Tigger Warning: This story contains mentions of sexual assault, though it is not described in detail.

AN: Thank you to the first person who kindly reminded me to add the warning. I simply haven't interacted with in so long, I genuinely forgot, and added it to the description within 10min of posting the story. To the angry guest reviews that continued to come in hours after, I can only apologize and remark that I have no control over the speed at which fictionpress's servers update, try clearing your cache…


Chapter 2

Darcy was glad he had requested his greatcoat. The cold night air seeped around the edges of his clothing, tickling the back of his neck, and stinging his face as his horse moved slowly toward Meryton. He let the animal set their pace as its legs stretched and warmed. Now alone, Darcy could begin to process the events of the evening. His horror at the assault alone should not have been enough to justify his presence in these matters, some other motive was governing his interference. If no other logic presented itself on this ride, he was certain that finally, Wickham had gone too far.

He turned first to Meryton, stopping briefly at the inn, to send a few messages before proceeding to Longbourn. The first would be to Col. Forster. Though Darcy was not intimately familiar with his character, he had seemed like a reasonable man and a decent commander, and Darcy hoped he could be relied upon. He was certain that Wickham would be fleeing on foot, and a competent search by the regiment should detain him by morning. It was his punishment that Darcy was more concerned with.

A second letter, to his cousin, would be required. Col. Fitzwilliam was currently in London and would be quite upset if Darcy denied him his chance for revenge upon the man who had caused their family such pain. Darcy would apprise him of the situation, and inform him to expect the pleasure detaining Wickham until trial. While Darcy himself had no desire to be in the man's presence, Col. Richard Fitzwilliam would delight in making Wickham suffer far more than he had been previously.

It was only after these two correspondences were completed, and the first dispatched to Col. Forster, did Darcy turn his thoughts to the final message he would need to send. He had informed Georgiana to expect his presence the following evening in London. His plans were now uncertain, and it would not do to have his sweet sister waiting for his arrival if he were to stay longer in the country. He penned her a quick note, telling her of his new uncertainty, and hoping that she would not see it as a sign of something else. He dearly wished to spare her as much pain as he could. He sealed the two letters together and hired an express rider to deliver them to London.

Darcy didn't linger at the inn. The noise of a few boisterous customers, coupled with the local ale, was enough to add annoyance to his already dark mood. Though the proprietor was disappointed by his lack of patronage, Darcy was unmoved and hurried to depart.

The five miles to Longbourn seemed endless even as his horse settled into a swift canter. The evening's events swirled around his head, mingling with his horror at its occurrence, and guilt that it was even possible. Darcy knew that he played a large role in Wickham's freedom to act as the scoundrel he had just revealed himself to be. He and his father before him had served as Wickham's enablers for many years, to the detriment of any society he entered. Though Darcy was appalled by the man's actions, he knew him too well to be surprised.

It was his guilt that now drove him down the road to the neighboring estate. He felt the necessity of using his power to rectify some measure of the situation. He had cherished the entertainment Elizabeth's wit had brought him while in this country. That she was in possession of an intelligence that matched his own was obvious to all those that would see her clearly. He grieved that such brilliance was wasted on a woman of so little standing. And it was this lack of necessary connections and position that had allowed him to display his own wit without risk of exciting expectations in her at least. He was sure that she was as cognizant of her position as he was and found the same freedom in their difference of station.

But now, Elizabeth faced a hopeless future. Her options were grim even should Wickham be found. Darcy could not bear to witness even more suffering, nor to see the light in her eyes, that had so captivated him, snuffed out. While he had only disparaged her position before, he now understood her true value. And though he was loath do to anything to incite revenge on the part of Wickham to either Elizabeth or his sister, he was determined to save her from the bowels of despair she was presently heading towards. He could not in good conscious leave her to Fate's whims.

Darcy rapped his knuckles lightly on the door. The occupant bid him entrance, and Darcy quietly entered Mr. Bennet's library. The older man was sunk low into his chair, nursing a glass of brandy, and gazing unseeingly out the side window. Darcy was aware that his presence could be considered an intrusion and hoped his host did not resent it enough to demand his departure.

Though Mr. Bennet's eyes did not hold the sardonic twinkle Darcy had witnessed on previous occasions, his sarcasm remained. "I know it will be impossible to avoid gossip for long, but I trust we can rely on your discretion. No doubt, Miss Bingley would enjoy a lively discussion of our plight."

