A/N: Hey gang, interesting reactions so let me answer some questions and give some impressions.

Reviews: You all know I'm a review hog, mainly because it's the only feedback mechanism I have (or maybe it's because it feeds my enormous ego - you decide). They're mostly positive, but about 3% hate it. That's a little higher than my usual, but not panic inducing. Most people who hate something just quit reading, so it's interesting to see the people that dislike something enough to comment on it. Most of you are on board, which is nice {preen, preen}.

Darcy is a real a**hole, but I warned you about that. He might even get worse before he gets better, but his reckoning is coming – eventually – but – well, let us say on that subject – well, on second thought, I won't say anything. Just wait for it.

Lizzy is being quite dramatic and stubborn. Well – yes, she is, and it will get worse before it gets better.

I always have a conundrum about how much to warn people at the start of a story. I'm the sort of guy who doesn't even glance at the Table of Contents in a book because I just don't want to know. Some people like to know what they're getting into before they start. Since you can't un-know something, I tend to keep my warnings brief and non-spoilerish. I've thought about putting spoilers on my twitter feed or making a spoilers page. Would that be something you would want to see? It's easy enough to do.

Forced marriage and Annulments: This trope is all based on a father's ability to force a marriage. Technically, they could not actually force a marriage, and in fact, lack of consent from the bride was one of the few valid reasons for an annulment. It was bundled into what was called 'fraud', which was basically lack of consent, invalid names on the marriage documents, gross misrepresentations, incompetence, and the like. An annulment had to be done through the ecclesiastical courts, and success was rare, meaning a couple hundred in the entire Regency period. A divorce was even harder, requiring both an annulment and an act of Parliament. Consummation was irrelevant. Google for a-regency-divorce-primer for details. An annulment was difficult, expensive and all around bad so the chances of Darcy carrying through are virtually nil, but his uncle wants to keep all options on the table.

Having said that, while a father could not technically 'force' a marriage, that's mostly like saying a robber could not 'force' you to hand over your wallet while holding a knife to your throat. The father could throw a daughter from his home and his protection, or conversely lock her up or have her committed to an asylum without a lot of difficulty. He could beat her, as could her husband (still sadly too common even today). He could take away her possessions, make her work in the fields, make her dress in rags, starve her, you name it. More often though, he could threaten something else she finds important. For instance, sometimes Lizzy marries Collins to save Jane or Lydia from the same fate. The most common reason for the 'force' in FMS is that the family's 'reputation' would suffer, and the bride takes the bullet for the team. I don't actually know if that was a real thing at the time, or if all of us Romance writers just adopted it the same way Horror writers adopt all people doing the stupidest possible thing in every bad situation.

Last but not least, let me introduce another acronym I just learned last week. In the Romance world, they have TSTL which means 'Too Stupid to Live'. It's when all the drama in the story comes about because people are too stupid to just have a conversation and work things out. Lots of fiction is based on this premise, but since it actually happens in real life more often than most of us are willing to admit, I think it's OK. This particular story is hopefully skirting the edge, but you can decide which side of the line it falls on.

Wade


Wed, Dec 4, 1811 – Longbourn, Hertfordshire
Musical Accompaniment: Windmills of Your Mind


It took all of Elizabeth's discipline, plus a few hours behind locked doors to get through Wednesday. Everywhere she went, someone had an opinion about her upcoming nuptials. Mrs. Bennet could hardly shut up about it and wanted to drag her daughter through the neighborhood all day. The only thing that saved Elizabeth was the fact that in a stubbornness contest, she could easily best a mule and compete with a stone. Elizabeth eventually told her mother that if she was dragged through the neighborhood like a prize heifer, that she would endeavor to say something truly mortifying just to get the miserable experience over with. She would publicly say something bad enough to shame even Lydia. Half an hour of shouted arguing finally caused Mr. Bennet to come down on the side of his daughter. Of course, he did so for his own comfort, not hers, as he thought that at least he would have some peace and quiet while most of his gaggle of wives and daughters were out visiting.

When Mrs. Bennet left, Jane stayed behind and waylaid Elizabeth on the way to her room.

"Lizzy, may I speak with you?"

Elizabeth did not very much like the tone of the question, so she looked at Jane with some suspicion for the first time in her life, and she wondered if she was just becoming a cynical old crone in only a few days. That led to her wondering how bad she would be after a few years of an unwanted marriage, but she did not wish to chase her mind down that rabbit hole.

She cautiously answered. "Go on."

