Forgive and Forget

By A. McCartney

Jump to new as of January 14, 2004

Chapter 1

Posted on Wednesday, 12 November 2003

New York City, 2003

It was a dark and dreary day in the middle of October; the thunder clouds rumbled ominously overhead as a beautiful young woman traversed the street holding the hand of a girl of about four years. The resemblances between mother and daughter were obvious in their lovely dark eyes and their curly ebon hair. The woman stopped to look into a shop window at the magazines inside. When she saw the face of the new up and coming politician and candidate for the presidential elections, William Darcy, staring up at her, she turned on her heel and swept off down the street while her daughter scampered to keep up.

From a dark alleyway across from the shop, a reporter from the New York Times watched the young lady he knew as Elizabeth Bennet. He was quite familiar with her having wasted time with her sister Lydia a few years back. He had kidnapped her, with her permission, and only because a few untimely glitches (such as a car crash with a drunk driver). He had threatened to let the story of the kidnapping/elopement be known to the press and critically damage the Bennet family reputation. To keep him from doing this, Darcy had paid him $50,000 and a clerical job at the New York Times. Wickham quickly climbed the ranks with his disarming personality, and was soon one of the New York's top reporters.

Just as Wickham had thought, the kidnapping/elopement along with other carefully orchestrated events had gotten the desired effect. He had gained his revenge on William Darcy. With the kidnapping, Darcy had broken off all connections with Elizabeth Bennet, thinking that the kidnapping was his entire fault. I didn't hurt that William's mother was violently opposed to the match. Breaking them up would be taking the light out of Darcy's life and he knew it.

He smiled a malicious smile as he snapped a picture of Elizabeth and her daughter, jotted down a few more notes in his journal, signed them George Wickham and slipped back to his black Passat. As he drove, he passed Elizabeth again and noticed a few glistening tears rolling down her cheek. For a few seconds he felt guilty, but that feeling was soon replaced by another emotion, a sense of triumph.

"William Darcy!" a voice shouted at his back as he turned to walk out of the office. He turned to see Charles Bingley, his oldest friend and most trusted political advisor, sprinting down the corridor towards him.

"Yes?"

"How would you like to go to dinner tonight with me and Jane? You can go ahead and invite someone as well."

"Well, okay. I guess I'll go and talk to Denny, we've got to meet later on anyway, you know, he's going over my campaign locations this summer. This whole running for the presidency thing is really eating up my time."

Charles groaned and retorted, "Darce, you know what I mean! I swear you haven't gone on a date in years! Really, try and find someone, at the pace you're going you'll end up in your grave a bachelor!"

"Charles...you know I can't! I still just can't get over her. The way she walked, the clothes she wore, the way she chastised my every comment, and the way her eyes flashed when she looked at me..." He trailed off and stood staring into space for a few moments before he realized he was still in his office. He knew Charles would not totally understand his feelings, especially the reason why he must avoid her. Charles had gotten the woman of his dreams without any scruples.

"Darce, I know you still love Elizabeth, and I know that you have your reasons for staying away from her, but please come tonight, even if you don't bring somebody. You need to get out. I insist! For the last 3 years you have been determined to make yourself unhappy. Call me slow, but I just don't get it. Tonight will be nice I promise, and it will also help keep your mind off of her for a while."

"Very well, you've convinced me. But I come on two terms; first, you don't set me up on a blind date tonight, and second, you keep your nose out of my business for the rest of the week!" he joked.

"Ha! I see I'm already making an influence on you, but you forget that your business is my business. Anyway, see you tonight. Meet us at the ---- restaurant on Houston Street, okay?"

"Sure," William said as he walked away in a little better of a mood than when he had started the conversation. Maybe, just maybe, he was on his way to recovering from the heartache that her smiles gave him, but he knew that he would love her in his heart of hearts until the day he died. It just hurt him that she could never return those feelings. He had messed things up to badly for her to ever forgive him.

Chapter 2

The past few years had been tough for Elizabeth. And it all traced back to two men, William Darcy and George Wickham.

Three years ago, her father had been mayor of New York and a highly respected member of society; however, good things almost never last. In the elections six months later, an almost unknown politician by the name of Richard Fitzwilliam came into the public spotlight with a very serious sponsor with him all the way. His youth, the money given to him by the sponsor, and his disarmingly charming personality had won him the election with nearly 75% of the votes. Her father had not anticipated losing, so consequentially, he had no where to go for a job. He had not saved up enough money to retire, so he merely dropped out of society and went searching for a paying career. Unfortunately, no employer in town had a position for him, and if they did, the pay was usually much too small.

