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A/N: There is some language in this section. Wickham is involved.
Jane was home from London, paler and thinner but able to offer a frail smile of welcome. Faced with her new knowledge of Mr. Bingley, Lizzy wondered again what had happened to his letter. Did she dare tell Jane about it? How would that help? Mr. Bingley had been expecting a reply and received none. He had not applied for an acknowledgement when none was forthcoming. She didn't know his address to write to, but even then she didn't know if she should. Besides the impropriety of writing, much time had passed.
Mr. Darcy said Mr. Bingley was still melancholy. Obviously Jane was still suffering as well. But each believed themselves abandoned by the other. Could that be rectified? She had been angry at first, when Mr. Darcy said he didn't know if he would have concealed Jane's presence from Mr. Bingley, but now she understood. If she did tell Jane, did urge her to make contact again, what would happen if nothing came of it? Would Jane survive the second disappointment?
So Lizzy said nothing at present. When she spoke of her stay with Charlotte, she spoke of anything but the gentlemen that had visited. Normally such an omission would have been quickly caught by Jane, but her best sister was a shadow of herself, and let the lie pass. The others had little enough genuine interest that the subject was soon dropped.
Maurice the white kitten fairly attacked her as soon as she walked in the door. He had doubled his size since she had seen him last. She was very grateful to have him back again. She remembered his birth fondly, and the one who had secured his life by passing him to her. Shouldn't she have guessed Mr. Darcy's character then? She had attributed it to Fitz at the time, but she was beginning to think that Fitz would or could not move without the inclination from Mr. Darcy.
Murray was offended at her leaving, and ignored her for several hours after his greeting to show his displeasure. He couldn't stay away though, and soon he was a regular fixture at her side. As she had thought, there was indeed a mountain of work from the estate waiting for her. Mr. Bennet had the grace to look a little ashamed when she sighed at the great piles of paper, but he also seemed relieved that he did not have to deal with it.
The other downside of her return to Longbourn was the realization that the militia was still in residence in Meryton, and her sisters had been to visit nearly every day. Worse still, Wickham was now a great favorite in the house and with her sister. She was almost sick again when she learned of it. She approached Lydia to urge caution into her, but Lydia was wild with the freedom allowed her, and would not hear anything.
"You're just jealous that you've been gone so long, and the officers have all forgotten you!" Lydia declared proudly, flinging her curls back with a toss of her head.
"Lizzy, leave your sisters alone!" Mrs. Bennet chided. "It is bad enough to have Mary preaching to us, but must you do it too? Especially Lydia, she has several officers just eating out of her hand. One of them must surely make an offer soon. Mr. Wickham has been absolutely charming, far better than that ugly Mr. Darcy. Why, he's proven to be more steadfast than Mr. Bingley, that is for sure! One of my daughters must make a satisfactory marriage, why shouldn't it be Lydia?"
Lizzy blanched, and retreated before the onslaught. She appealed to Mr. Bennet, but he saw no harm in anything that took his silliest daughters out of the house and provided him with a few hours of peace.
"Please, Papa!" she pleaded with him. "If only you knew of the disgrace Lydia and Kitty have done to herself and this family already! The opportunities that have been missed because of their wild behavior!"
"Missed opportunities?" Mr. Bennet chuckled. "Tell me, which of your lovers has she chased off? I thought you too sensible to fancy a redcoat. If he has been frightened by a little excited chatter, then he is not worth your time."
"There has been no one," she said through gritted teeth. Mr. Darcy's letter remained her closest secret, and not even Jane knew of his proposal. "It isn't just excited chatter, Papa, please see this--!"
"My dear girl, your concern is commendable, but your sisters are too poor to be of interest to a true predator. They strut and preen, but everyone knows their wealth. The militia will move on soon enough, and then there shall not be nearly as much fuss. Just you see."
Frustrated that he refused to see the truth, Lizzy left his study. What could she do? She was reluctant to reveal that Wickham was a werewolf, because the only proof she had incriminated another dear to her. She could not risk Mr. Darcy and Fitz to expose the monster in Meryton. She would not throw Col Fitzwilliam, Mr. Bingley and the unknown girl Georgiana to the cruelty of the world for harboring a werewolf.
She thought of confronting the creature herself. Mr. Darcy's letter seemed to indicate that he was stronger than Wickham, once he had changed. Did that mean her magic might have a chance of working on the pale wolf? Dare she risk it? Did she dare do nothing and have the blood of another maiden, maybe her own sisters, on her hands? The one relief she got was that there had not been a single sighting, attack, or murder while she was gone. Indeed, Wickham seemed to be laying low ever since Mr. Darcy had left Netherfield.
She didn't know if this was from the injuries dealt him, or whether because there was no other scapegoat for his crimes. She shamelessly used her contacts among the animals of Meryton to overhear any gossip. Animals who lived around people didn't exactly understand speech, but they could for a time remember a string of sounds that they could repeat to her in memory. That was how she gathered her gossip. To her dismay, Mr. Darcy was not well liked in Hertfordshire. Though his absence was long enough that he was not a common topic, the general consensus was much what hers had been at Hunsford: that he was a proud, disagreeable man.
Worse still, it was no secret that the militia had been sent after a werewolf at Netherfield. They had not caught any, but the party had left suspiciously fast. The wildest stories were that Netherfield had hosted a full pack of werewolves, and Hertfordshire had been lucky to escape so easily. The more shrewd gossip-mongers said that there was but one, a master-beast, and the others had been under his control. Mr. Bingley was easily pitied for his friendliness, but Mr. Darcy made a good target for a monster.
It bothered Lizzy a great deal that the opinion of Hertfordshire was so decidedly against Mr. Darcy. If they knew the true him, as revealed by his letter, they would not think so poorly of him! She had to refrain from correcting their misapprehensions concerning Mr. Darcy. His early insult of her was well known, and she was almost a local hero for having stood up against him. If only the truth were known!
It was on one of her information gathering expeditions to Meryton, two days after returning to Longbourn, that she met the dangerous werewolf at last. She was speaking with a couple cats behind a shop, when the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stood up. Too late her instincts warned she was being hunted. The cats slunk away quickly, avoiding the werewolf like all sensible creatures.
"Miss Elizabeth, how nice to see you here," said Wickham's silky voice behind her. Her heart lurched in her chest. Her panicked mind thought about Fitz, and wished he was here now. She would have given anything to have his strength near her, to meet Mr. Darcy's blue and flecked eyes at that moment. She straightened slowly, refusing to show the fear that suddenly suffused her. She faced him without hesitation, certain that her features would not give her away.
Dammit, she shouldn't be this afraid! She had faced down a wild Fitz when he was uncontrolled and much stronger than this werewolf. It shouldn't be hard to hold her own against this lesser being. She met Mr. Wickham's eyes calmly, and realized she'd made a mistake. She had known that even in a blind rage, Fitz would never hurt her. Wickham had no compunctions about that, and he was coolly rational.
She swallowed hard. Wickham's lips twisted into a smirk. "Mr. Wickham," she acknowledged with a slight curtsy, never taking her eyes off him. "Please excuse me, I was just passing." She attempted to edge around him. She would never leave the main streets of Meryton again, she vowed, if she just got away from the werewolf.
He moved, if possible, with even more speed than Mr. Darcy had shown. His hand lashed out and caught her arm in a grip. He did not bother to hide his strength. She jerked against him, but it was useless.
He chuckled. "Now then, Lizzy--may I call you Lizzy? Your sisters have told me so much about you."
She stifled a sharp retort at the mention of her sisters. The memory of what he had done to Georgiana was keen after the many times she had read Mr. Darcy's letter. He chuckled again. "That's better," he soothed. "It has been so long since I saw you. Surely two old friends such as we might visit for a while?"
He linked their arms, holding her uncomfortably close and forced her to begin walking. They strolled arm in arm as though they were lovers, and Lizzy was unable to call out to anyone. He could break her arm faster than she could scream, and there was the constant fear of how he might retaliate against Lydia or her other sisters.
"So I hear you were visiting in Kent these last weeks," he said casually. "That is the territory of Catherine de Bourgh, is it not? She is Darcy's aunt, you know."
"I am aware of the connection," she said cautiously, not wanting to give anything away. She felt his wolf cautiously with her magic. She didn't want to alert him to her magic, but she wanted to be prepared to act if she had to. Somehow, Wickham read more into her tone than she intended.
"So you did see Darcy there!" he exclaimed in evident delight. "Tell me, how is the old dog doing? Does he continue to charm wherever he goes?"
"He improves upon further acquaintance," she shot back. Something went very cold in Wickham's eyes. He moved his arm slightly, and suddenly her shoulder was screaming in pain. She bit her lip against her gasp.
"Steady now," he said, "I would hate to have an accident, wouldn't you?"
"Please, sir," she ground out. It hurt her pride to give in to anything he said, but better a loss of dignity than a loss of life or limb.
"I see that you are well-acquainted with Darcy," he said, his voice growing deeper. To her horror she felt his wolf stirring. He took a deep breath, drawing in her scent. "But not as much as you could be. Oh, he is an idiot."
He kept walking her, and she realized he was steering her to the road out of Meryton. Normally she would have thought her chances in the woods of Hertfordshire better, where there were plants and creatures she could command, but she feared the solitude of being with Wickham. She was under no illusions as to what was happening. She was being cut from the herd, like the prey she was. How far was he going to take it? Why single her out, why now? Was it because he feared what Mr. Darcy might have told her? Surely he couldn't know that Mr. Darcy had proposed to her!
They left Meryton, and Wickham wasted no time in pulling her off the road and out of sight among the trees. She took a deep breath and connected to all the weeds and brush around her. She might be able to trip him up long enough to make an escape. If she got lucky maybe a tree would have a half-dead branch it could drop on him. She would simultaneously try to shut down his wolf, and call to the plants to anchor him in place. Hopefully he would be disorientated enough to let her get away.
First she needed to get a little distance between them, and find out what he wanted with her. His wolf was growing excited, and Wickham's breath unconsciously sped. Abruptly he stopped, and twisted to face her. He released her arm at last. Her shoulder just about cried in relief, and it was all she could do not to take a grateful breath. She had to be calm and unaffected.
Wickham studied her face with unconcealed amusement. It was as though he could read her mind, or at least her reactions. "Now then, I'd just like a little chat with you, dear Lizzy," he said in a wheedling tone.
"I don't think we have much to say to each other, Mr. Wickham," she said neutrally. She shifted her weight back in anticipation of taking a step. Wickham leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. His wolf all but leered at her, eagerly awaiting that fatal step. He was already expecting the hunt, and unlike Fitz, he would not hold back from taking her at the end. She could not move, not without the werewolf flying at her. So it was to be confrontation then. Bluffing and hoping she could make him stand down. She centered her weight again, to be better balanced in case she had to move suddenly.
"On the contrary, I think we have much to speak of," he said. She felt as though there were two conversations happening at once, the one with words, and the silent one with the wolf. She had to keep track of both of them, and avoid pitfalls in each.
"I shall get directly to it," Wickham said. "You know what I am. All I ask is your silence for a few days. The militia is leaving in less than a fortnight, and I shall be gone from the area. That's not too much to ask, now is it? I daresay, if Darcy improved upon acquaintance, you would not wish any implications to fall on him. Nor would he wish anything to befall yourself, I imagineÉ" he reached forward and touched a curl of her hair. Her breath caught in her throat. If Mr. Darcy were to be accused of being a werewolf, when she was not there to protect himÉ On the other hand, it was ludicrous to think that Mr. Darcy could still possibly care about her. Not after the way she had treated him, and soundly rejected his advances.
"Mr. Darcy cares nothing for me," she said, hating the way her voice quivered. He cocked his head to the side, studying her.
"Yes, I believe you really think that," he mused. "What a fool he is! I certainly would not let such a tasty morsel like yourself go." He trailed his fingers down her cheek. She slapped his hand away. His eyes went flat with fury. He bent down and picked a flower from the ground. "Such beautiful flowers you have in Hertfordshire," he said absently. "This one is just about the same color as Lydia's eyes, isn't it? And poor Kitty, so desperate to be noticed apart from her sister. Why, even Mary, outwardly so cross with everyone, but inside, she's a woman just like the rest of them." He brought the flower to his nose and breathed in deep. His lips curved into a predatory smile. "Such a shame, should something happen to one of these country flowers." He crushed the bloom in his hand.
He stepped close to her, pressing into her space. "And yourself, the most delightful of all." He bent his head as if to kiss her. It was too much for her. She stepped back with a gasp, throwing her magic at his wolf. She put all her strength behind it, praying she might catch him off guard. "You go too far, sir," she said. To her surprise, his wolf quieted immediately. She got a far stronger reaction from him than she ever got from Fitz. He laid back, nearly falling asleep under her magic. She expected Wickham to be discomforted, to have his wolf suddenly so calm. Instead his hand lashed out, and connected solidly with her cheek.
She rocked back and fell to the ground. The physical pain didn't start until the moment later, but the force of the blow rattled her. Her teeth clicked together, catching her tongue between them. Her head spun, and she was disorientated. Wickham crouched beside her, tsking. "Now, now," he chided in a fatherly tone. "None of that. Wouldn't want anything unfortunate to happen, would you? I just might forget myself, and wouldn't that be a shame? All you have to do is keep quiet for a few days. Don't tell anyone, and this will be all forgotten, isn't that for the best?"
Her ears were ringing. She had lost her grip on her magic the moment he hit her, and she didn't have the wits left to gather it again. No man had ever struck her before. She'd been in plenty of squabbles with her sisters. They had even become physical when they were younger. But never had a man raised his hand against her. Even without the wolf, he was much stronger than her. She had never felt so vulnerable and helpless before. She thought about Fitz, Mr. Darcy, and felt like crying. He would have never touched her in such a way! Her mouth was filled with blood from her tongue, and she weakly spat it to the side. She nodded dully, realizing Wickham was still waiting for a reply.
"Good girl," he said warmly, and patted her cheek over the mark already rising there. He squeezed her shoulder painfully hard, and then left her. It took her several minutes to get her strength back. She was such an idiot! If only she hadn't been so hateful toward Mr. Darcy! If only she had bent her stiff neck to see what a good man he was! Then she might not have ever had to return to Longbourn. Or at least Mr. Darcy would have been with her. He would never have allowed Wickham to harm her. He would have torn the man limb from limb.
She stopped her sniffling, and cleared the blood from her mouth. She rose to her feet. She was a little dizzy, but after a moment it passed. She should gather herbs for a salve for her face, but all she wanted was to get home. Once at Longbourn, she managed to get to her room without anyone seeing. Murray curled up next to her, licking her hand in concern. She cradled the white kitten and sobbed into his fur. He purred to comfort her. She couldn't help but to think that the one person she wanted comfort from, one large, dark werewolf, was too far away to help, and wouldn't want anything to do with her.
Once darkness fell, she snuck out to her garden. She had a moment of fear when she first stepped outside. What if Wickham was there, watching her? She stretched her magic outward, but didn't find him. What if he was hiding from her, the way Fitz had? She searched harder, panic making her irrational. Then she used her head, and instead stretched her senses toward the other creatures in the garden. The field mice were undisturbed, moving in their usual nocturnal hunts. The barn cats lazily ignoring the mice that avoided the barn--she had long ago worked out a truce between the species on her land. The horses dozed peaceably. Further out, a fox stalked a grouse for his mate.
She let out her breath slowly. There were no werewolves in her garden. He might hide from her magic, like Fitz, but he could not hide his plain physical presence from creatures with sharper ears and noses than her. She picked herbs for her face, then returned inside to make a poultice. She might have to avoid being seen for a couple days, but with a little luck she would be able to hide the bruise on her face.
She didn't know what she was going to do about Wickham. She did know one thing: she was no longer going to hide from him. She couldn't risk a direct confrontation. She couldn't tell anyone what he was. But he could not be allowed to get away with what he had done. The blow to her face, instead of frightening her, had only hardened her resolve. She took an old silver knife, wrapped the handle with leather and sharpened the blade. She kept it on her at all times. She gathered wild wolfsbane and kept a sprig hidden alongside the blade. She didn't know if she would ever have to opportunity to use them, but she would not be caught unprepared again.
