NOTES: Long chapter this time, weird POV. Focused all on the Bennets. Will post again soon! Love y'all, don't forget to tell me what u think 🌸
~Vinny
Mrs. Bennet had her head in her hands. Her husband was sitting back in an armchair, arms folded, clearly trying to suppress a laugh. The Gardiners had said their goodnights long ago, but Lizzy was still wide awake and sipping at a mug of warm lemon water, waiting for a response to her story.
She had told them everything that had happened since the carriage. It had been at least 3 minutes. They still had yet to respond.
"So…," Mrs. Bennet breathed in, "In summary, you wished for an adventure, broke onto private property, seriously injured yourself, spent weeks on bed rest in someone else's home, then just… ran away?"
Lizzy pinched her lips together, more from the lemon water than from regret. "Yes," she replied, after a moment, "I think that's about it."
"Oh my stars." Her head went back in her hands. "Mr. Bennet? What is your take on all… this?"
"Well," he said, while his sharp green eyes betrayed his amusement, "I think we ought to sack Mr. Bumpledink immediately. Clearly, he can better manage the drink on the job than he can children."
Mrs. Bennet smacked his arm, and Lizzy choked on her beverage, nearly dropping the glass. "Honestly!" She hissed at her husband. "I don't know why I asked.."
"But, in all seriousness, father," Lizzy interjected, setting down her glass before she could break it. "It wasn't the driver's fault. It was mine. I.. I was stupid. It was immature of me, and I am sorry."
He moved forward to cup her cheek. "Dear girl. I accept your apology. I'm only sorry that you weren't able to find you sooner. This all could have been better so much sooner."
Lizzy leaned into the touch, then pulled away, sighing. "Yes, it could have been," she acknowledged with a frown, "if it wasn't for that… that…," she struggled to think of the right word, "that GOOSE of a man, Mr. Darcy!"
Mr. Bennet threw his head back with laughter while his wife clutched at her chest in shock.
"LIZZY!" She gasped, "Don't you speak that way of someone who has helped you so generously! If it wasn't for him you— you would have— have died alone in the woods!"
"But he tried to send me to an ORPHANAGE!"
"So?!" Mrs. Bennet shrilled, her need to teach her child to be polite outweighing her need for politeness. "That nice man housed you, and fed you, andnursed you back to health! I'm just sorry WE didn't see his notices, or we would have found you and been able to thank him personally!"
"Fret not my dear," her husband said, once he recovered the use of his voice. He stood up, knees creaking as he stretched out his tired back and gave both women (young and old) a smile. "Tomorrow, I shall go to Pemberley, and thank him for all of us."
Lizzy's face quickly changed from her initial reaction— horrified— to a more thoughtful one. "Can I come along?" She asked, head tilted, "I would like to see if William's alright."
Mrs. Bennet, who had been about to explode in joy in relief that her husband was finally doing as she wanted, stopped to wring her hands.
"Lizzy…," she worried with her cuticles, "I don't know… It isn't proper, boys and girls…"
"But it's WILLIAM!" Lizzy pleaded. "He's MY BEST FRIEND! I want to give him our address, and ask him to write to me— please?"
"Oh well THAT decides it," her mother huffed with eyes widened to drastic proportions. "You are NOT going to Pemberley tomorrow. I do NOT want you exchanging letters with boys if you have no intent to marry! We can't let people think you're a— well. We just can't do it!"
Lizzy's nose had smooshed up into a disgusted line when she heard the word 'marry,' but then went totally slack when she realized what it meant. "I won't be able to hear from him— EVER?!"
"No, not ever," Mr. Bennet chuckled, ruffling his daughter's hair. "I'll discuss the subject with his father in the morning— I'm sure we can work something out— but for now," He half-covered a yawn, "Now it is time for bed, little one."
She stuck out her lip in a poor imitation of a puppy. "But Papa—"
"Thank you Mr. Bennet! Thank you ever so much!" The missus cried, clapping her hands together in joy. "Now everything will be wrapped up SO nicely! My nerves are put to rest at last!"
"Now, for the rest of you," he said, yawning again. "Can't let those nerves get lonesome."
