Thank you for coming along on the ride, despite the grisly start of the story. Sorry, I killed off Mr. Darcy senior and Mr. Bennet in one go. You will know the age of D&E and more in this chapter. For the guest who wants to register with Austen Underground, if you are over 18 years old, you can contact me via PM or via Facebook messages. Happy reading and stay safe!

Chapter Two

Fanny Bennet was furious. Her husband was away in London again, this time with his friend George Darcy, whom she despised. She hated the worthless farmer, who spent too much of his time corrupting her husband. She was in her husband's study with Mr. Morris, as usual, when her husband was away. And she vented her frustrations.

"I do not know what secrets they get up to in London, but they better not cost—we haven't any money to spare," Mrs. Bennet fumed.

"Yes, Fanny. I do not know what they are attending either, but surely it only regards Mr. Darcy," Mr. Morris said, trying to placate her.

"That Darcy. He and his son do nothing but bring down our status when we should be moving up in the world. I can hardly stand it."

"I agree," replied Morris. "You deserve much more than this." Mr. Morris was one of the solicitors in the town of Hertford. He preferred to leave his office to his clerk and travel to the small towns nearby to drum up businesses. After all, there were a lot of lonely gentlewomen and dull gentlemen in need of legal advice. He was not entirely convinced about the true situation of George Darcy, the farmer the London lawyer Kingsway put in to look after the lease of Netherfield Park.

"I know, Morris," said Mrs. Bennet with a sigh. "I have been so unhappy all these years. The last straw was Mr. Bennet to allow Sir William Lucas to rise to the honour of knighthood by an address to the king during his mayoralty. I couldn't forget the day I had to call his wife Lady Lucas. Surely if I had known what my life was to be, I would have made other plans." Mrs. Bennet gazed at the solicitor flirtatiously, who placed a hand on top of hers.

Just then Mrs. Hill, the housekeeper, rushed into the room. "Madam," she said urgently.

"Go on then," Mrs. Bennet said, annoyed at the intrusion.

Mrs. Hill paused. "It is the master, madam. The carriage, and h-he has been found dead near an escarpment about five miles from here."

"What?" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed.

"I am terribly sorry, madam," Mrs. Hill said. "A coachman found them and Sir Williams was sent for. But he is away in Hertford today."

"Them?" Mr. Morris said.

"Yes, our coachman, the postillion and the master's travel companion have passed too. Mr. Darcy, it is believed."

"My god," said Mrs. Bennet, stunned. "Yes, well, ask the girls and young Fitzwilliam to come."

As Mrs. Hill left, Mr. Morris turned to Mrs. Bennet, a devilish gleam in his eyes. He was surprised to find her shedding a tear.

"Do you weep for your husband, Fanny?" Morris asked. He knew how much she detested her husband.

"No, I weep for Longbourn! You know how little Mr. Bennet has left us. We have hardly had time to plan for such a thing!" Mrs. Bennet said angrily.

"We will secure everything we need, Fanny. Trust me," Morris said.

"I need to devise a plan, Morris. It is good that Sir William is away. Can you go and collect the bodies and any information you might be able to find regarding Thomas's excursion to London?" Mrs. Bennet said, pulling herself together.

"Right away, I shall be off without haste," said Morris. "But Fanny?"

Mrs. Bennet looked up to meet him. He met her with a kiss, that she returned passionately.

"Yes?" she said, looking around to be sure no one saw them.

"Now we can truly be together," Morris said with a dark grin. Mrs. Bennet's smile fell as she watched him go. She would let him believe that, for now.

~P&P~P&P~P&P~

Sixteen-year-old Fitzwilliam Darcy wandered around the little wilderness on one side of Longbourn with his dear friend Elizabeth and her sisters. Fitzwilliam watched Elizabeth collect flowers with Mary, to whom she was closest. He was fond of Elizabeth's bright green eyes and chestnut hair and often found himself watching her, though it embarrassed him when she caught his eye. Her other sisters, Jane, Lydia and Kitty, gossiped about fashion and whatnot at the other end.

"Lizzy! How long will you all stand there collecting those little plants? We were meant to go to the stables," Fitzwilliam said with a blank face.

Elizabeth glared at him. "These are used for ulcers and burns. You go on and I'll catch you up!"

"I know, of course!" Fitzwilliam grinned.

"And you jest?" Elizabeth shook her head with a smile. "You are such a clown!" The pair had a great friendship for the past five years, as Fitzwilliam was tutored by his father and did not go to school. Elizabeth was two years younger than him. She was fun, friendly, bright and witty.

