A/N: I don't own Pride and Prejudice.
There wasn't a Darcy, de Bourgh, or Fitzwilliam alive who went anywhere without cold hard iron.
Mostly because those who didn't didn't stay alive for very long.
"Darcy looks like he's looking right through you," Bingley laughingly complained more than once. "The Darcy glare can see right to your soul."
This was not quite right, but Bingley was close. Uncomfortably close. There was a strong strain of Sight in Darcy's family that was becoming ever rarer in England.
And if it weren't for good, cold iron, the Sidhe would see to it that it was rarer yet.
Elizabeth Bennet was beautiful and charming and not at all human.
Bingley urged him to dance with her, and Darcy -
He clung to little Georgiana behind a ring of salt and kept the last grains in his hand, ready throw at the writhing shadows around them. He could hear the music out the window, the music that must have lured someone into opening the doors on Midsummer's Night despite the rules.
When daylight came, he found his parents dead in the garden, shoes worn through to bloodied feet.
- "You know I dislike dancing," he said, and only a lifetime of iron composure and the iron blade concealed by his coat allowed him a semblance of calm.
"Yes, little though I comprehend it. But surely such a lovely partner must change your mind?"
Her eyes laughed at him from across the room.
"She is very lovely," he agreed. One did not insult the Fair Folk, no matter how many memories of blood they conjured. "But I fear I am poor company tonight."
Dear Georgiana,
I trust you are improving now that you are away from the dangers of the sea.
I had hoped to invite you to join me, but I believe I have stumbled across a changeling. Rarely have I met someone so brazenly fey, yet the family that claims her could hardly be more human.
Please do not fear for my sake. I shall be as vigilant as ever, and she seems very little interested in me.
Your devoted brother,
Fitzwilliam
"I've come to see Jane. How does she fare?"
Her eyes were perilously bright. Darcy had to wrench his own away.
Bingley invited her to stay until her sister recovered. It was all Darcy could do not to draw his blade.
The safest thing to do would have been to make his excuses and leave for London, but he refused to leave the Bingleys at her mercy. He stayed and stuck close to their inhuman guest.
What her game was, Darcy couldn't guess, though he feared it centered on the ill girl upstairs. With her hosts, she was bewitchingly charming, though her wit turned vicious when pressed.
Caroline's own attempts at mockery were pale shadows beside it, though they offended the purported Miss Elizabeth all the same.
Darcy knew this because the more Caroline talked the more the milk curdled in its dish at tea.
They were not long free of their guests when Wickham rode into town.
Trust me, the air around him whispered. Long for me. Look at me.
And along the street, people did. Miss Lydia was already giggling over him. Bingley was extending an amiable invitation. Even Miss Elizabeth smiled, and she was the only one on the street who could see what Darcy saw.
Where Wickham's eyes should have been, there was nothing but a dark, endlessly hungry void.
Darcy took to patrolling Netherfield's halls at night after that. It was an old house with good roots. There were still remnants of defenses from wiser times, now forgotten. He renewed them as best he could without drawing undue attention.
Iron nails already held up the doorframes. He burned sprigs of rowan and spread the ash across every threshold, sprinkled it into the pockets of his friend's coat.
It was harder to plant it on the servants and the ladies, but he did his best.
He had seen the two fey conspiring, and there was something lurking in the garden come nights.
Wickham knew better than to brave Darcy's defenses, but Miss Elizabeth was bold and had been a guest before. She kept her family away until they were fashionably late, and the other guests had already broken the lines of ash. The chill of the iron provoked only a flinch before she was past.
The maneuverings of others forced him to ask her to dance.
It was his first dance of the evening, but sweat already gathered on his neck. His hands would be occupied. He would not be able to reach a weapon.
Her eyes were laughing at him already.
They spoke as they danced. He'd hoped it would make it safer, but the brighter her eyes grew in delight, the more frantic the dancing around them became. The music was maddening. Entrancing. Their hands barely touched, but the merest brush felt like fire on Midwinter's Night, a fire that would soon burn them all whole -
"Miss Elizabeth!" he snapped. "This dance is hardly appropriate here."
When all was lost, appeal to the Rules. If there was one defense England had left, it was that.
Her eyes widened, and the music abruptly stopped. The dancers stumbled to a halt and looked to one another, laughing nervously. The musicians struck up another tune that was conservatively, almost painfully, slow.
Miss Elizabeth still stood frozen, as if shocked. "Mr. Darcy," she began. "Mr. Darcy, what - "
"Excuse me," he interrupted, and he stalked past her to a thankfully empty hallway where he could press himself against a shadowed wall and gasp for breath without being seen.