For the first six months the money situation had been okay, but as time wore on, Elizabeth's mother and sister Lydia had decreased the family fortune into nothingness with their extravagant and expensive tastes.

At this time, Elizabeth was just now finishing up her junior year in college and had found love in a place where she had previously only found contempt and hatred, William Darcy.

She could still remember the first and last night she spent with him. The kisses had been soft and sweet as well as the endearments muttered. But as I stated earlier, good things almost never last.

Once her father had lost the election William had suddenly got very busy with schoolwork and was taking many more classes than were necessary. She began to see him less and less even though they were still going out. But then everything changed the day the phone message came...

"Lizzy! It's Jane! Please hurry to the house. The private investigators are already here. You won't believe why but please hear me out; Lydia has been kidnapped by that scoundrel Wickham! He took her this afternoon after their date and neither of them has been seen since. The police are unsure whether they can press charges, because it sounds as though Lydia chose to go with him. Oh please hurry! I have to go now, father needs me to answer some questions with the P.I.s, see you later.

Those words had haunted her to this day, for they marked the beginning of the end of her life. Two weeks later both Lydia and George were found in a car wreck just outside of San Francisco in the Marin Headlands. When they were discovered both were alive, but Lydia was in critical condition. Since it had been nearly a day since the crash, Lydia had contracted pneumonia from sitting in a pool of water and being drizzled on constantly. The fact that it was close to freezing certainly didn't help either. Two days later she died from that same ailment, but not before mumbling that they had been hit by a driver who was obviously inebriated. She had been a silly girl to go and run off with George Wickham, but her loss was mourned all the same.

Elizabeth was told that her uncle Edward Gardiner had gone to great lengths to get George Wickham a job at the New York Times to put a stopper on any publicity the case may attract (of course we a know who really did it). But with the death of Lydia also came with the fact that William Darcy, the true love of her life wanted nothing to do with her. The 'why' she knew only too well. Lydia had eloped at the age of 16 with his sworn enemy. Wickham, the man who had tried to steal his little sister away from him. This sense of loss was accented due to the fact that she realized she was now pregnant with William's child. Her belly was quite round now and she was due in less than a month, but she had yet to tell William that he would soon be a father. That was partly out of personal pride and reputation, but also out of fear.

She finally drew up the gall to tell him, so she reluctantly headed down to Manhattan to the Darcy townhouse. With no little apprehension, Elizabeth rapped once and only once on the magnificent mahogany double doors. Mrs. Reynolds the resident housekeeper opened the door to greet her and led her into the drawing room.

"And what can I help you with Miss?" she asked politely as Elizabeth slid with some difficulty into the soft armchair.

"May I please see Mr. Darcy if he is available?"

"He certainly is Miss, if you would please wait here for a few minutes, I will go and fetch him for you." She turned and left the room with the swish of her skirt leaving Elizabeth to dread the moments ahead.

In those few minutes Elizabeth became quite aware of the deep, noble, almost intimidating colors of the furniture and tapestries that hung tastefully about the room. The room was dark, for Mrs. Reynolds had forgotten to switch on the lights in her haste to collect Mr. Darcy. Yet the tenebrosity was split by occasional strands of bright light that were now lying across her cheek, her chest, her legs and her ankles.

She glanced up as she heard muffled voices coming through the hall towards her. If she had not known who the owners of the voices were, it would have been impossible to distinguish them due to the thick walls.

"Yes Mr. Darcy," said a faint woman's voice, "right down there, the girl seemed extremely tense about something."

"Thank you Mrs. Reynolds," said another voice, more masculine this time. "I'll go down and see what she needs." And with that, the doors opened to reveal the handsome form of Mr. Darcy. George Darcy that is.

"My!" he exclaimed, "You're sitting quite in the dark here; let me switch some lights on so I can have a proper look at you."

The lights were turned on and the room suddenly the room seemed to glow with warmth and comfort. "So my dear, what is it that I can do for you today? I know I have seen you with William before, but I do not believe we have been properly introduced. I'm George Darcy."

