Wickham had nothing better to do other than walk through town and pick up some ladies. He needed a relief, one which Lydia did not provide him with, but she was somehow pregnant with her second child.

As he walked, ladies were glued to him and he was happy to have them. Beautiful, stupid, women. The world could not have gotten better. He put his arm around the one walking next to him. She squealed in delight.

"Wickham, you beast!" she said teasingly as her own hand traveled up his back, making him shiver slightly.

"Would you care to come for a visit? Then I can really show you the beast within me." he said, grinning wickedly. She giggled uncontrollably, attracting the attention of other ladies. Soon they were all in a buzz around him. Wickham grabbed the arm of one of them and escaped the crowd. He led her through the dirty streets to where he was living, walked her through the door and to his room. There he looked at her, grinning like a mad animal. He slowly advanced on her and when she was within reach, he stretched out his hand and stroked her belly. She giggled.

"Lara, you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen." he whispered in a husky voice. She lowered her head in response, blushing. Wickham stepped closer, his hand moving up higher until it reached her breast. He gently caressed it and felt the pleasure within him as she inhaled sharply. It felt good to finally have a woman in his arms. He sighed and let his hands do their duty.

In mere moments, they were both in bed, dressed in only their souls and pleasures. Wickham could tell Lara was not new to this, she knew exactly where to caress, where to kiss, and when to do it. The fires in his groin were burning madly with desire and he felt himself harden against her. His mouth found hers and their tongues met in fiery explosions of pleasure. He kissed the top of her breast and then her nipple until it hardened and then put it full in his mouth. A yelp escaped her throat. He moved his kisses lower, gently scraping her belly with his teeth, until he was between her thighs, driving her to near insanity when his lips pressed against her. She was deliciously wet. He looked up at her and grinned.

Lydia woke to the sudden pains in her stomach. They were small at first, but became stronger as seconds passed by. Then, as suddenly as they came, the pains left her. She sat in her bed, panting. Her hand went to her swollen belly. There was no movement as there had been only weeks ago. Dread seized her and what if questions pelted her mind constantly. She yelled out as the pains returned, this time, fiercer. She knew what having a baby was like; she went through this a few years ago. But it was nothing like this. Footsteps filled the hallway and light appeared in her doorway. It was Mrs. Dower.

"Honey! Is everything alright!" But one look at Lydia told her it was not so. The doctor was called immediately and things necessary for birth brought to the room. It was long and painful, and the result devastating. It was dead before it even came out, has been dead for a long time. It was blue and shriveled and resembled nothing.

Her one hand was in his curls, the other stroking his back, her lips teasing his neck. Wickham thought he would die of pleasure. She was exquisite, beautiful, and had knowledge of men.

She flipped him over on his back and was on top of him in a matter of moments. It was her turn to grin.

Lydia lay in bed, panting and crying silently. Will was sitting in a chair next to her. She had lost her child, her precious gift of life. The only thing she hoped would love her. But no, it had to die. Lydia sobbed loudly.

"It's no use!" she cried out, not knowing what she meant. "I hate this world! I hate life, I hate Wickham!"

At the sound of Wickham's name Will sat up straight in his chair.

"Wickham?" he asked. Lydia looked at him with hate pouring out of every pore in her body.

"Insufferable man." she hissed through her teeth.

"Do you know him?" he prodded.

"Oh, I know him alright, the son of a whore!" she paused, "I hope he suffers in hell!" she yelled out and turning away from Will, covered herself with a blanket up to her head. Will looked at her for a long time, thinking. How did she know Wickham? Could she be...? He stood up suddenly.

"You are Lydia!" he said slightly too loud. She did not answer, did not even move.

Wickham lay awake for what seemed like eternity. Lara was beside him, breathing softly, asleep. Why couldn't he get Elizabeth's face out of his mind? He practically stared a hole through Lara and still, Lizzy's face appeared on her body. Curse the woman, she must be a witch. He got out of bed and walked to the window, unaware that he was wearing nothing. The streets were crowded as usual with beggars and drunkards. Some were singing others were brooding, and still others were either dead or asleep, slumped against the walls of bars and shops. Wickham felt a slight breeze from a crack in the window against his body. He ignored it, his mind filled with thoughts of Elizabeth. Where was she now and what was she doing?

