Chapter 10

No Knight, No Armour

Sleep was an unclaimed victory that night, and with the trickle of dawn seeping through her window Elizabeth gave up the pretence of even bothering to try. Her further attempt to simply reside downstairs in the empty morning room was an equal disaster. The house, the rooms, even the worn cloth on the table felt like a foreign entity.

Although the household staff had arisen after her, she could now hear them bustling away, getting the house ready for the family of which most would stay a bed until late. Elisabeth was the sole frequent early riser, but even at this hour, the staff would not be too surprised to see her. She had grown up with most of them, the elders being the firm but kind hand beyond that of her parents and the young maids' steady friends among all the sisters. They were as much a part of Longbourn as the stone walls and painted floors, a family apart from blood that would be equally affected by the financial trauma of the Bennet family. Sitting there, listening to all their voices, laughing, chatting welcoming in the new day, she felt ashamed that it was only now that she had even considered the more far-reaching consequences should her family go to ruin. She couldn't remain here any longer.

Turning to a familiar routine, she grabbed her basket keeping her head down passing the morning greetings with a weak smile, choosing to flee outside without her usual morning conversation. She couldn't control much in her life right now, but this was hers, and by the time her family was sat at the breakfast table there would be fresh autumn berries to be shared once again.

She had always loved mornings outside. Quiet, empty mornings that felt like the world was a secret garden for her and her alone, with her only companions being the chirps, flutters, and rustles of the creatures who awoke even before herself.

The sun lay beautifully flat to the ground, casting morning shadows with the promise of a warmer day to come. And while the sharpness of the air made her pull her shawl tighter and her throat burn, she welcomed even this discomfort. A world away from reality and exactly what she needed.

Having taken her small detour to see if any mushrooms had escaped her notice the day before, she soon found herself before the familiar raspberry vines.

She repositioned her shawl, stubbornly detaching herself from the subconscious thought to protect herself better than her previous adventure. With her arms covered more substantially, she made her way carefully through the brambles, planning to take a fair crop from each plant. The fruit quickly stained her fingers and she resisted the urge to wipe them on her fabrics, even having donned her oldest dress she was once again more conscious of its worth. Instead, she made do with sucking her fingertips lightly leaving them only slightly rosy instead of criminal.

The sun was finally breaking the sky fully in its spender sending some warmth to her back and down to her nimble fingers, highlighting her basket with a flush coating of the berries. She took a break enjoying the newfound warmth, straightening up and stretching her back slightly.

This. She would miss this. A part of her day that was hers, and had always been hers. She'd considered in the past that if she did indeed find herself married to a respectable man, it was unlikely that he would permit his wife to go gallivanting into the woods alone, at barely dawn a piece, and forage away like a starving urchin. It was some part of her that she, with great sorrow, had always expected would have to be locked away to the joys of youth. Her mother had always made it clear that it wasn't a respectable pass time for a genteel lady, but had simply given up trying to restrain her second daughter's wilder tendencies.

Looking to her rather more realistic future, even without the constraints of matrimony, she doubted Mr Darcy would approve her rather less ladylike partitions. He had certainly examined her appearance the morning before with disdain, pointing out her snagged dress like it was, as her mother politely put it, torn to rags. He probably had more lofty expectations of what young ladies should do all day, and a woman under his financial permit, she would have little choice but to abide. What did a mistress do all day anyway?

Even among the vines, Elizabeth managed to blush at the very obvious answer to that question.

Besides that, she chastised herself. While she was certainly unaware of the particulars, one could assume relations weren't a full-day activity. At least, she couldn't help but grimace, she hoped not.

"I'm glad to find you here," Mr Darcy's baritone voice caught her unaware.

A bramble dragged across her face, she pulled back from the snag with a wince.

"Careful!" he exclaimed taking a further step towards her as he witnessed her entanglement.

She ignored him, choosing instead to reach her cheek sourcing the burning sensation that was coming in, checking her hand revealed no real amount of blood but blood all the same. A coarse scratch. It seemed even Mr Darcy's mere presence caused her pain. Penance, she decided, for her previous thoughts, the scratch was a punishment she was willing to take, its instigator, not so much.

