A/N: So, darlings, as I promised some of you, here's an update. I'm not even trying to apologize, life is a clusterfuck and with my impending erasmus-semester (anyone studying in great britain with some words of advice out there? you strange british people are killing me) on top of doing even more seminars than necessary (who ever thought of relaxing? me? noooo...) in some attempt at...I don't know. Probably not surviving this semester.
But I do love whining. And I do love writing. And I'm all strangely excited about next chapter. You will know at the end of this one.
Warning: THIS IS NOT HUNSFORD (and that's the last time I will have to use the disclaimer and basically this IS the first part of three chapters depicting Hunsford, so technically...)
But fuck technicality (printer at uni is still not working and I'm getting frustrated...) so just fuck it
Soundtrack: Leaving Jesusland and Cool and Unusual Punishments from NoFX are quoted and Distaster Buttton by Snow Patrol leads up to the next one...
Disclaimer: I don't know if Austen had a Lady Catherine as a relative. I kind of do. So perhaps, she's kind of mine? Well, she does know how to use acid to get stains out of clothes and she can be a darling if you get some champagne into her. But she's also split with the other one, who thinks I'm the devil's child since I didn't know what the fuck a branch of box tree has to do with Palm Sunday. Any of you an idea?
Chapter 24: Original Sin
Dinner at the DeBourgh household was a rather strange affair, Lizzie Bennet contemplated while following the maid through the long and dark hallways leading to the parlour.
Firstly, there was Richard, who'd shown up out of the blue at her room in the building Rosings Hospital reserved for their employees, two hours before they'd agreed to meet, together with a sparkling black cocktail dress, which he probably would also have dressed her in if she hadn't chased him out of her tiny bathroom with the heel of her stiletto.
He'd sat down on her bed grumbling, randomly inspecting various objects and throwing biting comments about people living in shoe boxes at her head, while she'd been busy transforming her hair into something barely tameable and applying lipstick without looking like the Joker from The Dark Knight.
After a few corrections from the glittering man, whose fingernails and eyelids were coloured bright pink this evening – clashing exquisitely with the shimmering, emerald green suit he was wearing – they'd finally been ready to make their short walk over to Lady Catherine's quarters somewhere in the labyrinth that was the castle-like hospital building, when Richard had pulled her in the other direction towards a waiting limousine.
That had been the second strange happening of that evening, because the glittering man just wouldn't be persuaded, instead he'd just grinned and shrugged, telling her that the old Lady would insist on traditions and when she'd asked him if those traditions also included environmental pollution, he'd simply pushed a drink from the car's mini bar in her hands and told her to literally suck it up, because yes, his aunt was a rather horrible exemplar of the human race and if she wanted to survive this evening, she'd need the alcohol in her system.
She'd gulped down the burning amber liquid without asking any more questions.
And now they were here and were led through the dark, overdecorated hallways by a taciturn, grumpy looking maid in a uniform, that reminded her of Downton Abbey.
"I got the distinct impression that Sally here does not like me", Lizzie whispered to Richard after the maid had cast her another scornful glare over her shoulder, to which she replied with a bright smile.
"She doesn't like me either", Richard pouted and Lizzie had to laugh softly at the thought of the look and the scrunched up nose Miss Dorothea over there had bestowed upon the glittering man's suit when they'd entered the building.
"Does she like anyone then?", she asked, linking her arm with his. "Blatant disdain for each and every breathing human being does sound a bit... dreary, don't you think?"
"Well, I do think she fancies her Ladyship quite a bit", Richard chuckled, blowing Miss Dorothea a kiss when the maid opened yet another set of doors for them.
"Unrequited love?", Lizzie asked, clicking her tongue. "Tsst. Tsst. How tragic."
"And you're heartless, darling", Richard replied, squeezing her with one arm. "Besides... who knows, who knows? My aunt is just as bigot as they grow them."
Lizzie laughed at that, but was interrupted by Miss Dorothea's sour mien, when the maid knocked on one of those dark oak doors, stepped in and announced "Mr Fitzwilliam and Miss Bennet" to her Ladyship.
The first thing she saw, when she stepped into the ostentatiously decorated parlour, was the waiting figure of Lady Catherine, who, in an attempt at appearing imposing and menacing, had built something like a tower with her grey locks, lots of hairspray and jewels on top of her head.
She was sitting on a grand, throne-like chair, her countenance just as sour as Miss Dorothea's and reminded her of a bulldog, which in combination with her usual pitch black clothes appeared at bit strange and created the illusion of seeing a rather badly put together scarecrow for some tacky horror movie.
"Richard!", she cried out, jerking her head towards the newcomers. "Miss Bennet! What a pleasure to finally meet you!"
"I'm sure it is", Lizzie replied straight-faced, making a small curtsey so as not to have to shake their hostess' hand. Richard followed her example with a small bow.
The old lady's squinted eyes wandered over the glittering man's suit, stopping with an expression of barely hidden contempt at the places, where the fabric shimmered green or his pink fingernails caught the light of the various candles scattered throughout the room, yet she held back a doubtlessly biting comment when Richard simply raised an eyebrow in silent challenge, before her eyes drifted over to Lizzie's attire and she jutted her chin forward just barely noticeably.
Lizzie could see why she and Miss Dorothea were so fond of each other.
"Rather short your garment, don't you believe, Miss Bennet?", the remark promptly left her mouth and Lizzie just smiled a dripping, sugary sweet smile.
"Depends on the perspective, don't you think, Lady Catherine?" She heard Richard's barely masked snort and saw a faint frown appear on the old lady's smoothly ironed forehead.
"So you desire to give indecency perspective?", the Lady countered, pursing her lips disapprovingly. "How... unusual."
"No", Lizzie replied, her polite smile smoothly sliding like a mask over her face. "Actually, it's not."
Lady Catherine frowned before her features hardened. "Does that mean that you make a habit of such...endeavours?"
"To be open minded?", Lizzie asked politely. "Yes, it's my favourite pastime."
Richard laughed softly and the old Lady, whose eyes had flickered about the room in a distinctly confused manner, narrowed down on the glittering man.
"I can't say, I'm surprised, Richard", she said with a lift of her chin, causing the tower on her head to waver dangerously and stood up. "I told you time and time again that your... extravagant ideas are not fit for polite society. Pfft! What his mother was thinking when she raised him, I will never know, Miss Bennet", she turned to Lizzie, who simply arched an eyebrow and snorted. "Annette has always had a rather.. peculiar view on the world as such."
"She was in Wonderland most of the time", Richard replied dryly, inspecting his fingernails. "Marijuana, LSD, various mushrooms... the list is endless."
