"This is the break we have been waiting for!"

Darcy, who had been divesting himself of his outer clothes as though his limbs were made of lead, perked up considerably at hearing Bavishni's cry. He had not seen her in two days as she was staying at a fashionable hotel to keep appearances. He left a trail of items behind him as he bounded into his study. "Break?" he demanded. "What break?"

It had been very, very tempting for Darcy to allow himself to descend into utter despair with each passing day. He had not seen his beloved in over a week. He was often forcefully reminded of the agonies he had experienced when Georgiana was missing, and indeed there were many similarities to the wretched experiences. With Georgiana, however, he had been weaker, given into despair and hopelessness on multiple occasions. If not for Fitzwilliam, he might have succumbed entirely.

Elizabeth had built him up, however, and showed him, by example and non-example, that it was no weakness to ask for help from friends. Were it not for such a lesson, Darcy thought he may well have drank himself to death by now. He certainly would not have a possible break in finding his beloved.

"Solveig and Erik have found Lizzy!" Bavishni exclaimed.

Every muscle poised to run out of the room with the correct combination of words, Darcy turned to face the Nordic descendants.

"Not sure," Solveig said clumsily. She had been making great efforts to begin speaking English since her arrival.

Face beginning to fall and chest growing intolerably tight, Darcy looked to Erik.

"It the pits, fighters are bought, sold, and traded, their value dictated by their record," Erik started. "Solveig's been making it known she wants a fresh and fierce fighter to take back to Norway with her since we were invited three days ago. Today, it was recommended she consider someone known as the Bejeweled Pixie. No one is certain what the Pixie looks like. Fighter and handlers all come with different faces each night. Rumors have started that the handlers plan on selling off the Pixie once it wins a few more fights, increasing in value."

Darcy felt as though he was covered in grime just from hearing the description of such a sordid practice.

"The Bejeweled Pixie must be Lizzy!" said Bavishni. She tapped the elaborate arrangement of stones in her own nose repeatedly as she continued. "I saw her get her jewel, myself! And she is tiny and fierce enough to be called a pixie."

Darcy fell into a chair, lightheaded. He was simultaneously filled with hope and dread. It was entirely possible that someone under such a moniker could be Elizabeth. She was, quite possibly, within his grasp. And yet, was this really the life his beloved had been made to suffer through? The possibility of such caused his chest to ache acutely, and he started rubbing his sternum in effort to find relief.

"Jane and Charles need to be told," Darcy said, interrupting the conversation that had continued without him.

"Of course," said Bavishni. "They went to see Mr. Bennet at the Gardiners'. Jane says he is not well."

Darcy sighed and shook his head. Indeed, Mr. Bennet was not at all well. The man was shedding weight like a cat sheds fur, and he grew paler every day that passed without news of his daughters. "We cannot tell him. Not until we are certain."

"He is her father!" Bavishni heatedly objected.

"And he is weak enough already," said Darcy determinedly. "I will not give him hope only to have it ripped from under his feet. I worry he will not survive such." Though he did not say it aloud, he was not fond of the idea of eventually greeting his beloved with the news that her father had died of a broken heart.

"If you financially back Solveig, we might have Lizzy returned as soon as tomorrow night," said Erik sensibly.

Darcy grit his teeth and gripped the arm of his chair until he thought either it or his fingers must break. "We cannot save Elizabeth until we know about Lydia," he said with great difficulty. He had dedicated extensive thought to the subject and, while his emotions said one thing, logic demanded another. Elizabeth was within his grasp, but Lydia remained in the clutches of Wickham and Malfoy and he had no clue where they had her. He had to get both sisters together, or one would be lost forever.

Solveig scoffed something to Erik, who objected to whatever she said. A few more exchanges saw them glaring in opposite directions with their arms crossed firmly.

"Dare I ask?" Darcy said flatly.

"Solveig says Lydia is destined for an early death anyway, fool that she is," Erik said bitterly.

