AN: I added one new line from Wickham to Chapter One.
Darcy stood at the window, watching and praying for Elizabeth's speedy return home. Mrs. Bennet, as usual, was fluttering about the couple seated on the couch, complementing Jane on her looks one breath and then encouraging Bingley to do the same in the next breath. Miss Mary sat primly in the corner, her large book absorbing her attention. Bingley, of course, had eyes for no one else and noticed nothing.
A flash of pink caught Darcy's attention. One of Elizabeth's younger sisters, Miss Catherine, was running towards the house. Darcy sighed, waiting for the inevitable chaos that would ensue. Some silly fight with Miss Lydia had most likely sent her to her heels.
As expected, the girl burst into the sitting room, her gasping breath and red face attesting to the speed of her flight.
"Kitty!" Mrs. Bennet admonished, "What can you be thinking of, coming in here in such a state? I have a mind to…"
"Help!" Kitty broke in, tears running down her face, "Lydia… Lizzy… Wickham…" she gasped out, trying to catch her breath.
Darcy's heart froze at the man's name and he lunged forward, nearly reaching out to shake the information out of the girl.
"Wickham? What has he done? Where are they?!" Darcy demanded as Bingley laid a calming hand on his shoulder.
Miss Catherine looked up at him, her eyes round and lips quivering.
"He hurt them. He hurt Lyddie's arm and… and he…" Kitty sobbed, "He hit Lizzy and she didn't get up again!"
Darcy paled and Bingley gasped.
"Take us to them," Darcy managed to get out through his gritted teeth, "Now!"
For the third and final time Kitty ran, Darcy and Bingley in her wake.
Behind them they could hear Mrs. Bennet calling for her husband in tones even more frantic than usual.
-000-
Wickham dabbed at the blood on his cheek with his handkerchief.
"This better not leave a scar," he muttered, glaring at the pile of pale muslin at his feet.
He kicked out, hitting Elizabeth's hip and causing her body to rock, but she didn't even moan.
"Stupid chit," Wickham muttered as he kneeled down next to Elizabeth's prone form. He turned her over, her arm falling limply to her side.
"You've killed her," Lydia whimpered, curled up among the fallen leaves and shaking her head numbly.
Wickham ignored her, running his fingers along the neckline of Elizabeth's dress. He glanced down at her splayed legs and grinned.
With the sound of tearing cloth, Wickham exposed her breasts to his wanton gaze.
"No!" Lydia cried, struggling to her feet, her arm still clutched against her chest, "What have you done?! Leave her alone!"
"Or what?" Wickham grinned maliciously over at her, "What are you going to do about it except whine and cry, like you always do."
He pulled up Elizabeth's skirts, revealing her pale but shapely thighs.
"Stop!" Lydia cried, running up and attempting to kick him.
Already off balance from holding her injured arm in place, it was nothing for Wickham to push her away. He laughed as Lydia fell and rolled down the slight incline, crying out in pain.
Wickham stood and started unbuttoning his breeches.
