A/N: A new chapter at last, sorry for the delay.

Part 8- 'The well-meant intervention….'

Thankfully, taking the full advantage of the bed rest the doctor had prescribed saw Jane's fever break. She had sat bolt upright, after three days of incoherence and shouted out her sister's name. But Lizzy was not there, and Mrs Bennet was suitably reluctant to tell her exactly why.

All through her illness, as she had swung between moments of lucid consciousness and delirium Jane had imagined in increasing horror the echoes of Lizzy's words. 'I would take it upon myself…' Jane knew as David had known that Lizzy had taken it upon herself, and despite her sentimental and gentle heart Jane wished with every ounce of her being that she could kill him. She wished vainly to be a gentleman and to take the life of Lord Hartfield, the miserable, wretched and excuse for a man that he was, anything to save her sister from him.

As the days wore on, and stretched in to a lamentable week Jane gradually regained her strength, she received the numerous kind visitors with a gentle smile characteristic of a yet still fragile invalid. The Netherfield lot came and went; and Bingley found to his sorrow that Jane Bennet was not what she once was. Oh she was as beautiful as ever, but infinitely more reserved and quiet. Every sound too loud or too sudden startled her and caused her to jump.

Yes, numerous well wishers came and went but still no Lizzy. Nobody had seen her for days. The rumours circling Meryton, no doubt industriously circulated by the servants spoke of Lady Hartfield's continued mental deterioration. It was said she spent her time locked alone in her bedroom, eating very little and content to spend her days in a laudanum filled haze. She was refusing to receive guests, though no one could have blamed her for turning the Netherfield sisters away.

Darcy would have done well to hide his concern and desperate desire for news of Lizzy; it would have saved him no end of sneers and contemptuous looks from Miss Bingley. But try as he might he could not disguise the fact he was sick with worry, he saw her still with bleeding hands and could not shake the thought that she would hurt herself again.

And as the days slowly crept on Darcy could not bear the suspense much longer, after a ridiculously short consideration and personal debate he set out, after another restless night early the next morning with the precise intention of calling on Lady Hartfield and to see her, whether she consented to it or not.

But his resolution was cut short, in the most convenient and pleasant way. About halfway into the lengthy road between Meryton and Longbourn, Darcy had the immense surprise of seeing Lady Hartfield. She had not yet seen him; she was stood with her back to him in some thickets on the side of the road. It offered her the perfect concealment, Darcy would have missed seeing her himself had not his thoughts been filled with her. She was talking with someone, and Darcy in a moment of anger and jealousy at first suspected it to be a lover, or other private confidence of some kind.

Uniquely light of foot, he crept closer to hear and see… his relief on spying exactly who Lady Hartfield's companion was immense. Jane! And only her sister, Jane. He was turning to leave, happy that the sisters had found their way to reconciliation at last, when his deftness of foot deserted him and he stepped on a twig. He cursed his stupidity as both ladies turned to the sound suddenly, pale-faced and afraid.

He turned back towards them ashamed that he should have been caught spying and blushed deeply as he faced them. Lady Hartfield spoke first.

She smiled as she stepped out of the shadows, 'It seems we have been discovered Jane…'

'Forgive me…'Darcy bowed slightly, 'I did not mean to intrude, and certainly not to startle you.' He looked particularly at Jane, she was shaking and he was mortified he could have been the cause of any distress to so delicate a creature.

Lizzy turned to Jane as well; she went to her and taking Jane's hand in her own still addressed Darcy, 'You have caught us at somewhat of an impasse sir, you see Jane will not go to Hartfield, understandably, and I cannot go to Longbourn, so we are forced to meet here by the side of deserted roads, at an unearthly hour and in heavy thickets. Not like sisters at all, but rather like thieves…' her voice trailed off and Darcy could see she spoke with some difficulty.

He felt for her acutely, he knew something of sisterly love; he could never have borne to be separated for long from Georgiana, his understanding their difficulty was suddenly struck with a charming notion.

'What about Netherfield..?' He suddenly declared, and smiled broadly at both ladies quizzical expression. Lizzy stepped towards him again.

'What do you mean Mr Darcy?' His voice had betrayed something of a hope.

'Netherfield is decidedly neutral is it not? You both could meet there, pre-arranged of course. I'm sure Mr Bingley would be willing, nay happy to be of use and to let his property be of use…' His smile deepened at the clear joy the prospect had brought to Jane, and more especially Lizzy.

'That would be as well would it not Jane…? More than well, for it would afford the perfect opportunity to converse with Miss Darcy at long last as well…' Jane merely nodded her approval of the scheme.

Darcy was pleased that she would think of his sister, Georgiana had been right; Lady Hartfield was not like the rest. 'Well, what do you say we make our way over there now?' he gestured in the direction of Netherfield and the sisters linking arms, were only too glad to follow.