Jane took a deep breath. "Lizzy, you need to put away your childish things. These temper tantrums are doing nobody any good. I think Mr. Darcy is not nearly as bad as you make him out to be, and if you would just let go of your prejudice, you might find yourself content."

Elizabeth was not particularly surprised by the latter part of the remark, because Jane was a woman born to be abused by the first person who happened to come by with the inclination. She always thought the best of everyone and had never really been tested in their small society. So far in her life, Jane had been lucky. Nothing had ever challenged her rosy view of the world, or at least nothing that Elizabeth had not been able to protect her from.

Trying to keep her mind on track, Elizabeth replied, "Good, bad or indifferent, Jane, I do not wish to marry him."

"Do you truly think it is your choice to make?"

Wondering what her formerly favorite but sinking fast sister was getting at, she asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that your recalcitrance is having a material impact on the rest of us. It was bad enough that you spent the last six weeks being rude to Mr. Darcy. Now when he is in your hands, you want to throw it all away. You make no sense."

Elizabeth just stared at her openmouthed, fuming, and finally said, "You think I should accept him because it is convenient for the rest of you?"

"I mean, you brought your troubles on yourself. You could never meet the gentleman without needling him. You should have either refrained from quarreling with him during the dance or refrained from eloping with him to that corner. You dug your own hole, so you should quit complaining about it. That bruise you keep going on and on about was almost certainly not deliberate. If he wanted to hurt you, that is not how it would happen."

Stunned, Elizabeth snapped, "Aha, so you are asserting when I helped you disengage from Mr. Freeman, that I was in error?"

Jane at least had the grace to look embarrassed. "That was different."

"How?"

"He was a cruel and violent man in fact, not just in theory, but Mother would have forced me on him anyway."

"And you know for a fact that Mr. Darcy is not?"

"Mr. Bingley would not be friends with him if he were. You just do not like him because of what Mr. Wickham said."

Elizabeth chewed on that logic for a minute. "So then, you are certain Mr. Bingley is genuine, and not just a wolf in sheep's clothing? You are certain he was sincere in his apparent regard for you, and not just a rich man fishing in the country streams for a few months, as many have done before he came, and many will do after he leaves?"

"Yes, I am, and if you had not ruined it, I might be engaged to him by now."

Elizabeth asked curiously, "So, you were ready to marry him. Did you love him?"

Jane looked somewhat sheepish.

"Not really, but I liked him well enough. He is not a serious man, but he has a good income, he is accustomed to being directed by women, and I should like to be mistress of an estate so close to the home I have always known."

Elizabeth frowned at how closely Jane's attitude was mirroring her mothers and asked suspiciously, "And you think your outside chance with the man you were so subtle to that even Charlotte Lucas could not tell if you were enamored with, is worth me spending my life with Mr. Darcy?"

"As I said, he is not so bad."

"Suppose I fix it right up. Rumors are easy to change, so long as we spread them right and someone gets married. How about if I substitute you for me at the wedding? You could be one of the richest women in England, and I doubt Mr. Darcy would notice, or care if he did. He is only doing this for his family's reputation, and he could salvage that by marrying any Bennet. He could fix up the gossip in London, and our neighbors would forget the whole thing in six months, so long as the family honor is restored with a ring. Nobody outside of our family can distinguish one Bennet from another anyway. Give it a fortnight, and everyone will believe it was you at the ball all along. It sounds like the perfect solution!"

Jane gasped at the idea, and Elizabeth was not surprised to see her tense up in fear. She was not surprised, but she was disappointed. She supposed it was natural to think a sacrificial lamb was a great idea, at least until it got to be your turn at the chopping block.

"So, let me be sure I am not misrepresenting you, Jane. You think I should sacrifice for the family, but not you?"

Jane looked embarrassed but did not negate the assertion, saying only, "You underestimate yourself, Lizzy. You can tame the lion, but I cannot. Responsibility falls to the one who can carry the load."

"And you would condemn me to this fate to save your own?"

"Not mine alone. You have four sisters if you recall correctly, and a mother who is likely to live two or three more decades. Are you willing to allow all of them to suffer just because you are too lazy to mold Mr. Darcy into a worthy husband? After all, it was your actions that drove away Mr. Bingley."

Elizabeth sighed, and let go of the very last of her childish preconceptions. "Jane, you did not see him. You did not see the anger and loathing in his eyes. You did not hear the half‑hour of shouting between our father and that so‑called gentleman."

