Elizabeth was suddenly awakened by a loud noise right outside her door.

"Who is there?" she asked, her sleep wiped away in a matter of moments. There was commotion outside the door before an answer came.

"Pardon me, ma'am. Tis only I, Hannah. I'm sorry, ma'am." Hannah's face appeared in the door smiling apologetically. Elizabeth sighed.

"What are you up To, Hannah?"

"Oh, we are preparing for the party, miss. Its today, don't you know." And her face disappeared. Elizabeth sat in her bed, waiting for the words to sink in. A party, there was to be a party today. Suddenly it hit her. There was a party today at her house and she wasn't even ready! Quickly scrambling out of bed she hurried to her closet and picked out a dress to wear. It was simple and plain. Good enough for work. She donned it and proceeded to the basin to wash her face and hands. The water was slightly chilly and Elizabeth was completely awake by the time she was finished. Now all she had to do was find Mr. Darcy. She went to the door and was about to open it when it opened for her. Mr. Darcy was standing in the door way, smiling broadly.

"Good morning, love. Sleep well?" He had a big grin on his face that suggested to Elizabeth that something is amiss. She peered closer into his face, but no matter how hard she tried, his expression revealed nothing.

"What?" she asked, finally giving up. He did not answer but only looked outside. Elizabeth followed his gaze and tried to figure out what he was looking at. The sun was up and the skies clear, there was his horse in the yard, waiting for him, there was...the sun.

"Did I really sleep that long?" she asked incredulously. With the big smile still on his face, he nodded. Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief. That rarely happened to her, and when it did it was only after a day's hard work and a late bed time. As far as she could remember her day was not busy and she went to bed early.

"I'm going into town today to get some things for the party." Darcy's words broke into her thoughts. Elizabeth nodded. "Do you need anything, dear?" She shook her head no. Darcy nodded, and, giving Elizabeth a hug, left.

The streets of London were crowded and Lydia had a hard time getting around people. Pushing them out of her way, sometimes unnecessarily hard, she made her way to the station. There, she ordered a carriage and asked if it will be able to take her to Longbourn. Pulling out whatever money she had left, she paid for the journey and got into the carriage.

The journey wasn't long, but it was painful. Lydia jumped in her seat every time the carriage went over a bump; which, to her annoyance, was often.

Her mind was numb and her head spun. To think her husband didn't love her the whole time they were married. Why did her marry her at all? That Darcy was nothing but trouble for them. He forced them to marry, and, in fact, Lydia would have disappointed if they didn't. She sighed. In the next minute she spotter her mother's house. It was old and looked very un-kept. The paint was pealing off of every wall, the windows were filthy, the garden overgrown, and the grounds looked like they have not been swept ever since she left the house with Wickham. A pain stabbed through her heart as the thought of Wickham crossed her mind. She looked around the grounds again. This will give her something to work on and take her mind off things, off Wickham.

Lydia came up to the house, remembering the last time she saw it. Her shoe family was there, waving her good-bye. Her hand reached for the rusting doorknob but stilled as it came over it. She looked at it. It was barely held by the screws to the door. A spider crawled across it. Lydia quickly jerked her hand away from it. She hated spiders and glared fearfully at the one on the doorknob. It stopped as if to glare back, but after a moment went on its way. Cautiously, Lydia leaned forward to check if there were more of them, but there were not. She reached again for the doorknob and opened the door. Old and musty smells enter her nostrils. Her face screwed in disgust. There were cobwebs in every corner, ankle-deep dust on the floor and much more on the furniture or anything where it could collect. Lydia picked up her skirts and tentatively proceeded to the familiar staircase up to her mother's bedroom.

"Mama?" she called. There was no response. She called again but to no avail. Lydia was about to climb up the steps when she noticed a pile of letters at the bottom of it. She curiously looked at them, afraid to touch the dust-covered things. They looked old and the paper yellowed. Some of the corners were already tethered and the ink was disappearing. Lydia peered up the staircase and called her mother again. But the house was as silent as a stone. Fearing the worst, Lydia gathered her skirts about her and placed her foot on the first stair. It creaked under her weight, an old and wailing kind of creak. She paused. What if the staircase won't hold her? Hesitantly, Lydia stepped fully onto the old stair. To her relief, it did support her weight and did not crash from under her feet. She smiled. I guess being small isn't so bad after all, she thought. She proceeded further up without any unfortunate events.

Lydia found her mother's bedroom door closed, as usual. Mayhap she was just asleep, Lydia hoped. She knocked on the door. No answer. Taking hold of the doorknob, she opened the door...and let out a small scream at what she saw. Her mother was seated in a char, or was rather slumped in it, ghostly pale and looking quite dead. Lydia stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the spectacle before her. No, it couldn't be! It was not possible! No! screamed Lydia's mind. Tears welled up in her throat and a couple rolled down her pale cheek. She made no movement to wipe it away.

"No!" she yelled out loud, and, turning around, rand down the old and creaking stairs, through the dusty living room and out the front door. She didn't stop until the Longbourn residence was well out of site. It was a dead house now, one for which no one care for anymore. She could never come back to it again. Tears streamed down her face as she ran. Twice she tripped and twice she had gotten up to continue in her plight from what she knew not. Her skirts were covered in mud and her one of her shoes was now missing. Her family was truly dead now, for no one cared for her anymore, save for Kitty, but even she now lived lavishly and didn't visit very often and when she did it was only to brag about her good and happy life and complain about small things.

Unable to run anymore, Lydia flung herself on the ground and buried her face in her sleeves. Its not fair! Her mind cried, Things weren't supposed to turn out this way! I was supposed to be the lucky one! And now she is the wretched one. Her body shook with violent sobs and she made no effort at hiding any emotion. It began to rain and Lydia sent a curse up at the skies, at God, and at anything that might be up there that was responsible for her misfortune.

"Oh, I am a miserable wretch indeed!" she wailed, and in her wailing did not hear the sound of carriage wheels on the sodden ground. She wasn't aware of the carriage until it was almost on top of her. The horses skidded to a halt inches away from her sprawled body. Lydia slowly raised her head and looked up into their snouts, their warm breath washing over her.

"What is it?" she heard a voice call from within the carriage. "What's going on?"

Lydia saw a pair of feet coming towards her, then felt two strong hands lift her off the ground. It must have been a man, she guessed. Suddenly dread seized her, what if it was Wickham? Her eyes shot up to the concerned face that was looking at her and immediately went down. It was a man, but it was not Wickham. Oh, but his face was so handsome, much more so than Wickham's! And his eyes were so blue and so piercing. She grabbed hold of his arm to steady herself, but her knees were weak and buckled under her. The man caught her in his arms.

"Come," he said with a thick accent which Lydia could not place, "Get up. I shall help you. Come." She lifted her face up to his and weakly smiled.

"You are a stranger," she whispered in a barely audible voice, "yet you care for me more than my husband ever has." And she fainted.