They walked quietly and contentedly, such pleasant company as their three was, dearly sought but rarely found. They could be content with saying little, and listen instead to the crunch of the road underneath their boots. Listen and be content that at last there was a direction, a way through had been found once more.

Lady Hartfield felt enough at ease with Mr Darcy to relate to him how the account of her laudanum filled days had been merely stories, carefully concocted and instigated by a servant she trusted in the house to ensure visitors would be few and that she would be able to escape the house without attracting too much attention.

It was then that Darcy noted for the first time Lady Hartfield's dress, instead of the silks and heavy embroidery she should have been wearing, she was dressed simply in a gown that looked no more expensive than Jane's. Her bonnet was obscenely large for her face, purposely so he realised, for if she walked with her head bowed she would by all appearances be no more noticeable than the average Meryton villager.

Darcy smiled at her ingenuity, it was no less than he would expect from his resourceful Lady Hartfield.

They had not been walking long, when the sound of a carriage approaching them at no great distance made them stop short. They were at a blind turn in the road, they would see the carriage before it could see them, as they moved to the side they collectively held a bated breath.

The livery of the carriage determined instant recognition and reaction from the three. Jane whimpered slightly and standing yet further back from the road, began to shake; Lizzy was at once by her side holding her arm to steady her. Darcy instinctively took his place stood in front of the two ladies, defensively.

Lord Hartfield had returned. And he had seen them now, they could not turn back. The carriage was brought to an abrupt halt in front of them. Lord Hartfield alighted from the carriage and stood surveying them all a while before he spoke.

When he did at last speak it was through a smile Lizzy well knew the meaning of. 'Mr Darcy…' he greeted him with a nod of the head Darcy only just deigned to return, he stepped forward and offered his widest smile yet to Jane, 'Miss Bennet…' he was cruel enough to know something of the fear he inspired in her and to enjoy the power he held over her.

He did at last turn his eye to his wife; he neither smiled or spoke, and instead extended his arm and offered an open hand for her to take. Lizzy pressed Jane's arm reassuringly, but as she attempted to step forward Jane grasped her hand desperately and forcefully, refusing to let her go. Lizzy bestowed a kiss on her cheek and a warm embrace before prying her sisters fingers from her grasp and moving forward to take the hand of her husband.

She had to step around Mr Darcy to reach Lord Hartfield; he was still stood protectively in front of the ladies. As she placed a gloved hand in Philip's and was led to the carriage, she turned to offer Darcy and Jane one last smile. Darcy interpreted her look of concern for her sister at once, 'You may rest assured your Ladyship, I would be honoured to escort Miss Bennet back to Longbourn.'

'Thank you…' her eyes meeting his briefly betrayed the sentiments she could not speak in front of her husband.

Darcy could do no more than turn and offer his arm to Jane for support as they both stood watching the carriage roll away.

'She does not love him you know, she never has and she never will.…' Jane Bennet's words caught Darcy by surprise. She spoke resolutely, her initial shock at seeing Lord Hartfield had abated somewhat though for the past ten minutes she had done nothing but study her feet as they walked slowly in the direction of Longbourn.

But she looked up at Darcy with an earnest, studied expression, Darcy knew what to make of her words, he blushed and stopped walking confused.

'Miss Bennet, I do not think it is my place to comment…' His place…what did that entail? It had not been his place to fall in love with a Lady Hartfield, but he had done so all the same.

Jane smiled, 'I have seen the way you look at her Mr Darcy, and it is the way I had long hoped a gentleman worthy of her would look at her.' Darcy's embarrassment at her words increased. He did not know where to look.

'Is it is so painfully obvious?' He asked her in a small voice, he had not been aware he had betrayed his sentiments so foolishly. He had always prized himself of his show of restraint, but to be made out so easily, and to be made out as a love sick pup was humiliating.

'Only to those who care to see it…' Jane reassured him. She sighed and shook her head, 'My sister has sacrificed so much, and yet she suffers still. And now even my mother has turned her back on her. Yet I think I feel it more than Lizzy does.' Darcy asked her for an explanation.

'It is not her fault; you see Lizzy was so young, she has never known a sentiment, a true attachment. She is kind enough to me, a sisterly love is a given, it is natural, but I do not think her heart has ever been touched. The circumstance has rendered her cold. My words seem harsh I know, but I have too high a regard and respect for you to allow you to be content in ignorant bliss, you will find your attachment will be neither reciprocated nor welcomed.'

Darcy was amazed at her words; she knew what he was thinking, she continued.