"Are you well Elizabeth? Did you hurt yourself badly?" Mr Darcy continued, seemingly accepting of her lack of greeting given her predicament. Elizabeth didn't think chucking a basket of berries at the man would be equally overlooked.

"I'm fine," she answered back trying to steady herself safely, "I didn't hurt myself at all," she added, unable to prevent herself putting a passable emphasis of blame at his feet. He caught it anyway.

"I'm sorry for surprising you, I would have thought you'd have heard my approach." It was probably his attempt to sound sincere, but to Elizabeth's ears, even in his apologies, the man managed to come across as belittling.

She had purposely avoided even looking at him so far and forced herself to shift her attention over to him, to see his in turn firmly on her. His eyes trailed her face, searching her out from behind whatever mask she was managing to keep in place. But it failed when she made the mistake of meeting his eyes, that familiar proud glare filled with intent and determination. She flinched back slightly at the intensity, but thankfully the moving brambles from her previous stumble gave her reaction the excuse it needed.

"Careful, you will injure yourself further," Mr Darcy cautioned again, now looking at the brambles with some kind of distaste.

She repositioned her shawl that had slipped slightly and bit away her less than agreeable reply, not wanting to encourage further conversation. This was not a confrontation she was prepared for, it was too soon to be anything but fuelled with anger and fear. And yet she was standing in the literal hedgerows that her family would be cast into with a single word from the very man in front of her.

That was how precarious her situation was, she couldn't afford to spite him. But equally she simply wasn't ready to concede to this future he, in his petty vengeful mind, had arranged for her. She was supposed to have more time, to have this last excursion as a good memory away from…whatever this was to become. She let her eyes fall to her basket, trying to control her tongue, her temper, even the onset of redness in her cheeks. Mr Darcy's gaze however was insistent, and felt more than the morning rays that were burning into her turned cheek. She knew what he was looking for, some sign on her face, any clue providing the realisation that she was aware of exactly the type of man he was. Evidently, something in her stature or expression gave her away.

"Let me assist you out of there." Mr Darcy held out a gloved hand, his voice softer than before, almost beguiling her compliance, but his expression held the absolute expectation of being obeyed. That more than anything sharpened Elizabeth's tongue.

"Sir, as I am not finished, I am quite well where I am. Good day Mr Darcy," she dismissed firmly, giving the customary curtsy in dismissal, well as much as her placement would allow her too, minding more carefully now the branches that encompassed her form and stubbornly turned her back, blindly picking at the berries.

"Elizabeth." She certainly had no objection ignoring that informal address, even given the circumstances; he could at least afford her the most baseline of respect as addressing her properly.

"Elizabeth," he repeated more firmly, whatever softness disintegrating with her lack of reaction. Her continual dismissal must have irked him, as he let out a noise of irritation dropping his physical offer of help, "Eliz- Miss Elizabeth then, if that is the address you still cling to," he tagged on curtly while taking his frustration out on removing his dark leather gloves, "I believe," he drawled the words, "you are aware we must speak."

Her eyes burnt with indignity. She kept her back to him, and while she wasn't confident that her eyes would hold firm against the cruelty, her tongue so rarely showed such weakness.

"As it is clear you hold me with such little respect, sir, you can choose to address me as you'd like," alas, she sounded bitter and hurt even to her own attendance, "I, however, shall choose, or not choose, to converse with you either way. You would be best to continue your addresses to my father."

"Elizabeth," Mr Darcy reiterated, obviously taking her comment as some sort of permission rather than the attack on his character that she had intended, "You are, it seems, at least somewhat informed. I simply wish to acetate your own understanding and discuss the more… delicate details of your situation. From your greeting, am I right to believe you have spoken to your father, recently?

"Yes, Yes I have spoken to my father," she admitted, but not feeling the need to expand. She grabbed a few berries, furiously dropping them in the basket. These berries would later only be useful for making preserves, their delicate structure unused to the violence of Elizabeth's grip.

"Then you understand your change in circumstances," Mr Darcy pushed for clarity.

