A/N: Yes, I'm back a little later than planned to finish the story off at last. Thankyou to all who've stuck around waiting for the end, here's part 18, sorry for the wait.

Part 18- 'Mr Collins' little deception….'

Lizzy arrived home late in the afternoon that very same day. She took a deep breath before she crossed the threshold of her own front door. She could imagine the scenes that were awaiting her, and she wished to be a million miles away. She closed her eyes and berated herself for being so selfish. There would be time enough to grieve for what was lost, but for now she had to be there for the family. She would be… if she wanted to mourn, it would have to be in private.

Mrs Bennet was in exactly the state Lizzy had described to Darcy: nearing hysterics. She was crying and cursing in equal measures. Lizzy could hear her voice drifting down the stairs to her in the hallway where she stood.

She refused to leave her room and everybody had to go up to see her. Mrs Bennet cut a pitiful sight; she sat in her dressing gown being attended by Mary, Kitty and Jane. Lizzy joined the fray and spent the remainder of the day pretending to listen to her mother's continuing laments and soothing her own aching heart.

There seemed to be a ticking clock hanging over them all. Wickham had promised the pictures would be in the papers by the end of the week, and they had already lost two days. It was in anticipation of the crowds of reporters that were sure to turn up at their doorstep that the whole family took refuge in the back room of the house. They had little time to work out how best to handle the publicity that was to come. Both Mr Collins and Bingley had turned up to offer their support to the family and their respective fiancées.

Mrs Bennet had still not learnt how to control her crying. 'I don't know what could have happened,' She looked about the room at the sullen faces. 'I know she is not that type of girl…'

Mary snorted in reply. Jane looked at her sharply. 'You're not helping…' She sighed and shook her head, 'Can't imagine what Lydia was thinking, he's old enough to be her father.'

Jane's words mirrored exactly what Lizzy had said to Darcy. A painful remembrance caused her to reply more angrily than she intended, 'Lydia doesn't think that's the problem…she's always been a spoilt, selfish brat who's never cared about anyone but herself!'

'Lizzy…!' Jane was amazed at the resentment in her sister's voice. But Lizzy was determined to speak her mind.

'It's true…thanks to her, everything is ruined…' It was impossible for the whole room not to notice the strength of sorrow apparent in her words.

Mrs Bennet thought it time to begin her lamenting again, but this time she sought to apportion blame, and certainly not where it was deserved. She looked towards Mr Bennet with a menacing eye.

'Is it surprising she sought a father figure considering her own was not around much…?'

Mr Bennet looked up at her sharply. Jane instinctively reached for Bingley's hand; finding it, she clasped it in her own. The whole room was descending into anarchy. Lizzy instinctively moved out of range from Mr Collins lest he likewise be arrested by a moment of tenderness and reach for her hand.

Mr Bennet, instead of offering a witty retort as his wife expected, slowly got up from the chair he had been sitting in quietly, and without a word left the room. Lizzy noted the painful look creasing his face as he left, and her heart ached all the more.

'We're all to blame…' she began quietly, 'for indulging her and pampering her' she looked around the room accusing each of them in turn, 'for allowing her to become the sort of girl who flirts with anything with a pulse…who doesn't think of the consequences of her actions, and now we're all going to pay for it.' She followed her father's example and left the room.

She walked quickly across the hallway and to the door of her father's study. This was his sanctuary; he rarely invited anyone in, and today was no exception. She saw him sitting with a large bottle of whisky by his side; he looked up and saw her in the doorway. She attempted to smile at him, and though he may have been touched by her concern he nonetheless got up and quietly closed the door to her.

Far from being hurt, Lizzy understood it completely. Mrs Bennet's words had struck a chord with him; they confirmed suspicions he had already been having about his record as a father. He felt his wife, for once in her life, to be right; he had failed them all miserably. Lydia's wildness and unchecked behaviour was as much his fault as hers. He had much to be ashamed of. It was the sort of realisation not even the soothing words of a favourite daughter could do away. He had preferred to dismiss her therefore than even let her try.

