Disclaimer: I do not own Pride and Prejudice, nor any of its subsequent characters, dialogue, or plot lines.
Warning: Rated M for sexuality and adult themes.
"Oh, Lizzy!" Jane whispered, a serene smile set on her face as if it were her own child and not that of her sister's that was to be born in little over half a year. Once she and Charles had received the letter that welcomed them to "visit at their earliest inconvenience," they set off for Pemberley instead of taking the time to write back. Charles had little if ever seen his wife so excited, save when they were to be married, and at the blue-eyed plea for his permission, he found himself quite unable to refuse her.
Elizabeth's own mouth contorted into a grin. "I know!" she agreed with an unspoken statement. Bingley and Darcy looked at each other, dumbfounded, as their wives continued to communicate in such a manner, leaving them unaware of exactly what they were talking about.
Once Mrs. Darcy had carted her sister off upstairs - no doubt to gossip in the privacy of the bedroom, Darcy thought wryly - his friend turned to him and shook his hand.
"Congratulations!" his red-haired comrade offered, and Darcy nodded, his eyes bright with an elation that Charles was seeing more and more frequently since Elizabeth had entered his life.
"Thank you," he said with no little sincerity. "I'm so glad the two of you decided to come - it will do Elizabeth well, I believe, to spend some time with Jane."
Charles nodded his agreement. "A unique couple, those two."
Pausing for a moment to look over his friend, who perhaps, he decided, looked just a bit too glad to have the company, Charles Bingley came to a realization. "Are you scared, Darcy?" he asked, hardly able to believe his own voice but far from condescending. This was the first time, he was certain, he had ever seen such an emotion on him, and the word along with the subject's name barely seemed to fit within the same sentence together.
But, sure enough, Darcy grimaced and let out a chuckle. "I'm bloody terrified."
Considering this for a moment, Charles nodded. "That's fair enough, I suppose, but what it is that you so fear?"
Silence ensued and once a full minute had passed, Bingley became convinced that he was not to received a response. Not knowing how to break the quiet that had befallen, he wracked his brain for other news - but, to his surprise, he did in fact get his reply.
"Everything," he finally admitted, sitting in a chair and placing a hand over his eyes. "I'm afraid I won't know how to properly be a father, I'm afraid I'll upset my wife, and..." he trailed off and then lifted his head, looking at his companion with a need for comfort that Charles was stunned to disbelief to see. "She's already gotten terribly ill - suppose she cannot survive the birth?"
The other man cocked a brow. "Your Lizzy, not survive something? I daresay that if there is anyone in the world with will strong enough to survive such an ordeal, it is her. Women have been bearing children for centuries, Darcy." Despite his strong words, he spoke with a hesitancy - not the result of uncertainty, but rather the oddity of having to reassure the normally almost despicably-confident master of the house. "No, she won't let such a common thing beat her spirit. You must know that."
A curt nod was Darcy's only sign that he had even heard the man speak, but there was a small amount of relief in his eyes that had been offered from his friend's words.
"How did Georgiana respond to the news?" Bingley was eager to inquire. Perhaps talk of happier things was what the impending father most needed.
As expected, Darcy emitted a chuckle. "With all of the excitement we could have expected. I nearly had to pry her off Elizabeth before she suffocated her, and it took a full ten minutes to explain amongst her exclamations that she could not yet feel the child."
"And have you informed any other family?"
He shook his head. "No, not yet. Elizabeth was adamant that you and Jane be the first outside the house to know, though she already has the letters written to be sent out to the rest of her relatives."
Charles did not miss the implication. "And your own? What of Lady Catherine?"
"I would rather her not know," he admitted, "but I fear that will prove impossible, as Lizzy will wish to inform Mrs. Collins of her new condition as well, and I have no doubt that her husband will relay the message to his ladyship."
"Will you wait for him to inform her, then?"