His hands were still burning. He could not convince himself that he did not smell blood.
His parents in the garden, their faces caught in a rictus parody of bliss -
No. A carriage accident. That was what they'd told everyone.
A Darcy whose parents had died in a carriage accident could go back inside. A Darcy would never be so weak as to linger here.
He drew on a stiff mask of pride and went back inside.
It was a good thing he did because it was then that - that creature's designs became terrifyingly clear.
Why she wanted Miss Bennet married to Bingley, he wasn't sure, but if the fey wanted it, he was determined to prevent it.
Bingley was not made for a world of secrets and iron and blood.
Wickham left with the militia, and Darcy tore Bingley away. Miss Elizabeth's neighbors had survived her attentions before, surely with both her ally and antagonist gone, they would survive her again.
All would be well, he tried to convince himself. All would be well.
Dear Georgiana,
I am glad you arrived safely back at Pemberley. Have the defenses been satisfactorily maintained in our absence?
I̶ ̶d̶o̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶w̶i̶s̶h̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶w̶o̶r̶r̶y̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶,̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶c̶h̶a̶n̶g̶e̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶r̶o̶t̶e̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶h̶a̶u̶n̶t̶s̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶.̶ ̶H̶e̶r̶ ̶e̶y̶e̶s̶ ̶w̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶l̶e̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶d̶r̶e̶a̶m̶s̶,̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶I̶ ̶f̶e̶a̶r̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶e̶n̶c̶h̶a̶n̶t̶m̶e̶n̶t̶ ̶s̶h̶e̶ ̶m̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶l̶a̶i̶d̶ ̶-̶
All is well in London. Its iron and industry guard me well. Still, there is a small matter which some herbs from Pemberley might be of assistance with, as London fails to provide options up to my admittedly exacting standards. I have taken the liberty of enclosing a list . . .
Rosings was the safest estate in England. The last thing he expected was to find his tormentor there.
Bit the odious Mr. Collins - and how a clergyman didn't notice what rumor said he had almost married boggled belief - apologized to his aunt for Miss Elizabeth's absence.
"I fear she grew unexpectedly ill as we approached the gates. No doubt the thought of meeting so great a lady was a great strain upon her nerves . . . "
His aunt nodded in proud complacency, and poor bean sidhe cursed Anne barely noticed, but his cousin Fitzwilliam immediately shot him a look.
"As she approached the gates," he whispered meaningfully. "Our Aunt Catherine's beautiful cold iron gates."
Darcy clenched his jaw. The blood had already drained from his face.
"Excuse me," he said. "I'm afraid I am also unwell." He all but stalked from the room.
"I'll attend him," Fitzwilliam said quickly and hurried after him.
"I know her," Darcy said shortly as they moved towards the gates without having to discuss the matter. "She's a changeling."
Fitzwilliam raised an eyebrow. "And she's still alive?"
"This isn't a battlefield in France," Darcy snapped. "I cannot simply murder a lady of society."
"No, but she might be the death of you." Fitzwilliam's gaze was far too piercing. "Or is it someone else who has stolen your sleep?"
"I have it under control," Darcy said.
Fitzwilliam sighed. "You always do."
Miss Elizabeth seemed surprised to see them but not unpleased. Her eyes locked on Darcy in particular. "Do come in," she invited. "Mr. Darcy, I am pleased to see you. Will you introduce me to your friend?"
Her eyes were as shadowed as his own. Help me, her whole posture whispered. Save me. Tell me what you know.
"I prefer to give out as little as possible of my name to changelings, actually," Fitzwilliam said with a friendly smile.
She laughed, but the notes trembled. "I had not thought to find any friend of Mr. Darcy's so prone to childish fancies."
"You flinched from my aunt's gates," Darcy said quietly. "You disliked the salt dish on the table. You curdled the milk. You saw Wickham's eyes. You revealed yourself entirely at the ball."
"The ball," she repeated and sat down suddenly. She pressed a hand to her head. "So you do know what's happening to me."
"You mean to say that you do not?" he asked incredulously.
"How can I when no one will tell me?" she cried. "Even Wickham would only hint - "
"Wickham is too lost to his own dark magics to give anything for free," Fitzwilliam said.
"Dark magics?" she asked, her turn for incredulity now.
"You saw his eyes," Darcy said impatiently.
"I do not commonly judge on appearances, Mr. Darcy!"
"You mean you were taken in by his charms." Darcy's lip curled. "My father was as well. He hoped that a half-fey might not be wholly condemned, so at the elder Wickham's pleading, the infant was allowed to remain." Music slipping through the open door - "For their kindness, he betrayed both my parents and his father to their deaths."
Her fingers twisted in her lap. "And if that was your hope and its results for him," she said, "where does that leave me?"
Fitzwilliam looked to him. "What has she done so far?"
"Little intentionally," he admitted, "save that I had to stop some scheme that would have united her sister with Bingley."
Miss Elizabeth shot to her feet, color flooding her cheeks. "You separated them? For what cause? It was no scheme of mine that united them, only their own mutual affection. Do not tell me that Jane is infected with this evil, for I will not believe it!"
"It was a risk," Darcy started to say, but she would not hear it.
"Get out," she demanded, and the full force of her power fueled her words. "Get out!"
The words pushed them almost physically back. Her teeth now looked painfully sharp.
The door slammed behind them once they were safely in the garden.
"Well?" Fitzwilliam asked him quietly.
The faint sound of sobs was audible through the door.
"I do not think she is actively malicious," he said.
It was no scheme of mine.
Call the Fair Folk what you would, you couldn't call them liars without taking that title for yourself.
"That doesn't make her safe," Fitzwilliam pointed out. "Much can be done in ignorance."
The musicians at Netherfield playing as they had never played before -
"I'll handle it," he promised.
Dear Miss Elizabeth Bennet,
Please do not fear that this letter contains anything of a personal nature. I merely wished to inform you of some relevant matters of which of our last conversation revealed you to be ignorant.
Much that is regarded as legend is quite real and quite dangerous. From the first time that I saw you, it was readily apparent that you could be most properly counted among them . . .
One regret I do have: Your sister was an innocent and should not have been involved . . .
The letter had warned her of the dangers Lady Catherine could present to her, so he was not surprised when she cut her visit short and returned home.
He was not disappointed. Not at all.
There was nothing in Lady Catherine's gardens that stopped the dreams of burning eyes and weeping.
When he at last returned to Pemberley, he wasn't surprised to find there were guests touring the place.
Greeting them was only proper, but in the process, he learned something far more surprising.
"I believe you know our niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet?"
Darcy's spine went stiff. "I do. Is she traveling with you?"
"She is indeed, but I'm afraid she felt a bit unwell and so is still in town."
"Yes," he said blankly. "Please pass along my wishes for her swift recovery."
It was wrong. It was unpardonably wrong.
But he called on her the next day after waiting to see that her aunt and uncle had gone out.
"Mr. Darcy," she said, rising. "Please, sit. I confess I hoped you would come. Your letter did not quite dispel all questions, and I was trying to contrive some way it would be proper to write, but the matter seemed impossible."
"I would be glad to answer what I can."
To his surprise, her first question was not directly about herself at all. "If I am a changeling, then what happened to the girl I replaced?"
A seed of respect grew. "It is possible there never was such a girl, and everyone was merely charmed to think there was."
"But if there was?" she pressed. "How might she be recovered?"
"For a few days after the switch, it might have been possible," he said quietly. "By now, however, she will certainly have eaten their food and thus have become ensnared. I am afraid she is beyond all help now."
"And so I am unwanted by those who sent me, an unknown grief to those that took me, and perhaps ruination to one who had done no harm to me," she said bitterly. "Better indeed that I had never been born!"
"No," he said firmly and was taken aback by his own conviction. "Your - your sisters would certainly disagree with that."
"No? Poor Jane would have been happy if not for me."
"If not for my interference," he corrected. "I . . . I do not know if I can mend that, but I am resolved to try."
Her eyes shone. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy. Jane deserves no less."
"The fey are not much given to thanks."
"Well, then they are not raised with manners," she said tartly, "and however you might judge my family, Mr. Darcy, I was."
Two days later, he received a note.
Mr. D -
W has taken L. Knowing what you have revealed of him, I fear it is not to a location my father can discover. I do not ask for any aid for myself, only that you give me what information you can, so that I may attempt to help her. Silly she may be, but she is an innocent in this.
I know this note is terribly improper, but I have no other recourse and suspect that pursuit may require worse in any case. Please forgive me.
- E
"Brother, what is it?" Georgiana asked. "You look unwell."
It's a trap, years of training tell him.
There were tearstains on the page.
"There's a new fairy ring in the woods, is there not?"
"Williams has gone to pull it up."
Darcy rose to his feet. "When?" he demanded.
"Not five minutes ago - "
Darcy raced out to stop him. If he failed, he could find another way through to the other side, but this would certainly be the quickest.
Saving Miss Lydia was a fool's chance, but -
For the sake of the gift of Sight he had been given, for the sake of an innocent, and even for the sake of the note, he had to try.