"Then it's a small miracle that you turned out as sane as you did", Lizzie commented just as dryly. "I've always -"
"That's all Fitzwilliam-Blood", the venerable Lady, clapping her hands together with such force that the adorned gold rings around her fingers shook. "Even though what persuaded Arthur to make that Hippie-girl the wife of an earl after all continues to elude me, it's simply -"
"He was high, aunt Catherine", Richard interrupted her. "He also thought that little green men were walking out of his nose:"
"Out of his nose?", Lizzie repeated, scepticism and amusement evident in her voice.
"Artistic license", Richard brushed it off with a small wink. "The same freedom I corrupted you with if you believe my dear aunt."
"Which would imply that I actually am corrupt", Lizzie replied with a crooked smile.
"You did put on the dress."
"Because you blackmailed me. Not because I was persuaded."
"Semantics", Richard smiled. "You're wearing it."
"Because you forced me to!"
"Dorothea, champagne please!", Lady Catherine called out in midst their banter, having followed their bickering like some interesting tennis match and clapped her hands one, two times before turning back towards the squabblers. "It does not surprise me that Richard was behind your choice of attire, Miss Bennet", she then said. "You should improve your resistance skills, because you see, my nephew doesn't have the best taste when it comes to clothing and... propriety."
"Really?" Lizzie made it a show of looking around the room, taking in silk screens and mural paintings, plush couches and chairs and the ever-present gold applications and then examined Richard again. "I think he matches the furniture."
"But, how- Miss Bennet...", the disapproving old Lady begun, but a bell-like, way, way too familiar laugh interrupted her.
"Do accept it, mother", the voice from the other side of the room said, confusing and surprising Lizzie quite drastically. "You won't be able to persuade Miss Bennet otherwise."
A swish of flowing pink fabric and then a pair of huge, golden eyes in a heart shaped face, smiling at her and taking one of the champagne flutes from Miss Dorothea's tray with careless grace. "She is a bit stubborn from time to time."
Lady Catherine snorted and raised her long nose up in the air. "Miss Bennet, may I present? My daughter, Miss Anne-"
"We know each other, mother."
"- DeBourgh."
"-Elliot."
"Pardon?", the equal parts horrified and confused question came tumbling out of Lady Catherine as a reaction to Lizzie's nearly hissed address. "What kind of name is that?"
"Mother", the ambergirl – because it was indeed her, standing in some airy, dusty pink dress in front of Lizzie and Richard in her mother's parlour and not finding this strange at all – put a hand on her mother's arm and Lizzie, suddenly realizing who exactly Lady Catherine was in relation to her friend, felt a new wave of disgust at the old Lady rise inside her. "You know that I did change my last name."
"But of course!", the old Lady snorted. "But I thought it was just one of your flights of fancy." She scrunched up her nose. "Nothing permanent. Elliot. Really...How mundane."
Anne wanted to reply something but Lady Catherine had already turned back towards Lizzie. "I don't know if you're aware of it, but many years ago there have been some nasty... rumours concerning my daughter." She nodded grimly, like a soldier after surviving a battle. "I do hope that you're none of the sort to be impressed by that sort of thing, Miss Bennet."
Lizzie gritted her teeth and glared at Anne, who just sipped her champagne unimpressed. "I always tend to stick with the truth, Lady Catherine."
The ambergirl's eyes lit up at the challenge and she tilted her head to the side. "Which is, much like beauty, in the eye of the beholder, isn't it?", she said with a barely hidden smile and a jolt of her chin.
"And clearly communicable", Lizzie shot back.
"But not always necessary." Golden eyes sparkled. "Or important enough."
"Isn't that in the eye of the beholder?", Lizzie questioned back, her hands curled tightly into fists, swallowing down that acidic taste and her inner panic in the face of betrayal.
"Can't we just agree on it being not practical?", Anne said with a good-naturedly, yet bored sigh.
"You mean it was just unbelievable laziness on your part?"
"Too many inconvenient moments, perhaps?"
"Or rather pure cowardice."
"Which is yet again open to interpretation", Anne remarked. "Let's call it a story without names, because I didn't thought it relevant?"
"There still remains the question of truth."
"Doesn't it always?"
Both girls, one green and one golden pair of eyes, glared at each other, defence and offence as metaphors on the battlefield and none of them willing to back down.
"Why, oh why, do I have the distinct feeling that you two know each other?", the glittering man chimed in at some point when he could find some room in between two gun shots. Lady Catherine in the meantime simply stood there gaping like some astonished gold fish clad in black. It was not becoming.
"We're flatmates", Anne replied without looking away from Lizzie's sombre looking face.
"Friends", the girl admitted reluctantly.
Anne pouted. "Sisters", she then said and Lady Catherine gasped.
"Miss Bennet!", she cried out. "You're not one of them, are you?"
"One of whom?", Lizzie asked a bit indignantly. "I don't appreciate discrimination without information about however arbitrarily made group affiliations, but if you want to judge me because of the My-Little-Pony collection in my bedroom, I won't take any prisoners."
"My-Little-Pony?", Richard cried out and clapped his hands in excitement. "You got a My-Little-Pony collection? Oh, I just love Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle! We absolutely have to -"
"Shht!", Anne admonished him, pinching him in the side so that he would shut up. "I said sisters, mother, not domestic partners."
"Oh", Lady Catherine said, a hand over her heart. "I thought you strayed again from the path your maker laid out for you – and that you'd taken Miss Bennet with you -"
"Mother..."
" - otherwise we would've needed to consult Dr. Kramer", the old Lady continued. "We can't allow Miss Bennet to -"
"Why on God's green earth does everyone think I'm that easily manipulated?", Lizzie hissed at Richard, who was watching the scene with evident amusement.
"It's your aura, Papillon. Just your aura."
"Says you, Twilight Sparkle."
"Ouch, that hurt!"
"Mother, I've never quit my ways of negative virtue and profligacy as you like to call it. So I don't know why you think that -", Anne begun, but was drowned out by Lizzie.
"I'm not going to some My-Little-Pony convention with you, Richard, even if you kidnap me!"
" - but Dr. Kramer said that you're cured! He is a doctor!"
" - of Christian theology, mother. He's not a physician."
"But he is a doctor!"
"Which doesn't qualify him to prescribe me drugs, that turn me into a walking Zombie! I do like my feelings, mother, thank you very much."
"But if it does make you sick -"
" - they got real life figures there, Papillon! And they're moving!"
"You're also moving, you oversized unicorn. But I'm not driving two hundred miles to watch you together with a bunch of adult children!"
"You're seeing me every day."
"Inevitably, Richard. Inevitably", Lizzie sighed ending her discussion with Richard with a promise to only go there with him under two conditions: Alcohol and no cameras.
" - but I'm not ill, mother."
"Yes, Dr. Kramer already said that. He cured you."
"I've never been ill, mother. He can therefore never have cured me."
"But he did!"