She thought constantly of Mr. Darcy, and wondered what he would have done. Alright, so he would have been able to throw Wickham off easily, and destroy the man physically. Barring that, she forced herself to be smarter than Wickham. He was using her sisters' lives and Mr. Darcy's identity against her to keep her quiet. She could always go to Mr. Bennet and ask him for a rain heavy enough to keep her sisters away from Meryton. It rained often enough naturally that it would not be too great a stretch for him. As for the risk of exposing Mr. DarcyÉ
She remembered how Fitz had been willing to give himself up when the militia came to Netherfield. He would not have hesitated to protect her. Though she knew she could not claim that he would ever think of her again, she hoped he would not wish her harmed. With difficulty, she composed a letter warning that Wickham might expose him. She hid it away, but it was ready to send by express just in case. If one more death or attack showed up, she would send the letter, ask Mr. Bennet for the rain, and tell Col Forster about Wickham. She could reasonably expect it to work. She felt better for having a plan in place.
Her caution seemed unneeded though. Without seeming to, Wickham was able to easily avoid her. He remained Lydia and Mrs. Bennet's favorite, but he no longer dined at Longbourn. To all appearances, he managed to be a perfect gentleman on the outside. Nothing untoward occurred, and it was announced that the militia would be moving on to Brighton. Kitty and Lydia immediately flew into hysterics at the news, but Lizzy silently rejoiced. She did not think Wickham was reformed, but if he was far enough away, he would not guess it was she whom revealed his true form. It might not be necessary to send her express to Mr. Darcy at all.
However, scarcely two days after the announcement of the militia's eminent departure, Kitty and Lydia came into Longbourn in a rush of screams and tears. Col Forster's wife had invited Lydia to accompany them to Brighton. Kitty was put out that she had not been invited. Mrs. Bennet was immediately ecstatic that her favorite should be so singled out. Lizzy had a very bad feeling the pit of her stomach. She went to Mr. Bennet to beg him to stop Lydia.
"We shall never have any peace if she does not go," he said. "Let her go! She does not have enough fortune to keep up her attraction among the ladies of Brighton. She will see that she is not so very great in consequence as she thought, and return home with her self-worth depleted."
"Papa, if you do not take a hand and correct her, she is in very great danger of being fixed as the biggest flirt in all of England!" she said desperately, but Mr. Bennet would not hear of it.
Jane came out of her gloom long enough to realize that something was bothering Lizzy very much. They stayed up one night to talk, for the first time since Lizzy had returned home. Without giving too many details away--and not revealing the most crucial fact that he was a werewolf--she told Mr. Wickham's story. Once she had begun confessing to her sister, Jane was very concerned, and more like her old self than she had been for a long time. The sympathetic ear she presented undid Lizzy, and before she knew it she had spoken of the gentlemen in Kent, and Mr. Darcy's proposal.
Jane was indignant in a way that would have soothed Lizzy before she read the letter. "Mr. Darcy!" Jane exclaimed. "The nerve of him! Did he really say those awful things to you? Oh poor Lizzy, it is always the unsuitable ones that seem so drawn to you. You are well away from him. I can't imagine that a marriage to him would in any way make you happy. But my dear, what is wrong? You are not smiling and jesting of him as you should. You don't--do you fancy him?"
"Oh Jane, I have been so stupid! I know Mr. Darcy does not seem amiable at first appearance, but I have since been convinced that he is one of the best of men."
Jane was quiet, watching her, and she realized she had not answered her sister's question. "Of course I do not fancy himÉ I do wish I was not so abominable though. He deserves it least of all."
"Of course," Jane murmured, drawing her into a hug. Lizzy hugged her sister fiercely, trying to stop the tears from leaking down her eyes. She had not shared the letter with Jane, nor did she reveal Mr. Bingley's disposition. That subject was still too tender, and she could not bear to see her sister hurt.
The militia left, taking Lydia with them. Lizzy prayed this would not be the last time she saw Lydia alive. If one rumor reached her from Brighton, nothing would stop her from calling all the fury in her possession down on Wickham's head. Kitty suffered greatly at being left behind. Lizzy took the opportunity to spend more time with her, in the hopes to steer her in a less silly direction now that she was removed from Lydia's influence.
Kitty seemed wary of her attention at first. Lizzy guiltily realized she had dismissed her youngest sisters too often. They deserved the same care and attention she reserved for Jane, and she resolved to set aside a portion of each day to devote only to Mary and Kitty singly. Under her encouragement, Kitty stopped mentioning officers so much, and revived her interest in her magic. Mary stopped throwing things nearly entirely when they practiced on the piano together, and both improved from the exercise.
A month passed with no word from Brighton. Even the full moon passed without incident. Lizzy spent the three nights pacing in her room, lit only by the bright moonlight. She wondered where Fitz was, how he spent his time. Was he caged? Was he running free? Was Alain with him? And what of Wickham? Was Lydia safely away from him, or was she already dead and cooling under his jaws? However, the full moon in Brighton seemed even quieter than in Hertfordshire, and the brief notes scrawled from Lydia showed she was having as good a time as any.
The Gardiners visited during the summer. Jane was, at long last, coming out of her funk. She was not the same as she was before, but she was functioning more than she had since Mr. Bingley left. Lizzy felt horribly guilty for hiding his true feelings from her sister, but she couldn't bear to see Jane relapse at the news, just when she was starting to recover.
Uncle Edward and Aunt Maddy noticed Lizzy's preoccupation, and invited her to travel with them as they visited the Lake District. She was reluctant to leave Longbourn. No one else knew of the werewolf in Brighton. However, her relations all collaborated against her, even Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, and soon it was quite decided that she would be leaving. In desperation, she took Jane into her full confidence. Jane was horrified to learn of Wickham's deeds, and the way Lydia flaunted herself to gain his attention.
Lizzy showed Jane the express to Pemberley, and instructed her to send it only if it became absolutely necessary to reveal that Wickham was a werewolf. Jane promised to be alert. Only then was Lizzy able to relax about her upcoming trip. She adored her aunt and uncle, and her young cousins who would be staying at Longbourn during their parents' journeys. She received permission to bring Murray with her, and she looked forward to the holiday.
However, business delayed Uncle Edward, and their trip had to be both postponed and shortened in duration and distance. It was settled that they would tour Derbyshire instead. Aunt Maddy had grown up in a small village there, Lambton, and was eager to visit it again. Of course the name Derbyshire was immediately familiar to Lizzy. Hadn't she written an express to one estate within Derbyshire? It was the seat of Pemberley, home of Mr. Darcy.
Lizzy fretted about seeing him again. Then again, couldn't she pass through without the risk of meeting Mr. Darcy? As she packed her belongings, her two most precious articles sat next to each other on her case. One was the by now worn letter. The other was a white, half-grown cat. And they had both come from the same noble man. She was forced to admit to herself that perhaps she did have some sort of feeling for the man. She was not indifferent to him as she liked to think. She respected him too greatly for that. Perhaps she was even fond of him. She was too confused to put a name to the feelings his name invoked in her, and she resolved to be on her guard against him.
It would not do for her to begin moping as Jane had! No indeed, she was not so far gone as that. Murray did make a good traveling companion though, and she was even more grateful for Mr. Darcy's interference on his behalf as they moved further from Hertfordshire. Murray's deafness meant that he was not bothered by the unfamiliar noises as another cat might have been, and with her by his side he was fearless in his exploration of new places.
For some reason Lizzy had it fixed in her mind that she could visit Derbyshire without seeing Pemberley. She did not want to risk being discovered by the master of the place, as if she were scouting his possessions. Even learning that Lambton was but five miles from Pemberley, she still thought to avoid it. However, her aunt was quite determined to see the great house she remembered from her youth.
"We have already seen many fine houses, I fear I grow weary of seeing another," Lizzy said when the plans were being made.
"But Pemberley is not merely another fine house," Mrs. Gardiner said fondly. "You will know, when you see it. The others merely aspire to greatness, but Pemberley is grand without pretension."
"But won't we be disturbing the family?" she said desperately.
"No indeed. The house is only open on days when the family is not at home."
Lizzy acquiesced when she heard that. If Mr. Darcy was not present at Pemberley, then there could be no danger of meeting him. The star days had just passed not long ago, so there would be no danger of him returning suddenly for the full moon.
"You have met the current Mr. Darcy, have you not?" Aunt Maddy inquired. "How did you find the man?"
A list of adjectives flew through Lizzy's head. Tall. Powerful. Kind. Generous. Handsome. Lovely. Lovely? She shook herself sharply. "He is worthy of respect," she said cautiously, not wishing to give away her preoccupation with him. Aunt Maddy nodded in satisfaction.
"Yes, that is quite what I remember about the family as a little girl."
So it was that they would visit Pemberley. Lizzy brought Murray with her. She had left him in their rooms on previous tours, but she felt she would need his support on this one. He was just slight enough still that it was no hardship to carry him. He was promising to be a large tom when he reached his full growth, but as yet he was still young. Aunt Maddy blinked at the cat, but did not comment on this change of pattern.
Their carriage passed into Pemberley lands long before they saw the house. Now that Lizzy was assured she would not meet Mr. Darcy by accident, she was extremely curious about it. She eyed the woods and the lush hills with approval. Unlike Rosings Park, the surroundings of Pemberley had been allowed to grow naturally.
The plants and animals all felt healthy and satisfied. She glimpsed several paths that she was suddenly avid to explore. She remembered walking with Mr. Darcy in Kent, speaking about Pemberley's walking paths. Though his fondness had been evident, he had not done them justice. Everything felt alive and mysterious to her, just the way a natural wood should feel. They topped a long rise in the road, and suddenly they could see the house in all her glory.
Lizzy's breath caught in her throat. Beautiful could not describe the house. It was larger than she had ever guessed, yet even still Pemberley presented a modest front. It was only by counting the windows that one began to see the true scope and breadth of the house. Suddenly it was easy to imagine Fitz stretching his long legs here, to picture Mr. Darcy ascending the stairs in stately elegance. To think this was the place he called home! Never had she imagined it would suit him so well.
Posted on: 2013-06-17
Their carriage stopped, and a couple footmen were immediately present to help them descend. "Miss Elizabeth," one said with a bow. She looked up in surprise. How could one of them know her name already? The Gardiners looked at her curiously. The man seemed familiar, but she couldn't place his face.
"Forgive me, miss," he said. "I did not mean to call attention to myself."
She stopped him from moving away. "Have we met before?" She smiled to show she was not upset over his forwardness.
"In a manner, miss," he acknowledged. "Until this spring, I was lately employed at Rosings Park."
She blinked once, and then again harder. The footman who had been dismissed! The poor soul who only reported the truth! "How came you to Pemberley?" she asked quickly. She was burning to know.
"Well," the man said awkwardly, "See miss, I left service at Rosings Park..." He shifted his weight, uncomfortable with not knowing the cause of her actions.
"I saw the incident between Mr. Darcy and Col Fitzwilliam, and know what came of it. I do not blame you in the slightest," she assured him.
He looked relieved. "Right. Well as it was, I was home that same night, nowhere to go, and there was a knock on my door. I opened it, and there was Mr. Darcy! I could not believe it, and right feared I was. Some don't like when servants speak, miss. But he had a writ of character already for me, and a good one too. Then he gave me his card, and said if I wished he would employ me at Pemberley here. Even offered to send men to help move my family if there were troubles."
Her mind was reeling. Mr. Darcy had provided for the man, the very same day he had been dismissed! He must have come straight after dinner, as soon as he'd learned of the man's plight! She was filled with shame as she remembered the harsh way she'd treated Fitz, and the accusations she'd hurled at Mr. Darcy the night of his proposal. Why hadn't he defended himself? Why hadn't he written it in his letter? That act of charity alone would have made her reconsider everything she knew about him.
"But why to Pemberley?" she followed the footman as he tried to edge away. "If you had the writ, you could have gone anywhere." It was vital that she learn his answer. It was the only way she could draw closer to Mr. Darcy.
"Forgive me," the footman ducked his head, "But when you go work for a new master, you never know what they're about. Some are plain decent folk, but some are nervous and demanding, and hard to work for. Mr. Darcy, he had done right by me once, and so I thought this was my best chance. And never a better welcome, I can tell you. This is a good place to be. I'm sorry, I really must be getting back. I didn't mean to hold you up."
He retreated then, while her head was still full of questions. Most of them began with why and got more complex from there. All of them centered on a gentleman with blue, green-flecked eyes.
"Lizzy, what was that about?" Aunt Maddy asked.
"Just something that happened in the spring," she said absently. "It was really nothing."
Aunt Maddy seemed to accept that, but Uncle Edward gave her a curious look. She flushed and looked away. Her uncle was a strong empath, and had to be feeling her confusion of emotion. Murray butted his head reassuringly against her, and she petted his back. She tried to get herself under control again. She could worry over Mr. Darcy in private, and decide what to make of his actions then.
They were met by a Mrs. Reynolds, and commenced their tour of Pemberley. Inside was even more impressive than the exterior. There was more real elegance and less pretension than anything found in Rosings Park, or the other houses they had seen before. And to think I might have been mistress of all this! she thought to herself. It was overwhelming, too much to take in. She was continually breathless as she beheld one wonder after another. Nothing was set up for show; it was all natural and fluid, as though the family had just stepped out a second past.
In the portrait gallery she was arrested by the sight of Mr. Darcy. There was a large portrait of him hanging in honor, and though there were many other sights, she was caught by this one. She studied his face, a slight smile on his lips. Either the artist hadn't shown it, or his eyes had not yet acquired the green flecks in his gaze. Her aunt noticed her preoccupation, and asked, "Is this a good likeness of Mr. Darcy?"
"It is very like him," she choked out, "But does not do him justice." Her hand reached out as if to feel his warmth, and then she remembered and snatched it back. This was just an image, nothing more.
"Is the young lady acquainted with the master?" Mrs. Reynolds asked, and smiled when the answer was received. "He is very kind, would you not agree miss? I have never had a cross word from him, and my family has been working for his these last three generations. I first came when he was but four, I was a young maid then."
There was another miniature of Mr. Darcy on the mantelpiece, as well as one of Wickham. Mrs. Reynolds smiled with obvious warmth at the first, but tsked at the second. "Mr. Wickham was raised here as well, but I am afraid he was not as good as the master. I think he has gone very wild in his ways now."
Lizzy bit her lip at the accurate assessment. She was even more ashamed of the harsh words she had left Mr. Darcy with. Mrs. Reynolds continued to tell them of the benevolence of the family. She could not praise Mr. Darcy enough, regarding him with an obviously maternal affection. Lizzy could only hang her head, knowing how unfairly she had treated him. She was doubly grateful he was not home at the moment. Her insides squirmed in shame with each further word. She would not be able to face him, if he stood before her.
She could not bear to see indifference or even anger in his eyes if he discovered she had come to his home. Not now, when she was discovering--what was it? That she loved him? She had never been in love before. Instead of a grand stroke of heaven, it was more like a warm blanket settling over her shoulders, soft and comforting. Yet somehow it felt right, to call this sensation love. Too late! If only she had not been so determinedly blind before!
The tour of the public rooms concluded. They asked for and received permission to explore the grounds on foot. The Gardiners were not quite the walkers that Lizzy was, but even they found the paths to be pleasant. She moved slowly, in deference for the Gardiners. For once Lizzy didn't mind. She was content to look about, even more in awe of these natural wonders than the ones inside.
She detected a plant that had been nibbled by a rabbit. She spied a game trail with deer tracks on it, and some fox scat not far away. The woods were literally teeming with life. She thought she could walk here all her days, and still not grow tired of the scenery. From ahead, they detected the sound of a stream. They decided to make it that far, and then rest for a while to see if they wished to continue.
The bubbling of water grew steadily louder, and then they heard something big splashing from just around the corner. They hesitated, but before Lizzy could reach for her magic, a girlish giggle came to them. Lizzy smiled at her aunt and uncle. Just another walker enjoying the path. Lizzy was slightly ahead of the Gardiners, and rounded the corner before them. She looked toward the noise, and froze in place.
