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Longbourn Woods - Darcy

H e was brought abruptly back to reality by Wickham’s laughing voice. “What are you doing here?” George Wickham’s eyes glittered with malicious amusement. “Not waiting here to steal away the bride, are you?”

Darcy stood frozen, his port-fogged mind struggling to shift from fantasy to reality. The voice that had shattered his dreams was not Elizabeth’s sweet tones but something altogether more sinister - and painfully familiar. He turned slowly, his hand tightening on his horse’s reins.

“She’s quite the tease, you know,” Wickham continued, clearly savouring each word. “Always leading men on, making them think they have a chance…”

* * *

Longbourn to Church - Elizabeth

Elizabeth had walked out of Longbourn for the last time as one of the Miss Bennets. When she returned for the wedding breakfast, she would be Mrs Collins. She had stepped into the carriage and even sat up tolerably straight to try and silence her mother, who would go on and on.

“Who has been in the garden? All of those bushes have been flattened over there!” Mrs Bennet complained loudly as she entered the carriage. “Hill, get one of the stable boys to sort out the bushes over there. John can do it.”

“What on earth has been happening in those bushes. Completely flattened. You’d think we weren’t having a wedding today for all the concern there seems to be about it.

Lizzy over here scowling like that. Mr Collins will never marry you with that expression.

Smile a little. Oh, Mrs Collins, it is such a well sounding name. ”

Jane got in and sat next to Elizabeth, taking her hand silently as they listened to Mrs Bennet as she started complaining about the trouble the wedding breakfast had been having while the carriage pulled away from Longbourn House and headed for the church.

* * *

Longbourn Woods - Darcy

“I don’t know what you mean,” Darcy managed through clenched teeth, though every word of Wickham’s was like a knife twisting in his gut.

“Don’t you?” Wickham’s smile widened. “Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about it, Darcy.

I know you have, not that I blame you. I doubt there are many men who haven’t.

She will be more than happy to go to keep anyone’s bed warm after she has had to go to bed with that little toad. She might even let you have a go.”

The words had barely left Wickham’s mouth before Darcy’s fist connected with his jaw. The impact sent shock waves up his arm, but he barely felt them through his rage. Wickham stumbled backward, blood streaming from his nose, his usual smirk replaced by genuine surprise.

“Not quite the gentleman now, are we, Darcy?” Wickham spat blood onto the ground between them. “What would your precious Elizabeth think of this display?”

The mention of her name from those lips was too much.

Darcy lunged forward again, his vision blurred by fury and port.

They crashed through the shrubbery, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

Later, neither man would be able to fully account for what happened in those next few minutes - only that when it was over, Wickham lay sprawled in the mud with a broken nose, and Darcy stood over him, chest heaving, his knuckles bloodied.

* * *

Longbourn, Mr Bennet’s Chamber - Mr Bennet

While Darcy and Wickham’s violent encounter played out in the gardens, Mr Bennet was struggling through his own battle that morning.

For the first time in weeks, he attempted to dress himself properly.

Each movement was an ordeal - even the simple act of putting on his shirt became a slow, painful operation.

His valet, Murrey, hovered anxiously nearby.

“Sir,” Murrey ventured carefully, “perhaps Miss Elizabeth would prefer you safe in bed, rather than straining yourself so.”

Mr Bennet sighed heavily, knowing Murrey spoke the truth.

But he would not - could not - stay abed today.

His Lizzy was sacrificing her happiness to secure her family’s future, paying the price for his failures as both father and husband.

The least he could do was walk her down the aisle, though every step might pain him.

He could have stopped this marriage, could have insisted his daughter deserved better than Collins.

But Lizzy was determined, and it was too late now.

At least Jane would make a love match, though he would likely not live to see it.

If he ended things now, the scandal would fall heaviest on Elizabeth, while he slipped quietly into the next world, hardly any the wiser.

Finally dressed, Mr Bennet studied his reflection. The man in the mirror was both familiar and strange - the same dark eyes, but now sunken in a yellowed face that spoke of his illness. He adjusted his cravat one final time, trying to summon some of his old dignity.

“Well, Murrey,” he said quietly, “I believe we’ve done as well as anyone could with what we have to work with.”

“Indeed, sir,” Murrey replied with the gentle deference of a man who had served his master long enough to understand what was left unsaid.

* * *

Longbourn Church - Elizabeth

The church loomed before them, its familiar stone walls now seeming strangely forbidding.

Mrs Bennet descended from the carriage first, hurrying ahead to ensure everything was properly arranged.

Elizabeth remained in her seat, knowing each moment’s delay was pointless yet unable to make herself move.

She had made her peace with this - or at least, she had convinced herself she had.

Still, her feet seemed unwilling to carry her forward into her fate.

Let him wait, Elizabeth thought defiantly, her fingers smoothing and smoothing her skirts in an endless nervous motion.

The silk was cool beneath her touch, like water flowing through her hands.

She focused on this sensation, on the play of light across the fabric - anything to avoid thinking about the man waiting for her inside those stone walls.

Let Mr Collins learn patience; it would do him good to understand that some things could not be rushed or commanded.

While Elizabeth sat frozen in contemplation, her younger sisters were caught up in their own concerns.

Kitty anxiously smoothed her bridesmaid’s dress, worried it had become crushed during the carriage ride.

Lydia, meanwhile, was already peering eagerly through the church door. “Oh look, Denny is near the front!”

“And Aunt Phillips,” Kitty added absently, still adjusting her skirts. Elizabeth finally made her way down from the carriage, a footman’s steady hand helping her descent. Their father stood waiting, one hand gripping Murrey’s arm for support, his face grey with the effort of standing.

