Ten Minutes Earlier

Darcy arrived to a suspiciously quiet Bingley townhome, which was hardly the best of signs that things were going well. If nothing else, he had expected to arrive to find Charles pondering over comically ineffective plans (and truly, he expected to find Elizabeth there as well. He loved his wife more than he could even find the words to say, but he knew her character well and that she was prone to doing anything for her elder sister).

"Sir, what shall I do with the carriage?" his man inquired as Darcy charged on forward into the home, frowning a little.

He was being so hotheaded that he was missing his surroundings, not even taking the time to pay attention to the details. He turned his attention to his own carriage, forcing himself to keep his wits about him. "Keep it around the side," he advised.

His coach nodded and gave the horses a nudge as Darcy turned his attention to the surroundings. There was a strange coach beside the Bingley's own and from the house, when he listened far more carefully, he could hear the sounds of glass breaking and what appeared to be a disagreement that was escalating by the second.

Something was amiss.

Darcy threw caution to the wind and charged into the home, ready to help in whatever way he could.

One Hour Earlier

Mrs. Townsend stood upon the doorstep, staring at her wayward husband, who merely stared back at her. "What are you doing here?" he rasped, grabbing her by the bicep with a great degree of force. She wrenched herself politely from his grasp and stared him down, not flinching once, even as he snapped, "Follow them!" to Mrs. Brown, the woman that Mrs. Townsend chiefly suspected was encouraging her husband's affections.

She simply watched him sadly. "I never thought you could be this horrid. All this because…"

"Because Bingley ruined our lives," he spat back at her. "Got you pregnant, drove us apart, drove you out of his home. All while the three children looked upon us so derisively. He said you could keep the girl, but those children would have hated her. And it would never have been my daughter."

"So you're going to steal a child because I lost mine?" It was truly piteous and sad, but she was still trapped in the past, amongst heavy and horrid memories. "That poor girl does not deserve what happened to me."

"It hardly matters now," he spat back at her. Mr. Townsend raised his posture high. "It's all over. Jane Bingley will provide us a daughter and the unfortunate younger Bingley must die." He said it so casually, as though he were simply introducing a guest. "Without her husband, I daresay the widow Bingley will do whatever we please."

She tried to stop him, but he shoved her against the wall, a firm hand about her throat.

"No," he instructed, very calmly. "I would not protest in such a way if I were you."

She swallowed hard, feeling the force of his hand upon her neck.

"Are you going to behave?"

It was only the pressure of his hand restricting her, but Mrs. Townsend wished more than anything else that she could have spit directly in his face. As it was, she simply nodded. "Yes," she hissed out, voice raspy. He released her and she sank down to the floor, watching his every move. All he did, however, was turn to the window and place his hands heavily upon the ledge.

"Mrs. Brown is after them," he assured her calmly. "Everything will be back on track momentarily."

True to his words, Mrs. Brown was en route to the Bingley townhome in the black carriage (its only defining mark was the age of the object, which dated it back near twenty years). She set each of her things upon the top of it, drawing on her gloves and withdrawing a pistol from inside the hearth of the carriage, briskly walking inside and was pleased to find the door already open.

She found an elderly man standing in the midst of the room, looking at what appeared to be a hunting gun.

Mrs. Brown raised the pistol at him. "I would not do that," she warned. The man raised his hands up in the air, offering her an indescribable look that she could not quite merit as fear or anger. It should have been fear. She had the gun and all the power. "Now. Where is Mrs. Bingley?"

"I'm afraid I don't know," he replied. But his gaze shifted just slightly behind him.

Mrs. Brown approached, gesturing to the door to the kitchen. "Is she in there? Are you hiding her?" Her voice was shaking, like a volcano ready to erupt and there was no telling at which moment things would become unsafe. "What have you done with our chattel?"

"She is nothing of the sort," the man said warningly. Mrs. Brown paused and raised the gun with its' sights set properly on the man's forehead. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously as she tried to recall if she had ever seen him before. His face was slightly familiar and there was a resemblance of a sort.

"Who are you?" she inquired flatly. "What are you doing here and who are you?"

"I am simply minding the house," he replied. "Now, if you would put down the gun, I am sure we can reach an accord. A peaceful accord."

She did not lower the pistol but one millimetre, unwilling to give her ground when she was sure that there was someone else about. And when the inquiring voice came, sounding 'Papa!', Mrs. Brown smiled slowly, knowing now that she had Elizabeth Darcy in the home and that the tide had turned in her favour.

"No more questions," Mrs. Brown informed him.

Elizabeth heard the voices and hurried inside, hearing Jane and Bingley behind her, discussing something quite heady, as she could hear Bingley's shock about the matter. But as she ventured further inside the house, she became more concerned for her Papa. "Papa!" she called out, tugging off her gloves and entering the main sitting room to find a gun being pointed directly at her by a familiar face. The very woman who had been assigned to assist her with William, the odious Mrs. Brown. She scowled mildly.