Darcy found he could not be upset with Solveig, as part of him agreed wholeheartedly and found the idea of leaving Lydia to her cruel fate all too appealing. The other, more insistent part of him, knew how very much the girl meant to his beloved, and was able to recall several happy memories of the youngest Bennet gathered throughout the year. Angry though he was with the girl, Darcy still loved her as his beloved's sister and his hopefully future one. He sighed and said, "Elizabeth would never forgive any of us for rescuing her if it meant losing Lydia.

"Tell Solveig that money is no object," Darcy said as he rose from his seat. "She may bid whatever is necessary to get Elizabeth. But tell her to say she wants collateral to make sure the 'Bejeweled Pixie' will stay in line." Darcy rather wanted to vomit after saying as much but managed to refrain. Aside from being surrounded by guests, he had not been able to eat all day and had grown quite tired of tasting bile. "Perhaps that will convince Wickham and Malfoy to bring Lydia out into the open."

"This is not what we agreed to!" Lizzy snarled as Wickham tossed floo powder into the fire he had started.

"You will see Lydia, as promised," said Wickham with a shrug. "It seems to me terms are being met fully."

Lizzy pulled at her hair and was perversely thankful for the cut on her scalp that stole her attention away from her despondency at having been tricked so horribly.

"Lizzy?"

Instantly, Lizzy forgot every terrible thing around her and fell in front of the grate to greet her sister. "Lydia! Oh, I am so glad to see you!"

"Lizzy, I'm so sorry!" Lydia burst and began crying.

Lizzy desperately wished she could crawl through the fire to take her little sister in her arms. "Enough of that," she said firmly instead. "Are you well?"

Lydia sniffed heartily and regained some control of herself. "Well enough," she said. "I hate it here. I'm not allowed to talk with the other girls, it sounds like a herd of pigs comes through every night, and – "

Lydia's face suddenly disappeared and Wickham put the fire out.

"No!" Lizzy cried desperately and pounded the floor with her fist as a toddler throwing a fit might. She was so frustrated at her time with Lydia being cut so short she could not even muster the energy to hate herself for beginning to sob.

"Get up," said Wickham through clenched teeth.

Lizzy said and did nothing in response. When Wickham pulled her up by her hair, however she could not help but cry out.

Oh, how she loathed him!

"Get dressed," said Wickham, throwing yet another set of robes at Lizzy that would not fit her true form. "We're heading to the pits early today."

When left alone with the robes and prepared Polyjuice potion, Lizzy considered throwing the flask into the fireplace in retribution. It brought her savage pleasure. Then she thought of how sunken in Lydia's eyes had looked. She changed, took the potion, and called Wickham back in.

As Wickham crudely greeted his friends from the underworld and began collecting bets, Lizzy pondered what little Lydia had said to keep herself occupied. The abrupt end to their conversation must mean Lydia had said something of import. It took Lizzy's scattered mind several minutes longer to figure out just what kind of place Lydia had described, and she burned with fresh rage.

Lydia, her eleven-year-old sister, was being kept at a brothel.

Lizzy was only able to come to such a horrifying conclusion because she had been made to stay in such an establishment twice since being kidnapped. On such nights, she had not slept at all, but curled herself into a corner with her fingers plugged firmly in her ears.

She took solace in the fact that Lydia, being younger, louder, more impulsive, and of less value, would likely not be moved by her captors. The effort was not worth the risk of discovery. Such put Lizzy on a slightly higher level than she had been on before. Perhaps, if she was allowed to speak to Lydia again, she might be able to ask the girl some seemingly innocuous questions that could reveal more details about her location.

Lizzy was so focused on her new plan of action that she almost managed to miss the tall blonde woman with elaborate braids and a fur cloak across the room.

Solveig!

Lizzy was flooded with immense relief and hope. Darcy had called reinforcements, the wonderful, wonderful man! He had not given up on her, nor isolated himself in his efforts to recover her, but asked for help. All she had to do was play her cards right and bide her time. If she could manage to write a few words and slip them to Solveig, her friend would be sure to pass it on to Darcy, and he would turn every brothel in London upside down until finding Lydia. Then Lizzy could let loose on Wickham and Malfoy.

