A/N It has been a while hasn't it, didn't realise how long until I checked the date. Feeling very guilty. All I can say is I'm really sorry! This chapter was tricky for me, I was really struggling to hit the exact reactions I wanted from Lizzy, I'd love to say I have now knocked it out of the park but... well I decided to just let it go, get it out on here, dust my hands so to speak. I hope you like it anyway.

I want to say a massive thank you to all those who took the time to review, the support I received was incredible. This story has been in my head so long and I never sat down to write it, having a positive response from anyone is so incredibly rewarding. Having this response have been phenomenal. I've been a bit conscious of my writing style too, I know I'm not a traditionalist, I'll head jump, interrupt, basically have a field day with the structure and grammar, but the fact that people have complimented me on it is so reassuring. So a special appreciation for those who have said nice things on that, that touched a special insecurity of mine x

I also received some truly lovely people just telling me that this story wasn't for them ( incredibly kindly) and that is completely fine, I am well aware that I'm poking and prodding a classic and deserve for some people to put their hands up and just say no, how dare you taint Mr Darcy with your evil mind.

Alas, like with my writing, I've never been one to stick to the rules so for all those who are sticking with this darker tale, I'm writing this for you x

Chapter Seven

Torn to Pieces

Mrs Bennet was holding court at the breakfast table trying to enthral the inhabitants with gossip from the previous evening. The two youngest siblings who had been absent from the ball listened somewhat enthusiastically artfully balanced with a youthful air of sulking. Elizabeth managed to enter the room and take her seat at the table without drawing too much attention, Mrs Bennet being kept occupied by her sisters; she gained a quick glance from the matron as if sensing the movement but nothing further. The sound of harsh piano scales vibrated through the room made Elizabeth wince though the rest of the attendants didn't react. It was unlikely that they found the disjointed rise in key pleasant, so more than likely it had been going on for a while and the others had managed to tune it out. The culprit was presumably Mary, with her being the only other sister absent from the table.

Elizabeth let out a small breath, fixing a loose hair away from her eyes and tucking her muddied skirts under the table away from her mother's eyes. Normally after such an excursion, she would head to her room for a brief refresh, but her father's unusually stern instructions had led her here directly. Even if it was spoken simply to get her inside not truly intended on confining her to the morning room but wanting her to vacate Mr Darcy's presence, she preferred to follow her father's direction in this instance. Listening to her mother's latest tirade she reassured herself that at least with her mother present, there was less risk of being faced with Mr Darcy again.

Her stubborn hair fell loose again, untwisted from its original simple design. Jane across the table covered a smile, having noticed her sister's rather unladylike appearance on entering; she looked pointedly at Elizabeth's torn sleeve with a mixed look of concern and amusement. Elisabeth just shrugged her shoulder in explanation and attempted to tuck the tear in her sleeve away somewhat unsuccessfully. Jane just shook her head pushing a plate of buttered scones closer to Elizabeth so they were in her reach then returned to listen obligatory to their mother. Elizabeth took one of the offerings, but only broke off a small bite and popped it in her mouth.

She should have worked up a decent appetite this morning with all her wild venturing, but her morning interactions had unsettled her. Both Gentlemen acting so unconventional to their characters as she knew them. Mr Darcy she believed was where the answer lay to her father's change in temper. She was running through their conversation during the ball and the interaction outside through her mind searching for any indications with little resolve. Even the small piece of the baked treat sat dry in her mouth, so she abandoned her efforts and placed the rest on her side plate.

"Two dances with Mr Henton, two! Mind you she talked far too much as I could see. I've said it before," Mrs Bennet stressed to the younger girls, but her head angled towards Elizabeth, blatantly pretending to be ignorant of her joining the table, "a gentleman doesn't like his ear talked off during a dance, especially not any clever sort of talk." Elizabeth just broke the remained of her scone into crumbs pointlessly on her plate, quite used to this sort of talk from her mother. A freshly poured cup of tea was placed in front of her and she took a drink from gratefully, a smiling Annie who followed it up by placing a bowl of familiar freshly washed raspberries.

"Oh but when Jane danced with Mr Henton," Mrs Bennet sighed heavenly, telling the younger girls with conspiring whisper, "she smiled so beautifully at him, now that girls is the way to a man's heart."