"He spilled holy water over my head and screamed "Get thee hence, Satan!" like a hysteric lunatic. I escaped before he could ram that syringe up my arm. Thank the Lord for that!"
The old Lady snorted again. "At least you didn't infect, Miss Bennet", she grumbled like a sullen child, that didn't want to go to bed when curfew came. "And don't you dare use the Lord's name in vain."
"We're sisters, mother. Sisters!"
"Who are sisters?", another, way too fucking familiar if considerably deeper voice asked from the parlour's entrance and Lizzie groaned.
"Bells", she bit out, eyes shut tightly, one hand on her right temple. "We need bloody bells for him."
Richard grinned and turned towards the newcomer, who, clad in a suit but without tie, his arms crossed in front of his chest, was leaning against the door frame, watching the scene unfold.
"Lizzie and Anne are apparently sisters", the glittering man informed his cousin with an excited clap of his hands. "Blood sisters to be honest." He turned to look at Lizzie. "Can I call you 'dancing girl in the moonlight' or 'crazy bird on the rooftop' now?"
"Do you detect feathers in my hair?", she countered dryly, eliciting a small chuckle from Darcy. "You're already calling me a butterfly, don't you think it's enough with the pet names?"
"How do you know our cousin, Miss Bennet?", Darcy asked with a bit of a confused glance at a pixie-like grinning Anne, who danced over and embraced him. He evaded Lizzie's questioning look, when the girl raised her eyebrows in surprise at the sudden formal address.
"She's my sister,William", Anne said with a smile. "Even though she can be a bit pigheaded at times."
"I'm well aware of that", Darcy said with a frown, tugging softly at a strand of Anne's wild, spiky hair. "She thinks I'm an alien."
"And she can hear you", Lizzie grumbled a bit indignantly, while Richard just gave her another drink. "Even though I'm not so sure about that sister-thing anymore."
"Oh, quit the dramatics!", Anne shot back, bouncing over to Lizzie and perching her hands on her hips with a mischievous grin. "As if you're telling me everything about you and -" Her gaze fell on Darcy, who was watching them both with sudden interest. Lizzie glared at her. "- never mind." She giggled and Lizzie saw her former Professor opening his mouth to say something, but got drowned out by the force that was Lady Catherine in black.
"My dear Darcy!", the old Lady cried out. "How good to see you again! It must have been ages since -"
"I was here yesterday", the dark-haired man replied curtly, taking the crystal glass with water from the tray, Miss Dorothea held out to him.
" - see you so scarcely, my dear nephew. And look how pale you've grown! Did you -"
" - the A&E department was bursting at the seams yet again yesterday. Catherine. Did you know about that? We need more staff to -"
" - and what about Georgiana? Does she play again? I always told her that without practice -"
" - completely overworked. And the night nurses are fresh out of training and breaking down under the pressure. They're not used to seeing six stab wounds in one arm - "
"- such a pretty girl. It's such a shame that she doesn't -"
"- bloody Wilson collars them all. We need the staff there and not in the god damn radiology -"
"- really need to write to Mrs Annesley that she should take more care of what Georgiana eats -"
"Is it always that way with those two?", Lizzie asked the ambergirl, who was standing next to her, watching them talk past each other.
"Pretty much", Anne said with a shrug. "He tries to talk some sense into her and she just wants to hear pretty fairy tales. It could be a brilliant metaphor for current world politics when she'd also sit on her front porch with a rifle in hand ready to shoot anyone coming too close."
Lizzie grimaced. "Happens rather often, doesn't it?"
"Don't tell me you're jealous now", Anne replied, raising both eyebrows. Her golden eyes twinkled in amusement.
"I was betrayed", Lizzie declared dramatically with just enough righteous indignation. "That has nothing to do with jealousy about stupid evenings for which you need Oropax and a box full of Valium to survive."
"Thought about it that often, did you now?" She shook her head with a quiet "Tst, tst", while the back and forth in front of them grew louder again. "Denial never did look good on anyone, darling."
"Denial? Who's talking about -"
"- she's gotten way too thin! Darcy, please don't tell me that she's one of those young willowy things, who sustain themselves by eating pulverized beans and green stuff -"
"- and the changes don't happen fast enough. The other departments are disinclined to take on any more patients than absolutely necessary and there's something like a permanent war going -"
"- bad enough that Anne insists on eating like a bird and with the way Miss Bennet looks -"
"- and if we do finally have some vacancy, they try to park their patients there, which limits our capacities severely in case of emergency -"
"Anne, I'm talking about the absolute emotional confusion going hand in with the fact that we've been discussing a guy for over five months, about whom you so conveniently forgot to mention that he's your bloody cousin and I nearly -"
"Yes", Richard chimed in with a wide smile, champagne flute in hand. Bastard had sneaked in from the side and was now blinking over Anne's shoulder at Lizzie. "What did you have to say about our dear cousin?"
"Nothing", Lizzie bit her lower lip, glaring at Richard and Anne, who with their faces so close together looked so remarkably similar that Lizzie wondered how on earth she hadn't seen that they were related earlier. "Only that the fact that Darcy is your fucking cousin is a bit... incestuous in light of our chosen family relationship, don't you think?"
Both their eyes grew wide. And even wider. "Don't say that out loud", Anne warned er in mock seriousness. "Don't you ever say that out loud."
" - but it's just not right that I never see her, Darcy. Sometime this summer I will come to Pemberley and I expect -"
"- just have to dismiss him! He's useless and a danger for the whole bloody hospital if he keeps changing duty rosters like they're scrabble pieces. How on earth should -"
"- just has to start again. She's so talented! Did you already tell Miss Bennet -"
"- a nurse from radiology in the OR is damn near a catastrophe. And if we're not careful, then we'll soon have a bloody in-house revolution -"
"Why the fuck shouldn't I say that out loud?", Lizzie protested. "It's bloody disturbing and – quite frankly – the truth -", one sharp glance in Anne's direction, "- and if next time someone teases me about him -" she eyed Richard with suspicion, "- then I can just stick out my tongue and say "Bleurgh", because how dare anyone think something so revolting when the Professor is practically my cousin."
"We all know that you can say "Bleurgh" very well", Richard chuckled. "You should train your gag reflex, Papillon. There are many advantages to it."
"In your dreams, Richard", Lizzie retorted, placing her empty glass on one of those small tables scattered throughout the room – Miss Dorothea was suspiciously absent – before crossing her arms over her chest and looking at Anne challengingly. "So?"
"You shouldn't say something like that", the ambergirl began calmly, "because then she'll have you married to him sooner than you can shout 'Get thee hence, Satan!'"
"Oh, no!"
"Oh, yes!"
