Chapter 25 - Darcy's Search

Los Angeles was deathly hot in the middle of August. Will's shirt was soaked through the moment he stepped off the plane. During his flight, he had called his friend John, an old Oxford mate, who was now working in the city's local FBI branch. Will had not risked asking him to look up George, but he did ask him to locate one Mrs. Margaret Farrington, who had had quite unfortunate dealings with Will in the past. She had been Georgia's nanny when Georgia had been young, but seemed to have not been able to find another job after being let go by the Darcys. Will had found that it was she, several years later, who had supplied George with drugs, and it was she who had arranged for Georgia's transportation to London. Somehow Will had the sneaking suspicion that Mrs. Farrington might just so happen to be located in Los Angeles now.

Sure enough, John called back a few hours later and gave Will an address in West Hollywood. The name wasn't an exact match, he said, but he admitted that they, too, had been keeping an eye on her for several months. Will thanked him appreciatively, and was about to set out, but his pilot convinced him that it would be better if he found a hotel and got some rest first. Will reluctantly agreed, and asked for some suggestions of hotels at the airport.

After doing a fast bit of shopping – considering he hadn't packed a single thing – Will checked in at the hotel, and then went up to his room and collapsed on the bed. It was barely five o'clock, but he could feel the jet lag catching up with him. To his body, it felt as if it were two in the morning, and yet he couldn't sleep. He just lay on the bed, switching between cursing Wickham and thinking of Eliza. He had never seen her cry before, but that one time was enough to convince him that he never wanted to see her cry again. God, Wickham was such a fool. How he was able to live with himself was beyond Will's imagination.

Will lay there for hours, planning. Once he found Lydia, he would make sure she was alright. If she had been using – and in all likelihood, she probably was – he would send her to a good rehab center here in California. As for Wickham – if he had any drugs on him, Will would have him arrested, something he should have done years ago. And if he didn't, then Will would just have to find a way to forcibly get him to a rehab center, too. Unfortunately, then came the trouble of telling the Bennets. He did not, under any circumstances, want Eliza finding out what he was doing. He wasn't sure how she would construe it. There was, of course, no doubt that she had been friendly to him during her time in Derby, but he was hardly about to let himself hope that she had fallen in love with him over the course of a couple of days. And then there was the way she had looked at him as he left; her eyes had a definite sense of finality in them. Perhaps she blamed him for what was happening to her sister, and never wanted to see him again. The thought made his blood run cold.

Will barely slept, unable to tell what time of day it was. When he awoke at seven in the morning, he felt exhausted but undeniably awake. He scarfed down breakfast and then went to see the concierge to show him the address of Mrs. Farrington. He explained that it was his first time in LA, but that it was imperative he got to this address as quickly as possible. The concierge noticeably raised his eyebrows when he saw the address, but assured Will that he would arrange for Will to have a driver during his stay who would take him wherever he needed to go. Will thanked him and then went upstairs to change; he thought it would probably be best if he didn't wear his usual attire, and instead changed into a pair of jeans and simple shirt.

Stepping once again into the lobby, the concierge informed him that his car was waiting outside and that he had already instructed the driver to take Will to exactly that address. Will thanked him and slipped him a generous tip before rushing outside and getting into the car.

Here goes nothing.

The Bennet house was in complete chaos. Mr. Bennet had been gone for nearly five days now, but every time he called, it was only to say that they hadn't found her yet. Eliza kept encouraging her father to call the police, but then Lydia herself would call and assure them that she was safe, but that she was, under no circumstances, coming back home. Mrs. Bennet grew hysterical every time the phone rang, and no matter what Eliza said to her sister, Lydia wouldn't budge.

"Lydia, at least let Dad see you," Eliza was saying to Lydia on the sixth day.

"No… he'll force me to come home," Lydia said; her voice was oddly hoarse.

Eliza sighed. "He just wants to make sure you're alright. We all do."

"I'm fine… God Lizzie, let it go!" Lydia audibly sniffed and then coughed.

"You certainly don't sound fine," Eliza said sharply.

"I said let it go!"