Just then, they heard a servant call for them. "Misses Bennet! Master Fitzwilliam! Mrs. Bennet must speak with you at once!"

Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth looked at each other with confusion. Mrs. Bennet did not often want to speak with them. They, along with Jane, Mary, Kitty and Lydia, walked back to the main parlour of Longbourn, where Mrs. Bennet waited for them with grim eyes.

"Girls. Fitzwilliam," Mrs. Bennet said gravely.

Elizabeth looked up, startled by the look on her mother's face.

"What is it, mother? Has something upset you?" she asked.

"Your father has been killed in a carriage accident," Mrs. Bennet said sternly.

Mary burst into tears. Kitty and Lydia, the two youngest, shouted. Jane, the oldest, looked down at the posy of flowers she picked. Elizabeth stared at her mother; silent tears flowed on her face.

"What about Mr. Darcy and the servants?" Elizabeth asked for Fitzwilliam, immediately remembering that her father mentioned he was to accompany Mr. Darcy to London. She looked at her friend, who was pale with anticipation.

"He has passed as well," said Mrs. Bennet with disdain. "together with the servants."

Fitzwilliam slumped down to the chair in shock.

"There is much to do," Mrs. Bennet continued, without giving Fitzwilliam another glance. She paused for just a moment before leaving.

Elizabeth looked after her mother as she left the room, her eyes burning with tears. She could not understand her mother's disdain towards Fitzwilliam at times, especially now. She turned to Mary.

"Oh, Mary," Elizabeth said, cradling Mary in her arms.

"I c-can't believe Papa is gone," little Mary said between sobs.

Elizabeth could hardly speak and held onto Mary more tightly. She looked to Fitzwilliam, who stared silently at the floor. She wished badly to comfort him, but Mary needed her.

"Where do you suppose we will live? I don't want to move," asked Lydia excitedly.

"I do hope we move to London," said Jane, "I would love to finally be able to attend balls in London." She, Kitty and Lydia looked excitedly at each other and began to chat about the prospects of enjoying London.

"Have you not care? Papa is dead!" Elizabeth exclaimed, clinging onto Mary further.

Jane was as unruffled as her mother by the news. She only looked annoyed after Elizabeth's outburst.

"I am sad about Papa, Lizzy, but I suppose death is a part of life," said Jane.

"Papa is dead! I shall never see him again!" cried Mary, who struggled out of Elizabeth's arms and ran up the stairs to her bedchamber.

"You three ought to be ashamed of yourselves! If you care not about Father, at the very least, show compassion to us that do!" Elizabeth shouted at her sisters.

Elizabeth rushed upstairs to comfort Mary. She patted her back for some time until she settled down and fell into a deep sleep. Elizabeth left Mary then and asked Mrs. Hill for detail about the accident. When she walked back to the parlour, only Fitzwilliam remained. He was still sitting, staring at his hands.

"Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth said, coming over to him. She brushed the hair out of his face, saddened to see the streaks of tears. "I am so sorry about your father and leaving you alone."

"As am I, Elizabeth," he said quietly. "I- I know Mary is your priority. I- I need to return home."

"I will see you out," Elizabeth said, helping him up.

The pair walked to the stables, where they sat on a bench. After a moment of silence, Fitzwilliam wrapped his arms around her and she fell to pieces.

"Oh, Fitzwilliam. I cannot believe it," Elizabeth said, sobbing.

"Nor can I. This burns me in a manner I would have never imagined," Fitzwilliam said, tears brimming in his eyes.

"Poor Mary cried herself sick and she was never the emotional one. I do not understand how Jane, Kitty and Lydia can be so cold. Papa was so good to us," Elizabeth said sadly.

"I can't pretend to understand your sisters. I feel as though my heart has been ripped from my chest," murmured Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth said nothing for a moment.

"Your father was so kind, Fitzwilliam. I will miss him," she said.

"I will miss yours too, Mr. Bennet was most generous with us," said Fitzwilliam.

"What do you think will happen to us now?" Elizabeth said with despair.

"I know not, Lizzy," Fitzwilliam said carefully. "But I will not leave you."

"Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth said quietly, "You will return to Pemberley. I have overheard you and father discussing the estate plenty enough."

Mr. Darcy had told Fitzwilliam to keep word of his fortune quiet around the the neighbourhood, as it was for the best to draw as little attention to them as possible. However, Elizabeth missed nothing.

