Author's Note: I know it's short and I know it's late so I'll just say this - I'm working on the next chapter presently and will have it to you asap. PLEASE review or PM me with what YOU'D like to see happen in the end of this ficlet! Should Darcy's scheme work? Shall our favorite OTP find love in the end? (Okay it's me, I'm obviously going to make them end up together, but I'd love everyone's thoughts on this regardless!) let me know and keep tuned for more!

Elizabeth Collins

The dress Mrs. Jenkinson and I had re-imagined for me fit like a dream. It was lovely and highly comfortable and functional. In any other circumstance, I would be thrilled to have such a garment on. But as it was, my inane husband was escorting me to a fictional show of a dinner at my dear friend's house and I would be forced to sit and act in the most grotesque of charades as we played out our happily married couple bit for a group of people, all of whom knew damn well that the whole thing was a disgusting sham, and all of whom would be looking at me in some combination of pity and curiosity the entire night through. How I longed for the days when Lydia and Kitty's ramblings about reworked dresses were the most embarrassing thing that could happy to me at a dinner party.

The snow had melted enough that a sleigh would be useless but a carriage, dangerous. We had been instructed by a messenger from the great house to pack a few essentials together, and that we would be invited to stay with the lady herself once more. I was pleased for the company of my friends but petrified for the close proximity to him. He was... dangerous. Not my husband. Well, he was dangerous too, but I was thinking of one, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley and Derbyshire. He was dangerous in a different way. The sparks I had been feeling during our snow fight, our carriage ride, when he squeezed as if to give me courage before dropping me off at my husband's little home after the whole affair... they were dangerous feelings for a married woman in my conditions. I couldn't... I wouldn't allow myself to get carried away like... like... well, like Lydia. I was an adult. I would not let my head be turned by some handsome man who could never be mine. Regardless of my marital status. He was so far above little Lizzy Bennet it was laughable. I was fortunate for his friendship, but those feelings were simply... lack of attention from my husband. I got so little positive from the man, that I was seeking it where there was none. Apply a bit of logic and the feelings should go right away. Really. They should. Entirely.

"Are you feeling quite all right, my dear?"

"Sorry?" I asked Mr. Collins.

"You sighed very heavily. The baby. The baby is quite all right, yes?"

"Yes, Mr. Collins. Quite all right."

"Then whatever could be the matter?"

"Nothing at all, Mr. Collins. I am only anxious for my pregnancy to progress so that we might know if the child is a boy or a girl." I suggested at random.

"These things cannot be rushed, Mrs. Collins," He scolded me gently. "Whatever it will be, will be God's will." I frowned a little.

"You would be happy then, with either?" He looked surprised.

"But of course! It will be God's will and I can hardly argue with that." Huh. That was not what I expected. Although, when one had a smaller fortune, as we did, the gender of the firstborn in a couple so young was hardly something to fuss about. In his mind, we would have many more children of both genders and which one came first mattered little. That was oddly... nice for him. Though even an idiot might be right quite by accident once in a while I supposed."

"Do you have a preference?" He asked, good-naturedly. A boy or girl. Did I? How could I, knowing that one way or another I would not be raising this child. I wasn't a real mother. Not if I couldn't keep the babe. Oh lord now tears were threatening. I had never been much of a crier but ever since I found out about the baby I seemed to tear up at the slightest provocation.

"No. As you said. The fate of this baby is in God's hands."

"Mr. Collins," Lady Catherine began imperiously. "My nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam was hoping to discuss your sermon from this past Sunday in greater detail with you." The look on Colonel Fitzwilliam's face was one of both shock and panic, but the flattery of such a request was enough to render Mr. Collins unaware of such proceedings. "Perhaps instead of the usual separation of the sexes the two of you might barricade yourselves in the billiard's room for the next hour and discuss it more thoroughly. I'm certain Mr. Darcy won't mind entertaining the ladies for that time, would you?"

"Not at all, Lady Catherine" He replied, taking it all in stride much more fluidly than his cousin had, suggesting that he might have had an advanced warning on the sudden decision. "I would be delighted to, particularly to the advancement of my good cousin's soul." More conversation flurried about the decision as the ladies and gentlemen stood from their seats, Colonel Fitzwilliam glaring holes in his cousin's evening coat.

"I think it will take at least an hour, isn't that what you said, Richard?"

"When exactly do you recall this conversation taking place, Will?" The colonel returned tersely.

"Why just before we escorted the ladies through the neighborhood. I believe there was snow flurrying around..." Mr. Darcy suggested with a rather charming smile. Oh. The snow fight. This was to be Richard's punishment for loosing. But why? What would this accomplish?"

"I need to speak with you," Darcy murmured to her as they walked towards the parlor. "Privately. My aunt will cover for us. Meet me in the library in 5 minutes." He made an excuse to Anne and Cate and walked away purposefully. The other two certainly knew what was afoot, but this was Cate's house, there could not be a whisper of something improper occurring while Anne was under her roof. This charade was more for the manner staff than for any of the primary participants.