Click. Lydia had hung up, and Eliza set the phone back down with another sigh, something she had been doing a lot of these days. She no longer felt like crying; instead, she had a heavy weight, a thick tension, lying in her chest that only worsened with every phone call. Lydia sounded horrible, and Eliza had half a mind to leap on a plane and go to LA herself, if it weren't for the dire state of the rest of her family. Jane came over after work, but even together they could barely get her mother to eat anything besides soup.

"Oh my poor girl…" Mrs. Bennet wailed as their aunt Alice Phillips held her hand.

"Oh, Fanny… you know, I heard that Mrs. Matthews talking about Lydia yesterday in the grocery store… naturally, I asked her to please stop, but I suspect she just kept gossiping after I left," Aunt Alice said. Eliza groaned softly; she loved her aunt, but she wasn't much of a help.

"Mrs. Matthews!" Mrs. Bennet cried, sitting up on the couch a little. "That horrible woman… what was she saying?"

"She was saying that most people think that Lydia has joined some sort of cult and is out in Kansas slaughtering sheep," Aunt Alice said precisely.

"Oh!" Mrs. Bennet yelped, turning to bury her face in a pillow.

"Aunt Alice," Eliza broke in sharply, a little upset with her aunt. "Would you like something to drink?"

Aunt Alice smiled at her obliviously. "No, dear, I'd better be going. I'll come back tomorrow to check up."

Eliza smiled but didn't bother to walk her aunt out. Instead she walked over to her mother and sat down on the edge of the sofa.

"Oh, Lydia… how could they say such things? Especially that Mrs. Matthews… everyone knows her son got sent to military school for getting that girl pregnant," Mrs. Bennet said bitterly.

Eliza rolled her eyes, but fixed the pillows into a more comfortable position. Leave it to her mother to criticize gossiping and yet gossip at the same time.

"Don't think about it, Mom," she said.

She sat with her mother until she fell asleep. Eliza then took to cleaning up the living room, although no matter how many times she cleaned it, it always managed to look like a wreck by the next day. She was just cleaning some dishes in the kitchen when Jane came in quietly through the back door.

"It's quiet," Jane said softly. "Is Mom asleep?"

Eliza nodded as Jane sighed and shook her head.

"Did Lydia call today?" Jane asked.

"Yes," Eliza said, scrubbing a little harder than was needed. Jane didn't need to ask how the conversation went, and instead stood next to Eliza and started drying.

"This is really a disaster, isn't it Lizzie?" Jane asked a few minutes later. Eliza looked over to see her sister tearing up.

"I'm afraid so," she replied, placing a reassuring arm around her sister's waist. She was silent a few moments, before adding, "And it's all my fault."

"What? Lizzie-" Jane started to say, but Eliza shushed her. She then beckoned her sister to follow her outside. Once they were safely out on the patio by the pool, she took a deep breath and turned to Jane.

"I was completely wrong about Wickham," Eliza began.

"Oh, Lizzie, don't blame yourself. None of us thought he-" Jane said, but Eliza again held up her hand to stop her.

"No… I've known I was completely wrong about Wickham for… for a long time. The story he told me about him and Darcy… it was a complete lie. It was the other way around. Wickham screwed Will… badly." Even as she said it, the memory of Darcy made her begin to cry. She would have killed to have him by her side right now, so solid and sturdy.

"Oh, Lizzie…" Jane said, startled by Eliza's tears. "But how do you know all this?"

"That doesn't matter," Eliza said quickly. "The point is I never told any of you, and I should have! Wickham's toxic, and he's going to hurt her, I know he is! I should have told her…" she trailed off, allowing herself to be wrapped in Jane's arms.

"Lizzie, even if you had told her… do you really think Lydia would have listened?" Jane said. This comforted Eliza a little, but not much.

"Well, no…" she admitted, her tears slowing. "But maybe if I had at least told you, or Mom, or even Cate…"

"She still would have run off," Jane said firmly. "Nothing you or anyone said could have made any difference."

Eliza sighed, knowing her sister told the truth. She stepped back a little, wiping away her tears. She could tell Jane was still curious as to how she found out about Wickham in the first place, but she still wasn't ready to tell her sister about Will. She supposed she was afraid that Jane would be too surprised, or would think that Will really would never want to see her again, or wouldn't understand how much he had changed.

Her thoughts were abruptly cut off by a shriek. She and Jane looked at each other before hurrying inside. They found their mother practically glued to a tired figure – their father.

