A/N: this story is AU, kind of forced marriage scenario. and while i find the whole concept silly, i really love it and the angst it entails. mostly beta'd by kind putitbriefly, who had to put up with ahistorical and grammatical horrors, especially with my stubborn confusion for countable and uncountable nouns. currently WIP. rated E for explicit sexual content. i would love to hear your thoughts!

"My dear Lizzy."

"Papa?"

"What are you reading, dear?"

"The Scriptures."

"How grave you have become, my child."

She closed the volume and abandoned it on the chair, walking to the large bed in the middle of the room. Standing there, eyes casted downwards on her father's figure, she simply repeated, "Yes, Papa?"

"The Gardiners shall be here in less than a week. It has been days since they sent news—they have not written, haven't they?" When Elizabeth shook her head, he sighed. "They shall bring news, if there are any, anyway."

"Yes."

"And you shall, dear, give me a faithful account of everything that is discussed in my absence. You know I can hardly trust your mother with such matters. Will you do that, Lizzy?"

"Of course."

"You are such a good girl, my child."

It was time for repose; even in the dimness of the evening, she could see his eyes were heavy, weary. Elizabeth doused the candles and left the room, leaving her father with a kiss on his grey brow. She closed the door quietly and leaned against it.

Stillness.

Stillness was the best her father could afford. Since May, he had been bedridden and it was no long before any hope for improvement had vanished. His heart and body are most likely to become weaker and weaker, the physician had said.

"Lizzy?"

Her mind snapped back to reality. "Jane."

"Are you well?" she asked, with a frown. "Is Papa… ?"

"He is well. Perhaps a bit better than usual, I daresay, but is now asleep. How is Mamma?"

"Resting abed. She says now that my uncle is to visit, she feels better."

It seemed that the Gardiners' visit would do good on everyone's spirits. "Papa is in a great need of peace, and Mamma's fussing and worrying is only taxing on him."

In their chambers, quietude reigned.

The soft cotton of the nightgown took tension away from the body, but Elizabeth found herself exhausted. She climbed on the bed, and sat against the headboard. She slid her toes under the covers and sighed. At her side, Jane was silent. "Are you tired, my dear?"

"Oh, yes, I am," she replied, a wan smile on her lips. "But it is so good to be of help."

Tending their parents was their priority. Days—long, busy, hard days—felt heavy when night came, leaving every inhabitant in Longbourn exhausted. Even Jane's beauty had not been spared. Her ethereal beauty had turned into a more human weariness, with dark spots under eyes and new lines on her brow.

Often Elizabeth found dull, shiny eyes looking at her, seeking something; a strength, she supposed, her sister could not find in her own heart. How bleak it was! Elizabeth shook her head. "Indeed, we are not idle! And you, dear sister, have grown such a bravery to deal with Mamma's distress every day, I would trouble myself to worry about your nerves!"

Jane laughed softly.

The candles, already weak, were soon put out. Summer had come between concerns and disgrace, and was quickly fading, frosty whispers of Autumn rising chilling the wind. The silver, cold moonlight weakly filtered through windows. Underneath the quilts and sheets, there was the warmth of a promise for rest. Elizabeth pressed her cheek in the pillow, her eyes fluttering close.

"Lizzy," Jane called, tone low. "Lizzy, do you believe Lydia lives?"

In the stillness of the night, Elizabeth could only say, "Yes, I do believe so."

Mary, some days after, called Elizabeth out her father's sickroom.

"Aunt wishes to talk to you, Lizzy. I can keep Papa company."

That day, the Gardiners had arrived in the morning, but Elizabeth had hardly the occasion to greet them properly. Mr. Bennet had taken a slight fever. She had been busier and more anxious than usual. "He is now resting, Mary. Pray, let him, for he is unwell."

In the drawing-room, Mrs. Gardiner awaited with tea and cakes. Seeing Elizabeth, she stood and stretched her hands to her. "Oh, my dear, you are here!"

Elizabeth clasped her hands. "Where is my uncle?"

"Talking with you mother." She kissed her cheek. "He is so worried about her."

"Yes, Mamma is unfortunately unwell. But, aunt, pray tell, do you bring any news?"

"No, dear, we have no good news to bring—rather, the circumstance of your sister appear to be the same as the last time I wrote to you. Your uncle could not locate Lydia. But Colonel Forster is doing his best to discover Mr. Wickham's whereabouts."

Elizabeth sat on the sofa with a sigh. Mr. Bennet was destined to be disappointed, as she was, if not more.

Mrs. Gardiner's hand squeezed hers. "And how are you, Lizzy?"

"I am well. As well as one can be in such dire a times."

"You should come to stay with us. The children should like very much to have your company. Your mind may find some peace away from Longbourn."