"No, absolutely not. She would come roaring into the house with accusations aimed at everything living, and I would not have Elizabeth put through that, though she does have a remarkable way of taking nothing my outspoken aunt says to heart."
"Probably a wise decision," Charles agreed. "How long would you have us stay? Jane expressed the desire to remain until the birth, however, if you have other plans, they will obviously take first."
Darcy frowned as he considered that he had told his wife the limit was to be seven days. However, it had been nearly three months since the sister had seen each other, and even at that moment he could hear their laughter, despite his distance from them. He considered that entertaining two guests, especially once they reached the last few weeks of her term, could be horribly stressful - but, then again, when had the presence of her sister ever stressed her out? And it would certainly be a relief, he knew, to know that Jane was with her during the delivery...
"That would be agreeable," he nodded. The truth was that it would be far more than agreeable - in fact, he could hardly wait to inform Elizabeth.
He received his oppertunity when, in the next moment, they two came giggling down the stairs, their arms linked.
"Elizabeth," he began, and he noticed discontently the grimace that crossed her face; she thought she was to be scolded. A tiny seed of guilt worked its way into his mind, but only for a moment, for his next statement, he felt, made up for it: "Charles and I have decided that he and your sister will be staying for the remainder of your term."
She simply stared at him for a moment, uncomprehending, and in the next had pulled away from her sister and crossed the room, nearly crashing into her husband as she wrapped her arms around him in an affectionate hug. "Truely?" she whispered, and when he nodded, she stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him.
Jane and Charles looked away, feeling that they were intruders on a private spousal moment, but identical smiles graced their faces.
Elizabeth knocked gently on the door to Darcy's study and he looked up as she entered without waiting for a response. He took in her troubled expression and immediately inquired, "What is it?"
"We... have a letter," she began slowly, crossing the distance to stand before his desk. His brows lifted and as he was about to ask why she had opened a letter addressed to them both when she corrected, "Well, actually, I received a letter. But it... concerns us both, as well as Jane and Charles, I believe."
"Well, who is it from?"
Elizabeth shifted her weight and fiddled with the paper in her hand. "Your aunt, Fitzwilliam. Lady Catherine." His expression darkened but before he could comment, she hastily added, "She wishes us to come visit her at Rosings right away, but if we go, we must bring the Bingleys - I won't have them simply sit here at the house while we -"
"Let me see the letter," he said flatly, cutting her off. She was rambling, he had realized, a sure sign that it had stated more than that.
Elizabeth shook her head and when he reached for it, she took a step back to compensate. She quickly ripped it into dozens of pieces, such that it would have proven decidedly impossible to put them back together, and her husband's eyes darkened with temper at the clear act of defiance.
"What is the meaning of this, Elizabeth?"
"It would only have upset you," she told him softly. "There was nothing else in there that you needed to see, I assure you. She simply requested our presence as soon as possible, and added in a few... opinions... to hasten our decision, I suppose."
Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose, his jaw setting. "I see no reason to visit with her," he sat flatly. "I will not tolerate such abuse of my wife, especially not -"
"I think we should," she countered, biting her lip. "Lady Catherine has far too much pride to ask us to come if there were not something amiss, especially since it has been the better part of seven months since we last had any contact with her. If it were merely for convenience, she would have written us long before now."
"It has not been seven months," he began to argue, but when she shook her head.
"It has, Fitzwilliam. It was two months before the wedding, the last time you spoke with her, and we've been married for five months now."
He frowned. "Are you quite certain you wish to go? You've been so ill all week, and I'm not sure travel is best for you right now."
"I am certain," she maintained. "I believe we should depart tomorrow. Shall we bring Georgiana, as well, in case we end up staying a while?"
This brought up another topic he had been meaning to talk about. While Elizabeth's own sister was fine, even having Charles around as well seemed to be pushing her limit some days, and Georgiana was the most eccentric of them all; he had been musing since the arrival of the Bingleys two weeks prior that perhaps Georgie should spend a while elsewhere. He loved his sister dearly, but she was not the one who needed tending to right then.