"Dad!" Jane yelped as they both rushed toward him. He smiled wearily and gave them each a hug.

"So? You found her?" Eliza said, clapping her hands together.

Her heart fell as her father shook his head. "No… John stayed – he's still looking. I'll go back out in a few days if I have to."

"But why did you come back?" Jane asked. Mr. Bennet poked his head over his sobbing wife's hair.

"I heard your mother was… well, now I understand," he said, his voice muffled against their mother's cries. Eliza and Jane nodded, but Eliza felt a bit disconcerted. Her father had just left, gave up, without finding Lydia first? She looked at Jane, but her sister only shot her a look that said 'don't upset anyone.' Eliza sighed and went up to her room. With her father back to look after her mother for a bit, she instantly fell asleep.

Will had been in Los Angeles for four days, and still he was getting nowhere. He had gone to Mrs. Farrington's house – a run-down shack on the corner of Murder and Rape – eight times now but still hadn't managed to catch her. He began his fifth day somewhat downhearted, but again got in the car and headed down the familiar route. Pulling up to the house, he asked the driver to drive around and meet him back here in fifteen minutes. He then turned to the house and found an encouraging sign: a car in the driveway.

Will hurried up the front steps and banged on the door. A couple of seconds later, the screen door opened and Mrs. Farrington appeared on the other side. She was a scrawny, middle-aged lady with bleached hair and permanently-orange skin. Her eyes bugged when she saw him, and she immediately slammed the door shut again. He groaned and started banging again.

"Mrs. Farrington! Mrs. Farrington!" he yelled, and moments later she was back.

"Be quiet, will ya?" she cried. "No one calls me that anymo'."

"I need to talk to you," he demanded. She glared at him.

"Why?" she poked her head out and scanned the street. "Gonna get me arrested?"

"Should I?" he said, fixing her with a steely eye.

"Whaddya want then?" she asked, although they both knew perfectly well what he wanted.

"Where is he, Margaret?"

"Where's who?"

"You know who. Wickham," Will said.

Mrs. Farrington shrugged and leaned against the doorframe, examining her fingernails.

"Why should I tell you?" she said.

Loathing himself, Will set his teeth and said, "I'll make it worth your while." He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and threw it onto a table she had inside.

She pursed her lips, examining the money. Then she said, "He's living over The Blue Fish. It's a club downtown."

"Thank you," he said.

She nodded her head and then slammed the door shut once more. Will turned to find the car driving slowly down the street; Will waved to him and he sped up. Will asked him to take him back to the hotel; first he would have to find wherever this Blue Fish was before storming over there.

Telling the driver to wait a few minutes, he practically ran into the hotel to one of the computer consoles they had in the lobby. He quickly looked up the name of the club; it took a minute or two, but finally he was able to scribble down the address before racing back out to the car. He shoved the address into the driver's hands, who looked at it for a second before taking off.

Twenty minutes later, they were parked in front of the shabby club. Will thanked the driver and again asked him to wait; the driver shrugged and told him he would drive him around all day the way he was paying.

His stomach clenching ever so slightly, Will walked around the side of the club to find a metal staircase leading up to the third floor. He took the stairs two at a time and soon found himself in front of plain wooden door with no window or peephole. Once again he pounded on the door. A minute went by with no answer, so he began pounding again. This time he heard yelling from inside, and then several seconds later, the door opened. Will found himself facing Lydia, although if she hadn't been the subject of his search for the past several days, he never would have recognized her. She was pale and thin, her eyes bloodshot and surrounded by dark purple circles. She was sweating a little as she stared at him with her mouth open for a moment or two.

"Darcy? What the hell are you doing here?" she finally said.

"Darcy?" Will heard George's voice come from further back in the apartment. "That goddam…"

Will strode past Lydia and went straight into the apartment. It was dimly lit and had a foul smell. Two mattresses were laid out on the floor, and it looked as though they had failingly tried to clean up; the blankets lying on top of the mattresses were oddly lumpy in places.

"Darcy!" George yelled, staggering out of the miniscule bathroom. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Something I should have done a long time ago," Will said, before reeling back his fist and thrusting it right into George's smug face. Wickham staggered back as Lydia shrieked and rushed toward him.