"Mama, please," Jane sent her younger sister a look of mortified apology, but Elizabeth just smothered a laugh and rolling her eyes comically. She took a handful of berries for her own plate hoping the soft fruit would be more palatable for her, before pushing the bowl over to sister. Jane took the peace offering with affection, knowing her sister would have fetched her favourite treat this very morning and therefore accounting for her appearance.

"Ma I would have danced with Mr Henton too or any of the gentlemen really, if father had allowed us to go," Lydia complained, Kitty was equally quick to join, making her own disgruntled feelings known.

"Oh I know dears," Mrs Bennet cooed sympathetically, picking up a table linen from her setting and refolding it pointlessly, "now I'm sure your father will allow you to attend balls again as soon. Now if either Jane or Lizzy would finally decide to get married, well then that would change things. You know girls I was married at seventeen, I certainly didn't leave things to chance," she reminded them proudly, which in turn made the elder daughters wince.

Elizabeth was fully aware of how her parents got married, and it certainly wasn't the romantic tale her mother had spun on occasion. Mrs Hill had simply mentioned somewhat fondly that Jane was a very healthy babe for being born so early and her mother, with very little skill in subtlety or foresight, had screeched the woman out of the room to the embarrassment of all who witnessed. A necessary marriage. Elizabeth had never spoken to her father about it, but she at least believed, unlike their mother, it wasn't something her father was proud of. At least knew he'd erred and then did the honourable thing, paying for it dearly if his attachment to his book room was something to go by.

A new set of scales was just beginning, and a plethora of incorrect keys were enough. "Oh Kitty go fetch your sister," Mrs Bennet snapped waving her table linen in the air dismissively,"tell her the food is here and I've had enough scales for one morning. That girl has no consideration, really, as if we all want to be listening to all that nonsense just after a ball." Kitty gave a deep routed sigh of jovial reluctance but stood up to do as her mother's bidding, it wasn't like any of the inhabitants were enjoying the musical attempts. On leaving the room Kitty paused by the window and turned back sharply.

"Mama there is a horse tied up outside," cried out Kitty excitedly, "but nobody has been announced?"

Mrs Bennet defied her age with a youthful spring from her breakfast chair moving over to the window wafting Kitty out of the way to get a better look.

"Oh look at that fine horse," Mrs Bennet gushed, "maybe it's Mr Henton come early! Although Kitty is right nobody has been announced-"

"-Mama actually," Elizabeth tried and failed to her mother was already continuing.

"Well, he can't have gotten lost between the garden and the house one wouldn't think. Where is Mrs Hill she must know... oh maybe he is speaking to Mr Bennet!" Mrs Bennet exclaimed excitedly turning to Elizabeth, "Oh Lizzy I just knew he would, you have your faults, your refusal of Mr Collins I have barely forgiven you for, I scared believe a man would take you but you are still my daughter, after all, you must have done something right," she turned to give her daughter a pleased look, causing Elizabeth who was in the middle of taking her tea to swallow her drink abruptly.

"Mama!" Elisabeth uncharacteristically stuttered, "We are barely even acquainted with the gentleman, to think he would…Mama really! I barely even know the man. None of us do," she looked over at Jane briefly, "Anyway-"

"Oh what does that matter, really child-" Mrs Bennet muttered impatiently looking back at the equine as if that would answer all her prayers.

"Mr Darcy," Elisabeth stood from her chair and cut in quickly to the surprise of the room. She took a breath before explaining, "it is Mr Darcy who is visiting, I spoke to him outside on my way back in," she told them, now gaining their full attention. She bit her lip and gave her own glance towards the window where his horse could be seen nibbling the grass edge, "he has come to speak of some business with father."

"Business, with Mr Darcy? What busin-" Mrs Bennet span around cutting herself off as she fully took in Elizabeth's full appearance. She reacted almost comically, her face filling with a warm hue, "Elizabeth Bennet!" she scolded, "Are you telling me you spoke to Mr Darcy," she took a further account of the tangled curls, right down to the mud spattered hem, "looking like that!"