"Mrs. Darcy," she greeted her pleasantly. "Good of you to join us. Your father, then, I presume? Then you may both tell me where Mrs. Bingley is, before I kill the both of you."

"We would never do that," Elizabeth insisted and was too proud and strong to put her hands in the air. She was not that weak.

She heard the sound of something creaking and apparently, so did her Papa and Mrs. Brown, for they both turned towards the door and the gun was lifted once more, but this time, not at her.

"Do you have anything left to say to your father?" Mrs. Brown inquired coldly.

"You would not."

"Tell me where Jane Bingley is," Mrs. Brown demanded.

"What do you want Jane for! She's done nothing!" Elizabeth insisted, her voice rising slightly in the anger of the moment. She could hardly help it and in her fervent arguing, did not even see the shadow of someone entering the room. "She is innocent."

"She has something that Mr. Townsend wishes and I am to fetch it for him!" Mrs. Brown said, with a maniacal laugh. "Once we have her child, then we will be happy. Don't you see? That is all we need to be happy."

Elizabeth stared, almost frozen in shock. Jane's child? Jane was pregnant? She certainly hadn't told Elizabeth anything of the sort.

"You're mad," Elizabeth remarked, staring at Mrs. Brown in horror.

The gun was raised again at Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth stared at him, shaking her head. "Papa! No!" she shrieked as Mrs. Brown took aim and then two shots ricocheted in the air. Elizabeth had covered her ears and closed her eyes, breathing in shakily. The very moment there was silence, she rushed over to Mr. Bennet's side, but he was not upon the floor as one would expect.

"Let go of me," Mrs. Brown was protesting, apparently fighting with someone. Perhaps Bingley?

Elizabeth stared at Mr. Bennet with deep worry. "Papa, are you all right? Are you hurt?"

"I am as fine as I can be, Lizzy," he assured her quietly, sounding slightly shaken by the encounter. She nodded and embraced him tightly, pressing a kiss to his forehead before turning to thank Bingley for saving her father's life when she saw the most surprising thing she had ever expected to see.

"Darcy!" she reacted with shock, nearly sprinting over to his side. "What are you…" She slapped him across the cheek. "You were supposed to be watching William!" And then she kissed him firmly on the lips, even as he was keeping hold of Mrs. Brown by the wrists. "Thank you for saving Papa's life."

"My pearl," Darcy remarked quietly. "If you could contain your happiness and your anger for a moment, we must tie this woman up."

Elizabeth nodded, fetching rope from one of the drawers while Mr. Bennet brought over a chair for them to use. "Where did you come from?" she asked of her husband, when Mrs. Brown was properly tied up. Even though her father was standing there, she could not stop herself from cupping his face with both her palms, leaning in for a long and slow grateful kiss, never happier to see him than she was in that very moment. It did not matter where he came from because the most important thing was that he was there.

When she released him, he took one of her palms and kissed it gently. "Do not be mad," he pleaded. "I left William with your mother at the Bingleys and I came straightaway to help."

"Whatever anger will surely be gone," Elizabeth reassured, "For you saved not only Papa's life, but my own. And Jane's, to be sure."

"Where is your sister, Elizabeth?" Mr. Bennet inquired, peering around the rooms.

Darcy peered past the both of them, noting the kitchen door opened. He slowly wandered past them and pushed open the door the full way to reveal Jane and Bingley in the kitchen, Bingley with his hands over his wife's ears, staring at Darcy. "Is everyone okay?"

Elizabeth peered over Darcy's shoulder (her hands wrapped about his waist) and Mr. Bennet joined them in the doorway, as if eavesdropping on a private conversation. Elizabeth pushed past her husband and easily pushed Bingley away to hug Jane tightly, easing back. "You're with child!" she remarked in awe. "Jane! Why did you not tell me!"

"I hardly knew," Jane protested mildly, her eyes wide. "I would much rather have told you than had the news relayed to me by my kidnappers, Lizzy, to be sure."

Bingley was the only one in the room frantically moving about, by the sounds of it, and Elizabeth turned to regard him, half-wondering if he understood that things were now under control. "Bingley, what's the matter?" Darcy inquired.

"Mr. Townsend is still at large," he informed them. "We have to go to the authorities. Now."

He pushed into the main room and Elizabeth noted the way he froze in his steps, frowning as though there was not the happy news of Jane and his conception. "Elizabeth? Darcy? Mr. Bennet, sir?"

"What is it?" Elizabeth asked, releasing Jane (but keeping their hands entwined).

"Why is there an empty chair with rope strewn about it in my sitting room?" he asked flatly. "And where is Mrs. Brown?"

tbc