"That wasn't very gentleman-like," George said with a sneer, throwing off Lydia and standing back up.

"Neither is this," Will said, punching George again in the stomach. George snarled and then lunged toward Will, pushing him back up against the wall. Will hit his head hard against the solid brick, but George was too weak for him. Will easily overpowered him and turned and pushed him against the wall.

"What, Will… I'm not doing anything wrong," George said in a pathetic voice.

"Oh really?" Will said, letting him go for a second, in which George sunk to the floor. "Then what's this?" Will demanded, pulling off the blankets, exposing needles and little plastic bags of drugs.

Wickham didn't answer, only glared at Will. Lydia, who had until now been mostly quiet and shaking, suddenly swayed on her feet. Will caught her before she fell to the floor.

"Looks just like your sister did, doesn't she?" George said smoothly from the ground. Will propped Lydia against the sofa for a moment, and then turned to George, trembling from head to foot in pure rage. Wickham was huddled against the wall, his lip and nose bleeding profusely. He stared up at Will in pathetic defiance.

"Enjoy your time in prison," Will growled, before walking toward George and hitting him one last time over the head. George's eyes rolled for a brief second, before he slumped over onto his side.

Will felt truly shaken; he had never hurt anyone quite like that before. He shook out his hand, which was throbbing painfully from dealing so many blows. He turned back to Lydia, who was still leaning faintly against the sofa. He scooped her up and then left the dingy apartment. His car was still sitting patiently on the street, but the driver opened his eyes in surprise when Will re-entered with the sweating and shaking Lydia.

"To this address, please," Will said, handing the driver the address of a rehab center he had already looked up. The driver nodded and took off.

Will turned to Lydia and patted her lightly on the cheek. She came to, but yelped and scooted away from him when she opened her eyes.

"You!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing? Where's George?"

"George is… incapacitated," Will replied slowly. Lydia narrowed her eyes and glared at him. She didn't look much like Eliza at all, except for the dark hair.

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded next; her voice was high and shrill, much like Mrs. Bennet's, Will thought. "I won't go home!"

"I'm not taking you home. I'm taking you to a treatment center," he said calmly.

"There's nothing wrong with me! I'm fine!" Lydia said petulantly.

"No, you're not," he said firmly. "You're very sick, and if I don't take you get treated, you might just die."

"When George comes to get me…"

"George isn't going to come for you. He doesn't care about you. And he'll be going away for a little while, anyway," Will told her. Her face screwed up in confusion.

"What does that mean? And yeah, he does so care about me! He brought me here, didn't he?" she said.

Will sighed and shook his head. "He brought you here to get you high and to have sex with you. That's it."

This disgusting statement had little if no effect on Lydia whatsoever.

"Does this have something to do with my sister? You like her, don't you… Lizzie. Goddam perfect Lizzie. Daddy thinks she's the best thing since sliced bread. And you do, too, don't you? You think that by saving her poor little sister she'll suddenly fall in love with you? Well she won't! She hates you… and she doesn't give a crap about me, either," Lydia ranted, wiping sweat off her forehead.

Will was silent a moment; yes, it certainly was all for her sister. But even if Eliza still hated him… it was worth it. Lydia, whatever her faults, did not deserve this. No one did.

"You needed help. I knew where to find Wickham," he finally said.

Lydia gave a huff and crossed her arms. "Whatever."

Will rolled his eyes and looked out the window. The address he had given the driver was not in Los Angeles; in fact, it was in Malibu. It took nearly a half an hour to get there with the traffic, but finally they pulled onto a long, sandy drive that led to a huge, elegant mansion. It was bright white with blue shutters, and stood on a cliff right beside the ocean. Lydia's mouth fell open when she saw it, and didn't seem to struggle quite as much when Will opened the door and took her wrist. He led her inside, where several women in clean white uniforms welcomed them warmly in a brightly lit lobby. Will smiled and explained who they were; he had made arrangements ahead of time, saying that he would bring Lydia in sometime during the week. They had offered to help with the intervention, but he had insisted on doing it himself. They seemed relieved to see him.

Within minutes, they had taken Lydia back, leaving Will to write the fairly large check. He did so gladly, and then, in a hushed voice, he asked them if they could call the police and direct them to George's address. They smiled sympathetically and nodded; "Anything that will help our patients cut themselves off from their past" they told him. He thanked them profusely, and then left, promising that Lydia's family would return for her.