How could she manage to get a message to Solveig in time? The location of the pits changed every few days, and there was no guarantee that the new location would have the same people, and certainly not the same faces. Wickham and Malfoy were far from the only people that took precautions regarding their true identities. Attempting to communicate with Solveig was risky. To not do so was unthinkable.

"Noticed her, have you?" Wickham said when he saw Lizzy staring at Solveig. "I hope you like her," he said with a cruel smile. Lizzy rather imagined that Wickham thought her horrified by Solveig's fierce and 'feral' appearance. "You just might be spending a good deal of time with her in the future."

Lizzy found it difficult to make the features she bore reflect disgust rather than eagerness. Had they been her own, she might not have succeeded.

Eventually, Solveig made her way over to where Lizzy stood with Wickham. It was difficult for Lizzy to practice the strict orders she had been given to keep her face down and not speak with anyone. If she just reached out her hand, she could tug the braid on Solveig's head that held a lock of her own hair. Solveig, she knew, would understand the gesture.

Solveig's voice rang with authority as she spoke in her native tongue. A voice Lizzy did not recognize translated.

"My mistress asks if you are the keeper of the Bejeweled Pixie," said the voice.

Lizzy wondered vaguely about the statement. Did Solveig happen to have a servant that spoke English, or was this simply someone Darcy had found and hired for the express purpose of allowing Solveig to communicate?

"At your service," said Wickham smoothly. Lizzy noticed he made to move as if to take Solveig's hand and kiss it, but her warrior of a friend used that hand to grasp Wickham's throat, instead. She heard Solveig growl.

"My mistress does not like to be touched," said the translator mildly.

"Noted," Wickham said tightly. He gasped upon being released. "What can I do for your mistress?"

"She has interest in acquiring a fighter to bring back to her home. She believes the Pixie might suit her needs."

Lizzy felt a flutter of panic. She had heard several mentions of various people wanting to buy her off Wickham or Malfoy, and such an idea never became easier to stomach. The pair were horrible, true enough, but they were familiar to Darcy, and he would be looking for them. If they sold her off, she could very well become lost, and God only knew what would happen to Lydia.

"And from where does your mistress hail?" Wickham asked. "Are there no fighters she might acquire there?"

"My mistress has been greatly wronged by a member of her clan and seeks to regain honor by way of a champion," said the translator. "They have agreed that neither fighter be a member of any clan of their people, as the fight will be to the death and they do not want their own blood shed over the matter. As the matter is of such import to my mistress, she is willing to spend quite the fortune to acquire her champion and is very willing to offer you a fair price."

Lizzy bit her tongue to keep from snorting. The whole tale was utter nonsense. Though she knew little enough about Solveig's people and traditions, she was entirely confident that any disagreement amongst them would be handled very personally, with no proxies involved. The lies appealed to Wickham, however, and he swallowed them whole.

"Well, if money is truly no object, I just might have what your mistress is looking for," said Wickham silkily. "Would your mistress care to sit by me as the Pixie duels tonight?"

Solveig spoke in her own language again, and Lizzy was pleased to note that the sounds made Wickham anxious.

"My mistress says she will fight the Pixie, herself."

Wickham vehemently objected without thought.

"My mistress says this is the only way she can know, for certain, if the Bejeweled Pixie is strong enough to fight in a battle held by her people," the translator said. He kept up a running record as Solveig continued. "She says that if you are so reluctant to have the Pixie go against her because she is sober, the Pixie must not be all the stories have led her to believe. She will find another fighter."

"No, no, no!" Wickham exclaimed. He reached out as if to stop Solveig turning away, but thought better of it. Lizzy knew he would not let such a very convenient way of disposing of her slip through his fingers. If he believed the given story, she would either wind up dead or stuck in a very disadvantaged situation in such a far off place she would certainly never be able to make her way back. "Let us discuss the terms of the duel."