"I was thinking that Georgiana should perhaps stay for a time with the Fitzwilliams, actually," he began slowly.
Elizabeth looked at him, puzzled. "Whyever would she do that? She seems content enough here, does she not?"
He considered a delicate way to put what he was getting at. "She does," he agreed, "but it's an awful lot of people to have around the house, Elizabeth. With Jane and Charles here and the rest of your family no doubt going to be making appearances at different intervals, I feel it would be best to make things as quiet as possible. Georgiana is perhaps a bit too energetic for you right now, and I know for a fact that she will be more than pleased to stay with Richard and his wife for a while."
She shook her head vehemently. "No, absolutely not. What a ridiculous idea, Fitzwilliam! To kick her from her own house? Her presence does not bother me a bit, and in fact I quite love having her around."
Darcy sighed. Of course, he had expected such a reaction - Georgiana and Elizabeth had grown wonderfully close since the engagement had been announced. However, he had seen the fatigue in his wife's eyes after having spent hours speaking with his sister and knew that the effect would only worsen with time. "I would like her to leave for a while," he finally offered. "I would like to be able to spend more time with you."
Elizabeth blinked in surprise. "Oh," she said, not knowing entirely what to make of such a statement. "Well, if that's what you wish..." After all, she could hardly argue with him over his own desires.
He nodded once, feeling the slightest bit bad for having tricked his wife into agreeing - though, admittedly, it was not entirely untrue. "I have already spoken briefly to Richard about it - I'll send a confirmation and they will come to collect Georgiana while we are away."
"All right, then," she said with a sigh. "I'll go let Charles and Jane know that we're leaving in the morning."
When they finally arrived at Rosings, it was a relief for everyone. They had been forced to stop no less than three times for Elizabeth to be sick, which came as no surprise; the rocking motion of the carriage threatened to upset even the stomachs of the other three in it. However, it was also raining as steadily and stubbornly as it possibly could have, leaving both Darcys soaked - Fitzwilliam for removing his suit jacket and holding it over his wife's head in the hopes that she would not get wet and catch cold, and Elizabeth for this attempt failing due to the fact that the rain fell at an angle.
Charles had courteously given Elizabeth his jacket to wear and hopefully warm herself with while Jane switched places to sit beside her, as the flooded husband could do little to help without getting the jacket wet as well.
It was late at night before they finally arrived and Lady Catherine had been in bed for quite some time. Though she seemed to have managed to ward off any sickness, Elizabeth's face was sallow with exhaustion from their journey and was sent to rest immediately, not to arise until midday the following day.
When she made her way into the large sitting room, having woken up to an empty bedroom and correctly assumed that that was where they all had headed, all eyes turned to her. Darcy rose quickly to meet his wife and take her arm, pleased to see that the color had completely returned to her face and she was no worse for wear. He murmured, "I've not told her yet," into Elizabeth's ear, and she began to ask why when she saw the obvious reason: there sat Anne de Bourgh on the couch beside a man Elizabeth had never seen before, her face so thin you could practically trace the bone, and yet her stomach seemed to portrude in the most peculiar of fashions...
Her gasp was inaudible and she worked quickly to mask her horror at the sight of the greatly pregnant woman that was her cousin by marriage. Fitzwilliam gently squeezed her arm in reassurance and sat her down on the couch beside Jane, choosing to stand beside it whereas Charles sat on Jane's other side. The sisters exchanged a look that revealed that Jane was equally as concerned, though she had never met the woman and did not know that she was always so sickly.
"Laziness is a very poor trait in a wife," Lady Catherine announced flatly. "Even my Anne is already awake, and she withchild, no less."
"It was a long ride," Darcy interjected firmly, "and Elizabeth was not feeling terribly well to begin with, but she insisted that we come after receiving your letter."