Lizzy didn't protest anymore as she was led out of the warehouse and to the Gardiner's home (only a few doors down). She was tired, exhausted, really, and all she wanted to do in that moment was sleep. Funny how then she kept interrupting her own sleep, waking up in the middle of the night to check for a visitor at her door. Part of her groggy mind was still waiting for him to knock with the back of his hand, and smile silver at her when she opened the door.
William didn't come. Because of course he didn't.
But that was alright, right? She would get to see him… later. Not tomorrow— well, maybe tomorrow, if she could convince her father… Then tomorrow was half gone already, and Lizzy was being shaken awake with a persistent hand.
"Wake up," a voice said above her, "it's time to go. Lizzy. Wake up."
Lizzy's eyes opened to see her father's face above hers. Except something was.. wrong. He wasn't smiling. There was no twinkle in his green eyes. Everything about his demeanor was cold, and ashen, and quiet.
"Papa?" Lizzy quickly sat up, and rubbed at one eye. "Papa, what's happened?"
He didn't blink. "We're leaving in an hour. Make your apologies to the Gardiners— we'll not be visiting for quite a while."
"Papa, please," she said, growing frightened now. "What happened? You're scaring me."
Mr. Bennet looked at her, long and slow, then breathed out. He sat down on the bed, and folded his arms tightly across his chest. With very little pauses, and even less emotion, he recounted to his darling daughter every detail of his visit to Pemberley.
By the end, she was crying.
You see, the morning had started off well enough: after breakfast, the parents had decided to let the little one slumber a while longer, and Mr. Bennet had grabbed his hat and set off. The drive to Pemberley was bumpy. Inside the gates, the road was smooth as oil.
The carriage had pulled to a stop in front of the grand house, and Mr. Bennet had stepped out, somewhat in awe. He was incredibly impressed, additionally, when a footman greeted him at the steps, and took his coat.
Before he even reached the door, Mr. Bennet was introduced to a tall black-haired gentleman with a face of stone, who began with the phrase:
"We've been expecting you, sir."
Mr. Bennet's eyebrows (which had sometimes been compared to graying caterpillars his hairline was constantly running from) shot up in surprise. "You have?" He asked.
"Yes, Mr. Crawford," The gentleman (whom he assumed was Mr. Darcy) said with a nod. "Please come in, and we can discuss the child."
The caterpillars conjoined in befuddlement. "Ahm. Pardon me, sir, but I think you might—"
"Right this way," Mr. Darcy said, curtly, turning into the grand oak doors.
Mr. Bennet dawdled for a moment there on the steps. Then he shrugged, removed his hat, and followed the odd man inside.
"Now, this girl," he heard from ahead of him, as he struggled to keep up with the long-strided Mr. Darcy, "Lizzy, I believe her name was— she wandered onto my property—"
"Yes sir, I am terribly sorry about that," Mr. Bennet puffed, increasing his pace.
"Why should you be?" There was a forced chuckle from the great man. "It's not your fault she climbed my fence and got herself injured."
"Ah, no," Mr. Bennet scratched his head. "I.. suppose… it isn't."
Mr. Darcy finally stopped walking at that absurd pace of his when they reached a large room, almost completely filled up by a table of polished wood. He perched his hands on the edge of said table, and looked critically at his new guest. "Well? Is everything ready for you to collect Miss Lizzy?"
The guest nearly sagged in relief. So he wasn't at the wrong estate. Mr. Darcy had just gotten his name wrong, and well— there was little harm in that, wasn't there? So he smiled as he waved his hand dismissively, to clear any concerns.
"Oh no, sir, it's all been taken care of. You see, last night, me and my—"
"Good," Mr. Darcy cut him off again. "I despise unnecessary paperwork. That's how you know I was serious about evicting Miss Lizzy— children are always more difficult in that regard."
"Have… lots of experience, do you? With children?" Mr. Bennet said as he searched in his mind for what exactly was wrong with this picture. Something was very off about Mr. Darcy…
"Oh heavens no," the man shook his head emphatically. "My late wife was the child-lover, not me. I only have one son, and no need for more… urchins hanging about."
Mr. Bennet chuckled. Finally, on firmer ground. "Yes," he grinned, "they can be frightful nuisances can't they? Besides our oldest, we have one more lil' girl, and the wife thinks there might be another on the way.. 's gonna be a full house soon."
