A/N - Warning: This chapter discusses the aftermath of the attack in the last chapter.

For anyone who skipped the chapter - Mr Collins, thinking he was sneaking into Jane's room (and wanting to get her alone so he could propose - his excuse to himself for sneaking into her room), actually ends up in bed with Lydia, who has been given Laudanum to sleep. He forgets himself, and rationalises his decision to anticipate his wedding vows, aiming for a quick marriage after (or so his internal reasoning goes - in reality, he's simply a weak lech). He is caught mid-act by Lizzy and Jane. Then Darcy arrives.

Don't worry. He will get what's coming to him and then some.

20th November

Mr Darcy had been brooding in the Library long after everyone else had retired, gradually emptying what was left of a decanter of brandy and mulling over his rejected marriage proposal. That Bingley should have succeeded where he failed galled him, immensely.

Oh, Bingley was friendly and personable, for sure, and popular with the ladies, but he, Darcy, was by far the bigger catch. That any woman would refuse his proposal was unheard of. That a gentlewoman of no consequence would do so, was unfathomable.

'Dammit, I'm becoming maudlin,' he muttered, rising from his chair and staggering slightly to regain his balance. '…and ape-drunk, it seems.'

As he made his way up the stairs, he heard cries coming from the guest wing and decided to investigate.

Nearing an open door from which light spilled, Miss Elizabeth's raised voice, followed by a male voice rapidly sobered him, but he was unprepared for the sight that awaited him from the doorway.

Realising Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bennet were both standing within, and that the bed contained two people, he reasoned the room belonged to Miss Lydia. Quite why his aunt's irritating vicar was in the bed though, escaped him.

He strode into the room and asked the obvious question, finally commenting. 'Has her health so deteriorated, that last rites, or confession, were deemed necessary?'

The irritating man turned pale and stammered Miss Lydia's name as if unsure who he referred to, adding some feeble excuse about it being Miss Bennet's room they were in.

At this point Miss Elizabeth stepped in and ordered Mr Collins from the room.

Well, at least I can do that for her, he thought, moving closer to the bed and towering over the sweaty excuse of a man.

Once Mr Collins was back in the corridor, Mr Darcy told him to go to his room to dress, then followed as Collins padded along, in his bed socks and overlong nightshirt, to a room at the far end of the corridor.

Giving Mr Collins ten minutes to make himself decent, Mr Darcy took that time to wake Mr Bingley and his cousin, quickly explaining the situation and saying he would collect the miscreant and meet them in Bingley's study as soon as possible.

Once Elizabeth and Jane had changed Lydia's nightgown and the sheets, washed her private areas clean, and sat beside their drowsy, tear-stained sister as she dropped back to sleep - assisted by another dose of laudanum - Jane and Elizabeth wearily dressed and went down to the study.

Mr Bingley, hair awry, was sitting behind his desk when they entered, Elizabeth carrying a bundle of linens. Mr Darcy was poking the fire into a blaze, and Colonel Fitzwilliam, wearing an uncharacteristically grim look, was leaning on the fireplace. A damp and pasty-faced Mr Collins was sitting on a small chair in front of the desk, resembling nothing more than a recalcitrant child called to explain his behaviour to an angry father.

Mr Bingley immediately stood and hurried forward, 'Ladies, please come and be seated. Can I get you anything to drink?'

Elizabeth and Jane glanced at each other before they separated. Mr Bingley led Jane to a sofa and Elizabeth put her bundle down and moved to stand in front of Mr Collins. After glaring at him for a few seconds, and further angered by his refusal to make eye contact, she slapped him hard across the face - so hard he fell from his chair in shock. Mr Darcy strode forward as she leaned over him, her face showing her fury.

'You, a clergyman? You are nothing but a defiler of children,' she spat. 'You are a disgusting shred of humanity. She is only fifteen!'

Mr Darcy stepped forward and took her gently by the elbow. She turned a furious face to his gentle one, as he said, 'Please, come and sit Miss Elizabeth.'

The situation hung in the balance for some seconds, then she straightened, drew back her shoulders and took a deep, shaky breath before lifting her chin and moving to sit beside her sister. Jane reached for her hand as she sat and Mr Bingley brought a glass of brandy for each of them.

'Take small sips, it will help.'

No-one paid any attention to Mr Collins as he heaved himself to his feet and re-seated himself on the chair, one cheek now bearing a red hand print.

Elizabeth took a small sip, coughed and then said, 'Mr Bingley. I have two requests. Can the Doctor be woken to examine Lydia? There was a lot of blood…' Her voice broke as she choked back a small sob, then she blushed crimson and took several deep, shaky breaths before continuing. 'It is probably best done while she sleeps. We gave her more laudanum so she will not be aware of this further indignity. Also, my father must be sent for, as a matter of urgency. I know the rain stopped some time ago, so the river may have dropped enough by now for a rider to pass. I will write a note to be given to his hand only. Could you arrange for a messenger?'

'I will go myself,' said Mr Bingley. 'You are guests here and I am ashamed this happened under my roof.'

'Thank you. I must ask… would you please keep it from my mother, that is… if it is at all possible. As she is not well, I would not have her worried more.' She paused for a moment, pondering the problem. 'In fact, it might be best to knock at the servants' entrance. Hill can then wake my father without disturbing my mother.'