The ladyship's point had hardly been a point at all, Elizabeth considered to herself. Anne's eyes were marred by large, dark circles beneath them, and she likely should not have gotten out of bed at all.
Lady Catherine's upper lip stiffened, but she did not reply. "As you can see, Miss Bennet -" it was Darcy who bristled at this rather than Elizabeth, "- she has done quite well for herself. Had you two not left so promptly the last time you visited me, I would have informed you that Anne had been married to Francis Burke. In fact, she is some seven and a half months into term with her first child by now."
Her every word seemed to be a refreshed attempt to mock Elizabeth, but she chose not to react. Instead, her eyes traveled to the bony woman whose mother spoke of her so proudly, and an uneasy tension filled the room.
"Congratulations," she finally said, offering as bright a smile as she could muster.
"Thank you," Anne replied softly, her own smile wan in comparison. It nearly hurt Elizabeth to look at her.
"Anne, Francis, leave us," the lady said abruptly. Both Elizabeth and Jane looked elsewhere, unable to watch the feeble woman as Francis - with the assistance of both of their husbands - helped get her on her feet and then escort her from the room.
"Yes, your ladyship?" Elizabeth asked boldly once the two had fully quit the room.
"Don't patronize me," Lady Catherine responded coldly. Darcy tensed but a sharp look from his wife and he held his tongue, albeit grudgingly. She went on, "As you can see, Anne is unwell. The doctor says..." she trailed off for a moment. "Well, never mind what the doctor says. Doctors know very little. Regardless, I believe Anne would benefit greatly from the company of her cousin and of fellow females her age, and so I request that you remain here until she has given birth."
"We cannot," Darcy said simply. However, Elizabeth had noticed what her husband had failed to - by the end of her statement, the lady's eyes had a very subtle, nearly non-existant look of pleading to them. There was a desperation to the situation, as was clear simply by looking at her daughter. And after all, weren't they in the same situation with Jane and Charles? Had they not come to keep her company until the arrival of their first-born?
"We can," she argued, much to the surprise of everyone present. She turned to look at him and he was shocked to see the fervency with which she countered his statement.
"Elizabeth," he said sharply, "we have matters at home to attend to. We cannot stay here for so long."
"Would you so eagerly abandon your own cousin?" she demanded, fairly trapping him. "Do you not see that she is ill?"
"She is not our responsibility."
Lady Catherine regarded them with cool apathy, though her own mind was churning. The situation was the exact opposite of what she had expected - she had anticipated that her nephew would be more than willing to assist and that it would be his wretched wife that would take a few sharp words to get her to agree. She was completely at a loss, now, for what to think, what with Darcy so careless about her dear Anne and Elizabeth fighting to stay.
In the midst of Darcy snapping something about how she had no choice in the matter, Elizabeth turned to look at Lady Catherine. "I will stay," she said firmly, and the older woman found herself quite unsettled to meet the crystal, burning eyes of her nephew's wife.
"Elizabeth! You will not defy me in such a manner!"
Both of the women turned instantly to look at him, and Elizabeth rose. Though she was much smaller than he, she pulled up to her full height and met his eyes head on.
"Will you drag me out by my feet, husband?" she demanded, meeting his glare with equal intensity. "And who, do you think, will be holding my hands? Charles?"
"Do not speak to me in that tone," he retorted through a clenched jaw. "You will remember your place as my wife. We are returning to Pemberley in no less than three days time!"
"Yes, I am your wife - not your servant! You may return to your home -" he nearly flinched at her use of the word 'your,' though she didn't seem to notice, "- whenever you please, but if you expect me to accompany you, it will be a month and a half from now and we will be bading our farewells to Anne and her infant!"
Lady Catherine was positively vexed. Never in her life had she heard a woman permitted to speak to a man this way, and her nephew, no less! And yet, Elizabeth was fighting for her side, so the will to reprimand her for it was absent.
A large crack sounded and suddenly the room went quite silent. After a moment of that forlorn silence, several things happened at once.