It was impossible, Elizabeth knew, to leave Longbourn to hide to pursue distractions. Anxiety and worry would follow her. "I will think about it."

"Promise you will! You deserve some rest. And a diversion in company may only do good on your spirits. Oh, if only you had come with us to visit the north! How beneficial would that had been for you!"

When her father's health had begun to crumble, Elizabeth had opted to remain at Longbourn and give up the tour in the north. As noble and wise the choice had been, it had been a painful one to make. With bitterness and regret she had received long letters about the wilderness of Derbyshire, about the beauty of Matlock, and the elegance of Chatsworth. But then, came a whole letter dedicated to Pemberley, and to its master, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley. The impressions of goodness had quickly turned in praises, and praises into esteem. Regrettably, the acquaintance was short. They had abandoned Derbyshire once news of Lydia's elopement had come.

The whole affair seemed just so odd to Elizabeth.

"You know," her aunt began, "Mr. Darcy called on us when he returned to town. And he invited us to dine at his townhouse—your uncle, I suspect, found a new friend in the gentleman."

"A friend ?" Elizabeth squinted at her aunt. "You and uncle dined with him?"

"Yes," an amused Mrs. Gardiner replied. "Why would we not? He is an amiable and polite man, I say. I believe he took a liking for your uncle—they spent half of the evening talking about the mines of Derbyshire. And they share a passion for fishing! Oh, do not look at me so, dear! You have erred in your judgement of his character, I daresay!"

Elizabeth had a hard time believing it. That she had made mistakes in her judgement, she admitted. But Mr. Darcy— amiable , polite and kind Mr. Darcy, to her relatives, of all people! A laugh bubbled on her lips. " You are in danger to paint him a in a false light, aunt!"

"Nonsense, Lizzy, I believe I do him justice, for he is not as wicked and unfeeling as you had once described him to be. He enquired about you and your family, you know. And he was genuinely grieved in learning about your burdens."

"Aunt!" Elizabeth choked out. "Aunt, you—you told him ?"

"I did. He heartily wanted to know how your family fared. He knew nothing about your father's illness. And your uncle decided to account him about Lydia's folly—the way we left Lambton, without taking leave of him, was quite rude. Lizzy, your uncle does trust him, you need not to trouble yourself over it. He swore us secrecy on the matter."

Elizabeth swallowed. She did not particularly cared about Darcy's opinion. He was still the proud man who had ruined Jane's happiness. He had disrespected her and her family. The Gardiners liked him well, but they were all too ignorant of his actions and his ways. They did not truly understand how disagreeable he might be.

And—oh, the humiliation! He must be congratulating himself for the narrow escape from a wretched fate, from such a disgracing connection!

"Why such a grim face, Lizzy?"

"Oh, Aunt! If you only knew! Mr. Darcy, being kind to you! Him, being grieved by our disgrace! It cannot be possible!"

Mrs. Gardiner frowned.

Elizabeth chewed on her lower lip. "I cannot bring myself to believe he is earnestly pained by our misfortune… such feelings for my family, whom he thinks so beneath himself. He cannot have charitable feelings for someone who rejected his suit so fiercely and scorned him—"

Mrs. Gardiner turned to her with wide eyes. "Lizzy?"

Had Elizabeth been in a lighter mood, she might have delighted into the absurdity of it all. But laughter would not come. Instead, bitter sighs rose from her throat. "When I visited Charlotte and Mr. Collins in Kent in the spring…"

The Gardiners' presence, as predicted, was a solace to Longbourn's wounded souls.

Mrs. Bennet found the reassurances of her younger brother fortifying enough to emerge from her apartments. Kitty followed her aunt about, delighting in the tales from town. Mary seemed serene, now that more peace reigned in the house.

Though Mr. Bennet was not entirely recovered from his fever, Mr. Gardiner spent a lot of time in his sickroom, keeping him company with assurances of a better future.

The day before their departure, Mrs. Gardiner reached out to poor Jane. "I already told Lizzy that she is welcome to stay with us in town when she likes. The invitation, of course, is extended to you, too."

Jane's eyes lighted up, a glimmer of an old brightness. "I would be delighted!" she replied, but halted when Elizabeth smiled at her. "I would be happy, yes, thank you, aunt—but I fear it shall not be in the near future. We are quite busy."

"Nonsense," Mr. Gardiner interjected. "Pray come whenever you wish, even if you intend to stay for a short period of time."

Mrs. Bennet gave a loud sigh. "My dear Jane is such a dear child! Her help will be terribly missed, were she to decide to leave us! Oh, but how my dear girls need rest!"

"I agree." Mrs. Gardiner nodded. "Your children are in great need for diversions, I think."

Elizabeth did not miss the fleeting light breaking on Jane's face, nor her eyes clouding scant seconds later. How she hated it! Jane had such a tiring year—first a heartbreak, then all of this! "Jane," Elizabeth called her and reached for her hand. "Mamma is feeling better now, therefore you may go to London whenever you choose!"