"Oh, yeah!", Richard cried out, shrugging when both girls turned to look at him uncomprehendingly. "That's the reaction to a non-existent gag reflex:"
"- the nurses have a not to be underestimated power in the hospital and disregarding them and their wishes only to satisfy the desires of lunatic, conceited egocentric is simply -"
" - why, I believe she could be very useful. I still don't understand why you won't let Dr. Kramer have a look at her -"
"- not just irresponsible, but also downright uneconomic. We can't just simply give up on hundreds of skilled employees -"
"But why?", Lizzie whined, holding her head upright with both hands after Richard had resurrected her with a few sips of amber-coloured whiskey. "She could just marry him off to you, couldn't she?"
"Darling, Richard and I are the devil's children, she won't risk contaminating her favourite nephew with such amorality -"
"- you did hear that, too, didn't you?", Richard chimed in, still leaning over her shoulder. "He's her "darling nephew" and I'm the chemical experiment of two junkies gone awry. Life just isn't bloody fair!"
Anne patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Well, and she thinks you're the golden girl to his golden boy – is that an expression?", she asked Richard, who just shrugged and winked at Lizzie. "However, she just wants -"
"- many little Darcys crawling around Pemberley", Richard finished the sentence for her with a rather bored shrug of his shoulders and continued inspecting his bright pink fingernails.
"And no one thought about asking me?", Lizzie cried out. Her opponents simply raised their eyebrows in such synchrony, transforming their faces into the same expression of you-didn't-really-think-that-did-you-now disbelief that it was rather bizarre to watch.
"Do you see that?", Richard asked, pointing with his thumb over to the still arguing, still talking past each other couple. Darcy had now very nearly finished his glass of water – she really wanted to know if he did in fact consume pure water or if it was something else – and was gesticulating widely with it to emphasize his point while the old Lady alternately ran after and away from him like a small, slightly oversized crow.
"- and they're going to strike, Catherine. Their working conditions are impossible and Wilson only makes the whole thing worse. In the long run -"
" - reminds me so much of her mother. Her eyes and hair. Just like Anne. That's Fitzwilliam-Blood, my darling William. All just Fitzwilliam-Blood that -"
" - then the whole bloody hospital is going to just crumble down under your feet!", Darcy thundered at last and they were all waiting with baited breath for a reaction, but the old Lady simply kept on scurrying throughout the room, clapping her hands together when she also finally came to a conclusion. "- and she's such a pretty girl. And so talented!"
Lizzie saw Darcy letting out a long sigh before emptying the glass in his hand and putting it aside. Anne next to her sighed, too.
"And so it ends..." She raised her glass as if to toast.
"...yet another time", Richard chimed in, also raising his glass
"Like every time..."
"... in a disaster", Lizzie finished for them, snatching the champagne flute right out of Anne's hand and gulping it down in one take. "The endless circle."
"How depressing", Anne remarked and Richard opened his mouth to add his two cents, preferably something about existent or non-existent gag reflexes, but just in that moment the door opened and Miss Dorothea in all her strict glory carried in a sort of Chinese gong, stroke it once and then announced with her thin lips tightly pressed together that dinner was ready.
"Oh, how wonderful!", Lady Catherine cried out, motioning for the whole party to follow her with her arms stretched out in a stately manner. "Darcy, do accompany Miss Bennet to dinner. Richard, you take Anne."
"With pleasure, Ma'am", the glittering man grinned, bowing in front of a giggling ambergirl. "Miss Elliot."
"Mr Fitzwilliam." She curtseyed and took his arm,
"Miss Bennet", the dark voice, that so often made her cry out for bells or other signs of warning so that she wouldn't have to feel like someone pushed her backwards into a fucking swimming pool in bloody December every time she heard it, called out.
"Really, Darcy?", she asked, raising an eyebrow in question while he watched her out of dark and warm glowing eyes. "You think that now's the right moment to start obeying me when it comes to addressing me?"
"Obeying?" One corner of his mouth twitched. "I somewhat doubt that there is in fact a right or wrong when it comes to that particular matter, Elizabeth."
She opened her mouth in mock indignation and took his proffered arm. Her fingers prickled at the contact. "Are you accusing me of capriciousness, Doctor?", she asked, feeling a bit distracted by his sheer proximity.
"No." She heard him chuckle softly. "Just of a more arbitrary choice of preferences."
She snorted lightly. "All a matter of perspective, don't you agree?", she replied with a sudden, rather melancholy smile while they were walking down the dark hallways towards the dining room.
"Yes", he said so quietly that it was barely audible. "This part of the house is nearly an exact copy of my aunt's rooms in her mansion in Kent", he then said rather abruptly and Lizzie frowned at the sudden change of topic.
"Really?", she asked, studying the décor a bit more closely. Most of it seemed dark and overladen. There were a lot of biblical scenes portrayed on various paintings and tapestries and over it all was the oppressing scent of dust, tickling one's nose. "How..."
"Sad?", Darcy asked softly. "Yes. My aunt moved here after Anne left their home some many years ago. She couldn't bear it to be all alone in the empty house in - "
"No", Lizzie interrupted him, her thoughts wandering to words, Anne had whispered to her so long ago in the quiet anonymity of a dark room while the credits of some film were flickering over the TV screen. "You misunderstood me."
"How -"
"I wanted to say how horrible", Lizzie said with a hard voice to suppress the trembling in it, looking straight ahead while walking after the other three people, who'd just disappeared behind a corner at the other end of the hallway. "How absolutely awful."
"Elizabeth", he began again and she would have pulled her hand from his arm if he hadn't hold her there. Luckily for him, he only touched her where she'd put black satin ribbons around her wrists and she therefore didn't feel the need to reflexively punch him square in the face.
"For how long have you known my cousin now?", he asked, brow furrowed as if trying to solve a complicated crossword puzzle.
She shot him a glance. "Five years. Close to six. She was the first person I met in London."
He nodded sharply. "Then, I believe, you know -"
"Everything?" It sounded very nearly derisive the way she said it while they were marching towards the light from the open door at the end of the hallway, where Miss Dorothea was waiting. "I believe I do."
"So -"
"You know, Darcy", she turned towards him, amusedly blinking eyes in the light of the lamps before crossing the threshold, "the more interesting question is in fact, if you do know everything."
And with those words she left him there in the hallway and entered the dining room.
"Oh, Miss Bennet!" Lady Catherine cried out from the head of the table, where she'd sat down on another pompous chair, similar to the one in the parlour. "Darcy! Where in God's name have you been?"
Lizzie frowned at the question and more so because of the downright calculating smile, spreading on the old Lady's thin, wrinkly lips like nasty, sticky honey.
Anne and Richard suppressed a smile while Lizzie simply looked at their hostess with unconcealed irritation. "In the hallway", she then said. "On our way over here."
"I'm sure of it." The smile grew even wider and she felt herself reminded of a grinning Venus flytrap. Or of that scary plant from the little shop of horrors.
