The Homestead

Author's Note: Please be aware that this story contains some themes of dubious consent. If such material offends you, I suggest you skip this story.

Chapter 1

Elizabeth dragged herself toward the tree and sagged against it, her energy all but spent. She had been three days wandering in the forest with no water or food. She knew she would not last much longer unless she could come across some sort of settlement. But she had no idea where she was.

Three days ago, the safe home where she and her dad had lived for nine years since the impact of the comet on Earth, had been overcome by a gang. Her dad's last words to her had been to run. She had always listened to her dad, and so she had run. They had both known that there was no way they could both have gotten away alive, and if she had been captured, a far worse fate than death would have been hers.

Now she was entirely alone in the world. Her dad had been a doomsday prepper, so although she had gone to school like other children until the comet hit when she was 11, her family had lived off the grid. When the world fell to pieces, the Bennets had been safe and self-sustaining in their cabin in the woods. After the comet destroyed half the planet, the Earth had been bombarded by tsunamis, earthquakes, and poisoned air. Governments fell and gangs took over. It had taken almost ten years for American settlements to start to prosper again without a proper government or modern technology.

The Bennets had been safe in their cabin. Solar power had given them electricity, a stereo that played CDs, an oven, a washing machine, and they had even had hot showers and a flushing toilet. They survived on canned and dried food, and the occasional rabbit or fish that her father was able to catch in the stream. But when Elizabeth was 15, a virus had swept through their family, killing Elizabeth's mother and four sisters and leaving her and her father alone.

Thomas Bennet had devoted all his energy toward his only remaining daughter. He had always called her "doll," since she had been an exceptionally pretty child, with porcelain skin, rosy red cheeks, and chestnut curls. Her mother had always said she was the most beautiful of her sisters, although Elizabeth had always believed that Jane, her willowy blonde sister, was prettier.

But now she had no one. The gang had broken into the house, killed her father, and no doubt would have raped and killed her as well. She had run, and was running still, three days later, although her strength was entirely failing her. She was so thirsty that her parched throat could not even swallow, and the hunger in her belly had turned to a dull ache. She rested against the tree for a while before she tried to rise. She had to move on, to find some kind of settlement, or she would die here. But dizziness overcame her, and she fainted.

Suddenly she was being shaken, cold water splashed in her face.

"You all right? Wake up, girl! You okay?"

Elizabeth cracked open her eyes, seeing before her a scruffy man in his early thirties with curly black hair and beard.

"There you are. You worried me for a few minutes there. Thought you might be dead," the man said. She realized that she was sitting on his lap, and that he was holding her upright.

"Wa – water," her voice cracked from disuse and thirst. "Please."

The main complied immediately, taking out what seemed to be a canteen of some kind, and lifting it to her lips. Elizabeth swallowed the liquid greedily. The water was not cold, but it was still the best thing she had ever tasted. She gulped greedily until the man took the canteen from her mouth.

"Not too much, now," he said. "You might get sick if you drink too quickly."

Without even asking if she was hungry, he brought out of his pack what was clearly a sandwich. He only gave her half, but Elizabeth did not complain as she devoured that greedily as well. She recognized the taste of chicken, fresh tomato, lettuce, and cheese. She had not had fresh food like this in nine years, and combined with her starved state, it was the best thing she had ever tasted.

Once she had finished eating, the man offered her his canteen again, and she drank a little more moderately before handing it back to him.

Somewhat revived now, she looked up at her rescuer, suddenly feeling self-conscious that she was still on his lap. She slid off and stood, and he did the same. It was then she realized how tall he was. At least a foot taller than her petite frame. She had always been short, but he made her feel practically Lilliputian.

"What's your name, girl?" he asked her.

"Elizabeth Bennet," she said, "but my dad called me Lizzy. Who are you?"

"I'm Will Darcy," said. "My parents own a farm a few miles from here, and I live in a fishing cabin just on the edge of these woods. I was out here hunting when I saw you. What the hell is a girl like you doing alone in the woods like this?"

Since Will had not shown any violent tendencies, and had, indeed, been very kind to her, Elizabeth did not attempt to disguise her situation. "I was living with my father in a cabin in the woods. We were set upon by a gang, and my father was killed. He told me to run. That was three days ago. If you hadn't found me I – I'm sure I would have died." Her voice cracked. "Thank you."

"I'm just glad I came along when I did," he did. "So you've lived alone with your father for how many years?"

"Since impact."

"Shit. How old are you, girl?"

"Twenty."

His eyes widened. "Thank God," he muttered, as if to himself. Then, in a louder voice, he told her, "You look much younger."

