The rain crashes down, torrential, like every other cliché movie funeral weather. The winding, pattered road to the cemetery probably has her Uber driver cursing his luck, but she perseveres anyway - glaring out the window with hardened resolution. She's dressed like a widow - black from head to toe. She feels like a widow, so it's really just a form of self-expression.
"Which way, ma'am?" Rickie hollers from the wheel. Lizzie peeks at the blurry fork in the road in front of her hired vehicle. She racks her brain for the details from the press release.
In Loving Memory of
William Darcy
Founder of Pemberley Hotels
Funeral to be held on
April 10, 2019
3 in the afternoon
Everrest Memorial Park
Huffton, NY
And, somehow, she just showed up. Somehow, she's managed to cash in on all her accumulated leaves, buy the most posh and most black ensemble she could, and hop on a plane across the Atlantic.
And here she is.
And here he is - somewhere.
Lizzie exhales, deeply. The last time she's seen him in person - now, perhaps, for the very last time ever - he was blushing, embarrassed by her rejection of his surprise proposal. She was certain, then, that it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. An improvised proposal deserved an improvised rejection - right?
Now, thinking back, and having realized that all his company and very formal social media profiles show him as clearly single and unattached all these years, she's not so sure that proposal was given that lightly.
"Ma'am?" Rickie's getting impatient.
Lizzie shuffles, sitting just that bit taller in her dress and coat and now-silly fascinator.
She did want to look the part.
The Darcys aren't your everyday family next door.
And faced with a death this tragic - the occasion deserves every bit of solemnity she can offer.
She peers through the rivulets coursing down her window pane. She catches a glimpse of the huddle of black, overdressed people.
She gulps.
"That way."
The car obeys, a little too enthusiastically, and Lizzie is faced all over again with the dilemma of what exactly she would do upon arrival. Whom did she even know apart from William himself? What ties to the family can she even claim apart from a passing acquaintance with Georgiana?
"Ma'am," Rickie reminds her when they've stopped for two minutes and she still hasn't gotten out.
Lizzie takes a deep breath, eyes still scanning the sea of black umbrellas and black coats. The people look somber.
It's probably right that they do.
"Thank you," she mutters to Rickie, who is all too happy to have his freckled face disappear from her life forever.
The rain hits her, hard, the moment she opens the door. She draws her purse close to her body, happy for once that she didn't over-splurge on something that would be effectively drenched within three days of her owning it.
She picks her way forward on the grass - pristine, despite the storm.
It pays to die rich - however tragically.
She approaches the party just as the minister, barely shielded by the umbrella his assistant holds, backs away from the center. He's done. She's managed to miss any formal remembrance of the dearly departed.
Lizzie sniffs, feeling the first true urge to cry again after she's first heard the news.
The headline didn't jump at her. No one except mega-celebrities and royalty get that kind of treatment. It was a small headline, to the side, easily ignored.
It was a wonder she clicked on it at all.
And three lines in, she shut down her computer, dashed to her bed, and sobbed herself to sleep.
It was never meant to be this way.
She didn't like him then, when all she knew was his arrogance and conceit. She didn't like him because of what he did to Charles and Jane. She didn't like him because he was always the one unimpressed with any articles she published.
Then, after the-most-vehemently-rejected-proposal-of-the-decade, they just - drifted apart.
But she still saw his touches in her life.
Charles and Jane got back together.
Pemberley Hotels began to raise their social change game.
Whenever she published something - anything - he actually liked it and shared it.
By the time she realized she'd forgiven him - and really wanted a second chance with him - her bags had already been packed for London.
It's her first time back, now, four years later, for the worst reason ever.
"Lizzie!" A female voice exclaims.
She looks up to see Georgiana - beautifully and regally dressed in her hat and pearls and classy black lace - running towards her.
Three splashes later, and she's embracing the sister of the man she's fallen in love with - fallen in love with too little, too late - a man who is so magnanimous and kind and good that he promotes her from across the ocean without ever asking anything back.
"I'm so sorry," Lizzie whispers.
"Thank you." Georgiana sniffs.
Lizzie closes her eyes and tightens her hug. What else could she really do or say?
"How did he - "
"It's okay. He's been suffering for so long now, you know?" Georgiana pulls back to wipe at her tears. It's quite helpful for her, and them, that she has a maid or assistant of sorts holding her umbrella. "He's in a better place now."
Lizzie chokes up, and it takes extra effort to nod just for a little. How did she not even know he's been sick?
"Elizabeth?"
Lizzie stiffens, absolutely certain she heard something she wasn't supposed to.
"Elizabeth, you - came."
She blinks furiously, trying hard to mentally chase away her hallucination.
"Will." Georgiana turns aside to talk to the tall man behind her. "Isn't it nice for her to come all this way?"
Lizzie stands dumbfounded, staring at a towering, sorrowful, handsome man whose coffin she was sure she'd flown 3000 miles to see.
"Wi - Will?" She barely makes it out.
"Lizzie," he replies, a hefty dose of relief and appreciation in his voice.
He moves forward for a hug. She opens her arms in a trance, letting him in. It's not a tight hug, but it almost lifts her off the ground a little.
"Thank you for coming," he gushes, when he lets go.
She nods, speechless.
"My father was - a man to be remembered." His voice is laden with emotion.
Lizzie lets loose a small, melancholy sigh.
"Yeah. I bet."
A/N: This is a unique three-part AU. I enjoyed writing it. I hope everyone will enjoy reading it too. I'll get back to posting the remaining chapters of BTWMIL next week. Thank you! :)