"I'm Elizabeth Bennet, but just call me Elizabeth or Lizzy," she spoke so softly it was almost inaudible, "Pleased to meet you."

"So, I suppose that you are here to talk about my son. He hasn't done anything wrong that I know of so I am at a complete loss."

Elizabeth sat in her chair almost fumbling with an invisible crease in her slacks. Her eyes were cast downward, looking at anything except at Mr. Darcy. "W-well sir," she stuttered, "to t-tell the truth, I c-came here to t-tell William something extremely important, b-but I now realize that I would have r-run out of the room before I would have g-gotten past the second word." Her voice gained more confidence now, "Now Mr. Darcy, please here me out, and please understand my situation. And above all, please do not get mad at William, for the fault is all my own. I am pregnant, as you can see, with a baby whose mother is not married or seriously attached to anyone at present. And the father of this child," she took a deep breath, "is your son, and so considering this point, you are to become a grandfather."

George Darcy was so stunned that he just sat there with his eyes wide in shock and his mouth hanging slightly open. He couldn't think of any comment to make, so he merely asked the first question that popped into his head, "What is William obligated to do with you this child? How much does he have to pay or do otherwise?" He dreaded the answer knowing that most of the girls that hung around his son were gold-diggers, but to his surprise the lady answered exactly opposite of his expectations.

"William is not required to do anything; he does not have to marry me, nor does he even have to pay for child support. Actually, I forbid him to. I know that he does not love me anymore, and I do not want his entire future to be ruined by a mistake he made when he was young. I had hoped that I would not have to tell him, for I am afraid that he may take custody of the child away from me. But, my dear sister Jane convinced me that it would probably make things easier on the both of us in the future if I told him now. Please, Mr. Darcy, Don't tell your son. I would rather tell him myself face to face, well, when the time comes at least."

George looked at her with his eyes even wider than they were before. This girl was different than the other twits who fluttered about his son, she genuinely cared about him. "You still love my son don't you Lizzy." It was a statement, not a question. A blush from her was all the response he needed before continuing, "Because you can let go of him and allow him to be happy shows a strong heart and level of love that few ever reach. I applaud you, and you have my word that I will not disclose any of our conversation to William. I see your side of the argument and even I am also having doubts as to whether you should tell him. I have known William for 25 years and I am afraid that he may get carried away in his anger that you did not tell him sooner and claim custody of the child as you suggested. It is not that I do not want him to see it, but the fact still remains that you would probably be a better full time parent than William."

She nodded in understanding before he went on.

"For the time being, how about we let this be out little secret, eh? We can figure out when to tell William when the time comes."

Relief was apparent in every crevice of Elizabeth's face as she thanked him for his kind words.

"Just wondering Lizzy, but do you know what you will call the baby?"

Elizabeth pondered the question for a moment before answering. "I was thinking about calling it William if it turned out to be a boy, and Anne, after your wife if it were a girl."

"An excellent choice if I may say so myself," grinned Darcy. I am sure Anne will be delighted when I tell her that there will soon be a child named after her. If, that is, you would like me to tell her...?"

"I don't see why not, as long as she doesn't tell William."

"She won't, I assure you."

"But sir, if I remember correctly, when she saw William and I out on the docks together one day, she did not seem very pleased (to say the least). Won't she get even angrier once this news reaches her?"

"Well, my wife believes in the preservation of the classes, if you know what I mean. I in no way mean for this to be offensive, but she would rather have her son marry some hoity-toity rich girl out of Hollywood than the daughter of a retired mayor who does not have a position. But once she finds out you are not to marry him, I feel that she will like you. Even after spending only a few minutes with you, I can feel that you are someone we can trust with the well-being of our grandchild."

She was glad that he had a high opinion of her already.

"Miss Bennet, I know you said you did not need financial support, but please, we have more than enough goodness knows. I am sure we can work out some sort of arrangement."

"Thank you for the offer Mr. Darcy, but I must refuse. I am sure that we will be able to get along easily enough without other help. I would also invite you to visit the baby whenever you feel the urge; I think we would both enjoy that very much."

She rose from her chair with some difficulty, but with a little help from Mr. Darcy was able to quit the house.

Chapter 3

Just over a week later Elizabeth gave birth to a beautiful baby girl she named Anne. While George and Anne Darcy (who when she heard the news was delighted that they were to have a grandchild, and even happier that the girl would not marry her son) realized they could not visit her in the moments after the babe's birth, they did slip in to talk to Lizzy and see the new baby when the family (except Jane) had finally retired for the night. From that moment on, George, Anne Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet were inseparable in a parent-daughter relationship.

That had been a little under 5 years ago and neither one of them had yet told William Darcy about his daughter.

Anne Darcy had passed away 6 months ago.

She was meeting George tomorrow for one of his monthly visits with his granddaughter. She was looking forward to it, but at the same time was nervous that he may once again offer money to help her situation. Every time he had offered before she had declined, but this time money was running short, and she knew that she would eventually have to damn her pride and take it. Elizabeth lived in a one bedroom apartment in a very cheap complex and was working several jobs to sustain herself and her child. Her job at the library was still fine, but her part-time profession as a yoga instructor was faltering due to a lack of students. She did not want to take his money, but one day Anne's expenses would become too much.

All this was running through her mind as she turned onto her street and climbed that stairs to her flat. She unlocked that dull, unpolished doorknob wiping the stray tears from her face while Anne scampered inside to hurriedly turn on the tele to watch Scooby Doo.

Elizabeth collapsed on the bed and just lied there with her eyes closed. "Mama! Mama!" cried a tiny voice from the other room, "I'm hungry! I can I please have some pizza?"

Anne peeked into the room with a pleading look on her face. "Not tonight sweetie," answered her mother lovingly, "You can have some tomorrow when we go visit Grandpapa, okay? How does a little chicken noodle soup sound tonight?"

The girl's face brightened at the prospect of pizza tomorrow; "Sure!" she said brightly and skipped to the kitchen.

After dinner Elizabeth announced it was bedtime and they both climbed into bed. Anne curled herself into a ball and placed herself against her mother's chest. "Goodnight mama, I love you."

"I love you too Anne," she said as she kissed the top of her head gently, "Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite."

Gradually the two fell into a peaceful slumber that neither realized was the last of which to come.

The next morning Elizabeth rose early to take a morning run before her daughter woke up. She jogged down to the post office to retrieve her mail and then back again only to pick up the morning paper that was now lying on her porch.

She picked it up and skimmed through it to find an article that screamed to get her attentions. 'William Darcy scandal revealed!' it read and with no little surprise saw a picture of herself kissing William on the steps of his country home Pemberley. There was also another one that showed her and Anne walking down the street. That picture had to have been taken only yesterday.

She scanned through the article and realized its main focus was that of an affair between them that had ended up in a love child who Darcy had neglected since its birth. She let out a cry of surprise and looked at the author's name that was marked at the top of the column. George Wickham. She threw the newspaper across the room in rage and dismay and felt tears of despair burning her cheeks.

"Mama?" said a small tentative voice from the bedroom door. Anne had woken up. Elizabeth motioned for her and Anne came over to lie in her mother's arms.

"Anne sweetie, you can't go see Grandpapa today, but I promise that you will in a little while okay?" Her voice was calm and soothing compared to the tormenting emotions that were swirling inside her.

She called the babysitter, a Mrs. Jennings who lived with her son in law in a quaint home not to far from the flat. She needed the day to herself to think about the task before her; explaining to William Darcy that he has a four year old daughter.

"Don't worry Lizzy," Mrs. Jennings had said, "You can leave her with me as long as you need to today, I don't have any appointments

"Thank you, Mrs. Jennings, you don't know how much this means to me," were the only words she could squeeze out before she hung up the phone. This was a much needed day off.

Chapter 4

William woke the next morning with bittersweet memories of the previous evening. Last night had been a pleasant affair. Jane and Charles had looked so perfect together, they always had, but something about her smile had brought back painful memories of Elizabeth.

He was still thinking about Lizzy when the morning paper was brought in to him along with his coffee and breakfast. He too skimmed the front page and when he found nothing to his interest he flipped the cover over the reveal a picture of himself with the title, 'William Darcy scandal revealed!' Before he read it though, he noticed the name George Wickham printed above it and his heart stopped. He leapt from his chair and stormed across the room totally prepared to go and 'visit' with Wickham when the picture in the article finally registered in his brain. He sprinted back to the table and his eyes took in the picture of him passionately kissing Elizabeth Bennet at Pemberley that summer she had come to visit. His eyes then absorbed the neighboring picture of Elizabeth walking down the street holding the hand of a small girl. He gasped, and then looked down almost disbelieving at the contents of the article. His eyes only took in choice words such as 'love affair', 'illegitimate child', 'Elizabeth Bennet' and 'negligent father.' This surprise was too much for his usually depressed self, and at that moment fainted dead away on the faded burgundy carpet.