Lizzy went up to her own room, and locking the door behind her, tried her hardest to fight back the tears. She was not left alone for long, however; there soon came a gentle knock on the door.

'I want to be alone…' she called out. The voice that came back made her smile and change her mind.

'It's me, Jane…Lizzy, please open the door.' Lizzy did gladly. Seeing Jane filled with so much tender emotion for her made Lizzy realise just how much she'd missed her sister. She threw her arms about her and hugged her fiercely.

They sat down on her bed, and after a lengthy, soothing silence began at long last to talk as they had used to. Lizzy was sorry for the ill way she had used her sister.

'I have been such a fool, Jane…you have every right to think ill of me.'

Jane pressed her hand and smiled at her. 'I don't think ill of you…'

'No…but perhaps you might think better of me if I told you I was seriously reconsidering my engagement to Mr Collins,' Lizzy waited in anticipation for Jane's reply to this statement.

Jane nodded in understanding. 'You know I only want what makes you happy…'

'I know…' Lizzy sighed and thought of Darcy, and just how far true happiness had eluded and continued to elude her.

'Jane, I still don't understand any of this. Never mind how the affair with Billy came about…how did Wickham find out about it?'

Jane turned away from her and began to wring her hands nervously. 'Lizzy it's entirely my fault…I'm to blame.' Jane was crying. 'Soon after you left on your holiday, Wickham came here. He was friendly and good-natured with all the family and…and I was stupid enough to think that he might have changed.' She did not think herself deserving of any comfort and so shook off any Lizzy tried to offer. 'I should have known, Lizzy, when I saw him constantly with Lydia, when I saw the confidences he was sharing particularly with her and the pains he was taking to form a friendship…I should have known, but I didn't even begin to guess what he was really up to…I should've told the family…'

Lizzy was stern and firm in her reply, 'It is not your fault! Nor is it mine or Darcy's or anyone else's who might have been unfortunate enough to be taken in by Wickham's lies. If you think staying silent has led to this then you might as well hand over my proportionate share of the blame. I knew as much as you and stayed silent…'

'On my stupid advice…'

Lizzy hugged her sister again. 'Your advice is never stupid, Jane. In fact…there are times when you are more right than you could ever know,' She was thinking inevitably of Darcy again.

Jane caught the sorrowful tone in her sister's voice and wondered at it. 'Lizzy…what is it…something you need to talk about?'

'Yes…' she smiled sadly, 'but not right now…I wouldn't make much sense, it's still too painful, but right now, we have other things to worry about…'

Mr Collins was never very comfortable in family crises, and he was even more incompetent where the family was not yet his own. He sat awkwardly where Lizzy had left him, and was debating whether to go up after her or leave altogether. He was wary of her temper, but there was really nothing to tempt him to stay in the room any longer. Bingley stood by the window, pensive and reflective; the mother had gone back to lamenting, albeit a little more quietly. The daughters took up their own literary pursuits, Kitty with her i Hello /i magazine and Mary with Milton's Paradise Lost. No one appeared willing or in the mood for talk, so Collins was eternally grateful when his phone rang.

He hurried outside to the garden to answer it. The voice on the other end, though familiar, was still a surprise for him to hear.

'Mr Collins, this is Darcy…Look, I'm sorry to call you out of the blue like this, but I have information regarding the Bennets. I wonder if you could meet me for a coffee…?'

'I suppose I could…should I bring Lizzy or Bingley…?'

'No…!' Darcy practically shouted down the phone at him. Mr Collins was a little taken aback. 'I would appreciate it if you came alone…' he spoke lower this time.

'Alright…' Darcy promptly gave him the address and hung up.

Collins shook his head in bewilderment; still, he was curious as to what Darcy could have to say. Anything was better than having to sit with the Bennet family again.

Mr Collins sat stunned at the narrative he had just heard. It amazed him that Darcy could have done so much in so little time. The two days that the Bennets had been awaiting the dreaded inevitable, Darcy had sought out and found the wayward fugitive sister. He handed him a short scrap piece of paper covered in hastily written scrawl.