The other man tilted his head, displaying the first emotion Mr. Bennet had seen from him: mild repulsion.
"I don't know HOW you manage," he said, curling his lip at the mere thought, "To have children of your own, plus an orphanage full of brats to raise—"
"Orphanage?"
"— it must be quite the madhouse. Well. I am certainly glad, Mr. Crawford, that you were able to take Miss Lizzy in on such short notice. I don't want her in my house for a moment longer than necessary."
Now, it must be understood. Mr. Bennet was not a man of strong emotions. That was his wife's duty; to blow every comment out of proportion, and to swing between joy and grief and hatred at a moment's notice. He, on the other hand, was the sort of man who took what life gave him and made something amusing from the pieces.
It was hard to find anything amusing in the words coming out of Mr. Darcy's mouth. A quiet anger was starting to build, deep within his stomach.
He didn't show a whit of it on his face. Instead, he nodded agreeably, and asked, "Was the orphanage your first choice, sir?"
Mr. Darcy hesitated. His eyes darted to the banister for some odd reason, then returned (calmly now) back to Mr. Bennet's face.
"No," he said, clasping his hands. "Of course not. First, I inquired with my butler as to any news in town. You know, in case any prominent family had left their daughter behind in the road." Mr. Darcy scoffed. "As if 'twere possible. See, Miss Lizzy claimed her father to be a gentleman, but.. well. She is but a child. And children lie. I suppose she must have come from a very poor home indeed, if she was so desperate to injure herself and befriend my son, all for the sake of a room and board."
It took all of Mr. Bennet's willpower not to storm out of there right then. He had to be sure.
"So you… didn't attempt to find her family, beyond ONE injury? And you disregarded all her words, her.. her mannerisms?" He hoped (for the sake of Mr. Darcy's teeth, and their residence in his gums) that the answer would be no.
It wasn't no.
The man sucked in a breath before saying, with a dry, humorless chuckle, "I suppose.., yes. She was.. well… to put it this way… I have hounds better behaved."
His fist connected with something hard and solid, and sparks of pain shot out from his knuckles. He didn't feel a thing. All he felt was bubbling, boiling rage as he stood over Mr. Darcy, who was crouched over, feeling his jaw.
"WHAT in the BLAZES—"
"Shut up," Mr. Bennet snarled. "Stop talking. And especially stop talking about my daughter."
Mr. Darcy's mouth clamped shut, and he stared up at his newfound adversary, black eyes giving nothing away. Mr. Bennet stuck a finger in his face, and bearded his teeth like a grizzly bear.
"That is my child," he said, "And she is a gentleman's daughter. She was raised on her own estate— not as grand as yours, perhaps, but at least respectable! She is a child, and you were willing to doom her to a life of poverty and misery— all for— for— for what?! A minor annoyance?! Shame on you, sir. Good day."
Mr. Bennet turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, shaking out his hand (which was now starting to ache). As he was leaving, he heard Mr. Darcy running after him, yelling, "I could sue, you know!"
"Oh SURE," Mr. Bennet growled, and turned around in an aggressive stance. "Bring the LAW into this. I am sure they will love to hear all about how you tried to send an injured 10 year old girl— a daughter of a gentleman!— to a workhouse!"
The man's stony demeanor did not crack for a second, but he thought it might have turned a little paler around the edges. "Get out," Mr. Darcy hissed through his unbroken teeth.
"Gladly," he spat back.
As the door slammed behind him, and the walls of Pemberley rumbled with his exit, a young boy hiding on the staircase lifted his head from his hands.
He breathed out, rubbed his nose, and went back up the stairs to his bedroom. So Lizzy had been right. All of the respect Darcy had held for his father had been built on lies. His family name meant nothing. He wasn't special. He was sure, he would never be fooled by status again.
Darcy closed his bedroom door, and sat down on the carpet. The smell of honey was fading from the air, and the room seemed bigger than it had before. He laid down, flat on his back, and pictured her face. He pictured what she might be doing right now. Reading and giggling at her own jokes, running through a garden or sleeping in with her looking a hair a mess…
What William Darcy didn't picture was Lizzy sitting still and pale as a statue, face turned to the open air of the carriage window, riding away from his home as fast as the horses could take her.
Not knowing if, or when, she would ever go back.