A girl perhaps Lydia's age stood on the bank of a sizable creek, her back to them. In the water, causing the splashing, her dog was returning with a large bent stick in his mouth. Even with his fur slicked down, Fitz was unmistakable. He was the first to notice her, looking away from the girl toward Lizzy. He stopped, the same as she had. Their eyes met for an instant. The girl turned and gasped when she realized she was not alone. Lizzy spun to tell the Gardiners to go no further, but they were already behind her, smiling kindly at the scene before them.
No, no, no! How could this be happening? He wasn't supposed to be home! What was he doing here? Who was the girl with him? In the next instant she felt incredibly stupid. A girl Lydia's age, in a fine dress like that? She must be his sister! Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy, the two people she least wished to meet!
"Pardon us, Miss," Aunt Maddy said. "We didn't mean to disturb you."
The girl whispered something unintelligible, staring down at her feet. Lizzy faced them again, her mouth dry and her heart pounding. She looked anywhere but at Fitz. Murray wiggled in her arms, protesting that she was holding too hard. She didn't want it, but she was aware of every breath from the werewolf.
He moved onto the bank, dropped the stick at the girl's feet, and then sat in front of her. The girl reached out and petted his back as though seeking reassurance. Fitz turned his head, and if Lizzy didn't know better, appeared to be urging the girl forward. The child took a deep breath, then moved a single step from behind her older brother.
"Miss Georgiana Darcy," she introduced herself in a tiny voice, almost trembling with fright. Fitz leaned against his sister, and Lizzy could feel the reassurance flowing from him.
"We're so sorry to intrude on you, Miss Darcy," Aunt Maddy said. "I am Mrs. Madeline Gardiner. This is my husband, Mr. Edward Gardiner, and my niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
Miss Darcy looked up sharply at Lizzy's name. Lizzy swallowed hard. She had been recognized. Whatever Mr. Darcy had said about her, it could not have been positive. What both of them must think of her now, first maltreating Mr. Darcy, and then showing up uninvited at his home?
"We're sorry to bother you," Lizzy said awkwardly, dropping a curtsy and then edging back. If she could just get away, maybe she would find this whole thing had been just a nightmare.
"Oh no, we're pleased to meet you!" Miss Darcy exclaimed quickly, taking several steps toward them to prevent them from leaving. She froze, and cast a panicked look back at Fitz. The wolf moved forward until he was by his sister again, clearly providing her the support she needed. She was painfully shy, Lizzy realized. And for whatever reason, they hadn't been dismissed yet. Miss Darcy even seemed to want to speak with her, though couldn't overcome her crippling shyness.
"That is very kind of you, Miss Darcy," Lizzy said in a kind voice, as though she were talking to a wild rabbit about to flee.
"Please, call me Georgiana," the younger girl murmured. Her fingers were clenched so hard in Fitz's fur that they were white.
"Then you must call me Lizzy," she said warmly, and was rewarded by the faintest smile.
They were at a stalemate for a second, until Aunt Maddy said, "I believe that is the biggest dog I have ever seen."
"Dog?" Uncle Edward repeated in surprise, and then frowned at Fitz. With panic, Lizzy realized that he must be sensing Mr. Darcy's feelings within Fitz. Just as she could not sense humans, so Uncle Edward couldn't feel animals. That he was picking up something from Fitz was going to make him realize--
"Uncle," she said, a touch too loudly. "I have seen a dog like F--like this one before. He is very gentle, and harmless." She could not hide what Mr. Darcy was from her uncle, but she could reassure him that Fitz was to be trusted. She handed a protesting Murray to Aunt Maddy, and then stepped toward the wolf.
She knelt down and extended her hand toward him. Please, she thought silently, but didn't dare reach her magic for him. He would not welcome that. Fitz moved a polite distance from Georgiana, shook the water from his fur, and then approached her calmly. She noticed that he took care to lumber like a big dog, rather than the lithe wolf he was. She appreciated the gesture, for it would make the Gardiners less apprehensive of him.
Aunt Maddy made an uncomfortable noise as the huge wolf stood near Lizzy. Fitz ducked his head and allowed her to scratch his ears. How she had missed him! She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and sob into his fur. She wanted to apologize to him. She needed to ask his forgiveness. Instead she withdrew her hand after the shortest time possible. She would not inflict herself on him any longer than she had to.
Murray freed himself from his captor, and landed on the ground at Lizzy's feet. Both she and the werewolf stiffened, expecting a feline outburst. Instead the kitten sniffed Fitz curiously, then sat by her side calmly. Perhaps his earliest exposure to the werewolf had inured him to the instinctive fear most animals felt.
Fitz eyed the kitten with something like wonder. He extended his great head cautiously. Murray allowed himself to be sniffed, but put one paw, claws sheathed, on the wolf's nose when he'd had enough. Fitz withdrew politely, but when he looked at Lizzy, his eyes were sparkling with something like joy. His jaws parted in a very small grin, obviously hiding his teeth. She couldn't help but to smile back. She took Murray in her arms and stood.
She was grateful to the white kitten, for he gave her something to look at besides the werewolf before her. Fitz retreated to his sister once again. Georgiana looked at Murray curiously. In an effort to make the girl at ease, Lizzy explained, "He was given to me by a friend this last winter. He is very dear to me, and I take him with me when I can." She couldn't help but to glance at Fitz, and noticed how he jerked slightly when she said friend. She bit her lip and looked away. Had she spoken ill? Presumed too much? The actual state of her relation to Mr. Darcy was complicated, and unsure. She didn't know what she could call him.
Another awkward silence fell. This time it was Uncle Edward who stepped forward and engaged Georgiana. He gave Fitz a wide berth, but conversed easily with the girl. It seemed to Lizzy that they spoke of nothing more than the weather and the mildness of the day, but somehow Georgiana was set at ease enough to offer to escort them along the path. Lizzy guessed it must have been Uncle Edward's empathy, that allowed him to know how to relax Georgiana.
They crossed a bridge over the creek, and went on. Lizzy walked beside Aunt Maddy, while Fitz and Uncle Edward framed Georgiana just ahead. In just a few minutes, Georgiana was confident enough to look over her shoulder at Lizzy in invitation. Lizzy moved up cautiously. Fitz made way for her next to Georgiana. Their conversation was light, mostly discussing the features of the path. Lizzy could barely pay attention, too keenly aware of the werewolf at her side. It almost felt like walking in Rosings Park again, except that there was a careful distance between them that hadn't existed before.
Her heart twisted at this evidence that Fitz wanted little to do with her. Indeed, Uncle Edward fell back with Aunt Maddy, and Fitz moved to Georgiana's other side. He walked much closer to the girl, near enough that she rested her hand on his back. Lizzy remembered the time when she had done the same, and felt sad. She had wasted the opportunity she'd had back then, never knowing how precious it was.
She noticed the exact moment when Fitz slipped away. They came to a fallen tree alongside the path that formed a natural bench. Aunt Maddy asked to sit a while, being lightly fatigued, and they complied. By the time everyone was seated, the wolf was nowhere to be seen. Lizzy was saddened that he was gone, but couldn't blame him. He would not want to linger around one who had caused him such pain. Most likely he was wishing he could just forget she was ever here. He had stayed long enough to see that his sister was comfortable, and then he disappeared. In her heart, she feared it would be the last time she ever saw him.
It was enough to make her want to cry. She never got a chance to apologize. To thank him. To tell him how much she cared... No, that last was a fantasy. She couldn't torment him that way, to tell him as if expecting a declaration in kind. She was sure he had destroyed any tendresse for her long ago. The best thing she could do was to let him go. Georgiana was telling them how the tree had come to fall beside the path. She paused suddenly, and leaned in toward Lizzy.
"It will be alright," she promised, placing her hand on Lizzy's arm. Lizzy felt a quick jolt, wondering how much Mr. Darcy had told his sister of their dealings. If he had told her the full truth, then Georgiana should be hating her. She couldn't meet the younger girl's eyes, no matter how much she wanted to believe her words. Uncle Edward cleared his throat, and Georgiana straightened with a flush. She resumed her story, but her eyes remained earnest on the visitor.
Lizzy felt more confused than ever. If she didn't know any better, Georgiana was trying to encourage her... but that was impossible. Wasn't it? And why did Uncle Edward's interference feel like more than a simple throat clearing? For once she wished her uncle wasn't quite so moral. If only he could tell her what Georgiana was feeling, maybe what he had sensed from Mr. Darcy within Fitz. Then she would know if there was hope of even retaining Mr. Darcy as a casual friend. But Uncle Edward took his ability as an empath seriously, and would never reveal another's feelings without permission.
Georgiana finished her story, and Aunt Maddy declared herself recovered enough to start heading back. Their party reformed, the two girls in front of the married couple. Lizzy noticed that Georgiana seemed nervous, and kept glancing at the path ahead. What was she waiting for? If Lizzy was more sure of herself, she might have asked. Instead she stretched her magic out, as if that would tell her anything.
To her surprise, she felt the brush of something familiar. No, surely not... They were not too far from the creek, when abruptly Mr. Darcy stood on the path. Even though she had sensed him before she saw him, she still froze in place. It was the shock of seeing him, despite everything that she had told him before. For Fitz to have left, shifted back to Mr. Darcy, dressed and come after them... She could hardly believe his speed. Indeed, she noticed that his cravat was slightly crooked, and his hair not wholly combed down. If she was ungenerous, she might have noticed that his chest rose and fell more quickly than usual. Not that she was noticing his chest, or his clothes, or anything about him.
Who was she trying to fool? Her eyes drank him in, grateful to have another sight of him. She couldn't name all the emotions flying through her heart. Wonder, gratitude, guilt and hope all vied within her. She had forgotten how handsome he was. The portrait, though accurate, had not managed to catch his stunning impact. He had a strength of presence that was nothing to do with the wolf, and everything to do with his noble self. He was a natural leader, the kind that drew the attention of everyone in the room. He certainly drew her attention. She couldn't look away from him, and when he met her eyes she swore her heart stopped beating. She had feared his anger or indifference, but she hadn't been prepared to see his warmth, or the fragile uncertainty in his gaze.
She longed to reassure him, to soothe that question away. She dropped her eyes. She had lost the right to do that. She dully felt Georgiana tugging her arm, but was too wrapped in Mr. Darcy's presence to pay attention. When she didn't respond, Georgiana walked forward by herself. "Fitzwilliam," she said happily. "You're back."
Mr. Darcy greeted his sister with a hug. Lizzy was touched at the genuine affection between the siblings. How could she have ever believed he would do anything to harm his sister? She felt the deep flush of shame once more, and stared into Murray's white fur as her vision blurred.
"Georgiana," Mr. Darcy murmured. "Would you care to introduce me?"
Georgiana looked temporarily confused, until she remembered that Mr. Darcy had to act as though he had not been with them earlier as a wolf. Introductions were completed quickly. Aunt Maddy repeated their apologies for coming when they thought the family to be away. Mr. Darcy graciously welcomed them to Pemberley, and offered to give them a tour of any feature they chose.
Uncle Edward frowned thoughtfully at Mr. Darcy. Please, Lizzy thought desperately, don't do anything rash. He is a good man. He has never harmed anyone. Empaths could not read minds, but hopefully he would feel the full trust she had in Mr. Darcy, and the respect she held for him. Uncle Edward glanced at her, and gave a faint nod. She had the feeling that he was not fully convinced, but would reserve judgment before jumping to conclusions. She breathed a sigh of relief.
They began walking toward the creek. Mr. Darcy offered his arm to Georgiana and Lizzy. She hated the hopeful look in his eyes. That couldn't be meant for her, could it? She pretended she hadn't seen, and allowed herself to fall to the back of the group. Mr. Darcy and his sister walked in the fore, followed by the Gardiners, and lastly Lizzy with Murray. His effect on her was devastating. She was having a hard time thinking. The sound of his voice washed over her senses like rich honey, and she wished she could curl into his side. She longed for his warmth, though it was something she had never felt in this form before.
They reached the creek, and the party paused to take in the peaceful sight of the rushing water. Georgiana moved to stand beside Lizzy. She couldn't help but to remember her first sighting of Fitz, chest deep in water, already soaked, and clearly playing fetch with his sister. She remembered his words about Georgiana in his letter. His concern, his terror of hurting her, his gratitude that Lizzy had helped him become safe to be around her. He was a loving brother, and Georgiana was lucky to have him. Lizzy felt privileged to have known him at all. Her heart ached with the love she was struggling to contain. She couldn't burden him with it, not now that it was long after anything was possible. She had well and truly burned her bridges. There was no looking back.
But how she wished things were different!
Uncle Edward pointed to the fish in the creek. Mr. Darcy, standing near him, promptly engaged him in a conversation about fishing, and invited him to try Pemberley's waters at his leisure. Despite Uncle Edward's reservations about the werewolf, Mr. Darcy was congenial and open. It wasn't long before Uncle Edward began to smile cautiously at the younger man. The best part of it, Lizzy thought, was that Mr. Darcy was not trying to earn her uncle's good opinion. He was merely being himself. He was comfortable at Pemberley in a way she had rarely seen in him before. When she thought about it, the only times he had really been himself was when he was alone with her. Only then had he relaxed. How could she have missed it before?
"Your cat seems really nice," Georgiana said. She extended a hand toward Murray, and he butted his head against her fingers.
Lizzy smiled at her. "Your brother gave him to me when he was less than a day old," she said. "He saved his life that day. I love Murray." She stroked the soft white fur and was rewarded with a noisy purr.
"Oh!" Georgiana exclaimed. "That makes sense." She looked up and smiled. Lizzy followed her gaze, and saw Mr. Darcy staring directly at her. His expression was radiant. Her heart stuttered in her chest. He started toward her, but then he engaged Aunt Maddy in conversation. Lizzy looked down. It didn't matter. Not even if he returned her feelings still. There was too much between them. She couldn't possibly hope for more. She didn't deserve it. She turned her back on him, hugging Murray to her. She didn't want Georgiana to see her tears. She hated to disappoint the girl, but she really doubted anything would work out.
Georgiana knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help but to keep sneaking glances at Fitzwilliam and Lizzy. Her brother was hard to read as always. His werewolf nature was too wrapped around his emotions. It felt foreign and hazy to her, so she was never quite sure she was reading him right. The other werewolf she had known... hadn't been like that. Being around Wickham had made her feel light-headed, almost intoxicated. It had made her ignore the good sense that told her what she was doing was wrong. All she had known was that she felt impulsive and free for the first time in her life. Thankfully Fitzwilliam had better control of himself than that. Being near him since he'd become a werewolf had never given her that same sense of drunkenness.
Now Lizzy, on the other hand... She was just too easy to read. Such hope and doubt warring inside her! Lizzy was so obviously in love with her brother that she wanted to scream at her to reach out for what she wanted. It was in reach! She was certain that with the smallest encouragement, Fitzwilliam would be all over Lizzy. They were perfect for each other. Fitzwilliam had been a different man since he came back from Aunt Catherine's. He had been so angry, and so sad... Eventually he told her what had happened.
She had felt his great despair. She had always known that when her brother fell in love, it would be forever. She wondered about this woman, who had torn Fitzwilliam up so badly. She should have resented this Elizabeth Bennet. But Fitzwilliam loved her so much that Georgiana couldn't help but to love her too. And then she met Lizzy, and she realized her brother hadn't been exaggerating when he spoke of her spirit and goodness.
Now she just had to get the two of them together! They didn't realize what they were doing, each of them reaching for the other but afraid of being turned away. She knew enough to realize that Fitzwilliam was delaying his talk with Lizzy. She would have thought he was avoiding altogether, but he was filled with some purpose she didn't know. So she was going to wait for a time, and see what Fitzwilliam had in mind.
But if he didn't speak to Lizzy before they reached the end of the path, she was going to have to do something drastic!
It is not polite to pry, young lady, a calm male voice said in her head. Georgiana jumped in surprise. She'd never had anyone speak directly in her mind before. It could only be Mr. Gardiner. The voice didn't sound exactly like him, but he was the only gentleman close enough to project into her mind. At least, she hoped so. If some unknown person could touch her mind from far away, that was just frightening.
Are you a telepath, sir? she asked, feeling strange to be talking inside her head.
He chuckled. No, just an empath like yourself.
