A/N: So these are just gonna be a bunch of oneshots about Lizzie and Darcy inspired by random I Love Lucy Episodes…characterization may be slightly off cause the circumstances will be so ridiculous but I'm aiming to make it more amusing than authentic…
This first one is inspired loosely by the Vitameatavegimin episode, i.e. Lucy/Lizzie gets accidentally drunk and Ricky/Darcy deal with it. Enjoy!
Elizabeth thanked Dr. Rogers and waved as he rode off in his carriage. She walked into the parlor where her husband sat reading the newspaper and set the small black bottle she had received on the table.
"Did the doctor have any useful suggestions or remedies for your headaches, my dear?" asked Mr. Darcy, folding his paper as to give Elizabeth his full attention. He had been worried for weeks now over her frequent and crippling headaches, which had been perhaps more of a burden on his thoughts than on her own.
"He gave me this liquid," she replied gesturing towards the bottle, "And said I was to drink it next time I should start to feel ill. He assured me that it would chase the headache away within minutes, or else I should call him again to reexamine my symptoms."
"Good." Mr. Darcy smiled, standing to take her hands, "I hate to see you suffer, my dear Elizabeth."
She smiled back at him and leaned her head against his chest peacefully, "I'm just glad a remedy presented itself before we dine with our dear Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, your aunt Lady Anne, and your cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam. I should hate to have to excuse myself from the evening due to illness."
The aforementioned guests began to arrive later in the day, Mr. and Mrs. Bingley being the first to appear. The Darcy's, Georgiana included, welcomed the couple excitedly, Elizabeth excitedly throwing her arms around Jane as soon as she saw her sister enter the house. Elizabeth then took her two sisters outside to see her recent work in the garden, leaving Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy to catch each other up with recent developments in their respective lives
"Oh, you remind me." Bingley said as Darcy inquired about their recent trip to the seaside, "I have a gift for you."
He pulled out a bottle, which happened to be nearly identical to the one Elizabeth had recently received from the doctor aside from a small white 'X' on the side, and handed it to Darcy. "Some of the strongest liquor in the country. Very fine stuff but very potent, I dare say you need no more than a sip to feel its affects."
"Thank you." Darcy graciously accepted, "It is gratefully received."
He absentmindedly set the bottle on the table and continued with his inquiries into his old friend's life. After some time had passed, the women returned to the house, with news that they had seen Lady Anne and Colonel Fitzwilliam's carriages arrive. The entire party entered the hall to receive the new additions, and after making small talk for a short period, it was announced that dinner was soon to be served.
It was also at that moment that Elizabeth began to feel rather faint. She quietly excused herself, drawing no other attention than Darcy's worried gaze as she exited the room. She paused in the hall and gripped at her head in agony, the piercing headache choosing that precise moment to make its despised return. Shortly after she had left, Darcy excused himself as well, and found his wife in the hall, leaning against a chair with her eyes squeezed shut and one hand pressing against her forehead.
"Are you unwell, my darling?" Darcy asked, his voice full of worry, as he set his hands on her hips in offer of some support.
"It's only another headache." She dismissed, waving a hand dismissively and leaning back into him as she shifted her weight from the chair to her husband. "I'm going to go take some of the medicine the doctor prescribed and hopefully I'll return shortly."
"Let me come with you." Darcy insisted, starting to walk with her in that direction.
"No." she stopped, gently pushing him away from her, "Entertain our guest, I'll be fine. I will return shortly."
"Do not be silly, Elizabeth, they may be on their own a few moments." He said, with slight frustration in his voice. As much as he loved his wife, her constant insistence on independence, even when she needed help, was a source of constant agitation and worry to him.
"I am fine, Mr. Darcy." She responded tersely, calling him by the more formal address as she always did when she was insisting she didn't need him to help her.
He sighed, "At least allow me to send a servant with you, should you require some assistance."
She looked very much like she did not want anyone to give her assistance, but knowing his stubbornness would eventually surpass her own in the matter, conceded, "Fine."
Thankful he did not have to fight her on the subject, he called one of the maids to follow her into the parlor, where she promptly dismissed the woman, claiming she would be needing no more assistance. The maid looked reluctant to go-probably sensing Mr. Darcy had wished her to stay until the mistress was fully recovered-but unwilling to fight with the strong-willed Mrs. Darcy made her curtsies and exited. Elizabeth fell ungracefully into the chair next to the table and, with her eyes still shut painfully, blindly reached out towards the bottle on the table, unconscious of the small white 'X' marking its side, and began to eagerly down its contents. The first sip made her flinch. She felt she was drinking poison; but pain and desperation made her willing and she drank almost the entire bottle in a matter of seconds.