Making a remark about being straightlaced exactly five minutes later, I too stood and excused myself from the others. I slowly pushed open the heavy oak door to the library and stepped into the dark room. The candles weren't lit, so the only visibility I had came from the full moon shining through the windows.

"Lizzy," His voice sent shivers down my spine as I turned to my right to see him standing near one of the large plush settees.

"Fitzwilliam," I breathed out without thinking about it. It only took three large strides for him to be standing before me. His arms opened and I stepped into them willingly, breathing a sigh of relief as he wrapped me up in his embrace.

"I needed to speak with you. I spoke with Catherine, and we formulated a plan, but I needed to speak with you first, to make sure this is what you want."

"I've been thinking, too," I admitted, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "If I could get the others married to good men, or to find them jobs so they have their independence... if they were only safe I could just leave."

"I might be able to help you with that." He said lowly.

"The Fitzwilliam family owns a townhouse in London. It isn't terribly far from where your aunt and uncle live in Cheapside. No one has inhabited it since my grandfather's mistress and their children moved out. My aunt and uncle refuse to enter it. I've only been a few times but it is a good size home, and only needs a few adjustments to make it livable. The income from your father's estate would even provide enough for your mother to make it a reasonably fashionable home."

"What are you saying?"

"The family wishes to be rid of it, as it is only filled with bad memories for us. My uncle has agreed to allow my aunt to chose it's next owners and cares not for a penny of the profits. My aunt would like me to offer to sell it to your father at a price he can very well afford." I gasped.

"Fitzwilliam," I began. "It is incredibly generous, but-"

"No. No buts. If you agree I shall ride off and find Jane first thing tomorrow. I know she can persuade your parents without raising anyone's suspicions. Besides, it's also rather close to the fashionable part of town, I'm sure your mother won't need much convincing. As soon as they have their own means, separate from the estate, they won't be under your husband's thumb. My aunt can assist you with an annulment, or if it comes down to it, a divorce." My heart sank a bit.

"He'd never agree to a divorce. And what he's done... it isn't grounds for forcing the issue."

"We can find other reasons to claim the necessity of dissolving your marriage, Lizzy. We will figure it out."

"There's always the colonies or the continent," I said slowly, looking up at him in awe. "If my family were safe I could run. I could leave and-"

"Or you could stay," He interrupted softly, biting his lower lip as he looked down at me. "You could stay with me." I nearly melted into him. He sounded so soft, so... innocent. "Lizzy I-"

"You really mean to go to Hertfordshire tomorrow?" He swallowed thickly. "Yes. And London the day after. I need to speak with Bingley. He's still entirely in love with your sister and he deserves to know that his sisters and I were wrong, that she did love him." My eyes widened. Was he admitting his mistake? He was going to remedy it? I knew my sister well. Whatever she may say about passing fancy, she still loved Bingley.

"If I write letters for my sister and my father, would you deliver it?"

"Yes, yes of course."

"It would give you a reason to be there, anyway."

"Indeed." He frowned and I understood the sentiment immediately. How had such a—there was no other word for it—romantic conversation wherein we each dabbled near words that spoke volumes of feelings that could never be taken back, turn so factual. The very fact that I was still in his embrace was... oh dear lord. What was I doing? We were alone in a darkened library, pressed up against one another. I stepped back immediately my eyes refusing to take in the crestfallen look on his face.

"Forgive me, Mr. Darcy. I seem to have forgotten myself."

"Lizzy, please."

"I shall away to write some letters. Catherine will be sure to get them to you before you depart. Sir I... I cannot thank you enough for what you are about to do for my family. You are the best of friends and I shall spend my life trying to find some way to repay you."

"Lizzy, you must know-"

"Please do not say that, Mr. Darcy. You do not—can not—mean it and I am afraid of what it will do to my heart to hear such words only to know that they are the result of your honor engaging itself once again."

"Lizzy. You are wrong. I know what I feel and-"

"I shall go write my letters. You would do well to find Anne and your aunt. I'm certain she has more she wishes to speak with you about if you are leaving in the morning."

"Lizzy."

"Please, sir, I-"

"Fitzwilliam. My name is Fitzwilliam." He said, catching my hand in his, rubbing his thumb across my palm.

"Please, Fitzwilliam." I savored the word as it rolled across my tongue. "I haven't the strength to hope that much just now. Not when the life of another is so dependant upon my focus." I said, pulling my hand from his grasp and settling it on my stomach. He would do well to remind himself that I was bearing the child of another, that this wasn't Hertfordshire, and that time had passed with irreparable consequences. We couldn't go back, even if I deeply regretted every thought I had ever had about him, every harsh word for him that had left my lips. I had been so blind, so wrong. But it was too late. He may be able to help me save my family, but I was ruined, body and soul, and he couldn't fix that.