Chapter 4: Ritual sacrifice

One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

Darcy continued counting the steps to the dance. His partner was a wife of a friend, but more importantly, she was kind to Elizabeth. In a world where his choices caused so much heartache, he valued genuine kindness wherever it appeared. Choosing a relatively unknown and poor bride was always going to be a struggle in some way, as both he and his aunt had no problem voicing with such arrogance all those year ago. It only served to prove to him who his true compatriots were and which ones were better left to the dross. It wasn't like he was a politician or even liked London all that well. It was a chore every year to make their annual appearance, one he missed a few years due to their "family's illness". He'd never regret missing the season, simply wishing for a more palatable excuse.

He continued to catalogue his surroundings – fourteen women with some ridiculous peacock feathers in their headdresses, eight men sporting the exact same cravat style they'd all seen on Brummel, six new wives of friends this season, three of them far too young for husbands that could be their fathers, and one woman who could take his breath away with a single tilt of her head.

"I know that smile isn't for me, Mr. Darcy," his partner interrupted his thoughts with her own smile.

"My apologies, Lady Evelyn," Darcy replied as he made the next turn in the movement.

"Oh no, I can imagine you were thinking of a certain lady in cerulean."

Darcy followed her glance to the nearby sitting area where Elizabeth was chatting with a few other ladies and sipping whatever punch concoction they were serving during the dancing. His slight smile made his partner smile wider.

"Mrs. Darcy looks well."

Darcy returned his eyes to his partner. "Thank you."

"I am glad she is over her illness of last year. We missed her. I'm sorry she was so unwell."

Darcy looked at her for a minute and nearly missed his next steps. Lady Evelyn took pity on the man and did her best to reassure him. "Elizabeth is a good friend, with a good husband. I don't know details. No one does. But I know her. And Steven knows you. So just know that we are glad you are both well again." She looked at him pointedly as she took the final step of the dance.

He got her message and bowed his head in both recognition and due to common courtesy for ending the dance. "Lady Evelyn, as always, I am grateful for your friendship to us."

Darcy escorted her to her husband who was now waiting close enough to Elizabeth that the two couples eased into the kind of conversation one has with friends.

When another couple stopped briefly to converse with Lady Evelyn and Sir Steven, Darcy leaned into his wife to whisper, "Can we go home yet?"

Elizabeth just swatted him playfully with her fan, smiling and giving him a rather amused look before being pulled into the other conversation. She wasn't about to abandon this ball. They had left most of the other balls this season after dinner.

The Darcys weren't naturally town people, and their country bodies were used to early mornings and early nights. London's busy upper classes were creatures of the night, only crawling into their respective beds at dawn rather than rising with the sun as their country counterparts. And while smaller parties of family dinners and trips to the theater made it easier to adapt, it was balls that truly were the bane of Darcy's existence. He was exhausted with all the dancing, the talking, the attempts to make connections, the banality of so much frippery and fluff. Darcy would rather dig his hands in the dirt, talk about crop rotations, or add up his balance book than parade around like the peacocks that must have been ritually sacrificed for those ridiculous women to prop in their hair tonight.

But for his wife… no, Darcy would dress up and parade about and dance one or two and even sneak in a smile on occasion, if it meant she was there on his arm, at his side, in the same room, and on occasion across from him in a dance line.

They had weathered so much together that it was hard to believe they had only been married seven years. It is true that it often takes the hard edges of life to reveal who you are as a person, and thus as a couple or family. His family had been through so much before Elizabeth, and at times, he felt as if he'd brought that load with him into their marriage. But there was no one else he'd want beside him to as he carried that load. In fact, it made doing so easier because she refused to let him do so alone, stubbornly refused to let him bear any burden of life without her. Elizabeth had reminded him countless times over their marriage, including some rather heated moments, that they were partners, equals in their marriage, despite what the law said.

Darcy looked back at his wife again and noticed she was shifting her feet. He quickly got them out of the conversation and led his wife to a chair on another wall. "I really don't know why you insist on staying as you are clearly as ready to leave as I am."

"We leave every party early, Fitzwilliam." He usually liked it when she used his name, but this was not a good use. "People will talk."

"They are going to talk whether we leave early or late, whether we wear blue or green, whether you wear those lovely pearls or dead birds in your hair."

Elizabeth smothered a small laugh and smile in effort to maintain her irritation at her husband.

"Elizabeth, I really don't care what they say. I'm tired. You're tired. We're done. I would stay all night if you truly wanted to, but you haven't slept well since we arrived in town. It's my duty to make sure you're…"

"Your duty?" Yes, he will admit that might have been a poor choice of words. "Well, if that's what this is all about, let's be off. How dare we hinder on your duty, sir."

Darcy rubbed his forehead before answering. "Elizabeth…"

Her anger subsided. Why was she so quick to jump to conclusions again? She really did want to go home. He was right. As usual (which was probably more of the issue for her). She hadn't slept well, and truth be told, she wasn't eating well. Lately, most foods tasted or smelled wrong. She was probably coming down with a cold, and then she would get him sick. And he's a terrible…

"Elizabeth?" It was the stark concern in his voice that made her realize she was crying. He stepped in front of her to block others' view of her as she dabbed her eyes with his offered handkerchief.

"I'm so sorry, Fitzwilliam." Finally, a better usage of his name. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I am not sleeping well, and I would like to go home now."

Darcy reached down to caress her face, her eyes shimmered with recent tears as they shared a smile that only true lovers can. She rose from her chair and exhaled slowly, her eyes unwavering, never leaving his face. Oh, how he wished they were not in public.

"So beautiful."

"Take me home, Fitzwilliam."

AN: Thanks to all who reviewed. I cannot tell you how much it means to me to know that you appreciate this story.

For those who don't have accounts that I could respond to: Jcqaz - When you write anything, you always want to find one storyline that isn't as explored or at least add your own take. I've read a few that explore this, but I tried to add my own spin. Thanks for reading! / Colleen S - I am so sorry for your loss. So many of my friends have had the same experience, and this story was indirectly inspired by a conversation I had with one of them who lost 3 children in her second trimester. Like you, she has other children, but she still honors the memory of those who don't sit at her dining table every night and instead reside in her dreams. Thanks for reading. / Guest - I've toyed with many ideas for this story, and I may later write an alternative one to explore how the stories would resolve if each path was taken. Stay tuned for which direction this story will take. Thanks for reading!

I started this story simply as a way to show my high school creative writing students how to do fan fiction, the easiest way to do e-learning for that class right now to finish up the school year. It's been great for them, but the side effects are me finally joining this writing community that I've been stalking for years. I wish I had you all when I was their age, and I hope they enjoy the process as much as I am. Keep reading! So much more to come!