Happy Birthday to me...Happy Birthday to me....Happy Birthday!

To My Reviewers:

can't think: Yes, Mr. Collins is an imbecile, but I still love the little bugger anyway. Maybe he was trying to make Mary jealous. *shrugs* I don't know...I don't have control XD

Bonbonnett: Well..you aren't right, but you can have a cookie for trying. ^^ *hands cookie*

Spanish Sunrise: I think that you, of everyone else, is going to enjoy this chapter the most.

Lacrymosa-Light: Well, there's going to be more of that, so love it and love it!

Jiang Quig: Ding Ding! We have a winner! Have a cookie *gives cookie*

somebunnyelse: He's treating her fine, like any man treats his daughter. Mary is the only one he abuses.

Chapter Eleven

"Mary, this is very sweet of you," Mr. Wickham said as he was sitting in the palor.

Mary smirked as she served him a glass of wine, "I figured that you and I should spend more time together."

"You are an angel," Mr. Wickham said as he drunk the wine.

It was night. It was around ten o'clock. Everyone else was in their rooms.

Mary was wearing a rather unguarded pink dress. It was one of Lydia's.

It was a bright pink with white lace on the wrists and at the bottom. It was low cut, reveling Mary's cleavage.

Mary had thought that Mr. Wickham was more in love with the dress than her when he first saw it.

Mary had entertained Mr. Wickham for the last hour or so. She had served him several glasses of wine. She knew by the look of his glazed eyes, that he was almost ready.

"Do have another drink," Mary insisted as she poured more wine into his glass.

"No, no, it is rude. You have not had any," Mr. Wickham said, slurring his words.

He took the glass and poured it down his throat.

Mary smiled at him and she sat down next to him on the settee.

"Mr. Wickham, do you know how much I adore you?" Mary asked.

"How much?" Mr. Wickham asked, his eyes full of lovesickness.

"You are so strong and so brave," Mary said as she moved closer to him.

Mr. Wickham looked at her, pleased, "I am brave, aren't I?"

"Yes you are," Mary said as she went to stroke his hair…and his ego.

"And you are the best sort of gentleman out there. I do not know why you have not married yet," Mary said.

"Not many would want to be an officer's wife," Mr. Wickham said, swaying softly.

"I'm not sure why. You are like…a knight in shining armor," Mary said, smiling at him.

"Not really," Mr. Wickham said, modestly.

"Of course you are," Mary cooed as she filled the glass once more. She continued as Mr. Wickham drunk the wine, "You are like a white knight saving the princess from the evil dragon…."

Mr. Wickham chuckled at that as he moved his hand over to her face and he began stroking it, "I promise you, Mary, I won't let your father touch you again."

Mary cringed slightly, but covered it up, "Of course, Mr. Wickham. I know what sort of man you are. You are a gentleman. You would never allow a lady to be hurt."

Mr. Wickham nodded in agreement as he went to kiss her.

Mary kissed back and then pulled away, "You also wouldn't allow another lady to be hurt."

Mr. Wickham asked her, "What do you mean?"

Mary told him, "Without me to take his anger out on, Papa may turn to someone else…I couldn't bare for any one of my sisters to be hurt. I do not know if they will be as lucky as me to find someone like you."

Mr. Wickham said, his eyes full of anger, "I can't allow that to happen."

Mary nodded, "I know that, love…That's why you have to kill him."

Step one…

"Kill him? That seems a bit…unnecessary," Mr. Wickham said, unsure.

Mary growled slightly at this setback, but recovered, "But, Mr. Wickham, a man like him does not deserve to live, you must agree to that."

Mr. Wickham, in his intoxicated mind, nodded, "You…you are right. He deserves to die for his crimes."

Mary smirked as she and Mr. Wickham stood up. They went into the library where Mr. Bennet was.

He had fallen asleep in his chair. A book was in his hands.

Mary picked the book up and handed it to Mr. Wickham, "Use this. Bash his brains out."

Mr. Wickham took the book and said, unsurely, "I…I don't think I can do this. I don't think I can kill an unarmed man."

Mary growled, "Don't think about that. Think about being a hero. You are going to be my hero. Do it. Kill him."

Mr. Wickham bit his lip before he took a deep breath. He then hit Mr. Bennet.

He fell out of his chair on the floor. He groaned slightly as he started to wake up.

Mr. Wickham hit him again, making Mr. Bennet pass out.

Mary watched the acts with eyes full of satisfaction. It was happening. Mr. Bennet was going to die.

Mary had not had the pleasure of making love, but this thrill of watching her father die could not be rivaled by that. She was sure of this.

Mr. Wickham continued to hit Mr. Bennet until his arms became to weak to hit him again. He was covered in blood and brain matter and bits of bone.

He stood up, shaking, "I…I can't believe it…I…killed…him…"

Mary went over to him. She rubbed his shoulder, "Don't worry, love. You did the right thing…Now, why don't you go home? You look like you need to rest."

Mr. Wickham nodded, slowly before he left the house.

Mary smirked and left the library.

She went upstairs and down the hallway to her bedroom. She changed into her night gown and got into her bed.

She slept very well that night.

Bet you didn't see that coming, did you?