Empath? But... how?
For us, child, emotions are language. Any empath strong enough can converse with another in this way.
I don't understand.
You've never met another empath before, have you? We're not actually speaking as we would out loud. Say rather, that we can project our emotions to each other in a very specific way.
You mean... these aren't actually words?
Another kindly chuckle. Now you're getting it.
She thought about that for a while. To think what she was actually hearing was a stream of emotions from the gentleman, only her mind heard it as words... That's sort of clever.
Yes, I always thought so. Now, as much as you may wish to help, these two need to sort things out on their own. You should strengthen your shields and leave them on their own.
She paused. I don't know how to do that, she confessed nervously.
I would be happy to show you, he offered gently.
Thank you very much. She had no idea that Lizzy's uncle was an empath! She realized that of all the party, she has sensed the least from him. He must be very powerful, she thought, to be so centered and in control of his emotions. She still got overwhelmed in crowds, and when meeting new people. Oh, she really hoped Lizzy and Fitzwilliam would work things out! She had a feeling there were many things she could learn from Mr. Gardiner.
They walked on from the stream. This time Mr. Darcy offered his arm to Mrs. Gardiner. Georgiana walked next to Mr. Gardiner, and they spoke softly about their respective talents. She was quickly convinced both of his strength, and his high morality. He was someone deserving of her utmost respect.
Lizzy and her cat brought up the rear, as always. Georgiana was feeling comfortable enough that she cast a frown over her shoulder. Mr. Gardiner coughed discreetly, reminding her not to interfere. She jumped guiltily. She risked a glance in his direction, but he was smiling into the distance, as if amused by life in general. She breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wasn't judgmental of her slip. Still, it was frustrating to have to wait.
Elizabeth was here! Elizabeth! Was here! In his home! At Pemberley! Darcy was still having a hard time believing it. It had to have been God's grace that had brought her here when he was supposed to be gone, and had made him return with Georgiana just a day early. And better still, she had that cat with her. He blessed that kitten with every ounce of his being. The little white creature was a tangible connection between them. He had given her the kitten, and she now kept it with her when she traveled. That meant she had to be thinking of him, right?
He was so scared of messing this up again. He had read her wrong before, he didn't want to do it again. He wanted to prove to her that he had changed. Had Mrs. Bennet and her two youngest daughters appeared unannounced at Pemberley, he would have put them in the family wing to show how much he appreciated them. Yes they were silly, but they had been part of the formation of Elizabeth. He couldn't but love them for that.
He was so concentrated on the most silent member of the party that it was difficult to attend what his companion was saying. Thankfully, Mrs. Gardiner was making it easy on him by talking about his favorite subject in the world: her niece. He listened with rapt attention as Mrs. Gardiner spoke of Elizabeth as a child. He could easily see how bright and precocious she had been. Her intelligence and beauty had only increased as she had grown into a young woman.
Yes, Darcy was well and truly smitten. He no longer tried to deny it. He had lived long enough without her to realize there would never be anyone else for him. He didn't care if he was acting the fool. Hang dignity! If begging would get Elizabeth to reconsider him, he would beg. It didn't matter what she needed from him, he would do it. But first he had to show her that he had changed. His stupid pride had got in the way of his heart before, but no more.
Every moment he spoke with the Gardiners, he prayed she was watching him. See how he welcomed them! See how he made an effort to put them at ease! He could never have been so bold before, but there was too much at stake for him to hesitate. Georgiana wasn't the only one that had inherited shyness in the family. He would overcome it, for the sake of his beloved. Well, she was loved, even if she was not his.
His mind was plotting ways to make them stay, even while he doubted himself. Was he being too overbearing? How long were they planning to stay in the area? If he invited them to stay at Pemberley, was that too officious? What could he do to stay in her presence longer? He wished that the path was ten times as long. Anything to be near her a moment longer! He had seen her talking with Georgiana, and his heart nearly burst with how they instinctively got along. The two most important women in his life, laughing together. It was enough to make him lay at their feet and worship them.
Mr. Gardiner was also a surprise. His ears picked up the quiet conversation with his sister, even though no one else could have heard it. So the other man was another empath. He was grateful to have found someone of both good character and empathic strength. Hopefully Mr. Gardiner could teach his sister not be overwhelmed as she easily was. He would never dare to impose on the man, but as Mr. Gardiner had volunteered himself for the task, Darcy was inclined not to interfere.
In truth, most of his attention was focused behind the gentleman and his sister. Elizabeth was being so quiet, he could barely hear her steps. Every now and then he heard a faint purr, and was grateful for the kitten keeping her company. Soon, he promised himself, he would find a way to walk next to her. But he would not in the least bit be rude to his current companion. That was the last thing he wanted. He needed Elizabeth to see the effort he was making. Actually, he needed to do this for himself. As hard as it had been to admit it, Elizabeth had been right to call him arrogant and conceited. He had been brought up to be proud of his family and station, but he had never been taught to temper it with kindness and understanding.
It pained him to realize he might have snubbed the Gardiners last year, before the summer that had changed everything. He would have missed knowing two people of intelligence and sense. Even if they had not been connected to beautiful Elizabeth, he still would have been glad to know them for their own sakes, if he could have unbent his stiff neck enough to acknowledge them.
About halfway through the return journey, Mrs. Gardiner pled fatigue, and sought the support of her husband's arm. It was on the tip of his tongue to say that she could have leaned on him harder--with his werewolf strength he could have carried her easily--until he saw the look of understanding pass between husband and wife. His ears reddened, and he had to fight the urge to turn away. They were trying to arrange things for him! Was he really so transparent? He knew he was, but it still felt strange to take this assistance from people he had barely met.
Their walking expedition was temporarily halted as partners were exchanged. Everyone seemed to be in on the attempt to make Elizabeth walk beside him. He would have been highly amused, but for the look of panic on Elizabeth's face when she saw what was happening. Did she still hate him? Had his recent actions done nothing to convince her of his change? He had thought--was he imagining the looks from her earlier, as though she had wanted to speak with him but was too shy?
It was enough to make him want to flee. If she didn't want to stand next to him, then the others shouldn't be forcing her! He wanted to speak out, to tell them to let her be. Would that be arrogant of him? He was so afraid of saying the wrong thing, of making her hate him more. Finally it was done. Mr. Gardiner was framed by Georgiana and Mrs. Gardiner. Together the three of them made a wall of people that had trapped Elizabeth on the same side as him.
She looked like a wild creature that had been cornered. He hated that he had done that to her. She looked to him desperately, and it was all he could do to not reach out to comfort her. She already hated him. Did he have to force himself on her? Elizabeth squared her shoulders, and approached him as if facing a firing squad. He started to offer his arm to her automatically, only to remember how little she had wanted to touch him when they walked at Rosings Park.
He dropped his arm, realizing too late that she was already reaching for him. There were no words to describe the awkwardness of the moment. She was blushing furiously. He just hoped she wasn't plotting his assassination. Taking a deep breath, he offered his arm again. This time he let it be. He would not reach for her if she did not wish it, but he would make it known that he did desire her company.
He felt quite stupid walking with his elbow sticking out for several steps. At what point was it time to decide she would have none of him? The debate threatened to last forever. And then he was rewarded by the lightest of touches on his arm. Her hand slid into the crook of his elbow. He felt like shouting for joy, until he realized that her touch was as faint as when she wished no contact with him. Was this just a pity gesture, since he hadn't put his arm down? Now he was trying to find some way for her to retreat that didn't look like he was pushing her away. He would never push her away, but nor would he force her if she didn't want it.
Then, miracle of miracles, she drew closer to him. It was barely a couple inches, but he felt it with every fiber of his being. Her hand pressed his arm more firmly, as though realizing that she belonged there. He felt light-headed with exultation. He had dreamed so many times of having her at Pemberley, of walking with her in just this manner, that he was afraid he would wake up and she would be gone. This moment could not become any more perfect.
He had the most beautiful woman on his arm, and if he wasn't mistaken, she wasn't opposed to his presence. He had thought his own pride and stupidity had ruined any chance of being this happy, but for some reason he had been given the opportunity to make it right. Let him not screw it up this time! He found himself wishing she would stumble a little, so he might have a chance to hold her closer. He looked down at Elizabeth was a soft smile, only to start when he saw her biting her lip with a frown.
He realized he had been so caught up in wonder that he had let several long moments pass without speaking. She must think he was being haughty as he was before. Did she regret taking his arm now? He had to speak, but every acceptable conversation flew from his mind. Dammit, this was what always happened to him! His pulse felt thready, and his palms were damp. This wasn't some faceless crowd, he reminded himself. This was Elizabeth! Lovely, gentle, kind Elizabeth, who he so desperately wanted to think well of him. No, this wasn't helping.
He cleared his throat, glanced at her again, and once more blessed the white cat held in one arm. He extended his hand toward Murray. Ever curious, the kitten sniffed him, and then consented to have his cheek scratched. "I think this must be the most remarkable cat anywhere," he began calmly.
Elizabeth looked up at him, and then smiled fondly at her pet. What he would give to have her smile at him like that! "I'm rather surprised myself," she admitted. "I don't think he has any fear. Most creatures are frightened of you at first."
He nodded. "The Pemberley cats have all warmed to me, though."
"Truly?" her smile turned toward him, and warmth bloomed in his chest. "That's very good. Did you have someone to talk to them, or was it done on their own?"
"All on their own. It took them a few months, though. Some of the kittens stumbled into me playing one day, and then they discovered I was a good source of warmth. After that none of them seemed to mind when I was near."
"Amazing. I'm very happy to hear that." Her hand pressed harder to his arm for his moment. He didn't know if she was aware of it, but he was attuned to her every breath.
"Strangely, the dogs are still a bit uncertain," he said. "The groundskeeper has two big mastiffs. Well, not so large, comparatively."
Elizabeth snorted with quiet laughter. "I should think not," she said dryly.
"I've had to ask him to keep them on leashes. They keep trying to pick fights, and I can't allow that with Georgiana near. The horses don't much like me either, though most have a sort of grudging acceptance. Thor is still the only one that lets me ride him."
She tipped her head back to look at him, her lips parted in wonder. He felt a surge of pride. He had brought that expression to her face. If he wasn't mistaken, she was pleased for him. That meant she was not indifferent, right? At least it meant she did not hate him still! He prepared to answer all her questions about the training and backing of the big gypsy stallion. Instead she asked, "You kept the name?"
He was prepared for anything but that. Was she pleased? Did it irk her for some reason? How could he explain that after their turbulent parting, the stallion had been the last bit of connection to her that he could cling to? He nodded. "Of course I kept the name. It worked well for him, and Richard had called his mare after the goddess of love!" He grimaced, remembering a time when he ventured too close to Aphrodite, and she took a chunk of flesh out of his shoulder. If he had been a hair slower, she might have ripped off his ear--and he hadn't been in wolf form at the time.
She squeezed his arm, deliberately this time. He went on quickly, lest she think he was frowning at her. "Besides, don't you know it's bad luck to change a horse's name?" he smiled teasingly at her.
"No, I didn't know that. I'm sorry, you should have called him anything you wanted--"
"Miss Elizabeth," he barely remembered to put the honorific in front of her name. The familiar syllables fell from his tongue like a caress. She jolted slightly when he spoke her name. "I don't mind his name. You named him well. You should see him at full gallop, he moves like a dream. But most of all, you named him. I could hardly have changed that." His voice dropped to a whisper, and he stared intently at her. Did she understand what he was saying?
She stared back at him. He swore her eyes seemed to be searching. He prayed she saw the love in his gaze, the new awareness that guided his actions now. She wasn't watching where she was going, and her foot stumbled over an exposed root at the edge of the path. He caught her easily. She stiffened when he held her a moment too long, savoring the feel of her in his arms.
He let go quickly, ashamed that his desires had gotten the better of him once again. He couldn't afford to act rashly! If he was to have any chance of winning her, he must be patient, and allow her all the time she needed. There was a new awkward distance between them. She cleared her throat, and began, "Mr. Darcy, I feel I must apologize." She wouldn't look at him when she spoke.
His heart sank. No. Please God, no. This was where she apologized for any false hope she might have created, and said she could never be what he wanted. He wanted to stop her, to prevent her from breaking his heart all over again.
"Last spring, I fear my actions toward you were cruel and unjustified," she went on. It felt like silver was burning in his chest, making it impossible for him to breathe.
"You didn't say a word that was untrue, Eli--Miss Elizabeth," he cursed his slip of the tongue. It was too much to hope she hadn't noticed. He saw the oblique look she gave him. "If there must be an apology, let me apologize to you. I was pompous, and unfeeling. In short, I was a fool. I acted without any consideration for you. I assumed I knew everything, and I'm sorry for whatever pain or mortification I might have caused you."
She winced, and looked away. "Mr. Darcy, I have often been accused of speaking too pertly, and I fear that you bore the brunt of my temper that day. I spoke harshly, and it has since been many weeks since I have regretted my hasty words. If any were true, you did not deserve them in the manner I spoke."
She fell silent. The quiet lasted so long, she must have been able to hear the hope painfully pounding in his chest. She had apologized, but she had not spurned him again. If he wasn't crazy, and had heard correctly, she had even admitted to regretting the things she said. She seemed willing to acquit him of the equally dreadful things he had said that day, but he could not be so kind to himself. Though the way she had rejected him had ripped his heart open, he had needed it. He shuddered to realize how arrogant he had been then. He needed to hear how he appeared to others, and then he'd needed to take steps to drain the poison from his bearing. He could have never done that if he hadn't had the incentive of her words driving him. He hoped he was a better man for having heard them. And just maybe, she was admitting it.
"I think we have both made mistakes in the past," he said cautiously. "Perhaps we could stand here and apologize all day to each other. I think I would rather believe that I have learned a lesson, and maybe I am a little wiser for it."
"Think only of the past only as its remembrance gives you pleasure," she murmured tentatively.
He dared to smile. "A wise person must have said that," he said with a bow of his head. Her face pinked suddenly. He blinked, and then silently rejoiced that for once he had accidentally said the right thing. The air around them seemed much lighter. He was able to walk with ease. She hadn't admitted that she cared for him, but she did indicate that she didn't think the same of him as she had in the spring. Anything was better than that. Nor could he believe that she was wholly indifferent to him. If she was, she wouldn't have been at pains to apologize to him. No, as far as he was concerned, they were both seeing each other the same way.
"How is your family, Miss Elizabeth?" he asked kindly. He would never admit to prying, but he was curious to see if she had any recent news.
Instead of the happy answer he was expecting, she sighed. "As well as can be expected, I fear." She bit her lip in worry. A prickle of fear went down his spine. What had happened? He'd never seen her less than enthusiastic on the subject of her family.
"Is anything wrong?" he asked, dropping his voice. He wanted to growl at anything that dared disturb her happiness.
"No, not wrong," she hedged. He immediately knew she meant nothing was right either. "The militia has left Meryton," she said suddenly.
He blinked, and felt his hackles struggling to rise. He could care less about the militia. But one particular officer within the militia... "It is good they are away," he said, valiantly keeping his voice steady. He glanced over his shoulder to reassure himself that his sister was still safe from that monster. To his surprise, he saw that he and Elizabeth had drawn a good way ahead of the others.
"They are at Brighton now," Elizabeth said quickly. "And my sister Lydia has gone with Col Forster!" She gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. She gave him a horrified look, as if ashamed of what she'd admitted. He felt a sinking in his stomach. Nothing good could come of having a young girl near that creature. He understood her fear intimately. He needed to reassure her that he would never think less of her, no matter what her family's choices.
"You would do anything to protect your sister," he said quietly. "I would do the same." He would do anything to protect her sisters as well. Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked away.
"Mr. Darcy, I must tell you--"
"It's alright," he insisted.
"But--"
He reached out and brushed his fingers across the hand she still held to her mouth. She shivered at his touch. "You don't have to speak. I understand." This was upsetting her so much, he wished he could take it away from her. Maybe if his cousin Richard were to write a letter... Surely the word of a colonel and the son of an Earl might carry some weight? The risk to himself was more than worth it if it would expose Wickham as the monster he was. After all, he had already passed the silver and wolfsbane test once. That provided him a small measure of immunity from accusations.