Darcy had no patience for mentions of his hostess. "She will have to suffer the disappointment, though I doubt she will do so quietly." At Mr. Bennet's nod he moved to the chair opposite.

"I don't imagine you have come to condole with me, my family not being of particularly high standing, nor my daughter being particularly well known to you. I suspect therefore that you must have some business to discuss. Your timing, sir, leaves much to be desired."

"You mistake me. I do come on what could be seen as a business matter, but I believe the time to be most opportune. As I am as least partially responsible for the circumstances that you now find your family in, I am compelled to do my utmost to remedy it. I would, if Miss Elizabeth is consenting, offer my hand in marriage."

During the course of this speech, Mr. Bennet's countenance turned from mild confusion and disinterest to full amazement. "And by what rationalization do you persuade yourself to this generosity?"

"You know that I have some history with George Wickham, though perhaps not the full extent of our dealings."

"I think it a safe assumption, given recent events, that the web so clearly woven around Meryton is, in fact, one of falsehood."

"You are correct sir." Darcy's voice was grave. Mr. Bennet nodded and reached for the decanter on his side table, and at Darcy's assent, poured them both a glass.

"Do please enlighten me. If you are serious in your proposal, you must have a strong case to present to my Lizzy." The elder man's particular brand of mirth unable to be completely repressed, even now.

"As ever, the best lies begin in truth. Wickham is the son of my late father's steward, and my father was his godfather and cared for him very much." Darcy paused, weighing his next words.

"We were raised together, for many years two only children of similar age on a large estate. When my mother passed, not long after the birth of my sister, my father's only joy came in doting on his children and godson. He generously provided for Wickham to receive the same education as myself. It was at university, and away from the scrutiny of his benefactor, that he revealed his true character.

"Upon my father's death, he recommended a living for Wickham in his will. At that time the living was occupied and Wickham was to be supported in his studies within the church until the position became available. However, Wickham announced that he had no intention of taking orders. He demanded and was paid the value of the living and a sizable sum beyond, totaling four thousand pounds, to fund his proclaimed desire to study law. I had hoped that would be the end of our connection.

"Unfortunately, not more than two years later, the living became available and Wickham again intruded on my notice. He made it clear that his situation was very poor and he had found law to be a most unprofitable pursuit. He demanded to be given the living as originally intended. I refused him. I knew his character was not suited leading a flock, and I had already selected another applicant. I again gifted him with a sum, a thousand pounds on this occasion and made it clear that upon his removal, he would no longer be welcome in my homes, and all acquaintance would be at an end. That occurred two years past." Darcy paused in his narrative. He surveyed his companion, attempting to measure Mr. Bennet's response. After a few moments pause, the elder man spoke.

"This is not a pretty tale, but a large want of prudence is a far cry from the depravity of wanton assault." Mr. Bennet took a sip of brandy and set his glass down with extreme slowness as he considered the information Darcy had shared thus far. "I believe you have more to share." He observed Darcy with a piercing stare, silently inviting his continuation.

Darcy shifted uncomfortably in his seat, drawing a deep breath. As much as his esteem of Mr. Bennet was growing, the final nail in Wickham's coffin was also a large blow to the Darcy's. It was information he had never intended to share, especially with a potential father-in-law. He began speaking slowly, hoping he could convince his audience without revealing the critical story. "As I mentioned before, it was while at university that Wickham first displayed his true nature. He readily accrued large debts of honor to many gentlemen and a few noblemen. Wickham used his connections to my family and my father's generosity to gain access to those circles, their card tables, and their debauchery." As he spoke, his speed had rapidly increased until his voice was clearly laced with disgust.

"By the time he left university, the debts of honor and otherwise were improbably large sums. When he departed suddenly, days before our planned return to Pemberley, I was left to discharge his debts, just as I had been doing throughout his adolescence in Derbyshire, though those were considerably less significant. By the time of my father's death I had done the same on two additional occasions. I believe the applications he made to me were motivated by a desperate want of money. Though I have not assumed any of his debts since that event, I possess far more than the necessary notices to require his detention in debtors' prison."

Mr. Bennet however was viewing him even more shrewdly than before. "I can understand your anger at his use of your family, but your guilt still seems misplaced if this is the true extent of his misdeeds. His habits are not yours, nor are they under your control. Unless you feel guilt for having assisted him to such a great extent, it is not accounted for."