As Wickham and the translator began haggling, Lizzy risked glancing at Solveig through her eyelashes. Her friend's face was set like stone and, had Lizzy not had a previous acquaintance with the woman, she would have been petrified for her future.

"If you make a mess of this," said Wickham tightly, holding Lizzy's upper arm with an iron-clad grip that was sure to bruise as he shoved her through the crowd, "you will never see Lydia again, and I will make sure she suffers cruelly."

"Like you did the Millers and Robertsons?" Lizzy snarled on impulse.

"You're right, I should leave her to Malfoy's imagination," said Wickham with a sneer. "I wanted to poison his staff. It was Malfoy that said we should go after the tenants. How did Darcy dearest take it?"

Lizzy dug her nails into her robes to keep from clawing into Wickham's neck. She and Darcy had thought the heinous crime to be the work of one of them. Now she had confirmation that it was both.

Fifteen minutes later, Lizzy took her place across Solveig. People called all sorts of crude comments and exchanged last minute bets, but Lizzy took no notice. She had seen Solveig duel, and Solveig had seen her, but they had never actually fought each other. Would Solveig truly put her best foot forward, or was this whole duel a farce? Did Lizzy need to win, or did Solveig?

Lizzy's philosophizing ended abruptly when, as soon as the moderator called for the duel to begin, Solveig began a vicious offensive. Lizzy quickly adjusted to the idea that she and her friend would appease the crowd by showing no mercy to each other and let her training take over.

As typically happened in the pits when things got heated enough between the fighters, wands just did not cut it. Lizzy dodged several kicks and punches, took a few, and landed a narrow number. Eventually, Solveig hit her with a particularly potent fist to the gut. While Lizzy doubled over from the shock to her system, Solveig put her in a choke hold.

"Lydia?" Solveig said quietly and urgently into Lizzy's ear.

"Brothel," Lizzy said through her teeth. It was the only thing she knew she needed to say, and she was doubtful Solveig would be able to retain many more words given in a foreign tongue, anyway. Crucial information passed, Lizzy put her wand to Solveig's elbow and cast a powerful Stinging Hex, earning her freedom.

"Lose," Solveig told Lizzy when next they were close enough as to not arouse the suspicion of the crowd.

Lizzy wasted little time in following Solveig's orders. She was in such a battered state that she did not think anyone would believe she failed to shield herself from Solveig's Stunner on purpose.

"What does your mistress think?" Lizzy heard Wickham ask eagerly. She had been left immobile on the floor.

The translator conferred with Solveig for a moment, then told Wickham, "My mistress says your fighter is strong and is disposed in favor of buying the Pixie from you."

"Then let us talk price," Wickham suggested. Lizzy could imagine him rubbing his hands together greedily. If the deal went through, not only would his pockets be lined with a thick layer of cash, but Lizzy would be whisked off to some faraway land where she would be made to fight to the death. Yes, Solveig provided him quite a pretty little escape.

"My mistress will observe the Pixie for several more nights to determine just what kind of money would be a fair value," said the translator.

"Several more nights?" Wickham objected. "But she said she could determine the Pixie's value by fighting her, herself!"

"It was a factor in the decision, but not the only one," said the translator carelessly. Solveig's voice sounded before he spoke again. "My mistress demands you tend to the Pixie now. She does not want her possible investment to be damaged for lack of care."

By the time Wickham had revived Lizzy and pulled her up out of the filth on the floor, Solveig had disappeared with her translator.

Darcy sat at his desk with his head in his hands. Disbelief, horror, and pained hope all fought to control him as he processed the tale Erik and Solveig told. Elizabeth was alive. Elizabeth was in London. Elizabeth could be returned to him at almost any moment now. If only Lydia could be found.

"Where did she say Lydia was?" Darcy said to the polished surface of his desk.

"Brothel," Solveig answered when Erik repeated the question for her.

Darcy slammed both his fists onto his desk. "Damn Wickham to hell!" he shouted. He shoved himself out of his seat and went toe to toe with Solveig. "What else did she say?"

"She said nothing else," said Solveig through Erik. "There was not the time."

"Does Elizabeth look much the same as you now?" Darcy spat venomously, gesturing vaguely to the random cuts and bruises Solveig had acquired since he saw her last.

A lesser woman would have become angry or fearful at Darcy's manner, but Solveig softened and patted Darcy's cheek comfortingly. "She is strong," Solveig said in her thick accent.

Darcy spun away from his guests before he could lose his composure and went for the door. "Thank you for all your help," he managed to say before leaving. He could not waste time on the next step; there was no guarantee that, when the pits moved, Erik and Solveig would be invited to the new location. It had taken them long enough to find the current one.

"Darcy!" Jane exclaimed in surprise when the man entered her parlor close to midnight. "Is there news? Have you found them?"

"I have a lead," Darcy said vaguely. "Where is Mary?"

"She's been asleep at least an hour now," said Jane. "She found the opera excessively trying."

"Please fetch her, Mrs. Bingley," said Darcy. "I need to speak with her immediately."

Jane, mollified by use of her new title and understanding of the desperate nature of the situation, left to wake her sister without offering an objection.

Having been notified by his staff of Darcy's arrival, Bingley bounded into the parlor. "What news?" he asked eagerly.

Darcy forestalled Bingley's further demands and exclamations with a gesture of his hand.

Several tense and uncomfortable minutes passed before Jane returned with Mary.

Darcy immediately went to stand before Mary and thought through his plan. He saw various emotions flicker through her eyes as he did so, the final one being resignation.

"I'll do it," Mary said solemnly.

"Do what?" Jane asked sharply.

"You will not let me out of your sight if I tell you," said Mary by way of explanation. "I am determined to do it, however, and will not be moved."

"Well you've succeeded in your goal of making me excessively nervous," Jane declared. "You will stay in the company of myself or Charles, and I will hear no arguments! Charles, fetch your coat. You will go with Mary on whatever plot Darcy has planned."

"No," Mary said with finality, and she turned and left with Darcy before the Bingleys could object further.

"Thank you, Mary," Darcy said with great feeling as he hurriedly handed her into his carriage. "I know this will not be easy for you."

"You do this for the woman you love," said Mary solemnly. "I do it for my sisters."

Darcy and Mary went back to his house and donned old, dirty servant's clothes. They then went out to the stables where Darcy chose the saddle of poorest quality to put on his least noteworthy beast, and the pair set out for the sordid streets of London.

By the time the sun had started to rise, Darcy and Mary had circled at least a dozen brothels, having to stop several times so Mary could gag and dry heave in an alley, but had caught no hint of Lydia's whereabouts.

"Again tomorrow?" Darcy asked tentatively as he deposited Mary back at the Bingley's.

"Again tomorrow," Mary sighed, then closed the door.

"I have four names I can confirm are in league with those demons," Bavishni told Darcy at lunch.

Darcy had invited the Indian princess to join him, Solveig, Erik, and Fitzwilliam. Josephine, Phoebe, and Zebulon had denied the invitation to the conference in favor of continuing their frustrating missions. The Bingleys and Bennets he had left alone. Mary would surely still be recovering from her revolting night and he was loathed to disturb her with his presence. He would tell Jane and Bingley of all he learned when he went to gather Mary again that evening.

"And what do you propose to do with this information?" Fitzwilliam asked.

"Your father has the names," said Bavishni. "He is quietly gathering required evidence. Once we have Lizzy and Lydia back, he will make sure they suffer."

"Are those his words, or yours?" Fitzwilliam said interestedly.

"Mine," said Bavishni coldly.

"I knew I liked you," said Fitzwilliam with a dark smile.

"Josiah?" Solveig asked. "Sophia? News?"

Darcy could not help but smile slightly at Solveig. Every day she attempted more and more English, though it was very clearly a monumental effort for her. He was sure she could understand at least one in ten words said around her now without translation.