'One cannot place blame; fate has played a cruel game with her. At the time of life when ones character is determined by those who surround and shape our worldly views, she was surrounded by Lord Hartfield. Do not mistake me Mr Darcy, my loyalty to my sister is, and always will be beyond question, but, and though it pains me to say it, she is cold. When our father died, it was the last true attachment she had ever had, and she let that part of her die with him. It is the reason she has endured Lord Hartfield even thus long, a lesser, more feeling soul would have taken more desperate measures long ago…but his Lordship is a fool if he thinks he will ever have more than a cursory feeling from Lizzy.'

His confusion grew, what did she mean by revealing the strictest intimacies of her sister's nature to a relative stranger such as he was? 'Do you mean to warn me, Miss Bennet, against forming an attachment to your sister?'

Jane looked seriously at him, 'Oh no, if anything I mean to encourage you, a challenge if you will. You have already awoken something in her; perhaps you can tease something of an attachment from her. But do not be fooled, she will never allow sentiment to get in the way of duty, that will always come first. And make no mistake, Mr Darcy; she will break your heart, she does not know any better.'

Darcy simply stared, was this the feeling Jane Bennet that Bingley had fallen in love with, she certainly was not showing herself as such, her words he deemed deliberately cutting. What did she mean by encouraging and warning him in the same breath? But at length he was forced to allow her sensible words to work their affect. Had he not always suspected as much here it was confirmed by those closest to her, Lady Hartfield was cold, and whether it was circumstance, or a fundamental flaw in her nature that rendered her such, the fact could not be denied.

She would break his heart.

They arrived within view of Longbourn at last, 'Be careful Mr Darcy…' Jane spoke as she took her leave of him, 'I stated it was only painfully obvious to those who cared to see it, and Lord Hartfield will certainly care to see it. And if he suspects the slightest attachment from either of you…believe me, you may rest assured he will punish Lizzy with a certain degree of pleasure.'

Lizzy sat back in the carriage; she avoided looking towards Lord Hartfield even as she was aware of his eyes regarding her curiously. She was looking out of the window still when he came and sat beside her. He sat close, and leaning close breathed in deep the scent of her.

She neither moved, nor turned to look at him. He took her chin forcefully in his own hand and turned her to face him. Her dark eyes flashed with the fire he so vividly remembered, smiling he began to untie the ribbons of her bonnet and proceeded to remove it carefully.

'It is rather early for a morning walk is it not? And how fortunate for both you and your sister to have such an able protector at such a solitary hour…' He was referring to Darcy she knew, but Lizzy held her chin up proudly and waited patiently as he dropped the bonnet on the carriage floor and rearranged her shaken curls. His tone carried the faintest hint of menace, but she had done nothing wrong, he had nothing to accuse her of.

'Mr Darcy happened upon us as we were walking, it was nothing more than coincidence.'

His smile faded, and his hand travelled down from her chin and came to rest heavily on her shoulder, exerting the faintest of pressure. 'A happy coincidence…?'

Lizzy wanted nothing more but to smile widely at him and declare it the happiest of coincidences, but she saw the foolishness in uttering such rash words and setting her expression in cold indifference stated, 'A coincidence, nothing more.'

He seemed satisfied with her reply, and returned his hand to exploring her face. He brushed his fingers lightly against her lips, traced the contours of her jaw and down along the line of her graceful neck.

'I missed you…' He leant close and whispered in her ear. She cringed inwardly at his proximity, but resolutely kept her place. She smiled disdainfully at him, 'Do you truly expect me to believe your side and your bed was empty in London my Lord?'

'I missed your wit and your sharp words…' He smiled and murmured in return, and began bestowing soft kisses on her neck just below the ear; still she stayed resolutely just as she was.

'I cannot confess to being surprised to hear your various 'companions' cannot add the art of good conversation to their varied repertories, but I'm sure their other talents more than compensated for any thing lacking…'

Suddenly he gripped the back of her neck tightly, she winced in pain as he increased the pressure and pulled her head back. He was angry, 'Must you oppose me at every turn?' He spat the words at her.

He looked deep into her eyes, she was unflinching and unbowed. He released her neck and suddenly gripped her arm tightly above the wrist, he pulled her hands towards him and she watched in growing horror as he began to wrest the gloves from her hands. She tried to offer some resistance, and pulled her hands back, but he merely tightened his grip. He undid the buttons and peeled them away, to reveal the bandages, the same bandages Darcy had so lovingly applied, and that she wore still and had hidden away beneath the gloves.

He smiled triumphantly at her, and held them up accusingly, 'Did he sit close, like this?' He moved his knee to touch hers, 'And tell me what did the generous Lady Hartfield offer as a reward to her devoted revolutionary…?' He began to undo the bandages, tearing at them crudely and roughly.

'Did you really think I wouldn't find out? Never underestimate the value of a good servant my lady…'

Spies, of course she ought to have known.

