"Mother!"
Elizabeth's eyes shot up sharply at the long-awaited sound. She stood immediately from the chair whose upholstery she had nearly ruined with endless, nervous picking the past five hours.
"Bethanne!" She opened her arms, eyes blurry, to welcome her child. Bethanne ran straight for her. Their embrace was dear, tight, and overwhelming. "Bethanne, my child, you are back. You are safe!"
"Yes, Mother." Bethanne wept into Elizabeth's shoulder.
Elizabeth cried twice as much as her daughter did.
The rapid beating of Elizabeth's heart ever since the rescue party had taken off had nearly halted altogether at the sight of her daughter - and now it returned with a fierce vengeance, surging with relief against her chest.
"Oh, Bethanne." Elizabeth sobbed, gathering her firstborn as close to her as she could.
"I am well, Mother. They have saved me. I am unharmed."
It took a soft chuckle from Bethanne to finally assure Elizabeth of the precious reality of the moment.
Slowly, she released her child just enough to conduct a good perusal of her condition.
Her clothes were muddy, particularly the hems of her coat and her gown. One sleeve was torn. Her hair fell wildly around her in a half-state between fine lady and unfortunate victim.
Yet her daughter was smiling - and there was, by God's grace, no sign of any permanent physical harm having come to her person.
Elizabeth's sigh came out trembling.
"Oh, thank God - thank Him a million, thousand times." She hugged her child again. This time, both of them smiled. And soon, Elizabeth heard her husband's steps approaching.
"Elizabeth."
"Fitzwilliam!" She traded child for husband - and immersed herself fully into her beloved's embrace. She felt his fatigue as he leaned a large part of his weight upon her. "You have saved her! You are well - oh, Fitzwilliam."
The clasping and sighing and sniffing continued for many more moments - until a loud, deliberate cough interrupted.
Elizabeth reluctantly opened her eyes and gently stood apart from her husband.
Then, she hardened.
"Wickham," she spoke, a deathly anger brewing in her throat. "What have you done to my child and my husband?"
George Wickham's hands were instantly braced in the air, as if protesting his innocence. "I did nothing, Mrs. Darcy - only what I could to deliver them back to you safely."
"And am I to believe that you and your men knew of this abduction purely by chance? Should I believe you innocent in such an oddly-timed attack - and preciously fitting offer of help?"
To Elizabeth's surprise, it was her husband who cut short Wickham's anticipated reply.
"Elizabeth - blame him not," came Darcy's firm but gentle whisper. "He did well."
It took one minute for the words to take any form of coherence in Elizabeth's mind.
"Without him and his men - or Francis," added Darcy, "we could never have recovered Bethanne."
What followed confused Elizabeth.
Before her very presence, her husband and George Wickham - his brother by name and eternal enemy by right - exchanged a trusting, knowing look.
Then both men nodded.
"I shall have my men return," said Wickham.
"Thank them with what I provided," Darcy replied.
"I shall."
"And you should - stay."
"Me?"
"Yes - with your wife and your son."
Elizabeth watched with fascination as the olive branch reached across time, across counties, across generations.
"Very well. Thank you, Darcy," Wickham accepted.
The master of Pemberley nodded, reached for Elizabeth's arm, entwined it with his, and whispered to her, "I shall explain all tonight."
"I am all ears."
Darcy nodded, and even sported a small smile, before moving to dismiss every individual to their respective chambers.
"Mother, I - "
"Bethanne," Elizabeth stopped any protests her daughter could offer. "The hour is late. We shall discuss it all tomorrow."
Elizabeth felt relief at her daughter's immediate, obedient acquiescence.
She felt distinctly less relief at the longing, lingering gaze Bethanne and Francis traded before each was ushered to his rooms.
Last night had been a night spent in deep thought, deep words, and deep reflection.
Despite his physical pain and fatigue, Darcy had discussed the situation thoroughly with his wife until the last candle flickered to a feeble death. Their mutual resolution at the end of their lengthy conversation had felt half parts choice and half parts resignation. It was not a decision they had ever thought they would freely make - but it was the one that came upon them then.
And so it was that this morning, despite the weight of his heart and the ache in his legs, Darcy marched himself to his study with the bravery and dignity of a king into battle. Behind him, the two Mr. Wickhams followed as directed - sentinels of his will.
"Sit," Darcy said simply when the three men were closeted at last in the privacy of his sacred study, the door firmly closed behind them.
His two visitors complied with his request, and Darcy rested his own weary body on his favorite chair.
The surface of his desk separated him from the two men who had emerged and re-merged so suddenly into his life - both to aid and to rob him of his firstborn child.
"Were your lodgings suitable?" Darcy began, resorting to avoiding the true issue at hand.
"Your generosity is beyond what we could ask - or deserve," Francis answered earnestly.
George, as always, smirked. "Agreed."
Darcy nodded slightly and sighed.
This was a conversation he did not wish to have - but, for the sake of daughter, had to face.
"I thank you both for the role you have played in Bethanne's deliverance," Darcy began, his eyes fixed upon the table before him. "I am forever indebted to you for your aid - and discretion."
"Of course," both men replied.
Darcy looked up slowly. The older Mr. Wickham looked at him casually, even fondly - their friendship restored by the wielding force that is fatherhood.
The younger Mr. Wickham looked mostly calm, but his fingers trembled on his lap.
There was no use prevaricating any further.
"I have asked you both here today - to discuss the state of Bethanne's future." Darcy drew on the courage he had when Georgiana's now-husband had first sought his counsel. "I trust you both to understand that any word of her abduction would thoroughly ruin her and the matter must be kept secret at all costs."