"Take a seat, take a seat!", Lady Catherine prompted them and Lizzie took a seat next to Richard and to the Lady's right side while Darcy took the place opposite her next to Anne.
"But no, no! That just won't do!", her Ladyship cried out, brow furrowed and chin jutted forwards like a sullen child. "Darcy, change seats with Richard. Immediately!"
The glittering man made a hurt face and pouted while Lizzie – seeing her last hopes or even her only lifeline dashed – curled her hands into fists under the table. Anne giggled.
"She is rather decisive, isn't she?", Darcy's dark voice whispered into her ear when he pulled out the chair next to her in order to sit down. She suppressed a shudder.
"No, not all", Lizzie whispered back. "She's a delight."
Again the gong sounded with a kind of scary precision and then Miss Dorothea came in, dutifully and slowly carrying in the plates with soup and placing them just as dutifully and incredibly slowly in front of each of them.
"So, Miss Bennet", Lady Catherine began, her spoon posed above her waiting soup. "Collins told me that you refused yet another offer to work for me after graduation?"
Lizzie raised an eyebrow. "Why are you asking me if you already know the answer, Lady Catherine?"
The old Lady pursed her lips disapprovingly. "Because I do expect an answer from you, Miss Bennet?"
"Is this yet another question, Ma'am, or the answer already?", Lizzie retorted, taking a spoonful of her soup.
"No, I do expect an answer, Miss Bennet!", the now red-faced Lady demanded while Lizzie – seemingly unperturbed – simply took another spoonful – sip – whatever the fuck one took from a soup, that tasted like a mix of cabbage, potatoes and white beans.
"To the question of whether or not I refused yet another offer?", Lizzie asked amusedly. "Yes, I did."
"But why?", the old Lady cried out and the tower of hair on her head wavered dangerously.
"Is that the question now?", Lizzie demanded to know, barely hiding her smile in her napkin while Anne and Richard on the other side of the table also tried to suppress their laughter. Darcy on the other hand didn't make a sound.
"Yes!", her Ladyship cried out while the scarlet red tone of her skin slowly faded to a mere crimson.
"Well, why didn't you say that sooner?", Lizzie asked her with round, innocent blinking eyes and if she was not mistaken, even Darcy had to hide a smile.
"But that -" , the old Lady began, but was interrupted by Lizzie, who'd decided that she didn't like the game anymore.
"Well, as you see, Lady Catherine. I do already have an apprenticeship lined up", she explained in absolute delight and with a wide, toothy smile. "It's therefore impossible for me to accept one of your... gracious offers."
"Aha." The old Lady pressed her lips together disapprovingly. "And please, tell me, Miss Bennet. Where do you think to finish your education?"
The smile on Lizzie's lips grew even wider and Anne, who saw it coming, leaned forward to hide her own smile in her soup.
"With Seamus Groveland", Lizzie said slowly to give each syllable the meaning it deserved.
"Groveland?", Lady Catherine growled at the same time as Darcy perked up and asked "Seamus?".
Lizzie looked from one to the other in amusement. "Yes", she then said slowly to Darcy. "Seamus. Also called 'Mus' by his friends. The same guy with whom I always travel to Africa."
"Africa...", Darcy repeated with a frown as if that crossword puzzle in front of him had suddenly gained a few more columns.
"Yes, Africa", Lizzie replied, eyebrows knitted together. "Mus has build several hospitals in Kenya over the years."
"I know", Darcy said, face still crinkled and the grip he had on his spoon intensified. "I helped -"
But whatever he'd wanted to say was drowned out by a scarlet red Lady Catherine, who looked like she was ready to spit smoke and fire.
"So you do know my brother-in-law, Miss Bennet?", she bit out, spoon held in hand like some kind of sceptre.
"Yes", Lizzie said unperturbed. "Even though the family relationship was lost one until today." She cast another glare at Anne, who just responded by simply lifting an eyebrow.
"So I take it, you also know Henrietta and Louisa, am I correct?"
"Yes", Lizzie smiled. "I was their babysitter for a while when Henry and Liam were younger. They're brilliant children, I have to say."
"Aha", Lady Catherine said, her nose raised so high up in the air that one could nearly count all her nostril hairs. "My brother-in-law has always been a rather... peculiar person", she announced to the whole room. "But I just can't fathom how you'd want to finish your education under such... conditions when we're offering so many possibilities here -"
"A nurse strike?" , Lizzie asked with a raised eyebrow, believing to have seen Darcy's surprised smile flare up for a second.
"- in one of the top hospitals in the entire country. I beseech you, Miss Bennet, you wouldn't want to throw that all away for some third-class apprenticeship in some underprivileged country?"
"That, I think, is a matter of perspective yet again", Lizzie said decidedly. "And I wouldn't use the word "third-class" for any hospital, your brother-in-law has founded, Lady Catherine."
"Really?" The old Lady didn't sound impressed. "And what about the financial aspects?", she asked, waving Miss Dorothea over to clear the table and serve the main course. "A brilliant young lady such as yourself wouldn't want to deny herself the rightful reward she is due, would she?"
Lizzie's countenance became icy. "As you'll see, Lady Catherine, I don't care very much about the financial aspects of things."
The old Lady's eyebrows shot up almost comically high as her eyes widened.
"Really?", she asked again before her features smoothened and a glint appeared in her eyes, that was more than just a bit scary to Lizzie. "But yes of course", she then said. "You certainly grew up not having to care for such things. Naturally." Her gaze wandered over to Darcy next to her. "And from the looks of it you won't have to care about them in the future, too, am I not correct?" And she smiled so wide and so sugary sweet that Lizzie felt her stomach churn.
Yet again the gong sounded and with her usual sour expression did Miss Dorothea serve the main course – roast beef with Yorkshire pudding and potatoes – interrupting the current line of conversation in the process for a few precious seconds during which one was finally able to breathe.
"Lizzie", Anne began when all was ready to hinder her mother at preying on the girl again. "Did you hear that Charles Hayter thinks about proposing to Hetty even before the Easter holidays?"
"Really?", Lizzie asked, relieved about the change in topic. "I didn't know they were so serious yet."
"Well, he's following her like some lost puppy ever since primary school. Had to happen sooner or later, don't you think?"
"Rather later if you ask Mus, right?", Lizzie grinned between two bites of potato and vegetables – she didn't touch the meat, not even armed with both fork and knife.
"I think he resigned himself to his fate", Anne said mischievously. "After all he had had ten years to get used to the idea. Besides Hayter is "a good boy" if you can believe him", she shook her head. "Even though he still doesn't understand what on earth media science is supposed to be."
Lizzie laughed softly while Richard leaned in, following their discussion with obvious interest. "What", he then said. "Do you want to tell me that little Henrietta Groveland – rugrat Groveland – wants to step in front of the altar? Is that even legal?"