The smile Elizabeth won in return was not quite the familiar smile of an angelic being, but it was genuine and joyful enough. If only there would be a chance to go back to last year! Their life had been a flurry of excitement and novelties—a bit too innocent and entirely too naive, but light and bright, like the golden sunshine of summer days.

Even the thought of Mr. Darcy being proud and disagreeable in Hertfordshire was a dear memory now. Even his letter, token of her fallacy and mean to shame her, was a dear possession—tokens of those halcyon days, now so precious and distant.

And so, Elizabeth turned to Jane with a brilliant smile.

The following day, after breakfast, the Gardiners were ready to leave Longbourn with trunks packed in the hall, and a carriage awaiting in the lawn. In the drawing-room, Mrs. Gardiner kept company to her mother and the sisters, while Elizabeth stood in front of the closed door of her father's sickroom.

Her uncle came out with a grim expression, but sobered when he noticed Elizabeth. "Lizzy. I had the intention to come to speak with you."

"I am here. How is Papa?"

"Weak," was the brutal reply. "But, pray come, I need to talk to you alone before we leave."

He led her to the bottom of the hallway, away from the sickroom and the stairwell, the voices of the ladies only a weak echo from the ground floor. Elizabeth peered at him with curious eyes. "Uncle, you must be aware of the frightening expression of your countenance."

"My dear," he said, eyes softening, "I need to address you with something I have discussed with your aunt."

"I think Jane should be the one to join you to town—"

"I beg your pardon, but I mean to speak of another matter. Your Aunt informed me about a rather intimate talk you had days ago."

Her brow furrowed. "Indeed?"

"Lizzy," her name rolled off his lips as if it were a heavy burden, "your father's health is not improving. The future is grim for your family—and for you, too."

Her stomach twisted in agony, but Elizabeth plastered a smile. "I should like to keep hearing your endless praises of a stranger, rather than this."

Mrs. Gardiner did not heed her lightness. "You must mind your future."

"I would be quite a foolish creature if I did not, but—"

"You shall marry, someday," Mr. Gardiner interjected, an unusual gravity in his tone. "But Lydia's actions put your future in jeopardy. It would be unthinkable for you or any of your sisters to hope for a match with respectable gentlemen. Many men of my acquaintance are good, sensible men. But their status is not gentle. I know not if this is what you aspire to."

Elizabeth swallowed, words dying in her throat. Necessity called for desperate measures. She knew how grim her prospects were.

"But, there may be a hope for you, my dear Lizzy. Marianne was right; there is a gentleman that may be a solid hope for your future."

Hushed words faded in the dead, cold silence of astonishment. Elizabeth forgot about her father, about Lydia, about the grey clouds casting a shadow on the future.

"He may be prevailed upon a renewal of his addresses."

The echoes of her uncle's speech would not leave her, not even the following days. The words weighted on her shoulders, haunting, tearing at her conscience and heart, whispering in her ear in the daylight, and screaming in her mind at night.

"I beg of you, Lizzy, think about this. It is a risk worth taking. Send me a word as soon as you come to a decision and I'll be glad to think of the rest. I will go to him at once and talk to him, were you to find yourself equal to this arrangement."

Outside, the black and starless night stretched to no end. It invaded the room. The bedchamber was chilly and hollow, the dim flame of the candle barely breaking through the dark.

On the large bed, Elizabeth held a sobbing Jane.

"What shall we do, Lizzy?" Jane's tears were falling, warm, soiling the cotton of her nightgown. "What shall be of us?"

Her fingers hooked in golden waves, pressing her sister's head closer against her shoulder. Lord's Mercy, Elizabeth had no assurances to offer her—not this time. What was left to do was to embrace her closer and shut her eyes tightly.

That day, Papa had taken ill—again—and the fever had returned, leaving him weaker body and spirit, weaker than he had ever been. Jane had been so affected, she had crumbled into sobs and hiccups as soon as the sun had set.

"Jane," Elizabeth pressed a light kiss against her brow. "Jane, dear, you ought to rest now."

It was only one hour later that Jane finally managed to find some sleep. Not before more tears, more words about Longbourn, about Kitty, Mary and Mamma. About Lydia.

Careful not to disturb her, Elizabeth slipped out the bed.

She ignored the mad pounding of her heart against her ribcage. She ignored the tremble of her legs. She ignored the black of the night.

It was with no little difficulty she wrote down the note. Quivering fingers gripped the pen, as the weak, silver light of the moon bared the ink to her burning, watery eyes.

Dear Aunt,

Pray inform my uncle that is my intention to give my consent to a marriage with Mr. Darcy. Were he to agree to to this scheme, we shall be engaged at once.

EB