Having expected this reaction from her mother ever since she entered the morning room, surprisingly the shrill tone still hit her with a wince. Elizabeth knew full well that she didn't look her best so she took the scolding with what she hoped appeared sincere contrition. Alas as if seeing victory her mother continued, "Frightful child, what must he think of this family, allowing my daughters to swan around the fields like some sort of, of," she stuttered as struggled to think of something insulting enough to describe her daughters appearance "sheep herder." Now Elizabeth nearly allowed a laugh to slip through her tight lips, unassisted by her sisters who also smothered signs of amusement.

"What were you thinking, I have half a mind-"Mrs Bennet's eyes narrowed as if smelled the mere line of blood from Elizabeth's scratch "is your sleeve torn?" she questioned with a horrified gasp "Elizabeth what were you thinking! My daughter dressed in rags, speaking to a gentleman" she shook her head with disbelief, "oh what must Mr Darcy of thought of you, speaking to him in this state."

He wasn't very impressed, Elizabeth thought with some amusement, remembering the way he had looked her up and down in that haughty way of his. He did however seem to find it a worthy exchange for the berries, but she felt that sharing this little addition would do little to soothe her mother.

"Mama, I really don't car-"

"What if it was Mr Henton?" Elizabeth did admittedly feel a slight twinge at that thought, finding out that she did actually care what Mr Henton's opinion of her was. She instantly scolded herself for that initial reaction, any man who objected so strongly to a slight dishevelled appearance, including a splash or two of mud, really wasn't worth his salt. And really any man of interest to her should be well aware of her love of the outdoors. But, Elizabeth would concede, maybe not be greeted so visually with that aspect of her personality.

Something must of shown on her face as Mrs Bennet took her reaction as compliance, "Get upstairs and get changed right away Lizzy," she turned back to the window fearfully as if expecting the gentleman to appear beyond, before spinning back to her daughter still stood there, not feeling the urgency as her mother was, "Now Lizzy!" she waved her daughter to the door. Elizabeth felt like she really didn't have a choice and didn't fancy facing the argument were she to request to stay, surrendered to her mother's will and heading out of the room.

"We need to hide as much of that girls wild nature as possible from that man," Mrs Bennet muttered as she stared out of the window. Another stilted scales attempt rang through the room, making more than just Mrs Bennet wince, "Kitty will you go pry Mary off that piano!"

"Daughters, I had to have daughters," Mrs Bennet cried to all that would hear her.

Elizabeth strongly intended to follow her mother's instructions, planning to dart directly through the corridors up to the safety of her room, all the while keeping a wary eye out to avoid her father and his very unwelcomed guest. Mud and torn apparel aside, she had little desire to come face to face with Mr Darcy again, no matter how unusually cordial and out of character their interaction outside had seemed. Strong was her conviction, she didn't even glance at her father's study door as she past it, so intent on reaching the safety of the stairwell.

"Sir, I am offering a lifeline. Your family is in tatters." Her heart froze, foot posed above the first step. Mr Darcy's voice murmured through the wood, barely audible above the sounds of her own breath. Her hand hovered over the curve of the dark wood bannister, unable to grasp it. She couldn't bring herself to move. What was he saying she couldn't seem to-

"because I permit it" Mr Darcy brutal words attacked through the door, "and that my generous delay has shielded you from the fallout. Without"

"How dare you," her father voice lashed out, "you have no-"

"WITHOUT this arrangement your family are ruined."

She sank to the steps, hand trailing down a bannister spine and grasping the wood at the bottom. She was aching for some mistake, that Mr Darcy was simply misunderstanding, or simply overestimating the damage, whatever damage that may be. Something had happened, that much was clear. Had one of her younger sisters been too silly just one time too many? Had some foul gossip hit the London society pages, unleashing the soft guillotine of poisoned words culling her family's reputation?

And what was Mr Darcy's involvement; he couldn't have come all this way to Hertfordshire simply to warn her father of some unknown scandal under the guise of business, there was no connection that would support such an action. Her father had never mentioned any significant connection with the man and they had certainly shown no knowledge of each other on Mr Darcy's first visit to the area. Her mind was running a thousand possibilities.

Elizabeth needed to know more but she couldn't hear past her family, and she daren't leave the safety of the stairwell, as much as she wanted to throw propriety up in the air and press her ear against the door. Instead, she was stuck listening to the overbearing sounds of Longbourn. Kitty's lecturing tones informing her older sister of her rather lackful talent at the instrument and then, "-debtor's prison" Mary refusing to be dragged from the piano, "your daughters will be reduced-" Lydia calling out to Jane to borrow her ribbons that failed to complement her fair hair, "-gruelling labour" her mother crying out to Anne to bring a fresh pot of tea, that hers was cold and how unreasonable it was to be serving cold tea.