Tears slowly trickled down Lydia's face. What would William think of her now? Married to man that everyone despised! It seemed to her that her life was getting worse and worse every minute. She lay sobbing for a while until she decided that it was time for her to leave, to go home. Lydia unwillingly lifted herself out of bed, but her weakness forced her back into it. She lay there motionless and helpless.

He heard as slight rustle of bed sheets behind him. He turned and saw Lara looking back at him with those shining eyes. Wickham looked away in disappointment. Why wasn't it Elizabeth who was there? It was her face he saw there after all.

"Wickham, you have nothing on and you're standing next to an open window." he heard her say. He looked down and for the first time was aware of his bare body and the breeze against it. A small sigh escaped him. He walked over to his desk, donned on a robe, lighted a candle and poured himself a glass of whiskey. It burned his throat as it went down and he savored it. With whiskey he could forget things, forget Lydia, forget Elizabeth, forget everything. He sat heavily into his chair and looked at Lara. She gazed back at him in wonder. The way he was sprawled in the chair, the way his eyes were unfocused, his ease, and his partially uncovered body. To her, they were all signs of a lover ready to be bedded.

But to him, it did not matter. Nothing mattered when whiskey burned down one's throat. Nothing but the sweet taste of the alcohol.

Will paced around his room like a restless animal. She was married, and to Wickham of all the people. When he had read that in the paper ten years ago he had felt sorry for the girl. But now that he actually knew her, he pitied the woman. Wickham had been one of his college friends, a friendship that did not last long. He was a man of no value, but his face and ability to please women more than made up for it sadly. He could guess right now what Wickham was doing with his wife absent. He knew that the man hated his wife and was married to her against his will, though he probably did not show it in the beginning. Wickham was a man of free will and did not like people screwing up his plans. Though why he had consented to marry or even run away with Lydia, it was a mystery to all.

He vowed to help the poor lady, and if he could, give her another chance at happiness.

...Darcy... The name sounded sour in his mind. How he hated the man. If it wasn't for his intervention, he would have by now been married to a rich woman, or perhaps just Lizzy, for her beauty made up for her status and lack of money. Wickham's lips curved in an easy smile at the thought of Elizabeth. She was a perfect woman; smart, witty, beautiful ... perhaps too smart. He cursed Darcy again for intervening. His hand trembled and a small amount of whiskey spilled on his fingers and the old wooden table. Maybe he will go to that cursed ball she was having, after all, it did get postponed. Perhaps then...

Elizabeth was reading a book when Darcy came in. The expression on his face was troubled. He paused in the doorway and looked away for a moment.

"What is it?" Elizabeth enquired. There was no answer and thinking Darcy might not have heard, she repeated the question. In response, Darcy strode across the room and gathered her in his arms.

"I'm sorry." he whispered in her ear. Not understanding what is going on, Elizabeth gently pushed him away.

"What for?" she looked in his eyes. "Love, what's going on?"

Darcy turned away. "Your mother," he said quietly, "she passed away, just a few mornings ago." There was a silence. "And that's not all. Your sister, that we have painstakingly rescued ten years ago, she is missing again."

"Now there is a big surprise." Elizabeth said, her words dripping with sarcasm.

"Lizzy, I fear for her. She visited her dead mother the day she went missing. What if she's in some ditch, dead herself?"

"Serves her right."

Darcy just stared at her.

"What happened to you, Lizzy? You used to care for your sisters so much." Darcy took a step back as if to take a better look at his wife. Elizabeth turned away.

There was a long silence between them, then she felt his arms slip around her waist.

"Did we invite her to our Party?" she asked quietly. Darcy nodded.

"Then she will turn up. I know she will."