy! What an honor! Welcome to our humble home!"
Elliot let him embrace him, trying to breathe through his mouth to avoid suffocating from the cloying smell.
"Thank you for the invitation, William."
"Oh, it's nothing! Nothing!" William led them inside without stopping talking. "You must be hungry from the journey! Sheridan prepared lunch! Oh, he's such a wonderful husband! So caring! And Lady Catherine praised his housekeeping so highly! She said our home is a model of omega virtue!"
Sher, standing nearby, didn't even flinch at these words. His face was absolutely indifferent, his scent almost imperceptible.
Lunch passed in a tense atmosphere. William talked without stopping about Lady Catherine, about his duties, about the great honor of living under her patronage. Sher was silent, mechanically eating and periodically pouring tea. Elliot tried to maintain conversation, but William interrupted his every word with another praise of his patroness.
When lunch finally ended, William announced he had to go prepare for evening service and left them alone.
The silence that fell after his departure was almost physically palpable.
"God," Elliot exhaled. "How do you stand it?"
"You get used to it," Sher began clearing the table. "After a while his voice becomes just background noise. Like a fly buzzing."
"Sher..."
"Let's go to the library," Sher interrupted. "There we can talk properly."
The library turned out to be a small but cozy room with two armchairs by the fireplace and walls lined with books. It smelled of old paper and wood a scent that calmed Elliot, reminded him of home.
They settled into the armchairs, and Sher truly relaxed for the first time that day. His scent became slightly warmer, less faded.
"Tell me about home," he asked. "About Longbourn. About your brothers. About everything."
And Elliot told him. About Christmas, about James who was slowly returning to life after the blow dealt by Bingley. About Kit and Lloyd and their endless content. About Michael and his genealogical discoveries. About Mother, who had finally begun to accept that not all her sons would marry wealthy alphas.
Sher listened hungrily, absorbing every word as though it were a gulp of water in the desert.
"I've missed this so much," he said quietly. "Just conversations. About life. About people. William doesn't understand... he can't just talk. He only preaches."
"And you?" Elliot asked. "How do you spend your days?"
"I read. I read a lot. Walk in the garden when Lady Catherine isn't hosting receptions. Sometimes I help at the village library Lady Catherine allowed it, said it was 'a suitable occupation for a clergyman's omega.'" His lips twisted in a bitter smile. "She controls my every step, Ellie. What I wear. How I behave. Who I talk to. I feel like... an exhibit in her collection."
"Then why did she invite me?" Elliot asked directly. "If she so carefully controls your circle?"
Sher was silent for a long time, staring into the fireplace flames.
"She wants to see you," he finally said. "Satisfy her curiosity. William told her about you, about how you refused him, about your 'strangeness,' about your unusual scent. And she... became interested."
"Is that bad?"
"I don't know," Sher looked at him, and in his eyes was fear. "But be careful. Don't give her reason to... suspect anything, especially about your gift."
Elliot nodded, feeling the anxiety intensify.
***
That evening they were invited to dinner at Rosings Park. William was beside himself with delight, his lilac becoming almost suffocating.
"A great honor!" he repeated for the hundredth time as they walked to the main house. "Lady Catherine rarely invites guests so soon after their arrival! This is a sign of special favor!"
Elliot exchanged a glance with Sher. His friend walked beside him silently, his face a mask of polite indifference, but Elliot saw the tension in his shoulders.
Rosings Park inside was even more impressive than outside. Marble, crystal, gilding. Everything screamed of wealth, power, permanence. The air was saturated with expensive perfumes and the scents of many servants omegas and betas who served in the house, moving like silent shadows through the corridors.
They were led to the dining room a huge room with a long table that could easily seat thirty people. But today only five places were set.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh was already waiting for them.
She was a tall, imposing woman of about sixty, with iron-grey hair arranged in an impeccable coiffure and piercing dark eyes. She wore a dark blue dress, simple but obviously very expensive. The jewels at her neck and wrists could cost more than the entire Bennet estate.
But worst of all was her scent.
White musk, frosty air, and something metallic, sharp. The scent of power, control, absolute certainty in one's rightness. It didn't press like an alpha aura. It froze, made the air thin, cold, difficult to breathe.
"Mr. Bennet," her voice was low, resonant, accustomed to giving orders and tolerating no objections. "What a pleasure to finally meet you."
Elliot bowed as etiquette demanded.
"Lady de Bourgh. Thank you for your hospitality."
Her dark eyes studied him with such intensity that he wanted to step back. But Elliot forced himself to stand motionless, meeting her gaze.
"Sit," she indicated the seats.
William rushed to his chair with such haste as though afraid it would be taken away. Sher sat quietly, almost imperceptibly. Elliot took a seat opposite Lady Catherine.
Beside her sat a young woman Annabella de Bourgh, her daughter. Elliot recognized her immediately: fair hair, pale skin, huge blue eyes. Beautiful as a porcelain doll and just as cold. Her scent of white rose, champagne, and bitter almond was exquisite, but there was no warmth in it. Only perfection polished to a shine.
***
Dinner began. The dishes were magnificent, refined, expensive. But Elliot barely tasted them. Because Lady Catherine had begun her interrogation.
"So, Mr. Bennet," she elegantly cut her meat. "Tell me about your family. William mentioned you have four brothers?"
"Yes, ma'am. James, Michael, Kit, and Lloyd."
"All omegas?"
"Yes."
"How unusual," her voice was even, but mockery was audible in it. "Five omega sons. Your mother must be desperate trying to settle you all."
Elliot felt anger flare in his chest but held back.
"My mother wants happiness for us. Like any mother."
"Happiness," Lady Catherine smirked. "A noble aspiration, but in our world, Mr. Bennet, happiness is a luxury. Especially for omegas without dowries and connections."