"Oh yes, change in circumstances, that has been made quite clear," she swallowed sharply, feeling her spirit coming back to her, "I do believe I am to congratulate you on your most recent acquisition Mr Darcy." Turning her attention back to the man in question, observing him coldly, "While I have heard only tales of the magnitude and standing of your estate Pemberley, I do therefore find it surprising you would find the need to make an investment in an estate such as Longbourn. You have extended an awful lot of money for a property I cannot see you having a use for." Knowing full well it was very unlikely that the charming placement of weathered stone walls and the small scattering of tenant cottages was the matter in mind when the gentleman in front of her made his acquisition.

Instead of being daunted by the coldness greeting him, Mr Darcy seemed to enjoy her pointed and spirited reaction, tilting his head slightly as he returned her own scrutiny, pretending to consider her inquiry.

"While it is indeed not the size of my estate as you rightly acknowledge, it will however fit alongside my other properties and investments without notice. That being said, I believe this will be my most worthwhile acquisition," His eyes trailed over her reactions, "The Longbourn estate holds a particular charm to me, as I'm sure you suspect." Elizabeth simply narrowed her eyes against his dark ones at the blatant referral to his desire for her, for such an immoral arrangement. Mr Darcy was close enough now that another step would have him brushing with the many thorns that separated them. Frankly, she was tempted to risk further scratches simply to pull him in and watch him suffer.

He held out his hand to assist her out of the brambles again, to which she just didn't even glance at. "Elisabeth," he spoke firmly, "I assure you this conversation will be a lot more uncomfortable, should you choose to continue it in the brambles." When she still made no movement, he furthered, narrowing his eyes, "I am not above joining you in there to have it Elizabeth."

She did not doubt his word. Proud and above scrambling that she believed Mr Darcy would be, she could see from his set jaw that he would do it. And frankly the thorny illusion of a safe barrier between the gentleman and herself was quickly developing into a tangled restraint, prohibiting even the hope of a quick escape.

His offer of assistance was even more unwelcoming now than it was a bare hand he was expecting her to take. Something about touching this man skin to skin, even just a hand, expressed a level of intimacy she wasn't ready to invite.

"I can manage," she said, but tagged on "but thank you," to counter her repeated rejection of his help, experiencing an uncomfortable balance of not wanting to antagonise the man while tampering down her endless dislike of him. Mr Darcy simply gave a firm nod, clenched his offering into a fist and turned away, seemingly unwilling to watch her emerge from the brambles.

Elizabeth took a breath and retraced her steps out. While her refusal of Mr Darcy's hand had little to do with it, she was at ease in finding her way through the familiar vines without assistance and she managed it without further injury. Once emerged, her care to avoid injury had her hand tracing her cheek to check once more the damage already done. It stung, but there were no more specks of blood coming away from her hand.

Her rather unwelcome companion had turned around to face her as she emerged safely, making no effort to hide his attention as his eyes looked across her thinly protected arms, her stained fingers, then loitering on her cut cheek with a set frown to his features. His gloves suffered some pressure in a clenched fist before he seemed to control himself.

"I had thought," Mr Darcy began cautiously, "that a discussion about your future, your family's future, would lay better just the two of us."

Knowing almost exactly what future the man had in mind for her gave her no wish to enter into such a discussion. The idea of such an arrangement, let alone openly discussing such things with the very man-made her face burn, a regretful amount of embarrassment fuelled her responding words.

"We can't just talk about such… things out in the open it isn't-" she stuttered, "it isn't proper."

"I don't think propriety is of concern any further," Mr Darcy spoke factually with some clear frustration taking a step forward towards her, but then seemed to regret it when he saw Elizabeth's slight flinch, toning down his voice, "We are alone, it is early," he gave a cursory look around "I believe we are safe to converse here unattended."

"Sir," Elizabeth emphasised, "I do not find the present circumstances to be suitable for such a conversation, nor," she went on to say "do I feel particularly obliging at this moment in time sir," she spoke curtly unable to keep emotion out of her voice.

He made no attempt to move away, instead stepping closer, lowering his voice to an equally unfriendly tone, "I would have expected you to be more than obliging, giving your family's circumstances. And I don't believe," he laid his words carefully, "that this is conversation that will favour your situation should you persist to ignore it."

Well there was no mistaking the undertone of threat there. She closed her eyes, shielding him against the fury that she knew she could not hide from him. She may be stubborn, but Elizabeth Bennet was no fool, she was very much aware that her family's security was in the hands of this petty man she forced herself to face.