She felt for a moment like she may be sick to her stomach, but the feeling passed, and she was surprised when the headache quickly started to fade. Her excitement at the miraculous recovery, however, was halted by surprise at the way her thoughts soon began to fog. She was so surprised that she stood up quickly and, instantly hit with a wave of dizziness, fell back into her chair. She found this infinitely amusing, and was suddenly overtaken with a fit of giggles. She stood up again, more slowly this time, and still laughing stumbled out of the room and down the hall in a random direction.
Meanwhile, the party had moved into the large dining room and had started their meal. Darcy had been glancing repeatedly at Elizabeth's empty chair and, beginning to worry about her still not having returned, excused himself to check on her well being. He entered the parlor and was surprise to see Elizabeth was no longer there, but if she was also not in the dining room, where had his wife gone? He glanced at the table to see two similar bottles, one standing up straight, one lying on its side. He walked over to the bottles curiously and instantly recognized the erect one as Elizabeth's medicine, noting curiously that it was still unopened. He then picked up the other bottle, almost completely empty, and identified it by the white 'X' as Bingley's gift to him. Realization hit him almost immediately, and he felt dread sink in when he comprehended Elizabeth had mistaken the bottles, and could now be anywhere, completely out of her senses.
He did not have long to wait, it turned out, before he discovered the location of his escape wife, as he heard a loud crash from down the hall in the kitchen.
Muttering obscenities under his breath, he immediately ran after the noise and burst into the kitchen to what would have been a most amusing sight, not given the present circumstances. Elizabeth had lay down across the counter and was dramatically reenacting a scene from one of her favorite plays. The staff all stared at her in bewilderment as the head cook begged his mistress to please get down from the surface, so he might do his job.
Darcy quickly made his presence known, and the staff in the kitchen looked utterly shocked at the sight of their master and mistress in the kitchen during dinner, and in such a state.
"My apologies, Mr. Richards." He bowed to the cook, before turning to Elizabeth.
"Darling!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air triumphantly. "Look at me! I feel so gay!" she slurred, sitting up quickly and instantly tipping over precariously, only saved from falling flat on her face by Darcy's arms around her waist.
"Come now, Elizabeth." He gritted out, trying not to make a scene in front of the gaping servants, but eventually seeing no other way of escape besides lifting Elizabeth by her midsection and making a speedy exit of the room. Once outside of the room he looked at her cautiously, "Will you follow me to your bedchamber, or are you going to make this difficult?" he asked with trepidation.
She found this hysterical and was soon on the floor, burying her face in her hands to conceal snorts of laughter. He sighed once more. "Difficult then." He accepted, bending to once again pick her up around her midsection, this time though putting her over his shoulder as to more easily carry her up to her room.
She found this not so funny, but rather feeling indignant instead, she began to shower his backs with weak little hits. "Mr. Dar-Darzy, sire." She giggled at her own words, despite her continued apparent anger towards him. "Please pu' me down." She grumbled. "Where are we going?"
He said not a word in response until they reached her room and he threw her unceremoniously on her bed. She sat up and looked at him with raised eyebrows. "You're very handsome sir." She stated, eyeing him greedily.
"Thank you." He said, "Now come, let us get you changed and into bed."
"I don't wanna go to bed though!" she cried, flopping down dramatically, before sitting up with a smirk, "Unless you come with me, of course."
He didn't respond, for he was too busy searching her drawers for a nightgown, for he couldn't have any of the servants come to help and thus see their mistress so out of her own head. He found what he was looking for and brought it towards her. "Come, Lizzie. Raise your arms up now." He coaxed her, trying to remove her current attire in favor of the sleeping clothes.
She rose up her arms, allowing him to remove her clothes and he refrained from gazing at her as to not tempt himself or ruin her dignity more than she had already done herself this evening. She was now without clothes and as he picked up the nightgown to try and remedy this, she flung her arms around his neck and began to attempt to kiss him sloppily, "Oh, Mr. Darcy!" she cried loudly.