'Excellent. I will do just that, and then speak privately to your father, I promise you both.'

Mr Bingley looked sadly at Jane, who stared down at the glass in her hands unable to meet his eye, then left the room.

Elizabeth took another small sip of her drink, feeling the heat course down her throat and spread through her middle. Jane sat beside her, pale faced and silent, and Elizabeth encouraged her to take a sip of her drink. '…it will help with the shock, dearest Jane.'

Jane took a sip, coughed, her eyes widened and suddenly she was sobbing. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her sister, pulling her onto her shoulder and rocking her as she wept.

Mr Collins stirred as the sobbing began, and tried to rise, but the Colonel strode forward and forced him, hand to shoulder, back onto his seat.

'You will stay seated, Mr Collins,' the Colonel growled.

Mr Collins shot an angry look up at him, saying, 'I merely wished to comfort my future wife.' He turned to the ladies on the sofa and raised his voice. 'There is no need to cry, my dearest Jane. I simply mistook the room. You are still my choice for a wife. Once this mistake is straightened out, we can be wed. My esteemed patroness Lady Catherine de…'

The Colonel stared at him in disbelief, and Mr Darcy strode forward, eyes stony. 'Are you deranged? If you marry anyone, it will be the child you defiled this night.'

Elizabeth glared over at Mr Collins, then looked toward Mr Darcy. 'Could you please take us away from this… this person? We find we do not want to breathe the same air as…' She waved her hand dismissively in Mr Collins direction. '…that thing.'

Mr Darcy nodded to Colonel Fitzwilliam, who grasped Mr Collins by the arm and pulled him from the chair. 'I think we can do better than that, Miss Elizabeth. Rather than disturb you, we shall remove him. He can await your father's arrival in the parlour.'

'But…' sputtered the vicar as he was dragged away, 'I should stay with my cousin. She is to be my betrothed.'

'You are not wanted here, Mr Collins,' Elizabeth stated, ice in her voice. 'Not by anyone.'

Once the door closed behind them, the oppressive atmosphere lifted a little and Jane's tears slowed. Mr Darcy handed a handkerchief to Elizabeth as she tended her sister, and Jane sat up and wiped her eyes.

'I am sorry, it was just the shock of his words. He thought it was my bedchamber, that Lydia was me. He would have…' Jane shuddered and the words trailed away.

'Instead, he has forced himself on a fifteen-year-old child,' said Elizabeth, in a chilly voice.

'He has definitely…?' Mr Darcy trailed off and his face pinked slightly.

Elizabeth nodded to the bundle on the floor, saying bluntly. 'That is Lydia's bedsheet and nightgown. I did not want the servants finding them. Lydia's night gown was ripped open and there is a lot-' she blushed and looked at her hands, 'a lot of blood.'

Mr Darcy poured himself a brandy and tossed it back. 'That a man of the cloth could do such a thing.'

'Your Aunt's clergyman.'

'It appears he was attempting to force a compromise on Miss Bennett.'

'Your Aunt's inept clergyman.'

'Just so.'

Elizabeth looked Jane over carefully and brushed a curl from her forehead. She had leaned back and was breathing deeply and regularly, eyes shut. Elizabeth retrieved the empty glass that tilted in her hand and put it on a side table.

'I think the shock, along with brandy, has sent her to sleep,' said Mr Darcy. 'That is probably a good thing. It will help calm her mind a little.' He walked away to a window then returned with a blanket which he handed to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth draped it over her sister, tucking her in, then rose and paced the room in agitation. 'Lydia must now marry, and yet he is such a man and she is so very young.'

'There are other ways to resolve this issue. Much depends on the outcome of the event.'

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow in query.

'If there is a child,' he clarified.

'Yes, yes, of course.'

'If she is not with child, then it is likely we can cover up the event in the main part, without forcing her to marry her attacker. There is also an aspect to this that you may not have yet recalled.'

'Pray enlighten me.'

'Mr Collins is not vaccinated. He refused, saying my Aunt had told him only those of a weak mind and will would ever become ill of it and so he had no need of it.'

She snorted. 'Oh, yes. I remember now. So, it is extremely likely he will also catch the smallpox.' She laughed, without a trace of her usual mirth. 'And well deserved too. He is lower than vermin.'

'It also means we will be hosting him here for some time.'

'Oh,' Elizabeth deflated. 'Of course. Quarantine. In that case, I must ask Miss Bingley for keys to all our rooms. He cannot be trusted.'

'Do not worry. Between Bingley, Fitzwilliam and I, we will ensure he is kept under lock and key and will station a man to watch his door.'

'Thank you. Although it does seem a little too late to be bolting that particular door.'

'Yes indeed.' He paused, then tentatively said. 'It is likely to be some time, maybe an hour even, before Bingley comes back with your father.'

'Oh, yes.' She immediately felt all the awkwardness of their situation. The failed proposal loomed between them once more. 'You must not feel obligated to wait here with us, sir. I am sure you would prefer to be elsewhere.'

'No. That is…' He coughed to clear his throat. 'Maybe I can help you pass the time, while your sister sleeps? Can I find a book for you to read, or even read aloud for you?'

She blushed slightly and nodded. 'That is very kind of you. If you are sure you would not be elsewhere, maybe some poetry?'

'I will return shortly, I believe what we need lies in the library.' With that, Mr Darcy left.