Fitzwilliam sighed. "I suppose I could, but I do not wish to be alone among ghosts."

"I understand. What about your mother?" Elizabeth asked gingerly.

"I have not seen my mother in many years. She would write, but the letters infuriated my father, and he would not let me read them. I suppose she will want to meet with me again, however," said Fitzwilliam. "I have seen my cousin Richard in London a few times."

"I see," Elizabeth said.

"As I said, Elizabeth, I will not leave you. I have seen the way your mother treats you and Mary, and I do not wish for you to be alone," Fitzwilliam said, taking her hand into his.

"Thank you, Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth said, pausing for a moment. "I asked Mrs. Hill for more detail about the accident. It seemed Mr. Robertson must have gone too fast at the bent and lost control of the horses, and the carriage flipped. That seems so strange because he knew the roads like the back of his hand," she mentioned to him.

"Strange or not, they are dead, Elizabeth. Nothing else matters," Fitzwilliam responded quietly.

Elizabeth looked up at Fitzwilliam's dark eyes, noticing the tears and exhaustion in them. His shoulders trembled with exhaustion and despair.

"Shall you stay, Fitzwilliam? I could get a servant to prepare a guest chamber for you. You are, after all, family to us," Elizabeth said, composing herself, wanting to be strong for her dearest friend.

"Family?" Fitzwilliam whispered.

"Of course," she said with a faint smile. "You are like a brother to me, Fitzwilliam." Elizabeth turned to make her way back to the house when he caught her arm.

"Not a brother, surely," said Fitzwilliam; his dark eyes were deep and fathomless for a time before letting Elizabeth go. "No, I cannot. I must return to Netherfield to inform the servants."

Elizabeth flushed, clearing her throat. "Right, I suppose you must go. Will you come back tomorrow?"

"I will. There will be much to discuss," Fitzwilliam said. He bade farewell to Elizabeth, watching her form disappear into the twilight. He wondered if Elizabeth would ever view him as more than a friend or brother.

Saddling up his horse Gideon, Fitzwilliam felt his tears return. As he rode back to Netherfield, he recalled the last time he saw his beloved father…

"I shall not be gone long, Fitzwilliam!" Mr. Darcy said as he prepared to enter the carriage that would take him to Longbourn to meet Mr. Bennet. "Be ready to clean the horse's hooves!"

Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes at his elderly father jestingly before nodding. Mr. Darcy mussed Fitzwilliam's cropped hair before smiling at him. His father insisted on teaching Fitzwilliam to care for his own horse.

"There's a good lad," Mr. Darcy said with a warm smile.

"Might we have some of your good brandy when we finish?" Fitzwilliam asked with a devilish gleam.

"Perhaps, my boy, perhaps," Mr. Darcy said, laughing as the carriage drove off.

Fitzwilliam forced the memory out of his mind with anguish, riding faster and faster.

~P&P~P&P~P&P~

In the days after, Sir Williams, the magistrate, ruled the deaths both accidents and the funeral services happened in quick succession. Mr. Collins would be arriving to move into Longbourn soon and time was running out. Mrs. Bennet desperately needed to figure out how to secure more money.

She had planned to marry off her daughters very well, ensuring riches well into her old age. Mrs. Bennet never expected that Thomas would pass before their oldest daughter had not even reached seventeen. She cursed Thomas's name, not for the first time.

The breakthrough finally came through the next day, the Bennet women and Fitzwilliam took lunch, all seeming to wilt over their soup.

"What are we to do now, Mama?" asked little Lydia.

Mrs. Bennet looked impeccable in her black silk mourning dress. "As you know, Mr. Collins is the new rightful heir, so I suppose we will have to move. I do not expect him to want five young girls running about."

"Shall we go to London?" asked Jane, identical to her mother in countenance.

"Perhaps. If your father had not left us in such straits, we might not have to consider this. I suppose we might stay with my mother for some time," Mrs. Bennet replied sourly.

Jane seemed to beam at this, wanting badly to become the belle of London society.

"Do not look so ecstatic, Jane," Mrs. Bennet said. "Our allowance is two hundred pounds a year— that is hardly enough to buy new gowns, if we can afford to buy anything at all." She cast an unpleasant glance, obviously bitter at the prospect of going without.

Lydia then looked at Fitzwilliam. "I saw you talk to a rider from London. He is so handsome!"

"What rider?" Mrs. Bennet asked curiously.