"Well, she is eighteen", Lizzie explained with a shake of her head. "But I also think it's bit early. They've barely been together for two months."
"All the more reason to make it official", Lady Catherine blared between them. "It's just not right these days. The young people all live in sin for years and then everyone is wondering why on earth we have more single parents than -"
A collective sigh went around the table and Richard, who'd leaned back in his chair with an eye roll softly began singing and directing his fingers in time to Lady Catherine's tirade. "The fear stricken, born again Christian, they got a vision a homogenized state. Texas textbooks, Bibles, and prayer books. They want them memorized, but don't want you to think..."
Lizzie tried to keep a hold on herself and hide her bubbling laugher in her glass of water, but that didn't work out that well and only Darcy's hand on her back kept her from choking to death.
For a brief moment time seemed to stand still and Lizzie froze, still coughing yet holding her breath when she became aware of the hand on her bare skin, because the dress, Richard had selected for her, wasn't just scandalous because of its length or lack thereof, but also because it left most of her back bare and put the Phoenix-Tattoo on display.
"... in the dust bowl, cerebral black hole, the average weight is well over 200 pounds.
I hate to generalize, but have you seen the thighs? Most haven't seen their genitalia in a while..."
"I understand the blue now, Miss Bennet", Darcy whispered, his hand lingering a moment to long on her skin, which seemed to have suddenly caught fire, even when she was – though way too fast, hastily and even choppily – able to breathe again. "Shadows", he whispered, tracing the column of her spine down with one finger – slowly and barely there – and when he finally put away his hand, she just sat there for a few seconds, a heavily breathing, oscillating pile of goo and melted bones while he just kept one dissecting his potatoes.
"- then why buy the cow if you can get the milk for free?", Lady Catherine asked the group as a final conclusion. "Henrietta did just the right thing in my opinion."
"Well, I don't think you have to worry much about her", Anne said a bit distractedly, her eyes, so full of concern, on Lizzie, who was currently massacring her vegetables. "You should rather worry about Lou..."
"Why is that?", Richard asked, having finished his song just now. "What did the little redhead do this time?"
"Well", Anne said with a faint, pixie-like smile. "She has suddenly developed a rather intense interest in a certain Captain Benwick."
"Benwick?", Lizzie burst out. "But he's -"
"What? What about him?", Richard asked curiously, practically leaning over half of the table to hear the whole story. Darcy snorted quietly.
"He's -"
"- a rock singer -"
"- and he wears eyeliner -"
"- he got these strange trousers. Made of leather. He's practically wearing lederhosen", Lizzie explained.
"- and he got snake fangs as earings."
"He has tattoos."
" - many -"
" - many tattoos."
"I think I like him", Richard announced, grinning widely. "May I please meet him sometime?"
"I don't think the world would survive that collision", Lizzie replied good-naturedly. "The two of you in one room? Are you sure that wouldn't explode? Especially because Benwick is rather ambivalent when it comes to his sexuality, much like you."
"Oh really?" Richard's eyes lit up. "Oh, please, please, can I meet him? I do like myself some tattoos..."
"Richard, explosion? The whole drama? Do you really want to risk it?"
"Hey, you and Darcy are also in one room and nothing's exploded thus far", Richard complained, pointing with his fork from her to her former Professor.
"Not yet", Lizzie bit out, scowling at him.
Darcy next to her snorted quietly. "We're a catastrophe waiting to happen", he explained straight-faced. "And do I understand that correctly? Save for his remarkable similarity to Richard, which is, frankly, rather disturbing, I admit, there's nothing else wrong with the guy?"
"Well", Anne said dryly. "He's also fifteen years older than her."
"What?", Lady Catherine, whose skin tone had swiftly changed towards the more magenta tones ever since she'd heard that titbit about the sexuality of her niece's lover, interjected. "Lecherous deviant! He should be stoned to death!"
"Kanpai and bottoms up, unhelping hands hog tie you up. One bad deed surely deserves another...", Richard began singing again, also in time to his aunt's tirade while Darcy leaned back in his chair.
"I don't quite understand the problem", he said and there was something in his voice that had Lizzie perk up. Was it irritation? Insecurity?
"Well", Anne said, her huge golden eyes flickering from Darcy to Lizzie and back again. "I'd say it's all a matter of... perspective."
"So if you want rewards and consequence, they got the cool and unusual punishments. Get on your knees for Japanese instruction. Rope and Cigarette burns, forget about any health concerns. This is pure assisted self-destruction...", Richard kept on singing, his eyes half closed, swaying in time to the music.
"Oh really?", Darcy asked, his eyes flickering over to Lizzie, who didn't understand what this conversation was about, but who also didn't have the time to think about it for too long since her Ladyship was already at the end of her tirade, which she concluded with a long, drawn-out sigh.
"Well, I really have to address that topic with Seamus", she announced. "Such a young thing spending time with some devil worshipper, that's just -"
"I'm sure, Mus will do whatever he thinks to be the right course of action", Lizzie said with a frown and a hard voice.
"Ah, Miss Bennet!", the old Lady cried out, smiling a sugary sweet while waving over Miss Dorothea to clear the table again. "I hope so... I do hope so."
"... it's not fun until someone gets hurt. Who's the next to get hung from the ceiling?", Richard finished his song, but this time he'd drawn his aunt's attention to himself and she was not a person to be trifled with.
"What are you talking about over there? Richard, what are you telling Anne and Miss Bennet?", she demanded to know and the glittering man rolled his eyes and sat up.
"Music, dear aunt", he then said and Lizzie had to bit her lip to keep herself from smiling. "We're talking about music."
"Oh, please continue! There's no one in the entire kingdom, who knows more about music. Or has better taste in it." Her gaze fell on Anne, who was also trying her hardest to keep herself from bursting out laughing. "And my dear Anne here... She would have been a great virtuoso if her health had only allowed her to play..."
Lizzie raised an eyebrow at the ambergirl. "Mother, I was never ill", Anne explained calmly. "Not to mention the fact that my feeling for music is restricted to duets under the shower, which break the mirror repeatedly."
"Duets?", Richard asked with a glint in his eyes. "Was that Freudian?"
Anne shot him a warning glare while Lady Catherine simply brushed off her protest with a shake of her hand. "Oh, pish-posh", she said. "You would have been a jewel."
"I like amber better", Anne protested, but her mother wasn't listening.
"Miss Bennet", she turned to Lizzie. "You can sure be the judge of that, can't you? I learned of your impressive life story from your file. Pray tell, do you still play?"
Lizzie, who'd grown deathly pale and was staring straight at her plate, wrung a short "No" from the depths of her throat.