First, Jane gasped. Charles then rose, his cheeks heated in an anger that the lady had never seen in the timid young man, and demanded, "By God, Darcy, you have stricken your own wife?" Elizabeth, her head turned to the side from the force of the blow, slowly pulled her head back to face him, her eyes filling with rage-induced tears. It was Darcy's face, however, that was the most memorable, as he stared at the hand that had slapped her as if it belonged to someone else entirely.
Despite all of this, Elizabeth found it within her to stonily claim, "I will stay." Darcy took a step back from her and then spun on his heel, leaving the room. Charles followed to prevent him from doing anything rash and she reclaimed her place on the sofa, where Jane immediately turned her head to examine the violent red mark that already seemed to be swelling slightly.
"What is your motive?" Lady Catherine demanded. "Do you think that just because you fight to aid my daughter, you will win my affection?"
Elizabeth turned and set her fevered eyes on her. "I stay for Anne, not for you," she told her coldly, and the lady found herself quite taken aback by the statement. "You will do well not to speak to me in such a manner, as I have every reason to make up with my husband and return to my home."
"Most men would have stricken you far before my nephew did," Catherine told her emotionlessly.
"So they would have, but the fact remains that he did, in fact, hit me."
"I have never met another like you in my entire life," the lady declared.
"For that I am glad," she snapped.
"And what could you possibly mean by that?"
"If you have never met another like me, no other has had to deal with your insufferable presence even when they have risked the happiness of their marriage to help the daughter you have damned to death!"
"You will not speak to me this way in my own house!"
"To the contrary, your ladyship, not only did I say it - I meant it!"
Lady Catherine sat back in stunned silence, reeling from such a statement. From the time she could talk, no one had ever spoken in such a way to her before, and she found herself just as intrigued as she was enraged.
"Where did you come about such a tongue?" she wanted to know. "Who gave you the right to say such things to people so far above you?"
"I have an opinion, and you should consider yourself lucky I do, for if I did not, my husband would still be in the room under the agreement that we leave in half a week. Did you expect me to only have thoughts when it was he that I was arguing with? You cannot have me both ways, and if you mean to tell me that you prefer me to hold my tongue, I will go now and tell him that we shall leave."
"You mean to threaten me?"
"No, I mean to tell you that I am in no way required to do what I am doing, and that if you do not learn even a small amount of gratitude, I may very well find it within myself to take my leave."
Before her ladyship could even respond, Elizabeth grasped her head, wavered, and fell into a dead faint across her sister's lap.
"Darcy! What in the name of God has gotten into you?" Charles demanded as he followed his comrade outside.
He turned to look at him sharply. "Bingley," he warned, "come off it."
"I will not! To - to hit your own wife, and while she carries your child! In front of her sister, no less -"
"It was her that I was trying to look out for!" he roared, slamming his fist into an undeserving tree.
"I don't see how that could possibly be the case," Charles argued simply. "How can striking a person ever be considered looking out for them?"
He whirled on him. "Do you understand the consequences of her staying here? She will devote every moment to my cousin when she has her own pregnancy to worry about! She cannot handle the stress of both!"
"Perhaps you underestimate her. Your wife is -"
"Strong, capable, spirited, yes! I understand that. But it is hard enough on her to deal with her own term, and she is at least very resilient. Anne offers no compensation; she will be as needy as the baby she will have."
"It is only a month and a half, and Elizabeth has yet to even begin to show."
"By a month and a half's time, she will have, and you are a fool if you think that Elizabeth will actually agree to leave right after the birth. She will insist upon staying to ensure that the infant is healthy and remains so. This is the result of my aunt's stupidity - she knew well that Anne could not handle a child. It is not my wife's burden to bear, and as much as I care for my cousin, I cannot allow her to drag Elizabeth down as well."
"It is still so early, Darcy. Staying with Anne could not possibly be such a danger."