Once in the car again, Will finally let himself relax. The whole ordeal had thoroughly upset him, and he was relieved to see it done. He returned to the hotel, and after thanking and paying the driver quite generously, he dragged himself up to his room.

After a short nap, Will awoke again with a plan. It seemed the only logistical way… yes, he could trust them.

Digging into his wallet, he pulled out a plain white business card. One side said Gardiner Realty, Manhattan, but on the other was scribbled a phone number. Will checked the clock; it was five o'clock here, meaning it was eight o'clock on the East Coast. That was reasonable.

He picked up the phone and dialed, his stomach flurrying with butterflies.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mrs. Gardiner?"

Eliza had a headache. A throbbing, agonizing headache that blocked out all thoughts and emotions. She was lying on the cold floor of the bathroom, the only safe haven in the house. Her mother still hadn't left the sofa, and her father had locked himself in his study ever since he returned. Eliza was very jealous.

Suddenly, she heard the phone ring. She bolted upright, a move she regretted a nanosecond later. She could hear the entire family racing to the phone as she left the bathroom. The house rang with "hello?"s, but soon she could hear Jane telling everyone except for Dad to hang up. She stood at the top of the stairs, debating whether or not to go down. Every other time she had hurried herself down, it was for nothing. But then Jane appeared at the bottom of the stairs, motioning quickly with her hands.

"It's Uncle John!" she said softly but urgently. Eliza nearly forgot about her headache as she rushed down the stairs and sat down eagerly in the living room. Everyone stared at the door to Mr. Bennet's study, waiting with bated breath for several long minutes. Jane was holding both her mother and Eliza's hands, and Cate and Mary sat on the arms of the sofa. Finally, after what certainly felt like an eternity, Mr. Bennet emerged.

"Well?" Mrs. Bennet screeched. "Any news?"

"John has found her. He's found Lydia," Mr. Bennet said, leaning a hand against the end table. The entire family erupted into screams of joy; Jane wrapped Eliza into a suffocating hug. Eliza, however, soon shushed everyone… she could tell her father had much more to say.

"He says he's taken Lydia to a drug rehabilitation center," Mr. Bennet went on. Mrs. Bennet immediately burst into tears and Jane's hand flew up to her mouth. "It's a residential center, and she'll be able to come home in sixty days."

"Sixty days?" Mrs. Bennet trilled.

"Is she alright?" Cate asked, her voice wavering.

"She'll be fine," Mr. Bennet said, patting his daughter on the back. "He said they told him there shouldn't be any long-term damage."

"And what about Wickham?" Eliza demanded.

"He has been arrested. For drug possession," Mr. Bennet replied. Eliza sighed, her heart falling. Oh Lydia…

"John gave me the name and address of the facility, but we cannot go visit her for two weeks. We can call her, and she can call us. That's it," Mr. Bennet continued.

Jane sighed, patting Eliza's knee. As the rest of the family erupted into chatter, however, Eliza followed her father with her eyes as he retreated back into his study. She leapt up and quickly went after him.

"Oh, Lizzie," Mr. Bennet said when he turned to find her there. They soon collapsed into a hug, her father holding onto Eliza for dear life.

"Breathe, Dad. She's found. She's safe," Eliza said comfortingly.

But Mr. Bennet just shook his head. "John found her. I gave up," he said in a small voice that terrified Eliza.

"No you didn't. You had already been there nearly a week. You were concerned for your family," Eliza said.

Mr. Bennet was silent as he eased into his desk chair. His hair was ruffled and his shirt was wrinkled. Eliza had never seen him so unkempt.

"That facility is the best in California. How much it must cost… how can I ever repay him?" Mr. Bennet said, running a hand through his hair. Eliza sighed.

"We'll think of something, Dad," she said. "We'll think of something."

A/N:

Woo! Fast update! This chapter just poured right out of me, so I hope you like it. Hey, do you think we could get to 400 reviews? Woo! Please review!

And the countdown continues… four more chapters. Next chapter we shall see Darcy making amends in a different area, and then the chapter after that, Charles and Darcy return to Netherfield! Yay!

Ok, so please review. It makes me so happy!

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen