"Fitzwilliam?"
Fitwilliam's gaze shot to his door, as he watched his wife open it quietly and gently for the first time since their marriage. He had come to her-to wish her goodnight, inquire about her day, and the like. To this day, they had spent one night together, in her bed, and while Elizabeth had been relaxed enough to fall asleep quite easily, at his side, by the time he had woken up at his customary time, she had already been awake and seated at her vanity. Privately he wondered if she had slept for more than a few hours that night, but knew that it was progress, the right step in their relationship.
"Elizabeth." he said hoarsely, his gaze softening as he beheld her.
"How is Lydia?" he asked, when he noticed she had not come through the door, but lingered in the doorway, unsure of whether or not she should come in.
Fitzwilliam, of course, knew his sister in law's condition, for his personal physician had waited in the drawing room for hours after treating her to inform him of her condition. Besides a minor concussion, deep bruises and scratches on her arms, Miss Lydia Bennet was physically in a good condition. Her treatment plan included bed rest in a darkened room, to help prevent headaches, for about a week.
It was a good thing that she had so many sisters, Fitzwilliam mused, as he pictured Lydia Bennet on bed rest. He knew of course, from Miss Bingley and Mr. Collins, that Lydia had been a high spirited girl, fond of giggling, and forever chasing after officers on a daily basis before everything had changed for her, he doubted that she was so changed in principle, whatever her former behavior had been.
Elizabeth was the same. She had tried to hide it, in the beginning, but he had noticed. While she was Mistress of Pemberley, she was still Elizabeth Bennet Darcy, the woman who looked forward to completing a three mile walk on a daily basis. Fitzwilliam smiled. Lydia and his wife did share something between themselves, and he hoped that would be enough to console both of them.
"She is faring well," Elizabeth replied to his inquiry. "She is not terribly injured, the doctor says she has a minor concussion and some bruises, some scratches." Her voice trailed off towards the end of her sentence, as she considered all that might have happened, if Lydia had not screamed and attempted to fight back. If Lydia had not heeded her warning.
"She will have to be on bedrest for a week in a dark room, so I can imagine how well she will take that tomorrow," Elizabeth replied as she considered her sister's various reactions, "but for now she is sleeping."
"Good." Mr. Darcy gestured that she should sit, and with a few moment's hesitation she did, on the chaise he had set by his fireplace. Mr. Darcy took the chair opposite her, and both sat, warmed by the flames of the fire. Elizabeth studied the face of her husband. She had gotten better at reading the minute changes in his face and temper, and although he had been nothing but kind and understanding, she still could barely face him.
"Fitzwilliam," she spoke hesitantly, wishing she knew how to broach the subject of the attack on Lydia, by Mr. Wickham. "I spoke with Lydia, before she fell asleep, and she-." She broke off, not knowing how to continue.
Fitzwilliam studied her in concern.
"What is it, Elizabeth?"
She was having trouble getting her words out, and would not look at him.
"Elizabeth?"
"I simply wished to apologize for all that has happened." Elizabeth finally choked out, after a few false starts. Grateful that she was already dressed for bed in her nightgown and wrapper, she slumped in her chair, thankful that her sister was not seriously injured, and that Mr. Wickham would be punished for what he had done, attempted to do. But what of Mr. Darcy?
"And what would you have to apologize for, Elizabeth?" Fitzwilliam fought to keep his voice steady, as he considered the implication of her words. In his application for Elizabeth's hand, he, Mr. Gardner, and Mr. Phillips had had a frank conversation about the circumstances that led to Elizabeth's acceptance of his proposal, and ever since then he had been painfully aware of her altered behavior.
Before his proposal, she had been one of the few women of his acquaintance that had not attempted some form of an innuendo, or flirtation, and actively challenged him on his opinions. He had begun to look forward to being in her presence and had sought out her company, when he could no longer self flagellate himself for the desire to do so.
Fitzwilliam's thoughts drifted to their first introduction, and remembered how she had deftly handled Mr. Collins' breach of manner and common sense, without a misstep to either party. His first impression of her. He had noticed that she had behaved differently while in the company of Mr. Collins and himself, but thought that it had been due to embarrassment over Mr. Collins' foolish behavior and exhibition of poor manners.
After their engagement, he had foolishly believed that their sorrows were over, that Elizabeth, although she did not love him, would marry him, and it would be as simple as him showing her that he truly did love her-and thus, all of their past problems would disappear.
It would never be that way, he knew from past experiences, yet in the hope of retaining the face of his own happiness, he had persisted in believing it to be so.
It was incredibly foolish and short sighted, and now, months after their wedding, Elizabeth and Lydia were paying the price for his arrogance.
Elizabeth began to weep. "I can't, Mr. Darcy." she sobbed, crumbling into herself. Fitzwilliam knelt before her, noticing not for the first time, how delicate she truly was. Elizabeth started to speak, feeling as though she were unable to breathe. "I told Lydia to stay away from Mr. Wickham, I warned her months ago that he was not to be trusted, and I further warned all of my sisters to be on their guard against him by informing them that he had attempted to seduce a young girl for her dowry! I told her, and she still-"
"Elizabeth," he said firmly, "none of this is your fault. Not you, nor Lydia's, nor any other member of your family's fault. The fault lies in myself."
He sighed in frustration.
"After we had become engaged, I foolishly believed that you and I could begin from that point onward, and that if I compensated for my former inaction towards you and your family that that would be the end of it, and we would, eventually be able to move forward with our life together."
Elizabeth was confused. "I don't understand. Uncle Gardner informed of me of your intent to speak to Colonel Forster before you departed for London."
"I suggested to Colonel Forster that he should look closely at Wickham's finances, and suggested to him that it was not a sound idea to carry about a mere lieutenant with that much baggage. Nothing more, Elizabeth."
Elizabeth, by the end of his speech had dried her tears and was seated upright. Fitzwilliam stared intently into her tear tracked face, and dropped his shoulders, his strength, pouring all of it into her lap for her to hold.
"I have failed you, Elizabeth, and I am sorry." he whispered hotly, feeling his emotions betray him with the quickening of his tears. He knew why she had not asked about Mr. Wickham, nor why he had chosen to try and kidnap Lydia. The only point of control she, or any of her sisters had was with whom they associated themselves with, whom they stopped to politely greet and speak to for more than a few minutes in the street, and so forth. A woman's lot.
A few moments passed, and he spoke, his voice soothing and more calm than he felt.
"Mr. Wickham is in jail, and is awaiting a trial. The constable assures me that with his history of debt, not just in Meryton, but several other towns all over England, and taking into the consideration of the assault on your sister, that he has no doubt that he shall be bound for Australia, when it is said and done."
Fitzwilliam hesitated.
"There is something else, Elizabeth. Something that I need to attend to directly, in the morning."
"What is it?" Elizabeth inquired, almost in a whisper.
"I questioned Wickham, before the constable sent him off to jail. I promised him that I would keep him from debtor's prison if he would tell me who was the mastermind behind Lydia's attack."
"Why should you think that he would not simply…?" here she trailed off, confused, for she knew Mr. Wickham to have little moral compunction, especially with regards to young ladies.
"Wickham is used to getting what he wants through charm, not force. If he had been on his own, and wanted Lydia, he would have spent more effort in convincing her to leave with him, not attack her the moment she refuses to walk down the street with him," he said, referring Lydia's slightly slurred speech on what had happened outside the shop.
"He was hired by my aunt, Elizabeth, and I am sure you can understand my feelings on the matter. It is my fault. I should have stopped all of this months ago, and not simply ignored it." he said in a rush.
"Lady Catherine?" Elizabeth asked with a growing comprehension, remembering the warning the lady had issues her.
"Yes. I must away to Rosings and London tomorrow."
"Are you going to confront Lady Catherine?" Elizabeth asked, placing her hand hesitantly on Mr. Darcy's shoulder.
despite his discomfort at the position of being on his knees and hunched over, he found that he would bear it, for Elizabeth was touching him, willingly.
"I will. She has gone too far, and I know why. I had not wished to say anything, for I did not wish to see her humiliated, but I have been providing her with a monthly allowance for the past nine years. Her husband, Sir Lewis, left Rosings Park under a mountainside of debt when he died."
He stood up, gently drawing Elizabeth with him until they stood face to face, hands entwined.
"I had warned her, after she had paid a visit to you, that if she should continue to disrespect you than I would cut off her finances. I thought she was content to ignore my existence, now that my marrying Anne was out of the question, but it seems it was not. Wickham informed me that she told him she would pay him thirty thousand pounds if he would grab Lydia. She did not care what he did to her afterwards, so long as everyone thought that Lydia had run away with him. It seems neither she, nor Mr. Collins thought that Lydia would resist."
"Mr. Collins?" Elizabeth echoed, looking away from the intensity of being so close to her husband, face to face.
"Yes, Mr. Collins, Wickham told me, brought him to Rosings Park. It seems my aunt wrote to your cousin, and he told her all about you and your sisters. It was decided that Lydia would be the easiest one to work on, given her….."
"Given her former behavior." Elizabeth finished for him.
"Yes."
There was suddenly a lull between them, neither of them quite able to adequately express the relief that they felt between their newfound, mutual understanding and respect towards the other, and Fitzwilliam cursed his natural reticence. However, Elizabeth spoke, unprompted.
"Would-." she paused to lip her bottom lip in worry, "would you be willing to share-?" her gaze betrayed to the large bed in the corner of the room, the curtains tied to the posts, and the coverlet downturned by the maid some hours before.
Fitzwilliam cannot hide his smile, nor his happiness at her request.
The next morning, he awakes at his usual time to find her lying next to him, studying his sleep slackened face, and he could not help but feel that this was love.
Two days after the attack…..
In the darkened room, Georgiana Darcy laid silently next to her friend, Lydia Bennet, taking care not to disturb her. She, Kitty, Jane, and Mary had taken turns keeping Lydia company throughout the day, although they had each reported that Lydia had not wanted them to speak, nor for anyone to even stay with her in the room.
She soon realized she did not particularly have to make the effort of not disturbing her, for not only was Lydia awake, but she was trembling with effort to keep herself from giving away the fact that she was awake.
"Lyddie? Does your head ache?" Georgiana whispered in a soft tone. Fitzwilliam's physician had warned them all that Lydia needed peace and quiet, and they were not to aggravate her condition by being any more noise than absolutely necessary. "Shall I fetch you a cold compress?" she offered.
"No." Lydia's tone was flat and lifeless.
Georgiana reached over and laid a sympathetic hand to Lydia's side, not daring to touch anywhere above her neck, no matter what the physician said. Lydia was injured, that she could see, but this was something more. Lydia had a spark that Georgiana was sure could never be extinguished, yet here she was, witnessing its suffocation.
"Lyddie," Georgiana continued, despite the lack of encouragement she received, "no one blames you, Mr. Wickham is-."
"I know what Mr. Wickham is!" Lydia exploded harshly, and then began to sob real, fat tears that Georgiana could not see, but she recognized the heart rendering ache behind the sobs, and she rushed to calm Lydia down.
"Lizzie told me-." Lydia was having trouble getting her words out, to form without being broken up by a sob. "And I didn't listen to her, because I was so angry, and I-."
Georgiana had to make sure Lydia knew that it was not her fault, and she knew of only one way.
"Lyddie, remember a few days ago," she started hesitantly, knowing she was about to reveal her biggest secret, "when you asked me if Elizabeth was happy with my brother, because she had been so unhappy and distressed while under the authority of Mr. Collins? "
Lydia nodded tearfully, an act Georgiana could barely make out through the small amount of light that filtered through the drapes around the bed.
"I-I know how Lizzie felt, Lydia, and why she felt the way she did-even after marrying my brother. That is why I was so happy that you and the rest of your sisters and aunt and uncle were able to come visit. I-." Georgiana paused to take a steadying breath. "Last year, when I took a holiday at Ramsgate, Mr. Wickham and my companion conspired together for Mr. Wickham to elope with me and gain access to my dowry of thirty thousand pounds."
The last of those words tumbled out of her mouth in one fell swoop, and Georgiana felt nothing but relief that she had finally told someone-something she had not even told Elizabeth about.
Lydia laid there, still, applying the facts as she knew them, to the story that Lizzie had told her a short time after her engagement to Mr. Darcy, that Mr. Wickham had attempted to elope with a young girl, close to her age with a large dowry, only to leave once he realized he would not be receiving a single pound. It was Georgiana, Mr. Darcy's sister! The sister whom Miss Caroline Bingley had taunted Lyddie and Kitty and Mary over, a short time ago.
"I was utterly humiliated and dejected, Lyddie." Georgiana confessed. "I was humiliated that I did not see it-I was completely taken by Mr. Wickham, even though I knew what we were doing was improper and that a serious gentleman would not have tried to convince me to hide our courtship from my guardians."
Georgiana's voice took a tone, a tone that Lydia had never heard from her, that made her take note and listen, as though she were not already doing so.
"You saw him, Lydia. For what he truly was. I had grown up with Mr. Wickham, and had only heard whispered, half conversations of why he would not come visit me at Pemberley, and only half hearted excuses when I dared bring up the subject to him. You had only met him one time, and did not have a complete warning of his character."
"You saw who he truly was Lyddie." Georgiana repeated with tears forming, as she mourned the outcome of such an incident, of what could have been.
"Thank you." was her whispered reply.
Fitzwilliam had reached Matlock house, four days later, after a long ride from Rosings Park. The Darcy carriage was a few hours behind him, and he had taken it only so that he could either sleep or change horses. He would submit his terms to his aunt and uncle, and then he would return to his townhouse for the night, and return back to Pemberley the next morning.
Mr. and Mrs. Gardner, before he left had assured him that they would not cut their visit short, but were unable to extend it any further, and so he made a note to speak to them about having his sisters in law to stay with them for an extended time period, when everything had settled.
The butler announced him, and quietly informed him that the Earl and Countess were taking breakfast with their two sons.
His uncle did not look surprised to see him, nor did his aunt. Richard, immediately bowed and then came to embrace him, while the Viscount gave him a brief acknowledgement. Fitzwilliam guessed that he had over imbibed again, and was in no condition to do much of anything but drink more and eat.
"Aunt, uncle, cousin." he said, sketching a short bow in their direction.
His aunt, the Countess of Matlock regarded him with interest, her cool eyes resting on his tightly restrained form.
"I presume you know why I have come, aunt." Fitzwilliam said tightly. despite his choice in wording, it was not a question.
The Countess stood up and walked to the sideboard, fetching a cup and filling it with fresh, hot coffee, and making it the way she knew her nephew liked. She delivered it to him, and said, with no hint of malice, "Yes."
Airily, she sat back down next to her husband, and clarified her speech.
"Your aunt came to us almost directly after she had harassed your wife, at her uncle's home in Cheapside," she said with a small sniff, "and then again, two days after she read the announcement that you had married in the papers. She delivered a rather impressive diatribe, in which she stated that she would not stand for your marriage, nor the shame and desecration of the Fitzwilliam and Darcy name, and was not pleased when I informed her that your uncle and I held no sway over you, financially or emotionally, and that you were the master of your own home, and thus, would make your own decisions."
His aunt shrugged elegantly, "I recall some half shouted threats that she should make you regret defying her, but quite honestly, nephew, I have effectively been ignoring your aunt since before you were born."
The last sentence was delivered with such a charming smile, and Fitzwilliam forced himself to calm.
"What is it, Darcy?" came the concerned tones of his cousin, Richard. His other cousin, the Viscount, snorted into his food, ignoring his mother's disapproving glare.
"My wife's sister," Fitzwilliam's voice was low, clipped, and barely restrained, "who is but a year younger than Georgiana, was attacked by Wickham, at Lady Catherine's order!"
He ignored the fumbling, surprised blustering of his uncle, the pleas of Richard as to the condition of Lydia, and the general antipathy of his debauched cousin, to focus on the surprise that flitted over his aunt's face all too briefly.
"He attempted to persuade her to walk down the street with him, to look at a landmark, while she was waiting for my wife and sisters from inside the milliner's shop. When she would not, he grabbed her, and when she tried to pull from him, he hit her. She was lucky, for one gentleman had tried to stop Wickham from taking her, but she is bound to her bed with a concussion and several bruises and scratches from that brute!"
Fitzwilliam forced himself to calm down, as he began to grow angrier and angrier at the general antipathy his aunt had displayed. He knew she favored Richard, but he was now fully understanding where his cousin had received his disposition from.
"Lady Catherine has been receiving a monthly allowance from myself for the past nine years. This has allowed her to pay off the debts that Sir Lewis left behind at his death, and not exacerbate her own. As of this moment, I have stopped her payments,and will do nothing further to help her, and have informed her of my decision. Anne, of course, will always be welcome at Pemberley, should she wish it, otherwise I shall have no dealings with Lady Catherine or anyone," and here, he stressed his words carefully, "who seeks to insert their opinions of my household business without permission."
Nodding to Richard, who silently communicated that he would follow him to his townhouse, Fitzwilliam gave the assembled party a clipped bow, and was about to stalk out of the room, when his aunt's soft voice stopped him,
"Fitzwilliam?"
He paused and turned to face her. Her face was wan, and it was probably the most discomforted he had ever recalled seeing her.
"I truly am sorry about what has happened to your bride's sister. You have my apologies." she took a hard look at her husband, before turning her attention back to Fitzwilliam and saying, "I understand, from Lady Catherine, that you have two new sisters who are out in society as well, and two younger ones who are not yet old enough to be out, who live with their aunt and uncle in," here she paused deliberately, "Gracechurch Street, which is a short distance from our home. If you would pass along our card to Mrs. Darcy's aunt and uncle, I am sure your uncle and I would be glad to meet them, and speak of their introduction to London society."
She awaited his reply, her face cool, calm, and collected as always. Fitzwilliam found that he could never not admire his aunt's cool head, for she never allowed her temper to rule her, and returned her offer with steps forward, hand outreached to collect her card.
It was given, and he left. He was ready to go home.