Jane was staring at the ground, so Elizabeth reached over and forced her to look up.

"Imagine, Jane – Just try to imagine a marriage contract so bad that it makes our father shout for a half‑hour. So bad the most indolent father in England feels the need to bestir himself to yell for a half‑hour, but not quite bad enough to make my situation any better."

Jane, feeling that her sister was taking on a much holier attitude that the situation warranted, lost her temper for the first time anyone could remember. She hissed, "You think you are so clever, Lizzy. Had Mama not intervened, Mr. Collins would have addressed you the morning after the ball. I had already heard that Papa planned to approve the suit, whether you wanted it or not. If you think exchanging Mr. Darcy for Mr. Collins is a bad trade, I have no idea how to reach you, Lizzy."

Feeling exhausted by the entire ordeal, Elizabeth turned towards her door. Just before she entered it, she spoke without turning around.

"We are done with this conversation, Jane. Never bring it up again."


After resting for an hour, Elizabeth finally got anxious, jumped from her bed, and truly thought about what she was doing, and what her options were, if any. She thought hard enough that she would not have been surprised to smell smoke. She did not want to allow anger to drive every single action, although reigning it in long enough to think rationally was a monumental task. When her father went out to visit a tenant farm for a few hours, she even went through his books to see if any of them could offer any bits of wisdom.

All the books of sermons turned out to be worse than useless, since they basically took the concept "submit to the nearest authoritative male" and reworded it a hundred times, without ever examining the underlying foundation to see that it was rotten to the core. Fordyce was the very worst, but the rest were not enough better to make any difference. All basically thought of women as accessories to the business of men, and any of them would have told her to just shut up and listen to her elders.

Philosophy tracts seemed too abstract, too unrelated to the problem at hand, or frequently nonsensical. Still though, she persevered, and it was late in the afternoon when she finally found the answer in the most unexpected place.

Elizabeth absolutely considered a forced marriage to be an evil of the darkest kind, and it suddenly occurred to her that it was almost as much of an evil for Mr. Darcy as it was for her. In some ways it was almost worse for him, because he was trading what would no doubt have been a beautiful, well dowered and highly accomplished wife, for a hoyden of considerable book knowledge but weak accomplishments and wild manners, who liked to walk alone. He could have introduced an heiress or even daughter of a peer into the first circles to universal acclaim, but instead he would have to spend the first few years defending his 'bad' choice. His freedom to choose was certainly being curtailed, and his share of the world's wealth was adversely impacted by the marriage. His children would lose stature based on what happened at Netherfield.

On the other hand, he had complete control over her future, so in her opinion, the woman's position in the affair was far-far worse. If Mr. Darcy found his future wife undesirable or hard to live with, he could put her aside, take a mistress, have an affair, treat her badly, and the world would not bat an eye. If, on the other hand, she found her future husband undesirable, she had to smile, make the best of it, and try to protect any children they might or might not have.

So, all in all, the marriage was an evil – more so for her than for Mr. Darcy, but bad enough even for the gentleman. It became firmly established in her mind that the best she could hope for if the marriage happened was an awkward détente lasting the rest of her life, which would be good for neither party. Yes, it might turn out that he was a good man and she had just caught him on a bad month, and he would revert to form. That was something she could hope for if the unfortunate event came to fruition, but those were awfully weak legs to prop up her hopes and dreams on.

It was when she started thinking of the marriage like a disease, that she finally found the words that gave her either wisdom and guidance, or an inaccurate rationalization for her actions. She did not want to think about that too much, but the right words came from Hippocrates, who had been dead for well over 2,000 years: 'As to diseases, make a habit of two things — to help, or at least, to do no harm.'

She could not make things right for herself, Mr. Darcy or her family. The situation had gone too far for that, so some sacrafice was going to be necessary. The only question was who would do the sacrafice, and how big it would be. The situation as it was had all the burden on her and Mr. Darcy, while her family paid no price whatsoever, and in fact, would no doubt profit from the arrangement. She and Mr. Darcy would suffer harm so that the rest of her family would not suffer inconvenience. To follow Hippocrates, she could arrange her affairs so that she did less total harm. For certain, it would materially hurt some of the associated parties, such as her sisters, but the overall harm would be reduced, and she would not have to shoulder all the harm herself.

Elizabeth wondered if she was being stubborn, stupid, selfish, or sensible, but in the end, settled for steadfast. With her ideas firmly in mind, she set about completing several preparations she had been making for weeks.