"My apologies Mr Darcy," she forced out instead, her voice wavering slightly, anger and upset making themselves known, "you may consider me in some distress. My father only relayed the dire nature of the situation yesterday. I ask that you provide me some time, space…to come to terms with my family's change in circumstances."

Somewhat contented by her words, to Elisabeth's surprise he seemed to consider them. Taking a step back, as if deliberately misinterpreting the request for space to mean increasing the few feet that held between them. He cast his eyes down the pathway and away from Elizabeth, moving his gloves from one hand to the other thoughtlessly.

When he returned his attention he seemed calmer, more resolute, speaking with that returned softness that did nothing to banish his previous threats, "While I understand you have experienced a shock of sorts, I have already delayed more than expected. Your father's delay in informing his family, yourself in particular is, I admit, unfortunate, but should make little practical difference in going forward. It is necessary that we should speak presently."

Elizabeth's own wishes and requests it seemed would have no consideration, although she had very little expectation with this man that he would have even taken the moment to ponder them.

Mr Darcy pushed forward, "You have spoken to your father recently you said? That is, by recently I infer to yesterday." His eyes were locked on her face, picking up her nonverbal cues before she could answer.

"Yes. Yes I have spoken to my father," she admitted, somewhat subdued.

Mr Darcy cast his eyes onto her own, "Your father, he, that is to say, did he inform you of my intention to provide the option of an arrangement with yourself? Your worries for your family could cease under such an arrangement," he insisted.

The foulness of his expectations caused illness to touch her throat. Elizabeth didn't respond, couldn't even, except to look away. He spoke with some effortless weight, that gave eerie similarities to his proposal, an ill-conceived and misconstrued expectation for his words to be received well. Mr Darcy continued, oblivious, or uncaring of her lack of verbal reaction, "In fact it is my intention that very little of your family's circumstances will be affected, should we become settled in a mutually beneficent agreement." Once again suffering her lack of response Mr Darcy's frustration becomes more evident, "You should be…. Elizabeth, did your father even speak to you or has he continued to-"

"- my father" she interrupted, pulling her shawl tightly around herself, holding the basket of butchered berries infront of her as some defense, "has, thankfully, managed to find the time to inform me of my family's new situation. Although most unwillingly, he has also had the rather less pleasant conversation that indicated your expressed interest in an…an arrangement," she swallowed around the rather polished title. Her audience released a deep breath on hearing her verbal confirmation that, she was at least to some extent, informed of her change in circumstances.

"Elizabeth-"

"-That being said," Elizabeth overruled, "had he not have found the occasion in the mere allowance of a single day to inform me this would be a pretty regrettable way for me to find out, would it not?" Mr Darcy's jaw clenched. "Unless," Elizabeth continued "forgive me, you in fact gained my father's permission to approach me this mere morning?" she inquired, knowing full well her father would likely still be abed at this hour as she faced off her tormentor.

"I don't require your father's permission to approach you anymore Elizabeth, especially considering the particulars of the conversation." Mr Darcy's attention was now callous in its regard. "While I am not best practised in such discussions, I have been led to believe that, when enquiring to a potential mistress, fathers are best avoided all together. Had you not been informed, I would have no qualms about being the one to do so," Elizabeth's flinch and searing eyes did little to curb the gentleman's words, "Although by now I would expect your father to have come to terms with his situation, to persuade you to be at lease seemingly grateful for such attent-".

"-Persuade me?" Elizabeth forced out a dry heavy laugh, refusing to simply stand there and have her family been treated so ill, "You have misjudged my father dearly if you believe this is a route he would persuade, let alone force, me to take. He has been very clear on his views, his views of me even speaking to you at all in fact!" There was no mistaking the absolute fury that Mr Darcy felt at that response.

"He cannot still be thinking to try and persuade you against me. He has five other women to provide for and not a penny to his name. Has sense not risen! Is he such a complete fool that does he not understand-"

"My father isn't a fool," Elizabeth defended, "He is simply a father. A good man." Mr Darcy scoffed turning away from her insistence, clearly disagreeing and riling Elizabeth further.