Her foolish family filling the halls with mindless sniping. She was halfway off the step, giving in to the temptation to get closer, to hear clearer when she heard more than she wanted. "What will become of your family without an arrangement? How will Elizabeth feel-"

Elizabeth. Her name, her Christian name. Some foul creature curled tightly in her stomach. She couldn't think straight. What if she had done something, something she hadn't even realised, to ruin her family. Here she was blaming her younger sisters when it was her that must have fallen. What was Mr Darcy's involvement, had he heard about it, had he witnessed it? Something he had-

"Mary! Kitty! Where have those girls gotten to, we need to have breakfast over before any more significant visitors arrive, hurry Jane," her mother's voice and footfall gained volume as she made her way towards the hall.

Elizabeth forced herself to rise and scarper up the stairs. Being found by her mother loitering on the steps eavesdropping would only add to her mother's growing list of unmarriageable attributes that her daughter seemed to possess. She strongly doubted her Mother knew the meaning of subtlety, and the mere thought of Mr Darcy witnessing her eavesdropping in his conversation would just be the final stitch in her mortification. Finally in the safety of her bedroom, she leant back on the closed door and wrapped her arms around herself. Her family was ruined and with Mr Darcy involved it must be related to her.

She felt foolish haven even considering anything else. Her father, her mother, even her foolish younger sisters, they had no connection to Mr Darcy. She could think of no reason he would involve himself in regards to them. Elizabeth however, unknown to those she held dear, had crossed paths with the gentleman on more than one unfavourable occasion. With shaking hands she started to take the pins out of her hair, needing some action, some task to calm down.

She had heard of rejected men ruining a woman's reputation in retaliation to a rejected suite, but in practice, Mr Darcy? It was months ago, a year even she reminded herself digging out another pin. She just couldn't align that level of vicious action to him, even though she had accused the man of being ungentlemanly in the past she hadn't meant the insult in the full extent of the address. And yet if his surprise proposal had shown her anything it was of how little knowledge of his character she really had. To propose to a woman, a woman he barely knew, being so conceited to proceed without even confirming that she returned his affection. Not exactly the actions of a level minded man. Frustrated with her own trail of thoughts she went over to the dressing table, placing the pins on the surface and picking up her hair brush, attempting soothing glides through her newly released curls.

Her name, Mr Darcy had said her name as if he had some right to it, some propensity to address her with such familiarity. And it wasn't the first time he'd spoken it. Their dance, she thought with unease. His high handed ways, his chiding tongue… she had put it down to his unlikeable personality, maybe a simple determination to prove he no longer held favourable opinions of her person but… was it more than that? She hadn't even really processed their dance, the words he had spoken to her, the way he had danced with her.

It had all made her feel so uneasy. The way he had manoeuvred his way into gaining a dance. How he had toyed and teased her, keeping her on her guard throughout. His declaration that they were old friends when it was clear to both parties that they were anything but, more like adversaries crossing paths on a battlefield. Going even further, laying out her lack of niceties like a justification for for… she slammed the brush on the table. Elizabeth couldn't even grasp his intent other than to simply unsettle her. It had been no battlefield, no, she had felt so far from some warrior in truth, she may have defied him with a strong countenance, but in truth she had felt more like a pitiable insect flitting in and out of an ever entrapping web as he waited for her to entangle herself in his trap. Gripping the dressing table edge, she tried to calm her breathing.

She gripped it the way his hands had gripped her, guiding her through the steps, catching her and keeping her from fleeing when all she wanted to do was leave him humiliated on that dance floor. Elizabeth pushed the table away, needing to move, needing to think, trying to remember what Mr Darcy had said. Her father's business. Something about talking with her, talking with her after speaking with her father about business. She had been concentrating so much on holding her own, not allowing her confusion and how fundamentally uncomfortable she was to show, trying so firmly not to show any weakness. Was there a victory in his words that she hadn't sensed? A cruel relish in her unknown demise? She felt her breath catch more severely.

Her family was ruined. She was involved. She wanted to be sick.