"I worry about a miscarriage, not an early labor," he responded flatly. "My wife seems to feel the need to take everything on her own shoulders when she has quite enough in her own life to deal with."
"So support her," Charles advised. "She will continue to do that whether you approve or not, but you must realize how much easier it would be on her if you were half as supportive as you were critical."
"You expect me to simply agree every time she wants to exert herself to exhaustion?"
"No, of course not. But if you find yourself completely unable to sway her, you might at least offer assistance."
Darcy fell silent, brooding over this suggestion that he had not thought of. He place his arm against the tree he had just punched and rested his forehead on it with a heavy sigh. "That was the first time, truely, that I have ever laid hand on a woman, and it was Elizabeth, of all people."
"You were an ass," his friend agreed shortly. "You cannot leave it there. You must go apologize - surely you realize that your wife depends on you every bit as much as you depend on her."
He turned his head sharply to look at Charles. "What do you mean by that?"
However, Mr. Bingley simply shook his head and made his way back to the house. Darcy followed.
Before there had even been time to call for a physician, Elizabeth awoke again, dizzy but settled.
"What is the meaning of this?" Lady Catherine wanted to know, her eyes narrowed.
"My sister is sick," Jane replied as shortly as she dared, smoothing back Elizabeth's hair. "I do believe she has worked herself into a spell."
"She is too young for such things," the lady speculated, her lips pursing.
"Stress ages you. I will put her to bed."
Elizabeth, with her help, stood, only to feel the blood rush from her head and collapse back onto the cushion, Jane going with her. She looked over her sister worriedly, and it was then that she noticed how very dry her sister's lips were.
"Lady Catherine, please - call a servant to bring my sister a glass of water."
"Water? What do you mean to do, pour it on her?" Catherine asked, brows raised.
"Pour water on who? Has Elizabeth fainted again?" Darcy's voice asked from the doorway as he moved in more quickly. He was surprised to see his wife concious on the couch, though she did not appear to be feeling well.
"She did, but only for a moment," Jane explained patiently, despite shooting a look at her own husband who had come in with him. Charles was shocked to be met with the first time his wife had ever seemed genuinely angry with him, but he supposed it would go away soon enough.
When Darcy went to put a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder, she shrugged away, her eyes dull.
"Your ladyship, water, please. For Elizabeth," Jane repeated insistantly.
"What is the water for?" Darcy wanted to know.
"I believe Lizzy is just a touch dehydrated. I can't remember her drinking much yesterday, and she just woke up so she certainly has had nothing today."
Lady Catherine, her eyes not leaving the four clustered around the couch once more, called for Leanne to fetch water, and the maid returned with a glass and pitcher of it promptly to avoid the wrath of her lady's temper.
It was several minutes - ten or fifteen, perhaps - and two and a half glasses before Elizabeth's body seemed to process the liquid and she began to regain her wits.
"Are you all right?" Darcy murmured, reaching for her hand. She yanked it back, out of his reach.
"Leave," she said coldly, turning her head so as not to look at him. He flinched as if he himself had received a blow when he saw the developing bruise on her face.
"I'm sorry, Elizabeth," he pleaded. "I know that cannot atone for my actions, but I am sorry. I didn't mean to - it was simply on impulse, and my temper got the best of me."
Her only response was to repeat, "Leave."
"I won't," he insisted, and though Jane opened her mouth to protest, Charles quickly took her hand and shook her head at her. "I'll stay here until the child is born, and the four of us will return to Pemberley together. Is that agreeable?"
"It is," she said simply. "I think I will lie down now."
Darcy watched with anguish his wife's retreating figure as she left the room and realized that regaining her trust was not going to be as easy as he had anticipated.
Don't shoot! Darcy has always had a formidable temper, and it had to make itself evident eventually - after all, with personalities such as theirs, they cannot always be expected to play the roles of doting husband and comforting wife. Let me know what you think!
My highest regards,
Raven, Emancipated Rebels