"Miss Bennet, are you gifted in music?", Darcy asked, his surprise evident in his voice and took in Lizzie's white knuckles with a frown.
"Gifted?", Lady Catherine burst out laughing. "What an understatement! Miss Bennet was once thought of as a prodigy in the classic music scene, Darcy. She only gave few concerts, but all very much revered and desired." She shook her head and laughed again quietly. "Gifted, pfft!"
"You don't play anymore, Miss Bennet?", Darcy's voice reached her ear while the droning sound in her mind took overhand.
She shook her head hastily. "No", she managed to get out while her view became blurred.
"A prodigy, Papillon?", Richard asked and she heard the question behind the amusement, heard it through the veil while feeling Anne's concern like fingers on her skin.
"You just have to play for us, Miss Bennet!", Lady Catherine prompted her.
"No." She felt the panic rising inside her, the thought of putting her hands on those keys again was like hot lava burning through her veins.
"But you just have to, Miss Bennet!", the old Lady protested. "The pianoforte in the living room is tuned wonderfully and I'm sure we all -"
"No!" The panic had reached its peak and all there was left now were breaking waves after the endless spiral.
"No?", Lady Catherine repeated flummoxed and the others, too, with the exception of Anne, were looking at her strangely at the sight of her vehement rejection.
"No", Lizzie said and tried to take a breath.
"But why ever not?" The old Lady wasn't happy at not seeing her wishes fulfilled and she pushed out her lower lip sullenly.
Lizzie opened her eyes, the fog lifting and saw four pairs of eyes watching her closely. She smiled, a bit bitterly. "Because it breaks my fingers."
A shock, gasping, breathing suddenly audible, Anne's glittering eyes and her sad smile.
The gong announcing dessert saved Lizzie.
"Well, Miss Bennet", Lady Catherine began again after those crystal bowls with fruit and ice were placed in front of them. "Your father is Thomas Arthur Bennet, am I not correct?"
Lizzie nodded, still a bit weary while her fork traced lines through the vanilla ice-cream. "Yes, that's correct."
"Does he still write? His theoretical considerations about the development of morals were extremely interesting."
Lizzie snorted quietly, Anne's softly whispered words of reassurance still ringing in her mind.
"No, I have to say that he's now focused on testing his theories in the real world", she replied, bitterness like citrus on her tongue. "It's interesting in any case."
Lady Catherine seemed satisfied with that answer, because she turned to face Darcy .
"You must know Thomas Bennet, Darcy. You taught the subject, didn't you?"
"I know him indeed", Darcy said and Lizzie tried to breathe and keep calm. "His theories border on nihilism."
"And yet he'd never position himself quite so clearly", Lizzie retorted. "He likes to live a decision-less life."
"Wonderful family by the way", Lady Catherine chimed in. "Very old and well liked. They've been part of Morecambe Bay for hundreds of years, haven't they?"
Lizzie, who had the feeling of being an exhibit on some kind of meat market to be sold to the highest bidder, furrowed her brow. "Yes, that's true", she said shortly.
"Well, I must admit... The scandal surrounding you, Miss Bennet...It put me off at first, but then I remembered Anne and how rumours are seldom true and -"
"Mother!", Anne's outcry sounded through the fog in Lizzie's brain and she felt water invading her lungs and she was drowning, drowning, drowning...
" - tragic story, really. And so reprehensible if true, but -"
"What kind of scandal are we talking about here?" That was Darcy's voice. So far gone.
"Oh, it was about that Cavanaugh-boy. You know him, William. He was at the funeral and then followed you around for about a year. Don't you remember? You always -"
The fog grew thicker and faces and voices were only distant shadows now, barely coming close enough to touch her while her hands were becoming numb.
"- mother, that's really not -"
"- is also a med student, I believe. Darcy, didn't you -"
"Papillon, what is it, you look -"
"- were engaged, you see -"
"I have to go", she announced abruptly and stood, fell, stumbled, her chair somewhere behind her, bolting, storming, running despite the other's vehement protests, with Anne right on her heels.
She didn't make it to the end of the hallway before the sharp, choking breaths, which the lack of oxygen demanded, wrecked and forced her on the floor and then she just sat there, a chaos of haphazardly mixed limbs and huge eyes, staring into darkness, while she fought for air.
He knows him. He knows him. He knows him. He knows him. He knows him. He knows him.
That was the only thing running through her head while Anne knelt in front of her and held her head upright. That and the feeling as if the world was suddenly two sizes too small.
"You're not seventeen anymore", the ambergirl whispered without pausing while trying to fish her out of the ocean, trembling hands on way too cold skin. "Not seventeen anymore, not seventeen anymore... It's over, Lizzie."
But it wasn't over, was never over. Every time she thought she'd run far enough, had put enough distance between them, he came back, came always, always back...
"I'm never getting rid of him", she whispered to Anne. "Never, never, never..."
And the ambergirl could only repeat, what she'd said before. That she wasn't seventeen anymore. That it was over. That the ghosts could only hurt her if she let them. All that just to get the girl out of the ocean.
And finally Lizzie grew calmer. And calmer. And then there were just breathing lungs. And breaths. And Anne's fingers around her head.
"You can't keep going on like this!", they suddenly heard Lady Catherine's voice coming from the dining room and the old Lady sounded as if she'd skipped the crimson skin tones in favour of magenta ones. "It's been two years, Darcy, and you're still moping after Emily!"
"She's right, man", Richard interjected, somewhat calmer than his aunt, but his voice, too, was clearly audible. "You're burying yourself in your misery for two years now. It's time to fucking stop with that shit."
"And your idea of therapy is pushing me towards a woman ten years my junior?", Darcy thundered and Lizzie outside in the hallway froze.
"Goodness, William, don't get all excited. Ten years are nothing! Louis DeBourgh himself was nineteen years older than me!"
"And what a lot of good that did", Anne muttered, but Lizzie didn't even react.
"Darcy, you know that my opinion doesn't always agree with social norms and all that nonsense, but Elizabeth is twenty-three and -"
"- from an old, honourable family of more than considerable wealth and -"
"She's barely more than a child, Richard. All thoughts of age aside, sometimes she acts as if she's a bloody twelve year old!"
"You don't really believe that yourself, Darcy -"
" - father is Thomas Bennet!"
"She's still only twenty-three, Richard!"
"You were already married by that age, Darcy! And you were raising Giana. Don't underestimate Lizzie only because you're bloody scared of getting hurt!"
" - and she'd be such a help for dear Georgiana. Do realize it, Darcy, you need a -"
"Darcy, Emily would've wanted -"
"Don't you dare tell me anything about Emily!", Darcy yelled and Lizzie, sitting there as stiff as a statue on the floor and listening on to their conversation, a just as motionless Anne beside her, jerked back when the door burst open and Darcy stormed out, sheer rage billowing around him.
