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To forestall further dispute about Wickham and Mr Darcy, Elizabeth hastily changed the subject. She mentioned her investigation in their father’s library that morning and the fortunate discovery of a book with information about the Sakura curse. As she had suspected, the subject of the curse was enough to divert Lydia’s attention and her youngest sister was soon listening with avid interest to her account of the details of the jinx.
“Only imagine if it were true!” she said, her eyes wide with excitement.
Kitty gave a shiver. “Poor Mary! I should be frightened of owning a music box like that—”
“Do you speak of my music box?” said Mary, as she entered the room, bearing the very object in question.
“Mary!” Lydia burst out, running across the room and pulling the box out of her hands. “You must dispose of this box! It carries the most dreadful curse!”
“I most certainly shall not,” Mary said, snatching the box back. “You are simply jealous that you did not receive as delightful a gift from our uncle.”
“No, indeed, Mary, Lydia’s suggestion has some merit,” said Elizabeth. “I found a book in our father’s library this morning which gave the full particulars of the curse that our uncle had mentioned in his letter. It is not one to be taken lightly. I do not normally believe in such superstitious warnings but, I own, the details of this curse have brought a chill to my heart.”
“I will not dispose of my music box,” said Mary obstinately.
“Well, at the very least, you should not take it to the ball!” said Lydia. “For it will be a full moon then, and that is when the power of the curse is at its height. Is that not so, Lizzy?”
“The text did explicitly recommend that particular caution be paid during that time.” Elizabeth admitted. “Indeed, it warned that during a night of full moon the box itself must not be opened nor the music allowed to play.”
“There, you see?” said Lydia.
“I shall take my music box to the ball!” said Mary. “Mr Bingley expressly asked me to do so. It will disappoint his guests if I do not take it to show them.”
“But what if the curse is unleashed upon his guests?” asked Lydia.
Kitty nodded. “Yes, what if they all begin to fall violently ill, as described in the curse?”
“I do not believe such an occurrence is likely,” said Mary loftily. “Indeed, my uncle would not have gifted me this box if it had been so very dangerous. Would it not have been destroyed by now or cast into the sea, had its past owners suffered from the power of the curse?”
Elizabeth had to admit that Mary’s reasoning had merit. Perhaps she was letting her imagination lead her astray. She knew that Lydia delighted in all suggestion of the Gothic, and embraced any possibility of a supernatural association, even when a very good counter explanation was offered for the seemingly eerie events. After all, had she not encountered just such an incident herself during her stay at Netherfield Park? She had almost believed her younger sister’s tales of Netherfield Park being haunted and had been mortified when Mr Darcy had shown her that her sepulchral sightings had been due to nothing more than a misunderstanding.
At the thought of Mr Darcy, her mind returned to Wickham and she wondered about his proposal to come to the ball in disguise. Had he spoken in jest or would he really take the risk? This was one part of the story that she had not shared—not even with Jane—and knowing now that Lydia and Kitty had been listening to the conversation, she was glad. Should Wickham decide to attend the ball in disguise, she did not want anyone else to be privy to his plans, lest they give him away and place him in danger of being arrested.
Elizabeth heard her name being spoken and shook off her internal musings. She rejoined the conversation and was relieved to discover that her sisters were no longer arguing about the music box. Instead, they were discussing their costumes for the upcoming ball.
“I should like to go as a shepherdess, I think,” said Jane. “I have an old blue gown that could be altered to look the part and all I shall need is a crook and perhaps a white fluffy cushion to resemble a sheep.”
“You could borrow Lady Lucas’s dog, Floss,” said Kitty excitedly. “It is full white, with the most extravagant woolly fur. It would make the perfect accompaniment to your costume!”
“I do not think Mr Bingley would like me bringing a dog to the ball,” said Jane with a smile. “But I shall take your suggestion under consideration, Kitty.”
“I shall go as an elf!” declared Lydia. “I shall see if I have a gown of a green enough shade to be suitable and fashion a matching cap as well.”
“An elf was my idea!” cried Kitty petulantly. “You are always stealing what is mine!”
“Hah-hah!” said Lydia. “Well, it is not my fault if you are too slow to declare your own ideas.”
“Kitty, why do you not go as an Oriental princess?” suggested Jane. “You may take my fan and use it as part of your costume.”
“Oh, Jane, may I?” said Kitty, all good humour restored. “Thank you!”
“Aye, and you have just the right sort of dark air to suit an Oriental princess,” Elizabeth added quickly. “Indeed, I think your embroidered yellow muslin would do very well as an Oriental robe if you simply fashion some long sleeves to attach. I have seen pictures in our father’s library—I can indicate which books might serve for references—of the type of large, draped sleeves which are worn by Oriental ladies.”
“Thank you, Lizzy.” Kitty smiled happily. “But what of yourself? What will be your disguise?”
“I own, I have not a notion,” said Elizabeth ruefully. She turned to her other sister. “What about you, Mary? Have you decided what your costume is to be?”
“I believe I shall go as Minerva,” said Mary complacently. “She’s the Roman goddess of music and poetry, and seems a fitting guise for me to aspire to. Her sacred creature is the owl and I can easily fashion a resemblance to that bird from an old cushion and some feathers from the poultry yard.”
“Well, that leaves only me,” said Elizabeth with a sigh. She leaned back against the sofa cushions and stared up at the ceiling. Then inspiration struck her. She sat upright. “I shall go as Joan of Arc!”
“Joan of Arc?” asked Jane uneasily. “Lizzy, is that wise?”
Mary pursed her lips disapprovingly. “Yes, Lizzy, she was burned at the stake for heresy.”
“And then pardoned posthumously and declared a saint,” Elizabeth retorted. “As you feel that Minerva’s devotion to music and literature embodies your beliefs, so I feel that Joan of Arc’s independent spirit holds my admiration.”
“Well, I should not want to be Joan of Arc for fear of the costume,” said Lydia in disgust. “You would have to wear battle attire and armour, Lizzy. Who would want to wear such ugly, cumbersome things?”
“Yes, the costume would be tiresome,” conceded Elizabeth.
“I know!” said Kitty. “Sir William Lucas keeps a suit of armour in his library. You could seek his permission to borrow it.”
“Oh, Kitty, do not be ridiculous!” admonished Lydia. “Lizzy cannot go to the ball wearing real armour!”
“Well, I think it is a good idea. If you should have a better suggestion, why do you not share it?”
“I do share my ideas. They are not as ludicrous as yours.”
“My suggestions are not ludicrous!”
“They are!”
“They are not!”
Her younger sisters’ quarrelling was beginning to make Elizabeth’s head ache. She conceded that perhaps Joan of Arc was not the best choice of masquerade for the ball and attempted to think of another suitable option.
“What think you of Guinevere?” asked Jane suddenly, interrupting the younger girls’ bickering. “She may not be especially known for her independent spirit, I grant you, but she is as strong a character as any and a queen to one of the greatest kings in folklore.”
“She is also an adulteress whose affair with Sir Lancelot led to her king’s downfall,” said Mary stiffly. “I cannot approve of such a choice.”
“That is not her fault!” cried Lydia indignantly. “The stories say that she was arranged into marriage with King Arthur and that she had no real love for him. When she met Sir Lancelot, it was he who stirred her emotions, though she was already married to another.”
“Yes, it was a doomed affair,” said Kitty.
“She sounds a dreadfully tragic character. I like her,” said Elizabeth with a mischievous smile. “And a mediaeval costume should be simple enough to emulate. Very well, my mind is made up. I shall go as Guinevere.”