Elizabeth just shrugged. She didn't know what to say to that.

"Well, I'll take you to my parents' farm. There's always a place at their table for someone who works hard."

"Oh, yes," Elizabeth said eagerly. "I will work hard for them, I swear. I'm – I'm not really familiar with the chores on a farm, but I can learn."

"Sure. I bet you'll learn really fast." He looked her up and down, as if taking in her dirty and ragged clothes. She had always worn skirts and pretty blouses, being a bit of a girly girl, but the three days in the woods had taken a toll on her clothes. "You feel strong enough to walk the four miles to their farm?"

"Yes," she said firmly, although she was not sure at all. She felt revived by the food and water, but she knew she had to keep up. This gruff man and his parents' kindness were her only hope of survival. She could not afford to appear weak or unwilling to do whatever they needed her to do. Fortunately, Will now offered her the other half of the sandwich and some more water, which she consumed gratefully, before he started to lead her out of the forest.

"I've interrupted your hunting," she said. "I'm sorry."

He waved off her apology. "Don't worry about it. This is more important."

"Will you tell me about your parents' farm?" she asked, trying to keep up with his long strides.

As they walked, Will told her about the small community of farms that had sprung up in the wake of civilization's destruction. "My parents have always owned the largest farm in the area, so after impact other smaller farms sprung up around them. But without electricity or gasoline or modern plumbing, there is so much more work to do. All the able-bodied help with the harvests of each farm."

"And you said you don't live on your parents' farm?"

He shook his head. "I've got my own cabin, a few miles from my parents' place. It used to be my fishing cabin."

He fell silent after that, and Elizabeth kept quiet too, not wanting to annoy him if he no longer wanted to speak. She was aware that she was at the mercy of the kindness of this man and his parents, and she would do whatever she had to do to survive. The violent death of her father and the three days in the forest near death had convinced her of that.

George and Anne Darcy seemed to be kind, practical people, who welcomed her with a smile. It was evening by the time Elizabeth and Will arrived, and the farmhouse was full of people.

"All the people from the neighboring farms gather here every Saturday afternoon for dinner," Anne said. "Tonight we've got pork ribs and baked potatoes with greens." The older woman handed Elizabeth a plate, and Elizabeth thanked her, practically salivating at the delicious smell of the food. She looked around her for somewhere to sit. Everyone seemed friendly, except for a red-haired woman who looked to be in her late twenties, who had given Elizabeth a cold look when she arrived. She resolved to avoid that woman. Will had left her side as soon as he had delivered her to his parents, and she saw him sitting on an over-turned crate eating his own food. Too hungry to really care who she sat next to, she folded her legs to sit on the grass where she stood and dug into the ribs. It was the best thing she had ever tasted. The pork was coated in some kind of home-made barbecue sauce, and there was real butter with the potato. The fresh greens were sauteed with onions and garlic, and Elizabeth could not hold back a moan of pleasure as she ate.

She finished quickly, and wanted to ask for more, but thought that Will might be right about not eating too much at first. Also, she did not want to give these people any reason to regret taking her in. She would eat what she was given, do what she was told, and never argue or ask for any more.

She had to if she wanted to survive.

As soon as dinner was over, she went to find Anne and found her in the kitchen with two other women, washing dishes. Elizabeth immediately offered to help. She might not know anything about farm work, but even she could manage washing dishes.

"Oh, thank you for offering, dearie, but I want you to just rest tonight," Anne told her. "Will told me what you'd been through. George has gone to find you some clothes, and then you can have a wash up before bed. You must be exhausted."

Elizabeth thanked her meekly, embarrassed at her filthy condition.

George soon returned with a pair of pants and t-shirt that were too big for the petite Elizabeth. "I'm sorry, but it's all we have right now," he said. "Anne is much taller than you. Hopefully soon we can trade for some clothes that fit you."

"These are fine," Elizabeth said earnestly, eager to be in clean clothes. "Thank you."

"I put a basin of water with some soap and a washcloth in the bathroom," he said. "You can wash up before you change."

Elizabeth thanked him, not about to complain even though she had been used to having hot showers. She got as clean as she could, and the water and washcloth were filthy by the time she was finished. Unfortunately, she was not able to wash her long chestnut hair. She supposed it would just have to remain dirty until she had a chance to clean it properly.

She took the bucket of filthy water and dumped it out the back door, then Anne showed her to the bedroom where some of the other strays slept. The Darcys had taken in several other men and women who needed homes, who traded hard work for food and shelter. As Elizabeth settled down on the cot, exhausted, she could not stop a tear from streaking down the side of her face, mourning all that she had lost.