"You!", he barked and Lizzie, feeling the panic rise inside her, scrambled back on her feet and backed off. "Matthew Cavanaugh!", he yelled. "What the fuck did you do to him?"
"William!", Anne cried out, trying to stop him, but he shoved her aside like she was nothing and made further steps towards Lizzie.
"What I did to him?", she asked when she'd finally found her voice again. "Nothing in comparison to what he did to -"
"Stop lying, okay? Just bloody stop lying. He told me -"
"- I should stop? The king of the liars wants me to tell the truth? How absolutely -"
"- still mocking him? After all, that happened, you're still making fun of him? Don't you have any -"
He was so close now, too close and only with great effort was she able to ring down the fog in her brain. She heard Anne's cries, saw Richard pulling at Darcy's arm to hold him back and overall Lady Catherine's screams, piercing through everything.
"Did you know what he did to me? Nothing, you know bloody -"
"- practically left him at the altar -"
"- how many times I cried, how often I plead with him -"
"- took everything from him. Everything, Elizabeth. Don't you care at all? Are you really that -"
"- broke my fingers. What do you think this is?" She was tearing at her bandages. "Nice decorations? What do you believe -"
"- killed. That's what you did! How does it feel? How does it feel to be -"
The burning, boiling rage paled and in its place there was just pure exhaustion and she barely noticed the tears, streaming down her cheeks. Desperation. Absolute desperation.
" - murderer!", he yelled out, but then there was Anne, screaming and terrible and the little pixie in the pink dress lunged for him with curled fists, pushing him away from Lizzie, yelling that he knew nothing, knew absolutely bloody nothing about anything and then there was Richard, leading away a trembling, deadly pale Lizzie, who was sobbing without crying, bringing her somewhere, where it was calm and empty and dark.
And then they were outside.
"Shht, Papillon", the glittering man said, placing her with her back against the roof top's balustrade on the floor. "Everything's alright now, darling. It's over."
Her breathing was rushed, choking and for a moment she thought she had to puke.
"It's over", Richard repeated, sitting down next to her. Carefully, so as not to touch her.
"That's what they all say", Lizzie managed to get out and pulled her knees towards her chest. "They all say it's over and then this happens and -" She took a deep breath. "What the fuck was that?"
Richard sighed. "Darcy, when he's losing it."
"Wonderful", Lizzie snorted, slinging her arms around her upper body. Her ribs were hurting and her fingers were tingling when the numbness finally faded. "Just wonderful." Another breath intake. "Does he use people as punching bags on a regular basis or am I just an exception?"
Richard looked at her from the side, a hard line dividing his usually so amusedly winking face. "He didn't mean it like that, Papillon. Really, he -"
"- didn't mean it?" She snorted. "Richard, I heard that one too many times. It means bloody nothing."
Richard sighed. "He's not a bad person, Papillon. He's just used to doing things on his own. His life, his career, Georgiana... He's practically always been alone ever since his father died."
"Do you think that's an excuse?", Lizzie asked, picking at those satin ribbons around her wrists with another shaky breath. The anger was flaring up again, now that the acute panic was gone.
"No, Papillon." He softly tugged at one strand of hair before shrugging out of his jacket and placing it over her shoulders. "But today was an exception."
She poked him in the chest with one fingernail. "I heard that before.
"Our aunt always brings him to the edge of his sanity."
"Heard that, too."
"Normally, he isn't -"
"Also heard that -"
"Did you hear that, too?", Richard interrupted her with more bite in his voice than she'd previously suspected he had. "A twenty-three year old raising his ten year old sister? Who goes through hell and high water for his friends and picks up their shit when they fuck up?"
"I heard that one, too, once."
"Oh, really?"
"Yup. Jesus. In the bible."
"Jesus has a sister?"
"Jesus is a saint. And apparently Darcy is one, too."
Richard laughed. "You really fault him for that, don't you? Oh, Papillon, he had to tell his best friend that his close-to-being-his-fiancé-girlfriend cheated on him with the director of the primary school she was working at. Didn't have any other option now, did he?"
She felt pure, hot rage boiling inside her, but she was just too bloody tired to let it out. "It wasn't his responsibility."
"Not his responsibility? Papillon, if that had been one of your friends, you would've gone to the barricades."
"He didn't have all the information", she insisted stubbornly. "He never has all the information." She shook her head. "You've seen it just now."
Richard sighed. "Did you ever thought about giving him all the information necessary?", he asked. "So that he can make an informed decision and not -"
"- call me a murderer? It's not really an excuse now, is it?" She snorted.
The glittering man leaned back. "It's not easy for him to talk about Emily", he then said finally. "Add aunt Catherine to the mix and he's -"
"Who is Emily?", Lizzie interrupted him, her voice hard to hide the trembling.
"Papillon, that's not -"
"Richard, who the fuck is Emily?", she repeated.
The glittering man sighed. "She was his wife, Papillon."
"Did she leave him now? Is he suffering from a broken ego and fears of abandonment?", she snorted, wrapping the shimmering green jacket even more tightly around her body.
"Fear of abandonment, probably", Richard replied. "You would know all about that, wouldn't you, Papillon? But she didn't leave him, little butterfly. She died."
"Died...", Lizzie repeated tonelessly while something cold began to spread in her stomach.
"How? I mean... When? Why?"
"Car crash", Richard said seriously. "Two years ago." He sighed. "She was such a nice little thing. Pretty little bee..." He nudged her. "She looked just like you, Papillon."
She looked just like you... The coldness in her stomach became an icy fist clenching her guts and Lizzie gritted her teeth so tightly that her jaw began to hurt. She looked just like you...
There was a pretty simply reason Lizzie Bennet didn't like to talk about herself. Nearly just as simple as the reason why she in turn also didn't want to know everything about fellow human beings.
Because once you had a taste of the tree of knowledge, you could never go back to being ignorant.
You could never become innocent again.
And then suddenly, while they were sitting in the cold and darkness, thinking about how much this felt like the edge of the apocalypse, not knowing that this wasn't the end but just beginning, their pagers began ringing.
And just wouldn't stop.
A/N: So all of the above... it was planned. Like, for months and I about bored everyone to tears because I was so damn excited about it. Lunatic even. Like Dr. Kramer (name's from the guy, who wrote Malleus Maleficarum, yes that book about witches and how to kill them).
Next time, we'll change POVs. And I'm giddy about writing it. Any ideas?
Btw. I'm thinking about posting some dirty and not so dirty poems (from Darcy's perspective) on Tumblr over the next weeks until the next chapter and probably more song quotes of what I'll listen to to get the writing done. Anyone interested?
Love, as always (thanks as always for the reviews, I replied to as many as possible, but lots of them were anonymous or had a disabled messaging feature, so I'm sorry)
Teddy