Disclaimer: No, I do not own Pride and Prejudice. And I'm sorry this story is so depressing. I've been kind of depressed lately. I think I've got graduation blues. So that kind of came out in this story.
Ever since she was a child, Lizzie Bennett had imagined her own personal happy ending. She could see her dream wedding whenever she closed her eyes. All of her life she had firmly believed in happy endings. She'd been called a dreamer, an idealist, but it had never bothered her. She knew that if you were good you would get your happy ending. She, Elizabeth Grace Bennett would not settle for anything less. The first time she met Will Darcy she had started to doubt happy endings. The second time she wondered if all Prince Charmings turned out to be frauds. But then he'd managed to sweep her off her feet and she'd firmly believed in happy endings all over again. She'd fallen so helplessly in love with him she'd been sure that her happy ending was just around the corner. But only days later everything had changed.
Lizzie stood there staring as the grave diggers threw dirt into the open grave. The rest of the family had already left. Her mother said it was just too sad to stand there and watch as her youngest daughter was covered with dirt. The last week had seemed to go by in slow motion. Eight days ago she had been on vacation with her aunt and uncle having a wonderful time. But then one fateful night she had received the worst phone call of her twenty two years. Her little sister was missing. Five days ago the police had shown up at her front door to tell her that her sister was dead. She was seventeen years old. She wasn't supposed to die.
"Lydia Marie Bennett," Lizzie read aloud softly, "May 28, 1910 to July 3, 1927, Beloved daughter and sister. Oh Lydie, why did you have to get involved with him?" She reached a gloved hand up under her short black veil brushed the tears from her cheeks. "Why didn't I tell you what I knew about George Wickham?"
Lizzie had known all about George Wickham. She could have gone to the police and had him put behind bars. She knew about his mob connections. She knew that he was no good. She'd known all of that and hadn't said anything to her sister. She could have saved her and she hadn't. If it weren't for her Lydia would still have been alive. "I'm so sorry, Lydie," she just barely whispered. "I'm so sorry."
Will Darcy stood back in the shadows and watched Lizzie standing there. How could he face her? He had hoped that she would already be gone. All he had wanted to do was drop off the flowers and leave. He couldn't face Lizzie. He could never look her in the eyes again. It was all his fault that her sister was dead. He watched her and longed to take her in his arms. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't face her ever again.
Suddenly she turned around to face him. He'd hoped to be able to slip away before she'd noticed him. But her eyes locked with his and there was no escaping her. The sunlight reflected off her glossy brown hair and the shinny tear trails down her cheeks. Her black dress was of the latest fashion with its draped neckline and the low back. She more beautiful than he had ever seen her and so terribly sad that it made him feel as if his heart was being ripped from his chest.
"What are you doing here?" she asked softly as she walked over to him.
"I wanted to put these on your sister's grave," he explained, holding up the white lilies.
"You could have come to the funeral," she commented as she stared at the flowers in his hand. She could still see the lilies growing in the gardens at Pemberly. She could still remember sitting there with him by the river watched the boats come and go. She could still feel his arms around her holding her close beneath the stars. She could still see the look on his face when she told him that Lydia had run off with George Wickham. He'd looked so disgusted that she couldn't bear to look at him. She'd hated Lydia for it. She'd been so bitter and angry that she couldn't see straight. But then she'd learned that Lydia was dead and all she'd felt was guilt.
"I didn't think I would be welcome," Will replied. "Lizzie, it's my fault that she's dead."
"Don't say that," Lizzie pleaded. "If it's anyone's fault it's mine. I should have told her. I knew and I didn't say anything."
"No Lizzie," Will sighed. "It really is my fault. I was there Lizzie. I was there and I couldn't save her. If anything you could say that I killed her."
"What do you mean?" Lizzie asked with a puzzled frown.
"I found out where they were," Will informed her. "I went there to try and save her, but I only made Wickham angry…"
Will stood outside of the shady hotel and looked up at the dirty windows. How could Lizzie's sister have possibly gotten herself involved with George Wickham? How could two sisters be so completely different? He had to help that stupid little girl out though. She was Lizzie's sister and he had to help her out. He had to help her out for Lizzie, and maybe a little bit for himself. Lizzie could never be happy knowing that her sister was so miserable and he couldn't marry Lizzie if her sister was connected to the mob. It would discredit his company.
He took a deep breath and walked into the building. In the dimly lit lobby he was assaulted by the smell of cheap perfume and stale champagne. It was almost enough to make him nauseous. He pulled the handkerchief from the front pocket of his suit jacket and made his way towards the narrow rickety stairs. Dust came up off the faded red carpet with each step that he took. He climbed up four rickety flights and then made his way down the hall.
He stopped in front of the door of the room he knew Wickham was renting. Maybe he shouldn't have come on his own. Maybe he should have brought the police with him. But the police would have caused Wickham to bolt and then who knew what would happen to Lydia. He knocked firmly on the door and it almost immediately opened. Will almost fell into the room, not expecting for the door to open so quickly. "Will, my old friend," Wickham slurred drunkenly. "What are you doing here?"
"Where's the girl, George?" Will asked venomously. "Just let her go and I won't call the police."
"The police won't help you," Wickham laughed. "No dice, Darcy. The police are hip deep in my boss's pocket. They're not going to do anything."
"She's just a kid," Will tried again. "What do you want her for?"
"Oh, I don't really want her for anything," he replied. "I just like knowing that me having her bothers you so much. It's kind of fun."
"She's only seventeen," Will said as he tried to push his way into the room. "Just let her go home to her family."
"Maybe I don't want to go home," Lydia interjected saucily as she made her way up to Wickham. "Maybe I like it here with my Georgie."
"What did I say about the pet names?" Wickham asked angrily and picked up a gun off the table by the door. Will hadn't even noticed its presence. He put the gun to Lydia's head but she only laughed.
"George, put that gun down," she giggled stupidly. At that moment Will was about to walk out the door and leave her to her fate. But then he thought of Lizzie and how hard it would be on her if Lydia were to never come home.
"Shut up!" he thundered.
"Wickham, I won't just go to the police," Will threatened. "I'll go to the FBI. You will go to jail for a long time if I have anything to say about it."
"I think you are forgetting something, Fitzwilliam," Wickham laughed mercilessly. "I'm the one holding the gun. I could kill you both right now and nothing would happen to me. Or even better, I could send someone after Lizzie. I know that you like that little twit."
"Georgie, I said put that gun down!"
"Fine, I'll shut you up!" Wickham nearly roared as he put the gun to her head and clicked back the safety. Will could see as the seriousness of the situation dawned in Lydia's eyes. He could see the moment when Lydia realized that she was about to die right before George pulled the trigger. He could see the terror in her eyes. It didn't go away even after she collapsed to the floor. "I didn't mean to kill her!" George stuttered.
Will looked down at the girl dead at his feet. He could feel the bile churning around in his stomach. Suddenly he felt as if he couldn't breathe. He ran down the hall and made it to the bottom of the stairwell before he threw up. Lydia's dead cold eyes haunted him. He couldn't escape their piercing glare. He closed his eyes and he could see the look on her face as she felt the cold metal of the gun against her head. But although her face haunted his mind, Lizzie haunted his thoughts. All he could think of was how she was going to react to the news that her sister was dead. Part of him longed to go to her immediately and take her in his arms, but part of him knew that she would never be able to look at him the same way again.
Will closed his eyes and hung his head. He could hear the crunching of the crisp grass as Lizzie walked. He didn't dare look up, expecting to see her walking away disgusted. He stiffened involuntarily when she wrapped her arms around him. "It's not your fault," Lizzie whispered against his chest. "Lydia made her own choices and she had to pay for it. I don't blame you."
"I tried to do it for you, " he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her. "I was only thinking of you."
"It's okay, Will," she said the tears started to slide down her cheeks. "You did everything that you could."
"I just love you so much Lizzie…"
"You what?" she asked with a puzzled frown.
"I love you, my dear," he replied as he brought a hand up to softly brush her cheek. "I told you all those months ago at Rosings Park and I never stopped."
"Oh Will," Lizzie cried as she burst into sobs. "I love you too," she managed to gasp out.
"I know now isn't the time to ask you to marry me," Will whispered into her hair. "But when you've had some time I am going to. I'm going to make this up to you Lizzie by making you happy for the rest of your life."
"That sounds nice," Lizzie sighed as she dried her tears with the handkerchief that he had pressed into her hand. She and Will stood there for a long time watching as the grave diggers finished filling in Lydia's grave. When they had finally finished, Lizzie and Will went over so that he could lay the white flowers on the loose dirt. Not every story would have a happy ending. Sometimes hearts were broken. Sometimes lives were lost. But maybe happy endings could shine through it all. Maybe happy endings were like a phoenix and could rise out of the ashes of tragedy. Standing there in Will Darcy's arms Lizzie regained her faith in happy endings. Happy didn't mean perfect. If it was perfect her sister would still be alive. But Lizzie knew that her sadness would not overwhelm her forever and one day the sun would shine again. On that day, Lizzie Bennett would get her happy ending. She wouldn't settle for anything less.
A/N: So, the ending was a little more uplifting than I originally thought it would be. But that's okay. Remember that reviews are always appreciated. If ya'll like this I might think about writing the whole story around it.