Again, both men nodded.
"I am exceedingly thankful that the criminals had not attempted to harm her person. I cannot bear the thought of having her matrimonial prospects so thoroughly compromised," Darcy continued. "This entire ordeal has brought to my attention the fact that my daughter is now a grown woman - and it is imperative that I ensure she marry someone who could protect and care for her."
Darcy waited for the right moment.
Then, he looked directly at Francis. "Would you - either of you - happen to know anyone who could earn my daughter's heart, deserve her hand, and vow to protect her from all earthly harm?"
The weight and meaning of Darcy's question hung in the room for the longest half-minute of his life. This was his furthest concession. He refused to speak in any plainer words - lest it be misunderstood that he wished to have an alliance with this family.
"Uncle Darcy," said Francis, voice and lips trembling, "may I have your permission to court your daughter?"
And so it was - the moment was come.
Darcy was almost relieved that it had finally arrived.
"To what end?" he asked.
"To seek her favor - if she wishes to bestow it - as I strive to earn her hand in marriage," Francis replied, every word crisp.
Darcy nodded slowly, still overwhelmed by the latest series of events.
"And if she were to bestow this favor - how shall you provide for her?"
"I ask to court her, sir, for I know that - "
"Francis has an estate - albeit a small one - two towns away from Meryton," George Wickham interrupted. Both Darcy and Francis turned to face him. George smiled. "I purchased it with my own money - money I have wisely withheld from my wife. It is a modest one, but its income shall support my son when he marries."
The older Mr. Wickham regarded his son. Darcy watched with fascination as the facts settled upon Francis's face.
"You sacrifice too much for me, Papa."
George's smile broadened. "It is only right."
"But I dare not - " Francis turned to face Darcy now. "I did not know this, Uncle Darcy."
"I thought as much."
"And I - I asked only to court Bethanne knowing that I shall have no means to support her until I am granted the Hunsford living." Now, Francis seemed to talk almost to himself. "I cannot ask a woman I love to support me from her own funds. It should never be so."
Darcy waited for the young man to regain his coherence.
When he did, Francis Wickham spoke with bright, hopeful eyes. "Uncle Darcy, if - if Beth - if Cousin Bethanne were to consent to a courtship, do I have your permission to seek an engagement? I - I know I presume much - but it is only now that I permit myself the audacity to hope. Uncle Darcy, I - oh, I throw myself at your mercy."
For one moment, Darcy found himself with the upper hand - and the young man who threatened his very happiness now handed him the very power to destroy his.
Darcy surprised even himself with the ease with which he said, quite simply, "You have my consent."
The view was familiar. Georgiana and her suitors had walked the same paths, meandered among the same garden trails. These were paths even she and and her husband still took whenever time and weather permitted.
But now, Elizabeth found herself in the role of a spectator - watching with her very eyes as her only daughter blushed beside her cousin. Francis once more proved himself gentlemanly, always walking close enough to aid Bethanne yet far enough to maintain propriety. Their conversation was animated, with both young persons smiling in turn.
It was, perhaps, a good enough end to an unexpected chapter.
There was no doubt that Francis would propose before the summer's end. Miss Darcy would remain Miss Darcy for only so much longer. Soon, Pemberley would be dwindling in its occupants once more.
"Do you fault me?" Came her beloved Darcy's voice as he approached her side.
Elizabeth smiled softly, still facing her bedroom window. "How can I - when I am too occupied with blaming myself?"
"There is nothing we could have done to direct the inclinations of her heart." Her husband snaked his arms around her waist. Elizabeth leaned back against his chest. "You raised her well - and it is but natural that many would admire her."
"And what of Pemberley? Shall it be - "
"Do not worry." Darcy kissed her brow sweetly. Though not one for public displays of affection, her husband was always tender whenever they found themselves alone. "Edward shall live."
"But he is so frail - " Elizabeth's voice caught in her throat. To lose one child to love, and quite possibly another to illness - the very thoughts overwhelmed her.
Thank God her husband - constant, strong, and true - was her ever strength and stay.
"All will be well." He held her close. Elizabeth turned to hug him properly. "Our daughter may have observed what we had not. Francis may prove us wrong yet."
A quiet heartbeat passed before Darcy concluded, "He already has tenfold."
In the stillness of their bedroom, Elizabeth nodded against her husband's body. He embraced her warmly, pressing her dearly to himself. Elizabeth had no powers over what the future may bring - but here, in this moment, she had all she needed to have.
Perhaps all she truly could ask for was her daily bread and sustenance.
Tomorrow would worry about itself.
"There is one comfort, you see," her husband whispered above her head.
"Yes?"
Slowly, he leaned down to kiss her. She kissed him back with the comforting richness of familiarity.
He smiled at her after.
"I find some comfort in the thought that while my unfortunate daughter and her friend are doomed to stuffy walks in the formal garden until they wed - I get to have my wife in my bedroom, in my arms."
Eventually, even Elizabeth had to smile.
She pulled him close with the arms she had braced behind his neck.
"And what of it?"
"Plenty," said her husband.
And he proceeded to distract them both with the plentiful things they could make of the hour.
Thank God Bethanne, in her goodness and purity, was too far away from the family wing to know.
A/N: I only have a short epilogue left for this unusual story. I know many of you may not approve of the pairing, but the novelty really drew me in; and I hope I was able to make things interesting, at least. I plan to post a couple of shorter works before posting a longer work soon. I hope you'll enjoy them!