"I am to attend Father's solicitor in London for the reading of will," Fitzwilliam replied honestly.

"Mr. Darcy had a will?" What did that nobody Darcy have that I was not aware of? A solicitor in London who could afford an express rider?

"Yes, madam. I suppose there will be much to discuss regarding Father's estates." Fitzwilliam said absent-mindedly.

Mrs. Bennet flushed with excitement as she continued, "Estates? I thought your father was only taking care of Netherfield Park for a friend?"

"Yes, he has. Though I could care less about the money," Fitzwilliam murmured under his breath, finally realising his mistake in talking about his father's will.

Mrs. Bennet heard every word, calculating exactly how to find out about the full extent of George Darcy's riches.

~P&P~P&P~P&P~

A few hours later, Mrs. Bennet paced in the study, ruminating on her plans for fortune. A knock at the door sounded.

"Yes?" said Mrs. Bennet. "Who is it?"

"It's Morris," said a deep, quiet voice said. Mrs. Bennet let him into the room, where he embraced her at once.

"I've been waiting," Mrs. Bennet said impatiently.

"I know; I wanted to wait to come to you with information at a time when fewer eyes were watching," Morris said.

"What did you find on the day of the accident?"

"This," Morris said. He took out a package from his bag, uncovering a gilded dagger. "I arrived at the scene and found this left on Bennet's person. I thought it best that you have it."

Mrs. Bennet steeled herself, before saying, "This is an intricate pattern." Mrs. Bennet ran her fingers over the design on the handle of the dagger. "This did not belong to Thomas. Maybe it belongs to that no good Mr. Darcy?"

"I would not know, Fanny," Morris said.

"I think I need to find out more regarding the late Darcy's wealth," Mrs. Bennet said.

"Did you not often say this Darcy fellow was broke?" Morris asked curiously.

Mrs. Bennet recounted the afternoon's lunch to Morris with delight. "Estates, as in more than one! So now you see there might be money to have through the Darcy fortune."

"To be sure," Morris said hesitantly, "then this may be of use to you." Mrs. Bennet saw Morris retrieved a handkerchief from the bag. When he uncovered it and showed the content to her, Mrs. Bennet wondered for a second why he did not show it to her at the same time at the dagger. She examined the latest find. It definitely belonged to George Darcy.

"You are so resourceful," Mrs. Bennet stroke Morris's ego, as she considered how she could make use of the latest items.

"Only for you, Fanny! I shall obtain more information for you promptly. You are quite clever," Morris said, grabbing her into his arms.

Mrs. Bennet laughed devilishly. "I am even more clever now that Thomas is dead. Let me reward you for your service, my dear," she said, undressing, not caring at all about the heartlessness of her actions.

Not long after, Morris went away to research the Darcys as Mrs. Bennet sat at her desk, scheming.

"Fitzwilliam, Fitzwilliam, Fitzwilliam," Mrs. Bennet mumbled, thinking out loud, "You say you do not care about your father's riches. Perhaps they should be given to someone who will." She picked up her quill and decided to write to her mother, who had only returned from America recently.

Dear Mama,

I must come to London with the girls. I should only like to stay a short while. Thomas, as you know, has left us with hardly anything and Longbourn now belongs to that hateful Collins, whom I barely know. How am I to leave my livelihood in the hands of a stranger? I can hardly bear it. I have a plan, however.

Master Fitzwilliam Darcy, the heir to George Darcy, is to come with us. Mr. Morris is obtaining information for me regarding the extent of the Darcy fortune, which is more considerable than I first thought. I am sure young Fitzwilliam shall like to thank me for my hospitality by extending an allowance or placement at an estate. Mama, I am furious at Thomas for not telling me this. Who knows what could have been arranged previously! I could have gotten Jane to marry Fitzwilliam last year! I will not continue to live without the riches I deserve for being so beautiful. Thomas cannot play these dastardly games from beyond the grave.

I have been so unhappy, Mama. This was not the marriage that I desired, nor the end to it that I expected. Mark me, things will change.

Your daughter,

Fanny

Mrs. Bennet folded the letter and sealed it, setting it out for a servant to fetch. She felt deliriously gleeful as she thought about her plan.

"It is all coming together," she said to herself, laughing.

Suddenly, she felt a lurch in her stomach and could hardly make it to the chamber pot in time to void her mouth.

"Oh, no…" said Mrs. Bennet, as she struggled to remember when her last courses were. She cursed and then smiled.