Darcy understood then that Mr. Bennet's attitude of laconic repose was as much a mask as his own impassivity. While the man might be slow to rouse to action himself, he was an acute observer of others. There would be no escape, the Darcy's shame would have to be exposed to this man and his daughter at the very least.

Taking a second deep breath to steel his nerves, Darcy once again began the recitation. "You know of my sister?" At Mr. Bennet's quick nod, he continued. "She is nearly a decade younger than myself, of age with your youngest daughters. Upon my father's death, I and a cousin became her guardians. This past summer—" Darcy stopped abruptly when Mr. Bennet help up his hand, both annoyed at the interruption of such a difficult tale, and relieved for the short respite in the telling.

"I understand your reticence. You could not expose him without exposing your family." Mr. Bennet finished the final sip of his brandy and rubbed a hand down his face in a grave gesture. "You are an honorable man Mr. Darcy, and I will be frank with you. I do not know what hope we have of saving Elizabeth or her sisters by association. Even if Wickham were easily at hand, I could never require her to marry her attacker."

"She could marry me." Darcy replied almost too quickly.

Mr. Bennet quirked an eyebrow at this. "Certainly, she could, but I am unconvinced that she should or indeed would. I see how this act would assuage some of your guilt, but I do not see that Elizabeth is any different in your eyes than any other possible victim. Would you have come to the rescue of Lydia? Or Miss Bingley? She would be viewed as a more proper spouse."

At mention of Miss Bingley, Darcy's lips began to curl. By the end of Mr. Bennet's speech, Darcy's normally blank visage held a haughty sneer. "Never," he stated vehemently, "Miss Bingley is… The words I would choose are not fit for polite society."

Mr. Bennet replied to his agitation with a small chuckle. "So, we have established the rationale behind your guilt, and that Miss Bingley will never become Mrs. Darcy. But, you have not explained why my daughter should."

Darcy was growing impatient with his host's resistance. He could not understand why the man hesitated to save his obviously beloved daughter. "Miss Elizabeth does not deserve this fate any more than any lady, Miss Bingley included, does. But she is the one onto which it fell, and she is the one I would save. Though your family's position and connections are decidedly below my own, I do not require more prestige. I believe she will make a capable mistress for Pemberley, and I will ensure she is well cared and provided for."

"But will you make each other happy?" Darcy just gazed at him in askance. "I know perfectly well that you would provide for her. She would want for nothing except for a husband that truly admires and respects her. Life without joy and love is poor shadow of its potential. If you still wish for my daughter's hand, you will need to convince her to grant her consent, and then you shall have mine. Even now I would not force her. There is always another path, though it may be hidden in the thicket upon first inspection."

Mr. Bennet stood then, requiring Darcy to do likewise. As the worn patriarch escorted his guest into the front hall, his glass of brandy left untouched in the library, Mr. Bennet addressed Darcy for a final time. "I will ensure an audience between you and Elizabeth tomorrow when you come to call. We shall expect you to join us for an early breakfast. For now, I bid you adieu." He turned and made his way back into the library, closing the door firmly behind him. A maid returned his gloves and both of his coats, one bearing the crumples as evidence of its earlier usage and escorted him through entry with a curtsey.


Charlotte was inexorably pleased when she was finally able to step away from the chattering presence of Mr. Collins and leave him to the pedantic attentions of Miss Mary. The ride from Netherfield to Longbourn in his small curricle containing just the three of them had been only an added, but necessary, annoyance to her evening. In truth, the man was harmless, and on any other night he would have been merely entertaining bordering on mildly irritating, but her concern for her friend had put her on edge and lowered her tolerance for his bumbling monologues. She had spent the entire remainder of the ball in his company, both listening to his effusions and leading him with well phrased comments to talk himself in circles for her own entertainment.

Elizabeth would have enjoyed eavesdropping, for this was a skill Charlotte had learned from her friend, and though she practiced it with none of the wit or good humor Elizabeth possessed, she had mastered it none the less. Unlike Elizabeth, this game was not her foremost entertainment, and she held the insight she gained filed away on the off chance it became useful, not for her own enjoyment.