'Here is the address where Lydia and Farren are staying. It's a small cottage on the coast, a holiday home, I suppose. I've already spoken to them both. Billy was easily persuaded to do the right thing, especially when I told him he risked his career with the all the exposure that was coming. Lydia took a little more working on, though I think the fact that Farren was willing to give her up so readily made her see things more clearly.

'Anyway…you must go and bring her home…'

Collins was more than a little puzzled; he took the paper from him and asked, 'Why are you doing this…? If you've already spoken to them, why didn't you bring her back yourself…?' Although seeing Darcy unwilling to relent to his questioning, he asked all the same, 'I mean, if you brought her back, the Bennets would love you forever, but instead you're offering me the chance to excel in their eyes…why?'

Darcy sighed and appeared to be in pain as he spoke. 'I have a high regard for the Bennets, Lizzy and her father especially, but I think they would regard my interference as intrusive and odious, seeing as I am not connected to the family as closely as… i you. /i Besides, Miss Bennet has clearly indicated her future lies with you, and as I could never do anything but wish that future to be a happy one, I think her believing you to be the saviour of her sister and the Bennet name would serve a greater purpose.'

At Mr Collins still looking none the wiser, Darcy added a final sentence of persuasion. 'Miss Bennet will be all the more thankful to you…'

Collins smiled in understanding at last; Darcy was offering him the chance to get Lizzy at last. Even as dense and self-deluding as he was, Collins could not deny the signs that she had been beginning to look and sound as if she regretted their engagement. He had been in dread of her calling it off, but now…

'And you don't want any recognition at all…?' The offer still appeared too good to be true.

'No…' Darcy shook his head adamantly. 'In fact, that is my condition…I insist on anonymity…'

Mr Collins grinned broadly. 'Alright, I'll do it, but you must know, Darcy…that this deception does not come easily to me.'

Darcy saw right through Collins' self-effacement and attempts at false modesty. 'Of course, with your being the very essence of morality and truth, I'd think such a deception must be torturous for you…'

Collins did not note the subtle sarcastic in Darcy's voice. He thought only of the happiness that awaited him on account of Elizabeth Bennet's impending and eternal gratitude.

Ensuring the return of Lydia Bennet to the family fold may have proved the easier task, compared to what lay ahead. There was still the matter of keeping the photos from reaching the public eye. It was on that undertaking that Darcy set off soon after meeting with Collins.

Getting the name of the reporter to whom Wickham had sold the photographs proved a near-impossible task. Given some well-placed misinformation and a little help from friends in the public eye, Darcy eventually got a name: Heidi Marchant.

She was the well-known, well-established reporter of a high-brow society magazine. How she had gotten to know Wickham then was beyond him.

She had eventually agreed to meet him for lunch; she had insisted on the restaurant of her choosing and insisted that he paid. Darcy now sat in the corner of the room, at a darkly lit table, looking at Miss Marchant with curiosity. She was not a particularly noticeable woman, there was nothing to make her stand out from the crowd; in fact, her rather diminutive stature would probably ensure she got lost in it instead. Her mousy brown hair was swept back into a ponytail, and her face framed by some overly large glasses.

He smiled his best, handsome actor smile at her. She was not buying it.

'Mr Darcy, I'm a very busy woman…what is it that you want..?'

He cleared his throat, and stated briefly, 'I want you to drop this story about Lydia Bennet and her family…'

At first Miss Marchant merely looked at him with her characteristic non-responsive glare before she burst out laughing. Her mirth was beginning to draw the attention of the other diners.

'And why would I do that, why would I drop the biggest story of the year…simply because Fitzwilliam Darcy demands it? I'm afraid you've been too used to dwelling on your own self-worth. I'm afraid what Mr Darcy wants is not what Mr Darcy will get…'

Darcy smiled at her; he did not think this would be easy. He leaned in close to her. 'I'll make you a deal: you give me the pictures and anything else Wickham gave you…and I'll give you a story that'll blow this thing out of the water,'

He could see he had her interest now; she eyed him sceptically. 'For something to blow this out of the water, it'll have to be a hell of a story…'

Darcy sat back coolly. 'Believe me, it is…we're talking lies, affairs…and a missing diva…'

Miss Marchant tried to play it equally cool. 'Then there's the money I paid Wickham for the pictures…that'll have to be reimbursed.'