"How dare you," Elizabeth followed him, for the first time voluntarily getting closer to the man, fury filling her at the man's pure arrogance and cruelty, "are you so lacking in feeling? Are you such a brute that you don't understand what you are asking of him, of me? You have a sister do you not? Would you find it so easy to cast her away immorally to a man she despises to save yourself?" It was Mr Darcy's turn to flinch, taking a step back at the fury the young woman displayed at him, even as the fire in her ignited his own, "You would find it such an easy solution to have your young sister, who you hold so dear, degrade herself, living a life of misery completely reliant on the mercy of a man she had previously rejected and angered? Maybe you would," she laid the insult so firmly at his feet, "I have seen so little in your nature that would have me believe otherwise."

"I would have never would have put Georgiana at such risk," Mr Darcy returned violently, turning not an inch from the accusation in Elizabeth's expression, "I would never have used her financial protections so fool-heartedly, leaving her even open to the possibility of such a scenario. Your father had no such qualms, trying to earn quick high risk money in mere months, instead of using his estate to provide a decent dowry's for his children the past twenty years gone."

"My father made a mistake! A mistake Mr Darcy, are you so superior that you claim to have lived a life so free of those? Whatever you may think of him, of his actions, he is a man who loves his family, loves me, his child. You call him a fool, a fool for not wanting to cast me under the power of a man I have rejected? A man with so little regard for the feelings of others. It's…" she looked away from him in disgust, "what you are asking is abhorrent."

"Abhorrent?" Mr Darcy repeated bitterly, "You are unquestionably naïve Miss Bennet. Abhorrent, is five young women thrown on the streets with barely a scrap to their name. Innocents raised with barely their charms, trying to find work with no experience of hard labour or knowledge of the realities of the world. Having to find any means, to the most depraved, to find the basics of food and shelter. Abhorrent, would be watching their father rot slowly in debtors prison, sharing his life with little more than vermin and criminals for company. Abhorrent, would be caring for a broken shell of a woman who used to be their mother, who would rather starve than take food from her daughters. I have witnessed abhorrent Elisabeth; and I assure you I am not it."

His words hurt her far more than she would let on. She knew, knew the truth of the reality he painted, one that would await her family without his assistance. She knew there was truth in what he was saying, her own anger at her father's actions was something she had done her best to soothe over, especially when she had a more appealing target for her fury. Despite her best efforts her eyes watered and her hands shook holding the basket as she did her best to consort herself.

"While I understand the natural hesitation a woman of your breeding would feel to agree to such an arrangement, but that you still look upon me as the enemy when I see no viable alternative option for your family. Cast among your relatives, how long would that last! You have enjoyed your freedoms to reject in the past, but you and your sisters will have no such luxuries in that future. You would be married off as soon as anyone would take you, and with no money and only burden to a working man I cannot see even that scenario. It has only been at my grace that you have continued to live in comfort for the past months, I could have ridden out here the moment I held the debt and cast your family out. You call me unfeeling, but where is the gratitude for that? You should be grateful that despite frequently telling me how little regard you have for me, that I am even offering you this arrangement at all!"

"But I don't want this. You know I don't want this," Elisabeth managed to choke out. The tears fell, she was powerless to stop them, flinching as the salt seared at the cut across her check. She hated every second of the weakness she showed, even as she saw the clear discomfort appear on Mr Darcy's face. Emotion that counted for nothing against his words.

"That does not matter, what matters is that I do, and your family circumstances require it of you."

Thank you for reading!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, more Darcy/Lizzy interactions to come!

Additional A/N

The updates on this story are beyond slow, I understand that. Life is incredibly difficult at the moment, with lots of personal stuff creating a whole load of reasons. I will write this, I have wanted to for ages, but I can make no promise of a schedule. I am going to try and push through a few things and get more done, but well it's just tricky at the moment. I know this can be incredibly frustrating as a reader, but to respond to some of the guest reviews, please know that behind every story posted on here there is a person with a whole world going on. Be Kind. I understand if you don't want to wait for each and every chapter so far apart, maybe check back in a year for a more fluid read of the final work.

For those who are simply suffering through this torturously slow posted story, you have my unwavering gratitude.