"Shhh." He hushed, desperately placing his hand over her mouth, "Quite, please! Everybody will hear you!"
She lied back and spread her legs and he looked away hurriedly, his face reddening in both embarrassment and lust, "Come, Fitzwilliam. Put your—"
"Elizabeth." Darcy stopped her before she could finish the imaginably crude thought. "Please, darling, let me help you get dressed."
"Let's try for a baby, darling." She giggled rolling over onto his lap as she began to sloppily fumble with his pant buttons.
"Stop, please. I'm begging you." He stood up quickly, not wanting to give into temptation. He went after her very determinedly with her nightgown, struggling to get it over her flailing arms and shaking head.
After a long struggle, he had finally clothed her, and after another struggle, had convinced her to get into bed and had tucked her in gently. "Now, please stay here." He begged, "I'll come to check on you when everyone else has gone to sleep." He dared not send a servant into watch her, lest more rumors than were already sure to be circulating be generated.
He made a quick exit, composing himself briefly before returning to the dining room, feeling still very flushed. He made a quick excuse about Mrs. Darcy being taken suddenly ill and needing rest, assuring Jane and Georgiana they need not go attend her, for she was simply sleeping.
The dinner was allowed to continue for another few peaceful minutes, when there was suddenly the sound of someone stumbling down the hall. Darcy had a sinking feeling as he guessed who it was that was approaching. His fears were confirmed when Elizabeth burst into the room wearing naught but her sleeping gown.
"Hello, everybody!" She announced her arrival as she boldly entered the room. "My dear, dear Jane, how ever are you this evening?" she said approaching her sister and hugging her from behind.
"Lizzie, what on earth has come over you?" she said, "You're in your nightgown!"
Lizzie giggled at the idea and Bingley looked over at Darcy hurriedly, as if to ask if he was going to do anything about his obviously intoxicated wife. Darcy was staring at Elizabeth with his mouth open, his face reddening as his aunt, cousin, and best friend all stared at his wife standing in the dining room wearing next to nothing. Next to nothing.
The thought snapped him out of his stupor and he was quickly up, throwing his jacket over Lizzie's shoulders in an attempt to protect the shreds of dignity she still possessed. "Um, yes, Mrs. Darcy is obviously…unwell." He stammered, "My deepest apologies, but I do believe it necessary I retire with her now so that I may see to her safely going to sleep. Good night, everyone." He bowed tersely, then turned to Lizzie, staring at her in a way that he hoped she would interpret even in her state as meaning that she better come with him now.
She, however, had other ideas of how she would like to spend the evening, and quickly ran to the opposite side of the table. "Elizabeth, dear, come with me now." He said firmly, trying to retain his composure.
She stared him down from across the table, and as he made a move towards her, she jolted quickly in the opposite direction. He quickly shifted his own direction so that she may run into him, but even foggy as she was at the moment, she was able to sidestep the opposite way just as quickly.
"Lizzie." He hissed, feeling his self-control slip away with every passing second. They danced back and forth from opposite sides of the table, when he suddenly broke and, without warning, chose a direction and sprinted off in it. She squealed with delight at the perceived game and began to run around the table in the same direction, and Darcy was genuinely concerned she may stumble and break her neck. He chased her for what felt like eternity when suddenly, he had the idea to stop short and she, unable to comprehend in time, ran straight into his arms.
He caught her and, regaining some dignity, bowed courteously as he dragged her kicking out of the room amid her cries of, "I'm not tried though!"
He reached her bedchamber, mortified, and set her down on the bed. He ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation, knowing this was none of her fault and somehow feeling angry nonetheless.
"Are we to make love now, husband?" Lizzie inquired, flopping on the bed, quite exhausted from their little chase.
"Go to bed, Lizzie." He responded, removing his jacket from her shoulders and taking off some of his own clothes before lying down next to her and staring at the ceiling, wondering how he would explain the scene that had just occurred tomorrow morning.
Lizzie, for now blissfully unaware of how humiliated she would be about what she could remember of the evening when tomorrow arrived, lay down on her husband's chest and sighed happily. "I love you, Fizwillim" she said, laughing at her mistake in pronouncing his name.
He allowed himself a small smile as he returned the sentiment, before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep as soon as he was sure Lizzie had done the same. He would worry about everything else in the morning, but all that mattered right now was that Elizabeth loved him. And he loved her too.