It was this skill she used to coerce Mary into conversation with her cousin in her stead. The two ladies had ridden with the curate as the Lucas carriage, that was carrying the remainder of the Bennet family back to Longbourn enroute to Lucas Lodge, had not been large enough to admit this Bennet daughter. Charlotte was nominated to accompany them for proprieties sake, as Kitty was too enthralled in her mother's gossip to desire the post, and Jane too lost in worry. Mrs. Bennet, who had been told that her husband had escorted her youngest daughter home when Lydia had become overtired, had failed in the midst of her tipsy effusions to notice that her least favorite child had not been accounted for.

Charlotte was pleased in the end to avoid the chattering gossip surely occurring in that carriage. The light curricle was much faster than the loaded carriage and soon outdistanced it. Their early arrival allowed Charlotte to slip up the stairs to Elizabeth. She found her friend partially wrapped in a coverlet and attempting to reach the buttons of her ball gown in the middle of her back. Her eyes jumped to meet Charlotte the second she heard the door creak, accompanied by a gasp.

"Charlotte, what are you doing here?" her voice was soft with confusion, and her face still slightly blotted from earlier tears.

"Mr. Collin's curricle is swifter than our carriage, even full with myself and Mary. I've left them conversing in the parlor with your father." She gazed at Elizabeth again with concern. "Do you need assistance? Shall I ring for the maid?"

"No!" Elizabeth all but shouted, "I don't need help, no one must see me, not even Betsey." As she spoke, tears threatened to spill again, and she increased her efforts to reach the buttons. "Too many people already know. I am ruined, my sisters are ruined." She stopped struggling for a moment, fixing Charlotte with the clearest gaze she had yet, "You need to leave Charlotte, lest you be tainted by your association." She made to rise then, as if to escort her friend out the door.

Charlotte preempted her, "Be calm, Lizzy. You are safe for this night at least. Let me assist you until Jane arrives." She noted the stiffening of Elizabeth's shoulders when she touched her back to free the buttons, but did not comment. She freed her friend of her dress and petticoats and was turning to hand her a dressing gown when she noticed the spots of dried blood marring her chemise. Elizabeth followed her eyes to the spots; she instantly seemed to collapse in on herself, curling back into a ball on the foot of the bed, just as she had against the tree.

"Now you see why…" Elizabeth's broken voice drifted off.

Charlotte snapped her attention from the awful truth laid bare before her eyes. "You know what you must do now, you must marry." Charlotte felt the controlled coolness of her voice reflected in Elizabeth's blank stare. "If not him, someone. Lizzy, you must marry as soon as possible! It does not matter who, your cousin would suffice."

But Elizabeth was shaking her head, "Papa promised me… Oh Charlotte, I couldn't bear the thought."

"You may not have another choice." Charlotte's voice was softer now, and she joined Elizabeth on the floor, wrapping her arms around her friend. And though Elizabeth did not melt into her embrace, as was her usual want, she tilted her head to rest against Charlotte's neck.

They stayed in this pose that was a caricature of their normal comfort, bearing the weighty silence, until the sounds of an approaching carriage intruded. Charlotte gently grasped Elizabeth's hands to gain her attention. "I must go. It would not do for me to be here when your mother arrives." Elizabeth just nodded silently, seemingly unable to muster the energy for any other acknowledgement. "I will ensure Jane comes immediately." She stopped there, as it was not any more in her character to offer meaningless platitudes than it was in Elizabeth's to receive them.

She gave her injured friend's hand a final squeeze before releasing her and rising to her feet. She quickly departed the room, glancing back briefly at the bed Elizabeth was seated behind. She allowed the grimace caused by her friend's sorrow to grace her features for only a moment longer before schooling them back into the expressions of patience they had exhibited previously. She reentered the parlor, though only Mr. Bennet noticed with a nod, just as she could hear Mrs. Bennet's exuberance enter the front hall.

Mr. Collins, so enraptured by his own soliloquy and Mary's bemused attentions, did not notice the return of his hostess until she entered the room. However, any attempt he might have made at greeting her in his own unique fashion was halted by her energetic expressions of tiredness. Charlotte maintained her usual pleasant countenance in the face of their mutual absurdity and bade farewell before climbing into her family carriage. She maintained it as her father waxed eloquent about the generosity and good breeding of the ball's hosts. And she maintained it as her concern for her dear friend dominated her thoughts.