“Mr Bingley looks very handsome today,” Lydia remarked to Jane, who blushed prettily at the mention of her betrothed. Then Lydia’s voice took on a petulant note. “Though I can’t think why he brought that disagreeable Mr Darcy and his sister. I’d have thought they’d stay at home today.”

Elizabeth’s heart stuttered at Lydia’s words.

She turned sharply, unable to stop herself, and there he was - Mr Darcy, sitting rigidly beside Bingley, his face a mask of careful control.

Beside him, Miss Darcy perched nervously, her fingers twisting in her lap.

The sight of them both made Elizabeth’s chest tighten painfully.

Elizabeth turned away sharply, her breath coming too quick and shallow.

She pressed a hand to her stomach, trying to steady herself.

Why had he come? After yesterday’s encounter, after she had begged him to return to London - how could he sit there, watching her marry another man?

The thought of walking down that aisle under his gaze made her knees weak.

Jane appeared at her side, her face etched with concern. Elizabeth managed a wan smile, though she knew it wouldn’t fool her sister. Before Jane could speak, the first notes of music filtered through the church door. Her father approached slowly, each step clearly costing him, and offered his arm.

“Are you ready for this, my dear?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, heavy with all they could not say.

She met his eyes, unable to lie but equally unable to voice the truth they both knew. Her father’s attempt at a smile wavered, and his grip on her arm tightened slightly.

“It’s not too late, Lizzy,” he whispered, so quietly only she could hear. “Say the word, and we’ll turn around right now. Hang the consequences.”

For one wild moment, Elizabeth felt hope surge in her chest. But then she thought of Jane, of her mother, of Kitty and Lydia - all depending on her doing her duty. She shook her head slightly.

Her father’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. “I hope you will find happiness, my Lizzy,” he murmured, “whatever life has planned for you.” The words seemed to cost him dearly.

Then, gathering what strength remained to him, he took that first step forward, toward where Mr Collins waited for his bride.

* * *

Longbourn Church - Darcy

Darcy would never forget what happened next.

The memory would haunt him forever - Elizabeth entering the church on her father’s arm, her face pale but composed, while his own hands shook with the effort of remaining still.

His head throbbed, reminding him that he should not have drunk so much the night before, though now he wished he had drunk more. Anything to dull this moment.

He cursed himself for coming. What madness had convinced him that witnessing this would bring closure?

Better to have stayed away, to have let hope survive, however foolish.

Instead, he was forcing himself to watch as the woman he loved walked toward another man.

These minutes would replay in his nightmares for the rest of his life, and from this particular nightmare, there would be no awakening.

As the music began, Bingley and Georgiana rose to their feet. Darcy followed a moment later, his movements mechanical. Then she appeared in the doorway, and his breath caught in his throat.

Elizabeth wore cream silk that caught the morning light streaming through the church windows, making her seem to glow from within.

Her dark curls were adorned with tiny white flowers, and though her eyes were fixed straight ahead, deliberately avoiding his gaze, he could see the steel in her expression.

One hand gripped her father’s arm, supporting his unsteady steps, while the other clutched her bouquet so tightly her knuckles had gone white.

Her sisters followed behind, but Darcy saw only her - the proud tilt of her chin, the slight tremor in her lower lip that only someone watching as intently as he was might notice.

She had never looked more beautiful, he thought despairingly, nor more unreachable.

Even as she half-carried her father down the aisle, there was a grace to her movements, a quiet dignity that made his heart ache.

This was his Elizabeth - strong enough to bear any burden, brave enough to face any fate.

And he was about to watch her give herself to another man.

Each step seemed to take an eternity as they made their way down the aisle.

Darcy watched, his heart in his throat, as Mr Bennet leaned more heavily on Elizabeth with every moment.

They were almost level with his pew when he saw it happening - saw the exact instant when Elizabeth’s father began to crumple, his full weight suddenly bearing down on her slight frame.

Darcy was moving before he had consciously decided to act, abandoning all propriety as he lunged forward from his seat.

He reached Elizabeth’s side just as her father’s legs gave way completely.

Together, they caught Mr Bennet before he could fall.

The older man’s skin was grey, his breathing shallow and irregular, his eyes rolling back in his head.

The rest of the congregation was only just beginning to realise something was amiss. But Darcy had been watching Elizabeth so intently, studying every nuance of her expression, every slight movement, that he had seen the disaster unfolding before anyone else could react.

* * *

Longbourn Church - Elizabeth

The world seemed to slow, sounds reaching Elizabeth as if through water.

One moment she had been walking down the aisle, supporting her father’s increasingly heavy weight, the next he was slipping away from her entirely.

Then suddenly Mr Darcy was there, his strong arms helping her bear her father’s limp form.

She had never been more grateful for his presence - she could not have held her father up alone.

Chaos erupted around them. Her mother’s hysterical wails pierced the air, while Mr Collins hovered uselessly nearby, offering pompous platitudes to anyone who would listen.

Kitty and Lydia’s sobs echoed through the church.

Only Mr Darcy remained calm, his quiet authority an anchor in the storm.

It wasn’t until she felt his gentle touch on her arm that Elizabeth realised tears were streaming down her face.

“Bingley!” Mr Darcy’s commanding voice cut through the chaos. “Help me with Mr Bennet. Someone fetch the carriage - quickly!” His tone brooked no argument, and Elizabeth heard feet scrambling to obey.

Then his voice softened as he turned to her. “Talk to him, Elizabeth. Let him hear your voice. Let him know you’re here.”

She leaned close to her father’s ear, her own voice trembling but determined. “I am here, Papa. I am right here with you.” His hand twitched slightly in hers, and she clung to that small sign of life.