Her eyes starting stinging as the panic starting to overwhelm her as she removed her outer skirt and rid herself of her torn dress. She hadn't even managed to hear much of anything, and what she had she had heard she might have mistaken. Why was she thinking so much, this panic wasn't like her, she needed to speak to her father, she needed to know that it wasn't true, that it wasn't her, she needed… she needed to breathe.

Her fingers started loosening the laces of her stays, pulling the corset apart until she could finally feel the air in her lungs. She held the back of her hand over her mouth to stem the sounds of her gasps, it wouldn't do any good to be found in this state. Reduced to her loose undergarments she sat on her bed edge until she managed to slow her breathing down. She didn't even know anything substantial, It wouldn't be the first time Mr Darcy had made a severe misjudgement, this concern was all so premature.

She looked down towards the dress pooled on the floor and reached to pick it up, running a finger over the tear in the arm mentally adding it to her mending list. The dress was a favourite of hers; she wouldn't see it sent to the cloth pile over such a small amount of damage and a few dots of blood. Mr Darcy had seemed concerned over such a small thing as the snatch of a bramble on her skin. He had even reached out to her, as if the check the damage. She found the corresponding line of red on her arm and a slight smear of dried blood. A scratch, barely even a wound, such a small insignificant thing to be concerned about. She ran her thumb over the tear again and again finding the concentration soothing.

She couldn't do this all day, she dropped the dress on the bedclothes and to pick out something that her mother wouldn't refer to as rags. Hanging a fresh blush pink dress on the door, she started tightening her stays. Nothing would be solved by staying up here, she would simply have to speak to her father and find out what has occurred. If questioned about her involvement with Mr Darcy well, Elizabeth pulled the strings on her chest a tad too tight and had to stop to loosen the tie again, well she'd simply have to tell her father the truth. Not a topic she looked forward to discussing with her father, especially if her mother was present. Receiving such a substantial proposal and rejecting it might actually cause some actual fits of nerves to appear. She pulled the dress over her head unable to stop a small smile to herself at the thought of her mother realising that she had rejected Mr 10,000 a year Darcy.

With the afternoon approaching and with it the respectable visiting hours after a ball, her mother wouldn't allow her to remain up here forever. Elizabeth was surprised her mother hadn't sent Anne or one of her sisters up to do her hair, not that she was complaining, but it did take a bit of effort to produce a respectable hairstyle on her own. She repined into a simple but pretty style, but one she was quite fond of. There was a level of anticipation of Mr Henton visiting which she didn't know if it was brought on by her mother's expectations, or the possible news of her family ruin. She did know it was no longer the gentle flutter she had felt before the ball. Mr Henton was still an unknown quandary; abet a very pleasant one that she would like to further become acquainted with. However, there was no getting away from the fact that a successful marriage would save her family and herself if ruined.

Elizabeth was just placing back a final curl when she heard the front door to Longbourn open and close beneath her room. Leaving her hair for a moment she stood, drawn towards her bedroom window. Keeping herself hidden behind the curtain, she looked out to see Mr Darcy striding across the front garden. He seemed somewhat distressed as he reached his horse, though the calming stroke he gave the mammal revealed at least a gentle mentality when it came to his stead. Could a man who soothed a horse be cruel enough to ruin a family? Is that what he had come here to do?

If she had been more materialistic she would have been his wife by now. Would she have likewise been staring out a window, a window much more grand than this, feeling equally uncertain of her future happiness? She may dislike the man, but at least she would have known her family would be secure, maybe that would have made it worth it. No, she was right to refuse him whatever happened now. Marriage is the most precarious decision a woman makes, a husband becomes her law. To make that decision for security, to a man she disliked wasn't a decision she could have lived with.

Marriage was a lifetime, a lifetime with a man she disliked under his control. She knew he had meant what he had spoken in the ballroom, that the offer of Marriage would not be repeated. He had spoken to her father of an arrangement. A sour bile filled her mouth almost instantly, but she pushed that thought away for now. She would speak to her father. She would speak to her father and it would all be resolved.

Elizabeth watched Mr Darcy mount his stead and leave down the lane. She watched him until she could see neither horse nor rider no longer. With every essence of her being, she hopelessly wished she would never see Mr Darcy again.

Thank you for reading, all reviews welcomed.

P.s pester power does work I promise :D