"I gave them both a floo call this morning," said Darcy. "They report all is well, though neither Mrs. Bennet nor the Philipses have left their homes, unless to see each other. Thank goodness for small wonders." He did not care to think how much worse the situation would be if Mrs. Bennet had gone out bemoaning her fate to any who would listen.

"And Mr. Bennet?" Bavishni asked. "Is he still ill?"

Darcy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "He keeps to his bed at the Gardiners now." He had visited his beloved's father only two days previously and had been frightened by how weak the man appeared. "Mrs. Gardiner looks after him carefully."

As had been happening randomly since discovering Elizabeth was missing, all the crushing responsibilities and fears associated with Darcy's currently reality demanded to be felt keenly by him at once. His breathing became shallow. His chest tightened to the point of pain. He was completely unable to keep his eyes on anything longer than a few seconds. Ants seemed to crawl just beneath his skin.

Abruptly and without explanation, Darcy pushed himself away from his table and made a hasty exit. He could not sit still an instant longer. Such attacks of acute anxiety he had felt frequently when he had first inherited Pemberley and all its holdings but become less with time. Since he had starting courting Elizabeth, he had felt flutterings, but not a full blown episode as he now experienced. How very desperately he wanted his beloved at that moment!

Darcy had just decided to bring Mary back to the Bingleys' and accept another night of defeat when Mary suddenly clawed at his hands on the reins.

"She's there!" Mary whispered excitedly, pointing to the building ahead. "Lydia! She's there!"

Darcy's heart roared in triumph. "Can we get her now?"

"No, certainly not," Mary said quickly. "There are many guards. She is confused, but healthy and awake."

"She hasn't been – ?" Darcy could not bring himself to finish his question.

"Thank every power that has ever existed, no," Mary answered. "The madame of the house keeps a close eye on Lydia. She's been promised quite the pretty penny if she makes sure Lydia stays put, and if the money doesn't come, she gets to keep Lydia."

"Wickham and Malfoy had best pray they are killed by each other before I get to them," Darcy growled.

Mary suddenly blanched horribly. "Please, Darcy, let us leave now!"

Darcy could only imagine what Mary was being forced to experience, and so turned away quickly and urged his horse to sprint.

Later that morning, the entire party Darcy had assembled to find and recover Elizabeth and Lydia gathered in the Bingleys' home. He had even called Josiah and Sophia to come back. He acquainted the entire party with the whole of what he had learned, including Lydia's current location. Jane and Bingley were quite angry with him for having taken Mary on such excursions, but he could not find cause to regret his actions. Had he not made the request of Mary it was unlikely they would have ever found the youngest Bennet.

A plan was made, for everyone was determined that Elizabeth and Lydia would not be made to spend another night in their current miseries.

Jane and Mary would stay behind at the house and prepare for their sisters' arrival. Both were anxious to be of service and were determined they would provide the very best care to Elizabeth and Lydia, with Kitty's help, when the girl was given a polished version of what had happened.

Josiah, Sophia, Josephine, and Bingley would go and retrieve Lydia. Disgusted as they were by the prospect, Josiah would pose as a customer and Bingley would pretend to be a callous brother looking to rid himself of his sisters. Josephine and Sophia had enough similar features that, if they dressed and styled carefully, they could pass for siblings. Once the group gained access to the building, they would scour it for Lydia, Stunning anyone that got in their way. Bavishni promised to acquaint Lord Matlock with the plan, and the two of them would smooth over whatever issues resulted from the plot, if any. The Ministry was not overly concerned with what occurred in such places.

Darcy, Fitzwilliam, Zebulon, and Phoebe would go, in disguise, to the pits. Erik and Solveig would arrive once they had confirmation Lydia had been successfully retrieved. If things went smoothly, Solveig would purchase Elizabeth, then take her to be with Jane and Mary while the rest of the party dealt with Wickham, Malfoy, or both, depending on who made an appearance. If things did not go smoothly, whoever could get ahold of Elizabeth would, and fight their way to a point of disapparition.

Author's Note

-cue ultra dramatic music- Let's. Freakin. GOOOOOOOO!

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