She still looked so troubled. Abruptly he blurted, "I told Charles to take up Netherfield again."
She blinked and stared at him. "Mr. Bingley? You did? Why would you do that?"
He felt suddenly nervous. He was interfering again in his friend's life. That hadn't gone so well the last time. "I told him that he had been too hasty to quit the country last fall. That maybe the country missed him more than he knew."
Her eyes narrowed, and he braced himself for her outrage. He deserved it. He was meddling in things that did not involve him. But if Charles only needed a little encouragement to heal the breach, he would provide it. "Was that alright?" he asked, when the silence grew unnerving. She gave him a sharp look, then sighed and relaxed.
"The country has been missing him, a great deal. I suppose... if Mr. Bingley breaks her heart again, I'll kill him."
Growing bold, he placed a hand on her shoulder. "If he does, I'll help."
They walked on in silence. He didn't remember offering his arm to Elizabeth, but somehow she was hanging onto him. This time there was a definite weight to his touch as she leaned on him. Her face was troubled, so worried for the fate of both her sisters. He offered to carry Murray for her, trying to do anything to distract her. She declined, but when he applied directly to the cat, the white kitten squirmed out of her grasp and happily took a new vantage point.
She shook her head ruefully. "I wonder if he remembers you from before," she mused thoughtfully.
"Perhaps early exposure made him less likely to take fright of me."
"Perhaps he knows you saved his life."
"Maybe he is just curious," he chuckled, happy to see Elizabeth looking more at ease. After a moment more she cocked her head at him, and her eyes sparkled.
"Tell me, Mr. Darcy," she said playfully, "Do you often take Georgiana for walks?"
He raised his eyebrows as he returned, "I'd say rather that she takes me for a walk on occasion." He faltered as he remembered her accusations of being too dog-like, but she only laughed.
"And you go swimming when the mood takes you?" she asked archly, eyeing his head with undisguised amusement. His hair turned curly when it was wet and not combed down properly. He had been too impatient to make sure he caught them to allow his valet time to fix his hair.
"When the weather suits it," he said with lofty dignity.
"And is the state of Pemberley so poor that the master must gather firewood for his sister?"
God, he had missed her teasing! She had caught him playing fetch with his sister, and she wouldn't let him forget it. Was it terrible that he would have been happy to fetch for her as well? "The fetching of firewood is an ancient and noble pastime. It is the privilege of the upper class to engage in it as often as possible," he altered his voice to mimic the nasal tones of his boyhood deportment teacher. He had the great pleasure of seeing her eyes dance with mirth. She was practically shaking with suppressed laughter.
She looked away from him, then suddenly walked away. He was bereft of her presence. She stooped at the edge of the path and then returned to him, hiding something behind her skirts. She was taking his arm again before he even thought to offer it to her. He marveled at how right she felt against him. "So tell me, Mr. Darcy," she said slyly. "If I threw this would you fetch it for me?" She held up the stick she had collected.
A great laugh burst from his chest before he could stop it. He collected himself, and mock-frowned at the stick. He couldn't take it from her because his arms were full of woman and cat, but he considered it carefully. "Absolutely not, Miss Elizabeth!" he said in a scandalized tone. "You mistake me! Do you think I would fetch any piece of wood as if it were the same? The proper firewood must have a certain weight to it. Think how quickly a mere twig would burn up, with scarcely any heat! Furthermore, it must be free of burrs or jagged ends that might catch at the hand."
"Or the mouth," Elizabeth muttered, thoroughly taken in by his description.
He gave her an astonished look. "Why, Miss Elizabeth, do you often carry firewood in your mouth?"
This was too much for them, and they laughed with abandon. She threw the stick off to the side. He took a step as if to chase after it. "Mr. Darcy!" she exclaimed, and he grinned at her. Never had he felt more free. When she looked at him like that, this time knowing she was as happy as he was, he felt like he could fly.
By this time they had left the path, and were finally at the foot of Pemberley's entrance. Elizabeth tipped her head back to study his home. He studied only her. "Your home is very beautiful."
I've never had a more beautiful sight before me, he thought. She looked at him and flushed. He realized he'd spoken out loud. He couldn't bring himself to regret it. She looked instinctively for their companions, and started to see that they were at least a quarter of a mile back. They were effectively alone. If he were more stupid, he would propose to her again. He wanted to, badly. But he wasn't as na•ve as he had been before. For one thing, there hadn't been enough time. He knew she didn't hate him, but he wanted her to be sure of him. Let her see the extent of his change. Let him prove worthy of her. And another point, he wasn't sure if he should ask her again. Did he have any right to ask this sacrifice of her?
He hadn't been thinking this last summer, when he blindly proposed. He understood better now, the risks she would be exposed to. He had been so concerned with her status, that he'd never considered his own. He was a werewolf. He was a danger to everyone he cared about. Not because he might harm them; that side of him was well regulated now. But if he were to be exposed to the public... Everything around him would crumble to the dust. It brought a physical pain to his heart, to imagine Pemberley taken, Georgiana shunned, his tenants taken from their homes and persecuted. How could he ask Elizabeth to face that? He was so grateful for the way she'd saved his life during the silver and wolfsbane test, but he didn't want her to think he loved her out of obligation or gratitude.
He gazed steadily at her, while she tried to avoid his eyes. There was no use denying it: he was too lost to her to not ask again. But first he had to show her that he had thought it out this time. He had developed plans in case he or Alain were ever discovered. It wasn't fair that he ask her to take that risk with him. By all rights, he should be down on his knees, begging her to give him a second chance.
He understood now why a man knelt when he asked a woman to marry him. Perhaps it was up to the man to ask, but it was for the woman to accept. She was the one that would hold their future in her hands. And in this case, he knew Elizabeth was far more worthy than he would ever be. Even more than the dangers she would be exposed to in his presence, he wanted to show her how much he loved her. He had been so obtuse before, to think he was courting her when she had disdained him the entire time.
This time was different. She'd apologized to him. She'd teased him on the walk. His only regret was that the first time she met him again, he had been in wolf form. She had accused him of being more animal than man, and it made him realize he'd depended too much on his lupine side to say the things he couldn't. He would court her properly this time, as a man.
Elizabeth seemed to be having a hard time looking at him. He kept watching her, utterly enchanted by her. She glanced up briefly, her cheeks reddening, then looked away. She tried to speak, but for once was at a loss. He couldn't help but to smile at her. She always had a pert word or sly comment to make. To see her speechless was a rare and charming occurrence indeed.
He wanted to reach for her so bad, but contented himself with stroking Murray's back. She seemed happy to have something to focus on at last. She frowned at her kitten. "I'm afraid that my cat has left white hairs on your coat, Mr. Darcy," she said in distress, and reached out to take Murray from him. She brushed futilely at the offending hairs left behind.
Suddenly he was having a hard time breathing. Did she know what she was doing to him? Touching him, touching his chest, her hands practically stroking his ribs? It was magic; it was torture. He tried to speak, but his voice had gone hoarse. He caught one hand and pressed it to stillness. He was sure she could feel the wild beating of his heart. "Leave them," he said in a low voice. "My valet is already used to dark fur."
She blushed again, but did not try to take her hand back. She looked at him curiously. He answered her unspoken question. "Yes, I shed. Great clumps of fur in the springtime. Georgiana had to brush me out." It had been mortifying to have his little sister brush him like one of her dollies, though he had felt much better afterwards. It was not a task he was looking forward to every year when the weather warmed.
"I should have liked to have seen that," she murmured with a smile.
"You could," he said without thinking. Their eyes met, heavy with unspoken intent. Thankfully Georgiana and the Gardiners reached them just a moment later. Elizabeth tugged her hand away, hastily combing through Murray's fur. His little sister looked between them with sharp eyes. No doubt she'd demand to know everything later.
Now that everyone was present, he took the opportunity to speak. "May I invite you in for refreshments, and dinner at Pemberley?" he asked, inclining his head. He looked directly at Elizabeth, but also made sure to include her aunt and uncle with a glance.
"Please do come, Lizzy," Georgiana pleaded.
Elizabeth bit her lip, and looked to her aunt.
"I'm sorry to say, Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Gardiner said gently, "That we have a previous dinner engagement."
"That is no problem," he assured them quickly. He was temporarily disappointed, but maybe it would work out for the better. "May I turn that dinner invitation into one for a picnic tomorrow on Pemberley's grounds? There are many more paths that you have not seen yet, and I would be happy to show you." Again it was to Elizabeth he looked, though she stared determinedly at her feet.
"That would be lovely, thank you," Mrs. Gardiner accepted, with a knowing look at her niece.
Before they could depart, he once more turned to Elizabeth. "Miss Elizabeth, I do not know how long you plan to be in the area, but if it is not too much, I wonder, might I introduce my ward Alain to you? He is due to arrive the day after tomorrow."
"Alain is coming!" Georgiana squealed, clapping her hand together. He gave her a mildly disapproving glance. She sobered, but kept grinning broadly.
Elizabeth tilted her head at him. "You have a ward, Mr. Darcy?"
He smiled mysteriously. "I do. He is a young boy I met through Charles. I provide him with a scholarship, and you might say we have certain interests in common." Let her think about that, and see if she realized that his ward was another werewolf.
"I would be pleased to meet any ward of yours," she said happily, "if we are still in the area." Her look appealed to her aunt and uncle again.
"I do not think it would be hard to linger for a time," Mrs. Gardiner said. "I should like to visit the places of my youth."
"We are not in any hurry," Mr. Gardiner seconded with a smile.
He felt more elated than he had since first seeing Elizabeth on the path. For once the fates seemed to be working in his favor. Their carriage pulled up, and he handed Elizabeth up last. This time she did not stiffen when his hand lingered on hers. "Until tomorrow," he promised her. She nodded, and off they rode.
Georgiana stood beside him as the carriage drew out of sight. He felt like sagging without her presence, but in the next moment he was filled with energy. The visit had gone better than he'd had any right to hope. More, he would have Elizabeth at Pemberley for a picnic tomorrow! Maybe he could convince them to linger all day, and take dinner with them. After that--his mouth went dry. After that who knew? But his future felt bright and free.
"Fitzwilliam!" Georgiana exclaimed, "Why didn't you tell me Alain was coming?"
He smiled at his sister. "It was a surprise, princess. Come now, you have a picnic to plan for tomorrow."
"I like Lizzy very much," Georgiana mused, then sighed. "I just wish Alain could be here in time for the picnic."
An idea was forming in his mind, and he chuckled.
"Fitzwilliam?" she asked warily. "What are you thinking?"
"Oh, I don't know," he shrugged his shoulders, already feeling the itch to be gone. "I was thinking I might go for a run, and see if I can't convince Alain to travel a little faster. He should already be on route."
Georgiana threw her arms around him in a tight hug. "You are the best brother!" she exclaimed. Then she paused, her face torn. "But you will not miss Lizzy tomorrow at the picnic, will you?"
"Rest assured," he patted her head, "That is the last thing I would ever miss. Give me a few minutes to change for travel, and meet me at the side door to see me off. While I'm gone, I want you to be planning the very best picnic, do you hear?"
"Yes, Fitzwilliam, definitely! I'll go right now!" She gave him another hug, and ran off. Chuckling to himself, he followed at a more sedate pace. He found Mrs. Reynolds, and informed her of his planned absence and return with company.
"Very good, sir," she said happily. "And if I may say so, I do think that Miss Elizabeth is a very nice, pleasant lady."
He paused. Mrs. Reynolds had never commented on a guest before. But then, he had been transparent to his staff in the last few months. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. She laughed at him. "Off with you, go fetch Mr. Carter."
He retired to his rooms and stripped his clothes quickly. His changes took barely a few seconds now, and felt like nothing more than a long stretch. He shook his fur, panting happily, and pawed open his door. He trotted down to the side door, where Georgiana was dancing with impatience.
She knelt and hugged him. "Go safe, brother," she whispered to him. He turned to leave.
"Fitzwilliam?" Georgiana called after him. He paused. His sister never called him by his full name in wolf form unless it was vitally important.
She smiled at him. "I would dearly like Lizzy as a sister. Don't make her wait too long."
He huffed a laugh, then gently bumped her with his shoulder. The satisfaction curling inside him made his jaws drop open in a grin. Georgiana opened the door for him, and he was gone.
Posted on: 2013-07-04
Darcy knew the route between London and Derbyshire well, having traveled it often these last months. With Charles gone back to Netherfield--how was that going, he wondered--Alain had been staying with one of his tutors in London. Alain was going to have to stay at Pemberley for a while, if Charles was going to linger in Hertfordshire. He had no problems with the boy--other than his fondness for his little sister--but he was not comfortable leaving Alain alone with Georgiana if he had to travel.
But if Elizabeth accepted his suit soon, he was going to have to do a great deal of traveling. He would just have to take Alain with him. He hoped Elizabeth approved of Alain. The young boy had been just like him in the beginning, wild and fierce, completely out of control. To his astonishment, he'd discovered that he could project the same influence over Alain that Elizabeth had over him.
The boy and his wolf were both still very young, but they were no longer as dangerous as they had been. That was a very great improvement! It made him wonder what would have happened if there had been an older werewolf--not Wickham--to help him transition. Perhaps it would not have been so very bad after all. He could not see himself creating any werewolves in the future, but he would always try to help any that came to him for aid.
His long legs ate the miles toward London. There was something hypnotic in the bunch and release of muscle, the fast, steady draw of air, the ever retreating distance. When he concentrated, he could always feel Alain. That sense guided him faultlessly. He could not sprint the entire way to his ward, but he pushed his limits, rejoicing in his strength.
It was well after dark by the time he drew near Alain's position. The boy was staying at an inn for the night. Darcy slowed to a trot for the last half hour, to have his breath fully recovered by the time he reached Alain. He slunk through the quiet travel-town, using werewolf magic to hide in the shadows. He might have never discovered it as a lone wolf, but once he'd taken Alain into his care, he had found that there were even more abilities available to him. No doubt these pack-talents were what had allowed Wickham to escape him in the past. Now that Darcy had a pack of own, albeit a very small one, he was certain he could match anything Wickham could throw at him.
Alain felt his coming long before he was near. The boy waited in an ally for him. He knelt on the ground and bowed his head as Darcy approached. The older man nosed the back of Alain's neck.
"What is it?" Alain whispered when the greeting was done. Darcy waved his tail, grinning again. He used the pack bonds to communicate to Alain's wolf. The boy's eyes widened. "You wish me to come with you? It is a long way. I do not know if I am strong enough."
Darcy nudged his shoulder, assuring him that he would help.
"May I arrange passage for my bag?"
Darcy dipped his nose briefly. Alain backed away, then rose and slipped back into his inn. Darcy could feel the moment his ward slipped into wolf form. A few seconds later a thin, big-pawed wolf came bounding toward him. As always, the younger wolf's ears were flat, his tail wagging rapidly. His entire body wiggled with excitement as he nuzzled and licked Darcy's jaw. Darcy bore it with good humored patience. Alain, in many ways, was still very much a puppy.
Darcy drew a veil of hiding over the two of them, and they snuck out of town. Once on the open road, both of them stretched their legs northward. Alain was prone to sprint ahead and then darting aside as things caught his attention. Darcy barked quietly, and Alain slunk back to his side, chastised. They had a very long run ahead of them, and the boy couldn't afford to waste his energy in the beginning.
Alain had never made his way by foot to Pemberley. He had never gone on a long run at all, and before they had covered half the distance, he was already flagging. Darcy slowed to a walk, though he chaffed the miles that still lay between him and his love. He could almost feel her, like he could Alain. That was a new thing, and he wondered if it was her magic which called him, or his pack bonds that were laying claim to her.
Alain's head hung low, and he was panting hard. They paddled in a stream for a time to let the water sooth their feet, then Darcy set his shoulder to Alain's to urge him on. They were able to share strength, and Darcy generously gave to Alain. As the alpha wolf, the pack leader, he was able to control the flow of energy between them. He could draw power from Alain, or conversely give it back. They had experimented a little before, but never had it been put to such strenuous use.
Alain was refreshed, but it left Darcy more weary than he'd supposed. He had never pushed himself so close to exhaustion before. Their pace was necessarily more moderate than it had been at the start. It took many hours before they were once again in the Derbyshire. It was barely a scant hour before dawn as they walked through the sleeping village of Lambton. Both of them were very tired, but Darcy's heart was light. His love was like a beacon guiding him home.
Without questioning it, he knew exactly where Elizabeth was. He could feel that she was sleeping, but he couldn't wait to introduce her to Alain. He instructed his ward to wait a little ways back as he stood before the Lambton inn. He wasn't entirely sure it would work, but he gathered the pack bonds and used them to call to her, the same as he would to Alain.
Miss Elizabeth, he summoned softly. She did not stir. He glanced at Alain, who was watching him curiously. Darcy closed his eyes for a moment. He collected all his love for her, all his hopes for the future, and once more reached for her. Elizabeth, Lizzy my love, please wake! He sent a soft howl with his plea. He heard Alain snickering at him--he sounded and felt the love-lost fool--but he didn't care. High above, Elizabeth stirred.
He retreated into the shadows before she could see him, but he still felt the familiar sweep of her magic. His heart sang with her touch. He truly believed that he would still feel her no matter how far the distance that separated them. A few minutes later, Elizabeth had snuck out of the inn. Her eyes found him immediately, though he knew he was almost invisible in the darkness.
He padded toward her slowly. Now that he was in her presence, it was a lot harder to keep moving than he'd thought. He wanted nothing more than to curl up by her side and sleep. "Fitz," she whispered, reaching for him with hands and magic. Both caressed him, and he couldn't stop the soft groan that rose from his chest.
"You're tired," she said, kneeling in front of him. She took his head in her hands, and pressed her forehead to his. Before he could stop her, she had opened a link to him, and a rush of energy suddenly filled him. Now that he was more experienced with such an exchange, he understood what such cost her. She was generous, and didn't hesitate to offer what she could. He didn't want to weaken her, but she had been sleeping in a bed the last several hours. He was tired, and it was time for him to accept her help.
He divided the energy between him and Alain. The younger wolf whined, squirming in place. Elizabeth gasped and shrank against him. She made him feel proud and strong, that she would turn to him for protection. "Who's there?" she asked, her magic reaching out.
He stayed silent, letting her discover Alain on her own. Alain's tail wagged furiously, but he remained where Darcy had left him. Elizabeth's head tilted curiously. "Hello," she muttered to herself. "I think there's another..." She glanced at him, and snorted a laugh. "Let me guess. This must be Alain?"
Alain yipped at the sound of his name, and Darcy grinned at her. She was so brilliant! How quickly she had figured it out, though he'd said nothing. She held her hand out to his ward. "Here, boy," she called softly, echoing the first words she had ever said to him last autumn.
Alain looked to him for permission to rise, then slowly made his way to Elizabeth. The pup was once again all excitement, unable to keep still as he licked and pawed at her hands. She laughed at him, and stroked down his back. Darcy felt her magic run over his ward.
"So young," she murmured. "But Mr. Darcy has been taking good care of you, hasn't he?"
His chest swelled with pride at her approval.
"You're a good sight better than he was, when I first met him."
Alain was absolutely won over. He had no natural caution of new people, and as Darcy already approved of this one, he rolled over with abandon, all four paws waving in the air. Elizabeth laughed again, obediently scratching his belly. Just like with Georgiana, Darcy couldn't be more pleased that Elizabeth got along so well with his ward. However, the pup's actions left stupid jealousy gnawing at him. Was every werewolf she met going to fawn over her immediately?
He didn't mind it, exactly, but watching her happiness, he wondered if he should have been more demonstrative in his affections. Doubt assailed him. Elizabeth must have sensed his discomfort, because she suddenly looked at him. "Don't worry, Fitz, you're still my favorite." She put an arm around his shoulders and hugged him hard. She kissed the tip of his nose, then buried her face in his fur and breathed in deep, inhaling his scent.
He was abruptly dizzy with love. Did she understand how much this meant to him? Scent meant more to him as a wolf, and for her to take in his scent, making it a part of her, was basically claiming him. Surely that meant she understood who he was now. He'd realized that part of their misunderstanding in Hunsford was because she thought his wolf and he were separate. She thought that his actions as a wolf had been only the wolf. She didn't know that he had become the wolf, that they shared the same thoughts and actions.
If she was holding onto him now, then she knew the truth at last. At least, he hoped so. Maybe this was one of those things that was better spoken of, rather than assumed. He had gotten into too much trouble by assuming things before. He vowed to find a moment tomorrow at the picnic to speak with her. Or rather, later today.
As much as he wanted to linger here, it was best if he and Alain got at least a little sleep before the picnic. They would both be more sociable when they were rested. As it was, Alain was already stretched out on his side, beginning to doze lightly. He shifted slightly, and Elizabeth let him go. He looked deep into her eyes, feeling his love pouring into her. Finally, he nudged her back toward the inn, and moved to rouse Alain.
The separation would only be temporary, but it was still a wrench to leave her. Soon, he promised himself, she would come to stay at Pemberley, and not want to leave.
Despite having awoken well before dawn, Lizzy didn't go back to bed. She was too keyed up with nerves. She went upstairs to her room, evicting Murray from where he had crawled underneath the covers. The kitten grumbled sleepily, but was soon unconscious as she held him on her lap and stroked his fur.
Such a strange dream had woken her. She could have sworn that she heard Mr. Darcy's voice in her ear, saying, "Lizzy my love, please wake." That had to have been a dream. She didn't remember any other part of it, but that single memory stayed with her during her waking hours. Perhaps she had instinctively sensed that Fitz was nearby. As soon as she'd awoken, she known he was outside. At least this time she thought that Mr. Darcy would not mind his wolf visiting her.
And he had brought his ward with him. She had never seen Fitz so tired before. How far had he run to retrieve the young werewolf for her to meet? She had been sad at first at how young the boy had been changed. She did not for a second think that Mr. Darcy had changed Alain himself. After a moment's thought, she realized there was no one else she would rather trust with a young werewolf than Mr. Darcy. Not only could he afford the cost of a ward, but he also had the lands where a werewolf could run and avoid people. And Fitz had turned out to be a calm, rational beast, the perfect example for young wolves. Alain was healthy and happy, and perhaps even had a girl--Georgiana--sweet on him. What more could a young boy wish for?
They were a pack, she realized, like a pack of dogs but much deeper than that. She'd felt how Fitz had shared her strength with Alain. They had some sort of bond, that much was clear. She smiled fondly, thinking that of course Fitz would be an alpha. Mr. Darcy was a leader, though a reluctant one at times. Why not Fitz?
Dawn crested the horizon in the distance. She wondered where Fitz and Alain were. Were they sleeping in beds, or under the trees as wolves? She snickered softly, thinking of Georgiana's reaction when she learned the boy was coming. She wondered how Mr. Darcy felt about his sister having an interest in another werewolf. She already knew how protective he was. She imagined that Georgiana was going to cause headaches as she started to express herself.
She frowned, as she thought of her new friend being tormented by Wickham. A muscle in her cheek twitched, thinking of him. He was not shy with his fists. She found herself wishing Fitz had killed the other werewolf last autumn. But then Mr. Darcy would have had to live with what the wolf had done. She wouldn't have wanted him to suffer for it. Still, if it came down to it, she would happily see Wickham dead.
It was too early to get ready, but she dressed anyway, and ventured downstairs in the search for breakfast. By the time she was finished and once more upstairs to feed Murray, the Gardiners were just beginning to stir. Mr. Darcy wasn't due to pick them up until eleven, so the Gardiners opted to visit an old friend of Aunt Maddy's. Lizzy decided to stay in her room. She took out Mr. Darcy's letter again, but she didn't read it so much as quoted favored passages to herself.
She wasn't sure what the picnic today would entail, but she was looking forward to spending time with Mr. Darcy again. He didn't hate her. That was such a relief that she felt positively giddy. She wasn't sure what they were anymore, but if there was the slightest chance that his feelings for her had not declined--as it seemed from yesterday--then she needed to be near him. She was not trying to catch him, as Miss Bingley had back in Netherfield. It was more that he made her happy; she loved him. If she provided the same for him, didn't they deserve the chance to try it out?
She could understand him waiting to declare himself again. They both needed time to be sure of themselves and each other. But she wanted to be part of his life, to have the opportunity to know him that she had wasted before. And she wanted to get to know Georgiana and Alain, two people who were obviously so important to him.
There was a knock on her door, interrupting her pleasant thoughts.
She opened the door to the innkeeper. "Letter for you, ma'am," he said, and handed her a thick envelope. "Arrived by express."
She looked down, and smiled as she recognized Jane's handwriting. At last, news from home! The thickness of the bundle made her hope for good news. It had been a long time since Jane's letters had been more than a couple paragraphs in length. Maybe there was news of Mr. Bingley. It was strange that it had come by express, though. She paid the innkeeper, and shut the door to enjoy her letter. She cracked the seal, and a second envelope fell face down on the floor.
Frowning, she reached down and picked it up. Her heart froze in her chest as she saw her own script on the direction. It was not intended for her, but for Mr. Darcy. Dread formed in the pit of her stomach. She felt as though she had swallowed ten pounds of ice. Tremulously, she returned to Jane's letter. Her eyes only scanned the first couple lines before she leapt up with a scream.
She dropped the letter as though it were a venomous snake, and she backed away as if that would make it disappear. Horror seized her mind. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. She needed air, needed to get out of here, needed anything but this trapped, helpless feeling! Then somehow Mr. Darcy was there. "Elizabeth!" he bellowed, charging into the room.
He took her in his arms, and only then did she suddenly draw breath again. She buried her face in his chest and sobbed with abandon. His arms tightened almost to the point of pain, but she only leaned into him harder. He was trembling; no, he was growling, his head moving back and forth as he sought the danger in the room. A tall, gangly boy with freckles appeared in the doorway, followed by Georgiana.
"Come in, shut the door," he instructed. Lizzy knew it was cowardly of her, but she turned away from the newcomers. She hid in Mr. Darcy's arms. If this was to be the last--only--time she was held by him, she wanted to make it last as long as she could. He would want nothing to do with her once the contents of the letter were revealed.
Mr. Darcy rocked her gently. Fitz was reaching out to her too, seeking to soothe her. "Elizabeth," he murmured in her ear. "My love, tell me what is wrong. Where are your aunt and uncle? Has something happened?"
She cried harder. It seemed especially cruel that she would hear what she so longed for, just when she was about to lose him forever. With a monumental effort, she choked out. "Visiting... Aunt Maddy's friend... Lambton." She couldn't bear to say what was wrong, and only pointed to the fallen letter.
Mr. Darcy moved toward it. She pulled herself away from him forcibly. She didn't want to be pushed aside when he had read it. He allowed her to go, but kept a firm grip on her hand. Her fingers felt numb and cold, his hand warm and calloused. He picked up the letter. She squeezed her eyes shut and looked away, pain ripping through her heart.
She had only read it briefly, but already the words were seared into her mind.
Dear Lizzy,
I wish I had happy news to tell you. Mr. Bingley has come back to Netherfield and asked permission to call on me. I was ever so happy but everything has gone horribly wrong. Lydia has eloped with Wickham. Papa has traced them as far as London and has gone there to search for them. He asked Uncle Edward to join him as soon as necessary. Please come home. Mama is taken to her room, and everyone is upset. I have not told anyone that Wickham is a werewolf. If there is any chance of getting Lydia back, I thought we should not antagonize him. But I defer to your judgment. I have sent the letter to Mr. Darcy with this one, so you may choose whether to deliver it to him. Please hurry.
--Your sister, Jane Bennet
Lizzy knew the moment when Mr. Darcy had learned of her sister's terrible deed. His fingers slid away from hers like he couldn't bear to touch her any longer. Fitz suddenly became hard to read, as she felt that strange barrier wrap around him again. He finished the letter, and would not look at her. She felt forlorn, standing in the corner and shivering.
"Alain," he said. The boy flashed instantly to his side. Mr. Darcy put his hand on Alain's shoulder and closed his eyes. Lizzy felt the pack bonds flare to life between them. There was some sort of communication. She could detect it, but not understand it. "Find that couple, somewhere in the village. Tell them the Bennets are in trouble, and they need to come right away."
"Yes sir!" Alain said in a squeaky voice. He bobbed his head and darted out the door. Next Mr. Darcy turned to his sister.
"Fitzwilliam?" she asked, her bottom lip trembling. "What's wrong?"
"Georgiana," he said, enunciating her name carefully. "I'm afraid there will not be a picnic today. Please take the carriage back to Pemberley."
"But, I want to help."
For a second awful rage flashed across Fitz, quickly suppressed before it became manifest. Lizzy shook from the after effects of it. Mr. Darcy drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. He took his sister's hands in his and held them in front of them. "It's about Wickham. I need you safe at Pemberley. Do you understand?"
She paled, her eyes going wide. She swayed on her feet, now clinging to her brother for support. "Yes," she whispered hoarsely. "I'll go back. I'll tell Mrs. Reynolds..."
"Good girl." He kissed her forehead, and she too left. Lizzy was alone with the great werewolf. She looked away, unable to face him. He stalked across the room, then picked up the letter addressed to him. She wished he wouldn't read it, but she couldn't find her voice. He opened it and read silently.
"This was well done," was the extent of his comment. He tucked the letter into his coat. She feared it would be the last communication between them. She wrapped her arms around her middle and began pacing. Selfishly, she hated Lydia at that moment. She hated that her sister was such a determined flirt. She hated that the girl had thrown herself at anything with a redcoat. She hated that Lydia had allied herself with Mr. Darcy's greatest enemy. She hated that just when things were going right, that she might actually find her happiness with Mr. Darcy, this had happened to drive them apart. He could have no respect for anyone that would willingly run away with the monster that had changed him.
In the next instant Lizzy felt horribly guilty. In the end her sister had run off with a werewolf. Who knew if she was even alive? Wickham had hurt and killed girls before. He had a taste for it, and Lydia was entirely defenseless. All she could do was make a few sparks. That was nothing to a hungry werewolf. She paced in tight circles, avoiding Mr. Darcy. She couldn't bear to see the disgust or anger in his eyes.
"You should go," she suddenly choked out. She dared a glance at him. His jaw clenched and his face hardened. "With Georgiana. You need to keep her safe in case Wickham--" naked fury flashed in Mr. Darcy's beautiful eyes "--tells someone you're a werewolf."
"I will go where I am needed," he said in the steady voice of true outrage. "I will wait until the Gardiners arrive."
She kept pacing, fretting herself in tiny revolutions. Without warning Mr. Darcy stepped into her path. She reeled back to keep from running into him.
"What did Wickham say to you?"
"Mr. Darcy?"
"In your letter," he touched his coat pocket, "You alluded to a conversation with Wickham. What did he say to you? What did he do?" He reached out as if to touch her cheek. The movement so closely mirrored Wickham's strike that she flinched away from him violently. Mr. Darcy's eyes went flat and dead.
"I see," he said carefully. He backed away, and she felt utterly rejected. She wanted to curl up somewhere and die. She couldn't believe this was happening to her. The man she loved, looking at her like she was a piece of dead meat. Even Fitz had withdrawn from her. She was never more wretched in her entire life. It felt as though her lungs and heart had been ripped out. She shuddered, struggling for breath. Mr. Darcy had asked her a question, and she would do her best to answer it.
"He hit me," she blurted suddenly. Mr. Darcy's face was impassive as he looked at her. He didn't care. She forced herself to go on. "He threatened my sisters, and he wanted me to keep silent about his being a werewolf. He said if anything happened to him, he'd tell everyone that you were a werewolf too. I was able to send his wolf to sleep, but he hit me. It was like it didn't matter to him."
There was a brief crack in Mr. Darcy's mask. Naked emotion flashed across his face. Fitz writhed in a sudden lightning bolt of feeling. Everything was too fast for Lizzy to read. She only saw it, felt it, but couldn't decipher it. "He threatened you with me?" his voice was utterly emotionless. He touched his coat pocket again, this time with a faint frown. "Thank you."
She didn't understand. Thanks for what? For trying to protect him against Wickham? For answering the question? For trying to warn him before he was revealed? She thought about how solid and warm he had felt, for the quick moment he had held her. She really wished she could have that back. She needed to feel his support. But of course he didn't wish to touch her now. He never would again. He sat carefully in the only chair in the room.
She paced, trying to hold herself together. By contrast, he was supernaturally still, only his eyes following her through the room. There was a commotion outside the room, and a second later the Gardiners burst into the room, followed by Alain. With a cry Lizzy flung herself into Aunt Maddy's arms. "My dear girl!" Aunt Maddy exclaimed. "Whatever has happened?"
"Lydia has eloped with Mr. Wickham!"
Lizzy felt her aunt rock back in shock. Suddenly both women were clinging to each other for support.
"Edward, Edward what shall we do?" Aunt Maddy asked, looking desperately at her husband. Uncle Edward, however, was not looking at her. His eyes were wide, but his gaze was fixed on Mr. Darcy. Lizzy had never seen such a hard look on her gentle uncle's face.
"I must ask that you leave, sir!" Uncle Edward said harshly. "This is a family matter!"
"Uncle!" Lizzy gasped. She looked to Mr. Darcy, only to remember that she no longer had any power to defend him. Mr. Darcy rose to his full imposing height. He towered over everyone in the room. Waves of violence seemed to flow off him. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead bowed curtly to Uncle Edward. He did not take leave of Lizzy. The door shut softly behind him. She felt as though it had been slammed in her face. She would never see Mr. Darcy again.
She shut her eyes and leaned tiredly against her aunt. It was too much to bear, right now. Just when she had found the love of her life, perhaps the meaning of her existence, she had lost him forever.
The days that followed passed in a blur. They traveled to Hertfordshire, and Uncle Edward continued to London. At Longbourn, things were much worse than Jane had said. Mrs. Bennet was in her room all the time, but the entire house was filled with her wailing. She had driven Mrs. Hill and the maid up the walls with her constant demands. Mrs. Bennet wasn't happy unless her daughters were in sight at all times. She bemoaned her fate and berated her previously favorite daughter for having brought ruin to the family.
Kitty had unfortunately made a comment to the effect that Lydia always did the fun things, and as a result both Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had come down particularly hard on her. Kitty took the brunt of Mrs. Bennet's displeasure in place of her absent sister. If her parents were any more strict, she would have been sent to a convent. Poor Kitty was rather shocked by it all, and scarcely spoke.
Mary looked just as upset. She didn't even sermonize or throw things as she had. She showed a previously unknown sense of sympathy for Lydia, and was often heard to be whispering heartfelt pleas to God for her safe return. Through it all, Jane was struggling to maintain the household, and looked frazzled with the effort.
Lizzy came home and took charge as best she could. She brewed a sleeping tea for Mrs. Bennet, and shamelessly used her magic to strengthen the herbs. Once her mother was asleep, Lizzy had to spend much time consoling her little sisters. Both of them clung to her as if they were small children. Lizzy kissed them, and explained why what Lydia did was so wrong. Many tears were shed. She did not tell them about Mr. Wickham being a werewolf, though she had informed Uncle Edward, and he would tell Mr. Bennet.
Kitty was terrified of being sent away, and vowed to be a more dutiful daughter. She nearly made herself sick, working so hard to improve herself. Lizzy had to temper her to caution, but promised she would help Kitty any way she could. Mary no longer played the piano. She blamed herself for Lydia's defection, as Lydia had left Kitty behind but brought Mary on the night of her defection.
Lizzy had to convince her that she could not have controlled Lydia's actions, but still Mary was very upset. The singular comfort in this time of trial was the presence of Mr. Bingley. Though the story spread about Lydia was that she had taken ill and was in bed at Longbourn, he knew the truth. Lizzy did not blame Jane for telling him. She was relieved to see that Mr. Bingley was as attentive to her sister as before, though he was subdued with their present trouble.
She was just glad that Jane had a confidant who would not abandon her. He was at Longbourn nearly every day, offering his support. Though he must have wanted Jane to himself, he remained within the same room with all the ladies. He took care to acknowledge each one in turn. Mary in particular was unused to the attention of a gentleman, platonic as it was. She proved to be nearly as shy as Mr. Darcy.
The thought of that gentleman was like a blow to Lizzy's chest. She pictured his leaving a hundred times, and each time the pain was worse than before. His letter was hidden in the bottom of her treasure box. It was her most precious possession, but she could not bear to look at it. She felt she had failed him miserably. It shamed her to no end that she had once defended Wickham to his face. And then once she had known the truth, she had failed to steer her sister away from that monster.
The moon grew slowly toward full. Lizzy watched it, and shuddered at every passing night with no word. If Lydia was not returned by the full moon, she somehow knew she'd never see her sister alive again. She couldn't help but to think of her other werewolf, the great noble beast she loved so much. He had seemed so friendly until the morning of the fatal letter. Did he hate her for making the choice to reveal that Wickham was a werewolf? Was he congratulating himself on keeping his sister and ward away from a woman with such fallen connections?
She mourned not just the loss of his esteem and friendship, but also the loss of Georgiana and Alain. She would have dearly loved to have known them better. She would have loved seeing them grow up and mature. Georgiana was going to be a heartbreaker, when she found her confidence. And Alain was such a happy soul she was sure he would have been a great man. She would never have that now. Lydia had ruined the entire family. Mr. Bingley being steadfast to Jane meant that perhaps Kitty and Mary would have a chance, but Lizzy knew she would be an old maid. She could never love another the way she loved Mr. Darcy, and he would not have her.
Mr. Bennet returned home, slumped and defeated. He set down harsh rules for Kitty and Mary. Mary had hardly any spirit in her, and followed dully. Kitty leapt to any task with alacrity, but was often frustrated when her efforts fell short of what she demanded from herself. Lizzy had to intervene with Mr. Bennet to keep him from harming Kitty irreparably. He gave Lizzy an agonized look, then called Kitty into his study to apologize. After that their father made a greater effort to be in both his young daughter's lives, and they flourished with his attention.
Mrs. Bennet remained distraught. Lizzy often had to drug her, and as a result Mrs. Bennet spent a majority of her time in a stupor. Mrs. Bennet made no effort to rouse even when she was sensible, and all the family began to ignore her. She was as a living corpse in her room.
When there was no emotional crisis immediately at hand, Lizzy took time to herself to walk in the Hertfordshire woods. Strangely, the familiar land she had known all her life seemed small and flat. She couldn't help but to remember the vibrancy of Pemberley's paths. It seemed that was where her heart had fled, and she couldn't get it back.
Two days before the full moon, Lizzy was on one of her walks, when she became aware that she was being followed. She'd had the sense she was being watched almost from the moment she had returned from Derbyshire, but there had been so many things to deal with that she had paid it no mind. Now though, her stalker had grown careless, and she even had a glimpse of russet-brown fur. She was almost positive she knew who it was.
Without warning, she turned with a shout and sprinted toward her follower. With a yelp, a lanky young wolf broke cover and ran away from her. She threw her magic toward him, and he stumbled suddenly. He was neither so easy to put down as Wickham's wolf had been, nor so immune as Fitz. She caught up with Alain and tackled him. He squirmed under her, trying to get free. Even so young he was stronger than her.
She got a fistful on his scruff and twisted sharply. He yelped again, and rolled to his back in surrender, tail between his legs. "What are you doing here?" she demanded furiously. He could only whine in response. His actions had reminded her of how Wickham had once stalked her in the same way, and she realized she was taking her anger and fright out on the young boy. Abruptly she let him go. He didn't move.
"I'm sorry, Alain," she said. Her chest heaved, and she slid down against a tree. She held her hands to her mouth, rocking silently as she tried to contain her tears. Alain whimpered and crawled to her on his belly. He wiggled onto her lap and exposed his stomach again. "I'm sorry," she repeated, holding him. "I'm not mad at you, I'm just so scared..."
Alain licked her face clean. When Fitz had done it, it had been like a lover's caress. With Alain, it felt like exactly what he was: a puppy seeking comfort. He was all sharp bony angles, not yet filled out with the muscle of maturity. Something occurred to her. "What are you doing here?" she asked out loud.
Alain hung his head and tried to slink away. "No you don't," she commanded, getting to her feet. "I want answers."
He stopped, unable to leave. He looked off in the distance and whined.
"Is... is Mr. Darcy here?" she breathed. Hope was so painful in her chest she couldn't breathe. Alain gave a bark, then awkwardly rocked his head back and forth. No. Of course not. Mr. Darcy would not be caught dead anywhere in the area of Hertfordshire. Though that did make her wonder who Alain was staying with.
She remembered every word Mr. Darcy had ever said, and she recalled him asking if he could introduce Alain to her. He'd said he'd met the boy through Mr. Bingley... She sighed, realizing that Alain had been looking toward Netherfield. "Let's go pay a visit," she said. Alain stayed naturally by her side without the use of magic.
At Netherfield, Mr. Bingley answered the door. "Miss Elizabeth, how can I help..." his eyes fell to Alain, who ducked his head and attempted to hide behind her skirt. "I see. Please come in, I imagine you want to talk."
Mr. Bingley instructed Alain to go change, and led Lizzy up to the library. He smiled at her. "It seems I cannot host a werewolf long at Netherfield, before you come to my door," he joked weakly. Remembering her evenings here with Fitz only made her heart contract. What she wouldn't give to see him again! She stiffened herself against the emotion, and managed to keep from crying this time. Mr. Bingley sobered quickly.
"I am sorry," he offered quietly.
She took a deep breath to steady herself. "Why is Alain here?" she asked directly.
Mr. Bingley looked away from her. "Alain often stays with me, when Darcy is away from Pemberley or on business," he said. He spoke with the ease of familiarity, but Lizzy thought he was still hiding something from her. Before she could question him about it, a voice spoke from the door.
"Mr. Darcy sent me here. I was to watch over you. He didn't want you to know, but..." Alain shrugged. He had the unfortunate voice of a young man that kept breaking, and squeaked regularly. "He has gone to London. And I often stay with Mr. Bingley."
Lizzy blinked in surprise. She didn't know if she was more astonished by Mr. Darcy setting the boy to watch over her, or that he had gone to London. "What is he doing in London?" she settled on. Alain shrugged again, coming into the library and sprawling bonelessly on one of the chairs. "Don't know. He just sent me here. Was worried that other one might come back, and bother the rest of you. Do you really have four sisters? I thought I was the only one that had so many girls in the family."
"You have sisters? And you were supposed to protect us against Wickham?" The young wolf could not possibly stand a chance against the pale wolf.
He grinned. "Yeah, that's how I became like this. Was walking my little sisters home, I'm the oldest, you see, and this big wolf tries to grab little Sarah. I beat him off, but I got hurt real bad. Soonest I saw what I was, I come to London looking for a way to stop it. I run into Mr. Bingley, and next thing I know he'd got me in a cage and Mr. Darcy comes for me. Best thing as ever happened to me. And I think mostly I was supposed to scream real loud if that Wickham were to come back here."
Lizzy looked to Mr. Bingley in astonishment. He nodded. "I wasn't about to let the boy wander off on his own, and the only thing I could think of was maybe Darcy could help."
"I got to see my family for the first time since it happened a couple weeks ago. I just run away, they never knew. Mr. Darcy wrote them when I first came to him, and told them I was sick but he was keeping me to get better. Sure was good to see the little ones," he smiled happily.
Faced with more evidence of Mr. Darcy's generosity and care, she felt his loss all the greater. Suddenly she didn't want to be here with the two of them. There were too many reminders of Mr. Darcy. She rose abruptly. "Thank you, I am glad to see that everything is going well," she babbled. "Sorry to intrude, I'll be going now." She had to get away before she broke down.
Alain rose. "Wait, Miss Elizabeth," he called quickly. She paused, and he fidgeted for a moment. Finally he blurted, "Would you stay with me for the full moon?"
She blinked in astonishment. He flushed. "I mean, I never stayed on my own before, without Mr. Darcy with me. He can sort of control me, see? In case I get out of hand or anything. Mr. Darcy said I could turn to you if I needed help. I'm a lot better than I used to be, and Mr. Bingley has got that cage so I'll be safe--"
"Alain," she interrupted firmly. "No cage. That makes it worse." She gave Mr. Bingley a stern look. He held up his hands innocently. "I told him that," he said.
She turned back to the boy. "I will come here for the full moon. My magic helped F-Fitz before," she hoped they didn't notice how she stumbled over his name, "And I'll help you as well. Can you be a wolf before the sun goes down?" She was thinking of the awkwardness when Mr. Darcy had to change with her in the room.
"Oh, yes," he nodded. "That's the way Mr. Darcy always does it. Makes it better."
"Then do that. Everything will be fine."
He grinned. "Thank you, miss."
She left. She couldn't exactly believe that she had agreed to come back to help Alain. She didn't mind helping him in the slightest, but the night was going to fraught with memories. She wasn't sure she was strong enough to survive that.
The first person she saw when she returned to Longbourn was Jane. Suddenly she needed to talk, and her sister was there for her. They locked themselves in Lizzy's room. Murray walked between them, purring. Lizzy finally unloaded herself to Jane. She held nothing back. She talked about seeing Mr. Darcy at Pemberley, about how nice he had been to the Gardiners and Georgiana. She spoke of meeting Alain in the middle of the night, and of the way Mr. Darcy had held her when she was upset that last morning.
Lizzy revealed everything, including how long she had known Mr. Darcy was a werewolf, and the times she had slipped out of Longbourn to see him. Finally, with heavy heart, she talked about when he left. She cried, and Jane held her. She had been trying to be strong for so long, taking care of Mrs. Bennet, Mary and Kitty. She couldn't take the pressure anymore. It would have been one thing if she had the hope of Lydia's safe return, or Mr. Darcy's regard, but instead she had nothing.
Eventually, her tears dried up. Jane brushed her hair soothingly, like they were young girls again. "I wish you would have come to me sooner," Jane murmured. "You've been carrying all this by yourself, I can't imagine what it was like."
Lizzy nodded, utterly worn.
"I wish that you could be as happy as me, Lizzy. Charles has asked me to marry him."
"Jane!" Lizzy sat bolt upright. Jane blushed.
"I know, but I didn't want to make a big deal of it, with everything going on. He told me that he plans to ask Papa in a few days, even if we don't hear anything about Lydia..."
"Poor Lydia. When I think of her with Wickham..." Tears threatened again. "Do you think she's even alive?"
Jane threw her arms around her. "I believe she must be so, because I cannot think any other way. But we were not talking about me, or her. Lizzy, if Mr. Darcy loves you the way he must, he will not stay away for long."
"You didn't see the way he was, how angry he was."
"But surely he wasn't angry at you? It wasn't your fault. No, I do not think so. Maybe he was angry, but only that you were so upset. He must have felt so powerless."
Lizzy laughed bitterly at the thought of Mr. Darcy being powerless. It was impossible. Jane was insistent. "I really do think that, Lizzy. No, listen to me, what if he blames himself for what happened? He knew Wickham, long before either of them ever came here. It is possible that he feels responsible for not trying to stop the man before. I mean, this is exactly what almost happened to his sister, do you think he doesn't realize it? But this time he didn't stop it! I think he must be having a very hard time too, separated from you. I will keep the hope for you, even if you don't for yourself."
Lizzy didn't bother to correct her sister. Another day passed. There was no word. Lizzy avoided Jane. It wasn't that she resented her sister's happiness, but it was hard to see it when she had none of her own. Lydia had been gone eight days. Jane found Lizzy in her garden, and gave her a wordless hug of comfort.
Lizzy woke early the morning of the full moon. She turned over in bed and drew the covers above her head. She didn't want to wake. She didn't want to sit companion to a young werewolf, all the time thinking of two others on this most important night. How was Wickham treating Lydia? The best that could be hoped was that he was infatuated with her, or at least found her amusing. If not, it could be guaranteed that she would be mistreated.
Lizzy didn't get out of bed until nearly noon, when Jane finally came in and lowered the blanket from her head. "I know you don't want to, dearest, but you should try to eat something," Jane said kindly. "Think what fun Lydia will have, when she comes back and finds you sick from caring. She will say that she always knew you loved her best."
Lizzy didn't have the heart to correct Jane. After the full moon, Lydia would not be coming back. Their wild, impulsive sister would not survive a night in the werewolf's clutches. That afternoon, instead of sneaking away to Netherfield, Lizzy went to Longbourn to tell Mr. Bennet of her plans.
"Absolutely not!" he shouted, incensed that there was yet another werewolf in Hertfordshire.
"Papa," she interrupted. "I was perfectly safe there the entire time I was with Mr. Darcy last fall, and he is much stronger that this boy. He is younger than Lydia. I go to help him. You can make a blizzard to cover the whole area, but you cannot keep me from Netherfield tonight."
Mr. Bennet sat back heavily, gaping at his daughter. She turned to leave. "At least take Jane with you!" he called after her. She paused. "If it will make you feel better," she said, then went to find her sister.
When Lizzy invited Jane, the older girl wondered out loud about the propriety of their actions. Lizzy gave her a look.
"Of course I will come with you. I have never met a werewolf before. I was just thinking, as Charles has no female company there."
"You have met a werewolf," Lizzy corrected, "And I don't care. We shall have to be our own chaperones. Do you really think your Mr. Bingley would take advantage of us? Well, you maybe."
"Lizzy!" Jane's face turned bright red. In normal cases, Lizzy would have teased her sister mercilessly. She was aware that it would not be long until Jane was leaving Longbourn forever. She wanted to treasure her sister for as long as possible. But this was not a normal day. She didn't have it in her to make humor this day. She felt stretched impossibly, terrified of what this night would bring for her youngest sister.
Lizzy and Jane took old Bart and Reba. Lizzy rode Bart, for though he was more gentle than Reba, Jane was not comfortable with a large horse. Lizzy used her magic to calm Reba, and they made their way to Netherfield an hour before sunset.
Mr. Bingley met them at the door, Alain already a wolf at his heels. He looked surprised to see Jane, but his face split into a wide smile. Alain tilted his head to the side as he looked at Jane. His tail wagged expectantly. Lizzy could feel his burning curiosity, and made introductions. Alain sat in front of Jane and offered his paw. With a delighted laugh, Jane took it, and then gave a curtsy. "Very pleased to meet you, master Alain," she said.
Mr. Bingley cleared his throat. "In general we call him Brenton when he is in this form. That's his middle name. That way it is easier to pass him as a dog, if he should be seen," he explained.
"Very pleased to meet you, master Brenton," Jane corrected. Alain barked excitedly, dancing around the three of them. Lizzy couldn't help but to contrast his behavior with Fitz. The big werewolf was always much more sober. It brought to mind how really young Alain was.
"Okay, okay, that's enough," Mr. Bingley was attempting to calm Alain. The werewolf planted his front paws on Mr. Bingley's shoulders and licked his face. "Gah!" They mock wrestled for a couple minutes, before Alain allowed the man to push him away. Mr. Bingley was grinning, but looked contrite at being caught playing. Jane only laughed, and went to her beloved to clean his face with her handkerchief.
Lizzy felt a sharp pain in her heart, watching them. They looked very right together. She imagined Jane must feel the way she had felt briefly, when Mr. Darcy had held her. Alain gave a yip, and leaned against her leg. His soulful eyes looked up at her, his entire hind end waving with his tail. She patted his head. She didn't mean to be so dismal. She missed Mr. Darcy so much it was a constant ache. Just when she had realized how so very good he was, she was destined to lose him.
They went into the parlor, where Mr. Bingley offered them refreshments. Perhaps it was inevitable, but Jane was soon secluded in a corner with Mr. Bingley. Lizzy couldn't help but feel left out. It wasn't that she wanted to be included with them. It was more that they were caught up in their own world, and she didn't have a world to belong to. She didn't have someone who would hold her when she was upset, or who could make her laugh so hard she forgot herself.
Once upon a time... just once, she'd thought she had found her paradise. But there was a snake in every garden, and this particular snake took the form of a pale wolf. Lizzy noted the growing darkness absently. It didn't surprise her when Alain abruptly sat down and howled. Jane jumped, though Mr. Bingley only looked expectant. Lizzy watched Alain for any sign that he needed her magical intervention. He remained calm, though there was a tense eagerness that hadn't been there before.
He sat in the middle of the room, ears pricked alertly forward. He stared determinedly, as though he saw something no one else did. She stretched her magic toward him. She could feel him quivering with focus, but was at a loss to know what had caught him so thoroughly. She felt a sort of... stretching? As if there were a leash that trailed from him to someplace far off. That didn't make sense. It was so hard for her to detect that she gave up. Maybe she was only grasping at straws, seeking anything to keep her mind off the full moon.
After several minutes of staring, Alain sagged. He yawned widely--Jane was slightly disconcerted by the number of sharp, white teeth--then staggered over to Lizzy's seat. He bumped against her legs almost absently, then promptly collapsed at her feet, trapping her in place. A second later her toes vibrated with his loud snore. She looked up at Mr. Bingley, as he had known Alain longer, but he was equally nonplussed.
Lizzy reached a hand down and felt the young wolf with her magic. "He's just tired," she said. It didn't make sense. How could he be full of energy one minute, then exhausted the next? She thought about the way Fitz had been able to take the strength she fed him and give part to the boy. Was it the same thing again? Was Fitz, wherever he was, demanding energy from his pack member? She was too convinced of Mr. Darcy's goodness to think that he would use Alain as only a creature to sustain him. If Fitz had taken strength from Alain, it was for a reason. He needed it. She prayed he was alright. Whatever he was doing, let him not be in danger, or hurt.
She took the opportunity to provide Alain with some of her strength. She had no need of it at the present, and if Fitz needed more for whatever reason, then Alain could provide it. If it were possible, she would have linked directly to Fitz. Just because Wickham had driven them apart, that didn't mean that she didn't love him, or wouldn't help him however she could. It seemed to her that Alain rested a little easier.
It was strange, she realized, that no matter what form he was in, she still thought of the boy as Alain. With Fitz and Mr. Darcy, there was a clear divide between wolf and man. She could sense the wolf, but not the man. But Alain was just Alain, not Alain and Brenton. It was like his wolf was so close to the surface, that for all intents and purposes, they were one. Was it because he was so young?
Mr. Darcy had been a fully mature man before he became a werewolf. Or was it that Alain was more relaxed that Mr. Darcy? Or was she completely wrong about Fitz? What if the wolf in Mr. Darcy had bonded fully to his human side, but she had refused to acknowledge it? If so, then all that time in Kent, with Fitz escorting her so gently... It was a question she would never be able to answer.
The night stretched on. Lizzy dozed, though she kept a small link open with Alain, to tell if he stirred or needed more energy. She was aware of the soft conversation between Jane and Mr. Bingley, but eventually even that fell silent.
Alain woke in the middle of the night with a howl. The link to Lizzy flared to life; all she could feel was pain, pain and rage. Alain shuddered as if having a fit. He growled viciously, his fangs fully exposed. Without thinking Lizzy threw herself on the young werewolf. He twisted and snapped at her, coming dangerously close to her face.
Jane screamed. Lizzy was vaguely aware that Mr. Bingley had bodily grabbed her and pulled her back from the wildly thrashing wolf. She approved. Now he stood with his back pressed into a corner, Jane behind him, and a poker in his hand in defense. By luck, Lizzy had fallen on Alain in such a way that he went down. Her hands had landed on his scruff, and it was only her tight hold on his fur and skin that prevented him from being able to reach her flesh. His jaws snapped rapidly, spittle flying with every hard clack.
She threw magic at him. He resisted, but she pushed relentlessly against him. Suddenly he collapsed, though he still growled balefully. Panting, Lizzy stared at Alain in shock. What had happened? They had all been sleeping peacefully. What could have possibly roused Alain to such a state? She kept a grip on his scruff, but moved off of him enough to check for injury. There was nothing.
But she could still feel the pain. It was like a burning across her back, as though someone was holding a hot poker against her skin, in three or four different places. Even separated as she was from it--this was not her pain, but Alain's--it was still agonizing. The only thing she could think of was that it felt like silver. It felt like someone had pierced Alain with silver rods, and left them in his flesh. But he was before her, and he was whole.
Which meant it was someone else. Someone with a bond to Alain. "Fitz," she whispered in horror. She reached with her magic again, pushing past the pain until she could feel Alain's wolf under it. He was panicked, unable to think past the pain or feel of silver in his pack-brother. Lizzy shielded him from the pain by taking it on herself. She gasped as the agony on her back doubled. Her arms trembled, but she refused to allow the throbbing burn stop her. It wasn't actually her injury. Silver couldn't hurt her as much as the werewolves.
She calmed Alain, soothing him. She knew he was back when he whined and pressed against her. His body was shaking in fear and worry. He tilted his head back and howled, a mournful sound. Reach for him, Alain, she instructed. She was so integrated with the wolf she didn't bother to speak out loud. He needs us. Where is he?
Alain reached as she commanded. The connection to Fitz, no longer blocked by pain and fear, thrummed to life. It remained vague to her, something that hovered only on the edge of her senses, but she felt that it was clear for Alain. There was no doubt that he was communicating with Fitz. The pain became that much closer, but she gritted her teeth against it. Suddenly Alain sagged as Fitz drew energy from him.
Hastily she poured magic into Alain. It was the same when she had saved Mr. Darcy from the silver and wolfsbane test so many months ago. Her strength went into the young wolf, and he siphoned it along to his mentor. Lizzy thought, just barely, she could sense Fitz's presence at the end of a very long tether. She cried at being so far from him, and unable to help more. Recklessly she thrust magic at Alain. She reached deeper inside her, deeper than she had ever gone before, pouring out everything she had to give.
Suddenly Mr. Darcy's presence was stronger. It was as though she could feel his warmth surround her, his breath in her ear, his heart beating alongside her chest. She treasured it. She used that comfort to ignore the pain in her back, the exhaustion licking in her mind as her strength was drained. She gave of her magic, and her heart. She did not stop at the surface, but allowed every fiber of her being to be pulled away. If she was to be a dried husk by the end, that was alright, so long as Fitz had every chance of surviving his ordeal.
Finally it seemed to be enough. Or at least Fitz stopped drawing on them. Perhaps he sensed they were weakening, for it was he which dampened the pack bond. Both Lizzy and Alain collapsed. The flesh on Lizzy's back ached, this time with her own remembered pain. She raised her head absently, looking toward Jane and Mr. Bingley. She didn't get very far before the world spun, and blackness crashed in on her. She fainted.
Previous
The moment that Darcy read the letter, everything he knew crumpled and burned. He no longer wondered what had upset Elizabeth so much. It made perfect sense why her fingers no longer clung to his. He wondered that she had even accepted his comfort as long as she had. She would not want to touch him, after this. She would not want anything to do with him. It was all his fault.
Here he was, safe in his home, hope burning in his heart, when all the time he had let a murderer, a monster, go free. He had thought only to win Elizabeth's regard. He had thought he was doing well in that respect. She had laughed so charmingly the day before, and her actions just a few hours ago seemed to confirm all his dreams. But he had made a mistake. Ever since Hunsford he had worked to correct the wrongs he had committed against Elizabeth by his oblivious actions. He had failed to address the biggest transgression of all.
Wickham was still free. Wickham had taken another girl, this time from his beloved's own family. His pain could not have been greater than if it were Georgiana in that beast's grip. A great rage built in him. Normally he would have tried to suppress it, but this time he fanned the flames. It protected him against the pain of all that he had lost. If only he had spoken against Wickham the first time in Meryton! If only he had made the creature's defects known, from the first! Now he was reaping his reward for his neglect!
He remembered, barely, that Elizabeth could feel whatever his wolf felt. He directed his fury away from his wolf side, allowing his human nature to consume it entirely. That was hardly better, for his human side felt as deeply as his wolf. But so long as Elizabeth was not subjected to feeling it, he didn't care. He could be accused of having an implacable temper, that his good opinion once lost was lost forever. He felt the full force of it now, so that he was nearly shaking with it. He did not strive for control.
His mind was already far away, plotting his action. He knew only that Wickham would not get away this time. Even if Lydia Bennet were returned to her parents without a hair on her head disturbed, Wickham would pay for his actions. Darcy was willing to take any means necessary to make it happen. Legal, financial, even physical. It was this last he craved most of all. He couldn't blame it solely on his wolf, either.
A very human part of him wanted the other werewolf to feel as much suffering as he had given his victims. Darcy was past thinking of revenge, of right and wrong. There was simply Wickham, whose breaths were numbered. It hurt to see how little Elizabeth wanted to do with him, as he waited with her while Alain fetched the Gardiners. He didn't blame her. He just mourned for what was never to be.
No, he couldn't allow his thoughts to stray now. If he thought about how much his heart ached with Elizabeth's pain, how he had lost the right to comfort her, he would break down. He would likely start howling in the room. Most of all, it would distract him from his plans to retrieve Lydia. He did not blame the girl for falling for Wickham's charms. Darcy's own father had been taken in for all his life, by the lies Wickham told the world. It would grieve old Mr. Darcy to see what his godson had become. Then again, old Mr. Darcy wouldn't have been too happy with the state of his own son either.
Darcy thought he was mostly successful at hiding his fury, his anguish from Elizabeth. Unfortunately by channeling all emotion to his human half, he caught Mr. Gardiner's attention as soon as the other gentleman walked into the room. While Mrs. Gardiner had her arms full of her niece, Mr. Gardiner confronted Darcy. Never had he experienced such pain as when Mr. Gardiner dismissed him.
He wanted to protest. He wanted to offer his help. But that was not for him. It was, as Mr. Gardiner said, a family business. And he would never be family to Elizabeth. He had forfeited that privilege when he allowed a heinous abomination walk free. He fled Lambton, taking Alain with him. The boy had a hard time keeping up with him. He jogged alongside, never saying a word as Darcy thought furiously.
He would be running to London again. Carriages were too slow. This time he would travel all the way to the great city, not stopping partway. He regretted his run last night, for he would not be fresh. Thankfully there had been a lot of travel to London for Alain. Most of it had been by carriage, and later horseback, but he had still run as a wolf at least once a month. Those journeys had hardened him. He had never pushed his speed as much as he would now.
He would send Alain to Charles in Hertfordshire. He needed to write a letter to Charles, explaining as briefly as possible. Thankfully his trunks had not yet been unpacked. His clothes just needed to be refreshed, and he could send them to Netherfield with Alain. Darcy stopped suddenly, a sinking in the pit his stomach. Alain faced him expectantly. He was thinking that Wickham was his problem alone. That was his mistake. As much as his pride demanded he strike out on his own, he couldn't do that. Not if he wanted the best chance of recovering Lydia.
"Alain," he said with difficulty. "I need something from you."
"Anything," the boy answered at once. His loyalty was unswerving. Darcy shook his head. "It will be hard--it may hurt."
"I don't care," Alain declared. How young he was, to be so blithe! Had he ever been so young and carefree?
"I'm going to London. I intend to run there. I'm going to need energy to get there as soon as possible."
"We've done that before. It's no problem."
Darcy shook his head. "I was thinking of taking a lot. It may leave you weak for several days."
"Doesn't matter. Whatever I can do."
"Alright then, you're leaving this evening to Netherfield in Hertfordshire. Charles is there, he will keep you. The Bennets live not far from Netherfield. Just in case Wickham circles back, watch over the ladies there. Don't let Elizabeth see you, but keep a watch out for her. She likes to go walking by herself. If Wickham is there, don't try to fight him. Just call me, and I'll come as fast as I can. Delay him if possible. If anything goes wrong, Charles or Elizabeth will know what to do. Only go to Elizabeth as a last resort. She has no high opinion of me, and may not be happy to see you," he said, his heart twisting again. Damn Wickham! Damn himself for not ending Wickham when he could have.
Alain was surprised. "I thought Miss Elizabeth--"
"I brought this trouble on her family," he bit out harshly. He couldn't hide the pain that the wound of her name brought him. "She will not wish to see me again."
Alain still looked skeptical, but didn't comment.
Darcy's lips quirked into a bitter smile. "She has four sisters, Alain," he said, knowing it would strike a chord in the boy. "Try to protect them, as best you can."