William coughed, his lilac flaring with nervousness.
"Lady Catherine, I'm sure..."
"Be quiet, William," she didn't even glance at him. Her gaze was fixed on Elliot. "I'm speaking with your cousin."
A pause. She sipped her wine.
"So, Mr. Bennet, what do you do? William mentioned something about working with archives?"
"Yes, ma'am. I'm a digital archivist. I work with the London Archives, digitizing historical documents."
"How interesting," her tone suggested the opposite. "And you touch these documents? Old things?"
The question sounded innocent. Too innocent.
Elliot felt a chill run down his spine.
"Sometimes. In gloves, of course, so as not to damage them."
"Of course," she nodded. "And what do you feel when you hold something very old? Something that belonged to people long gone?"
Elliot's heart beat faster. She knew. Or suspected. This question wasn't casual.
"I feel responsibility," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "These things are part of history. They need to be preserved."
"How noble," Lady Catherine pronounced, spearing a piece of meat with her fork. "Our charitable foundation is also interested in... special people. Those with unusual abilities. Talents that go beyond the ordinary. We help such people realize their potential."
"I've heard of your foundation," Elliot forced himself to speak evenly. "Very noble work."
"Oh yes," her lips stretched into a cold smile. "We help those who... differ. Protect them. Study their talents. Provide opportunities they would never have otherwise."
*Study their talents.*
The phrase hung in the air, heavy and threatening.
Elliot felt Sher tense beside him. William continued eating, completely oblivious to the subtext of the conversation.
"By the way, about your family," Lady Catherine changed the subject so smoothly it seemed casual. "You have four brothers, if I'm not mistaken?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Your mother must be very proud of you," she sipped her wine. "Especially the eldest. James, I believe? William mentioned he's quite... popular in society."
Elliot became alert. Her tone was too innocent.
"James is very talented. He conducts educational workshops for omega entrepreneurs."
"How progressive," Lady Catherine smiled with a perfectly polite smile that was colder than any insult. "And if I heard correctly, he made an impression on Mr. Charles Bingley? They spent a weekend together in the Cotswolds in autumn, didn't they?"
Elliot felt every muscle tense.
"Yes. Mr. Bingley invited James to curate his program."
"A charming acquaintance," she took a grape from her plate, examining it with exaggerated attention. "Mr. Bingley is such a kind young man. Sometimes even too kind. He's so easily carried away by... new acquaintances."
A pause. She put the grape back without eating it.
"Fortunately, he has friends who care for his wellbeing. My nephew, for example. Fitzwilliam has always been so... attentive to those he loves."
Elliot slowly lowered his fork, his heart pounding.
"What do you mean, Lady de Bourgh?"
"Oh, nothing in particular," she finally ate the grape, clearly enjoying the moment. "Simply that Fitzwilliam considered it his duty to... guide Mr. Bingley. Explain certain... realities. About how important it is for a young alpha of his position to choose a partner wisely. With consideration for reputation, connections, family standing."
Blood froze in Elliot's veins.
"He interfered."
It wasn't a question. It was an accusation.
Lady Catherine leaned back in her chair, her face absolutely calm.
"He fulfilled the duty of a friend," she said coldly. "He saved Mr. Bingley from a catastrophic mistake. Marriage to an omega from a poor family, without a dowry, with a... questionable family reputation... that would have been extremely unwise."
Every word was like a blow.
"Questionable reputation?" Elliot's voice was dangerously quiet.
"Well, Mr. Bennet," Lady Catherine looked at him with something like pity. "Your mother is known for her... dramatic outbursts. Your younger brothers publish rather frivolous content on the internet. Your family lives beyond its means. And you yourself refused William, though he offered you security and position. Doesn't that speak of... instability?"
Elliot felt his hands trembling. His scent of bitter chocolate became acrid, the smoke almost poisonous.
"My family," he said slowly, "may not be perfect. But we love each other. Support each other. We don't measure a person's worth by the size of their bank account or the number of proper connections."
"How touching," Lady Catherine leaned back in her chair. "But I'm afraid in the real world, love isn't sufficient currency. Fitzwilliam understands this. That's why he did what was right saved his friend from a catastrophic error."
"He destroyed my brother's happiness!" Elliot couldn't hold back.
"He saved your brother from illusions," she replied coldly. "Sometimes the truth is cruel, Mr. Bennet. But it's necessary."
Elliot stood from the table, his scent so sharp that even Annabella winced.
"Forgive me," his voice trembled. "I suddenly feel unwell. With your permission, Lady de Bourgh."
Not waiting for an answer, he turned and left.
Behind him fell tense silence. Then he heard Lady Catherine's voice, quiet, almost satisfied:
"What a temperamental young man. How... interesting."
***
Elliot practically fled from Rosings Park. Sher caught up with him at the gates.
"Ellie, wait..."
"She knew!" Elliot turned to him, his eyes blazing. "She said it on purpose! She wanted to see how I'd react!"
"I know," Sher looked exhausted. "Lady Catherine loves to... manipulate. Test people. See where they'll break."
"And Darcy," Elliot continued, not listening. "He really did it. He interfered. Destroyed everything between James and Bingley. And she talks about it so... so proudly. As though he did a good deed!"
"Ellie..."
"I hate them," Elliot whispered. "All of them. Lady Catherine, Darcy, their whole damn family with their money and connections and conviction that they're better than everyone else."
Sher put a hand on his shoulder.
"Let's go home. You need to calm down."
They returned to the cottage in silence. William was still at Rosings Park, enjoying the company of his adored patroness. Elliot locked himself in his room and stood at the window for a long time, staring at the main estate looming over everything like a monument to arrogance and cruelty.
He didn't sleep all night.
And at dawn the rain began.
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