She tried vainly to pull her hands back, but every time she resisted his grip tightened and became more painful. She watched helpless as the strips of cloth found their way to the carriage floor, falling in soft piles. Until at last there lay her hands, bare and exposed; palm upwards, the sight of them brought an unusual sort of calm to what had been Philip's gathering rage.

The sight of the numerous cuts on her hands, healing but still painful and red affected him deeply. He looked at them a while and then at her.

'It was nothing, an accident…' sShe answered the question growing in his eyes. His expression softened and in an act of tenderness as sudden as his violent action had been, he lifted her hands to his face and kissed the palms softly.

He pulled her close and pressed her against his shoulder in a crushing embrace, 'You know how much I dislike hurting you, my darling Lizzy…'

She shut her ears against his growing murmurs of sentiment and instead focused her gaze on the pile of discarded bandages, and the man who had so gently applied them.

Lord Hartfield had returned with guests, a few gentlemen who had accompanied him from London. She found all three gentlemen awaiting her and Lord Hartfield's arrival, and as she was quite unsuitably dressed to receive guests, she hurried away to change. As her husband entered the room where they waited, she heard them make a passing remark about his lateness; the reply produced a lewd laugh from all concerned.

It was only until she had reached her room that she realised she had no maid to help her dress, the past week she had managed on her own with the simple gowns she had worn as a disguise, and besides the whole household believed her to be holed up in her room already. Aside from leaving trays of food at her door as per her instruction, very little had been seen of her all week, no wonder then that some of the servant stared as they passed her on the stairs. She realised how acutely she missed Sarah, but thoughts of Sarah threatened to bring forth the nightmares once again.

She decided to call for a maid once she entered her room, but there was no need. As soon as she opened the door, there stood a young, neat looking woman. She stood by the window with her hands folded neatly behind her back. She curtsied, 'Your Ladyship, I am Millicent Langford; I will be your new maid.' She spoke matter of factly and Lizzy although amazed at her audacity, was forced to concede. She knew at once, this woman's employment had been the work of his Lordship. She would have no say in the matter. Yet another spy…? She wondered.

The gentlemen stood as Lizzy entered the room; she found them as objectionable as any other of her husband's acquaintance. The eldest gentleman of forty, Sir Richard Purvis, the notorious gambler who would bet on anything and everything, the young earl Lord Henry Chaston, easily influenced and easily led. His mother was sure to have cursed the day he had sought an acquaintance with the infamous Lord Hartfield. It was rumoured the poor boy was losing something close to a fortune almost weekly at the faro tables and the hell houses that Lord Hartfield and Sir Purvis Richard had introduced him to. And there was another gentleman, one she did not recognise, a Mr Collins. He was clearly uncomfortable, by no means a man of consequence or immense wealth like the titled Lords in whose company he found himself, Lizzy wondered at his being acquired into this set at all.

She soon found out the whole, Mr Collins was in essence no better than the likes of Caroline Bingley, he was seeking to climb out of his station. His assiduous compliments and constant bowing, Lizzy soon ascertained were a source of cruel amusement to Lord Hartfield and Lord Chaston. They had adopted him as a pet project almost solely for their mirth. Lizzy was torn between feeling disgusted by Mr Collins blind veneration of these men and feeling quite sorry that he could so easily fooled.

Lizzy sought to resign herself to taking a place in the chair at the furthest corner of room, and resolutely avoiding conversation with the room and people in whose company she could never find pleasure. But their exchange did catch her interest; they were talking about the Netherfield residents.

Apparently Sir Purvis Richard knew something of Bingley and his friend. 'Bingley is amusing enough, but for some reason uniquely loyal to that revolutionary frog of his, Darcy isn't it? Neither could really hold much estimationdistinction, the sons of mill owners and tradesmen…'

Lizzy had been listening with a growing anger, and could contain herself no longer, 'And of course Sir Richard, what other man could deserve such round condemnation than the one who has had the audacity to commit the offence of earning his living and not inheriting it.' She made her way to the door, 'If you would excuse me gentleman…'

As she walked quickly, Sir Purvis Richard stepped in her way, he bowed low and she stopped. He smiled and she extended her hand, he placed a small kiss on her fingers, he held her hand a while, all the time keeping a wary eye on Lord Hartfield. 'It is refreshing to see your Ladyship, that you have lost none of your wit, or your charms.'

She smiled sweetly in return, 'and how is your wife Sir, Lady Anne Purvis…?' She watched as his smile faded, Lizzy knew that remark would rile him. Sir Purvis Richard had married purely to cover his mounting gambling debts and Lady Purvis though remarkably rich was had no very great beauty to speak of.

But it was Sir Richard Purvis that she would have to studiously avoid. He had made no effort to disguise the fact that he was remarkably jealous of his old friend Lord Hartfield, with particular regards to his good fortune in wife.