'Of course…I'll double what you gave him…' Seeing her wavering still, Darcy pressed his point home, '…and I'll give you the biggest story for years…I'll give you a world exclusive…your editor will love you for it, believe me…'

'Okay…you've got me interested. This has better be good.' She poured the wine into her glass and offered him some. He declined.

'I'm offering you the first interview with the renowned Diva Carmen Rosetta…'

She sipped her drink slowly, and raising an eyebrow, declared it to be impossible. 'Carmen Rosetta hasn't been seen in over eight years! She announced she wasn't going to do any more appearances, and certainly no more interviews…What makes you think she's changed her mind?'

'She's changed her mind for me…' Darcy spoke confidently. 'As well as the interview, she's going to perform on opening night at my theatre, in the lead role…'

'You don't expect me to believe that, why would she…why would she after eight years suddenly make her reappearance for you?'

Darcy smiled quietly, 'My father gave Rosetta her first break at Pemberley, he helped launch her career…and she's my mother.'

It was a good thing the wine Heidi had ordered was white, because on hearing those words of Darcy's she spluttered in shock and sent fine droplets of the stuff spewing all over the tablecloth. She wiped her mouth and the table hurriedly.

'She's your…mother?' She stared at him wide-eyed.

Darcy remained as calm as ever. 'Yes, Carmen Rosetta is my real mother…'

'How…I mean…' Heidi was having trouble forming words.

'Rosetta was barely known in those days when she started at my father's theatre. He worked to make her a star, and she showed her gratitude. They had an affair, and she became pregnant with me. By then my father and Anne Darcy had been told they couldn't have children, but my father wanted an heir, Anne desperately wanted a child and Rosetta wanted her career, so in the end it all worked out perfectly for them. Everybody got what they wanted…'

Heidi was riveted by his story. 'And Georgiana Darcy…?'

'Georgiana is my half-sister, her mother is Anne Darcy…but this has nothing to do with her. I want her left out of it.'

'This is amazing…'

'I thought it'd get you interested, and as I suppose you'll be requiring proof, you can hear it straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak…Rosetta will tell you all in that first interview I promised you.'

'You're willing to do all this, for some pictures…?' She could not believe what she was hearing.

'Yes…' Darcy leaned forward again. 'That's all I want…'

Heidi shook her head, 'You do know what all this will mean? Your life, Pemberley Theatre, everything about you is going to be under the microscope…'

'I know…but it's alright…' Darcy shrugged. 'I think I will have that glass of wine, thanks…' It was hard to tell whose hands were shaking more, Heidi's as she poured or Darcy's as he drank.

'But why…why are you doing this?'

He smiled. 'Rosetta craves the limelight again, and what will get her more attention than…'

'Than an affair with Percival Darcy, the very royalty of theatre…' she finished the sentence for him. 'I never took you as much of a humanitarian Darcy, yet you're willing to expose your life for a returning Diva, and a girl stupid enough to get involved with Billy Farren. Lydia Bennet can't mean all that much to you to risk all this…'

'You're right, I don't care much for the likes of Lydia Bennet, but there are others connected to her who don't deserve such exposure.'

Heidi with all her journalistic insight believed she finally understood. 'Such as the sister, Elizabeth Bennet, your co-star?'

Darcy smiled sadly. 'Yes…but it's not just that. This is also about my father. I'm sick of the world holding him in such high esteem. It's about time the world saw him for what he really was…as fallible and mortal as everybody else. I'm sick of living up to a name that was less than perfect in the first place.'

'Alright…' Heidi had heard enough, 'you've persuaded me…you can have the pictures, when I get my interview with Rosetta…'

Darcy protested but she insisted, 'That's my condition. Those pictures are my only security at the moment…'

'Fine, it's a deal…' They shook hands on it.