"Mr. Darcy? Sir? Are you done with breakfast, because your father is here to see you," inquired one of the servants as he made his way into the dining room. He gasped when he saw the unconscious form of his master on the floor.

Quickly he ran to the telephone and dialed the doctor.

Amidst the commotion George Darcy strode into the room and witnessed the absurd scene being played out before him. Much to the surprise of the servants, all he did was chuckle, turn around and quit the house.

The servants moved William upstairs to his bed chambers and left him there where he slept away most of the day.

Meanwhile, outside the townhouse George Darcy once again chuckled for he knew the cause of his son's distress. He crossed the street and headed off in the direction of the diner where he would meet with Elizabeth and Anne. He predicted that Elizabeth would not be bringing Anne today due to the article, but that was fine with him. The time had come, and he and Elizabeth were going to have to make some serious decisions today.

Elizabeth had meanwhile wandered around the city for the last hour window shopping before realizing that it was almost time for her meeting with George. She was fairly close, but she headed off at a quick pace anyway.

When she opened the doors, she saw him sitting in their normal booth that was situated in an out-of-the-way corner of the restaurant.

"Hi, George," she said in a very melancholy tone of voice while she slid into the seat opposite him. "I guess you read the article."

"Yes," he sighed, "I suppose my son did too, because when I walked into his new townhouse today I found him fainted on the dining room floor with the morning edition of the New York Times in his hand." Elizabeth looked shocked, and George chuckled at her expression. He continued; "So now the only thing we have to figure out now is what to do next. He is running for the Presidency next year, and I do not want his chances of winning the election spoiled by this. But at the same time I don't want to damage your reputation. I have come to look on you as my own daughter these past two years and I don't want to lose you."

The conversation continued throughout the early lunch and when they came up with no satisfactory conclusion, they decided to meet tomorrow to go over new possibilities thought up in each other's absence.

They were just about to part when Elizabeth's beeper went off. "Excuse me for a sec," she said as she looked down at the number. "Mrs. Jennings? Why would she be paging me?" She said more to herself than to George. Then it hit her, "Oh God! Anne! George, do you have your telephone with you?"

"Yes, of course," he said hurriedly as he handed her the mobile.

She quickly dialed the number and waited in nervous anticipation as the phone rang. After the second ring the elderly lady picked up and answered, "Lizzy?!?"

"Yes, it's me, what has happened to Anne?"

"Lizzy, I think you had better hurry over to the hospital right now, I will explain everything once you've gotten here." She hung up quickly before Elizabeth had the chance to ask any more questions

Elizabeth gave a small squeal of terror when she heard the hospital, and immediately started sprinting down the street. She stopped only when she heard a yell from behind her.

"Lizzy! Lizzy, come back here! The traffic isn't bad today; I'll take you anywhere you need in the car."

When she regained her senses, she jogged back to him and they both went back to the front of the Darcy townhouse where George's car was parked. "Go to the hospital and please hurry!"

Chapter 5

Posted on Sunday, 23 November 2003

George started at the word 'hospital'. He pulled out of the parking space and floored the car. As they sped through the relatively light traffic both passengers were consumed by more important thoughts.

Elizabeth was stunned; thoughts and images flooded her mind as her brooding thoughts kept repeating 'Not Anne, please not my daughter! Dear God please don't let me be too late!' Her preoccupation kept her from noticing the equally distraught face of her companion.

George was deep in thought, his fears about Anne were convoluted with the heavy scruples as to the situation with his son. He kept wondering, 'Have I done the right thing keeping Will away? What if he never meets Anne?' George would not be able to bear it if his son were to miss out on his own creation and one of the most darling creatures ever.

Their reverie was broken by their arrival at the front doors of the hospital. They jumped out of the car and ran up the steps and into the lobby. They spotted the receptionist ruffling through some documents on her desk.

"We're here to see Anne Bennet," panted Mr. Darcy as they reached the receptionist.

The woman looked up annoyed as she put the stack of papers down and pored over the records in the large black binder in front of her in an obviously irritated manner. Elizabeth, who was too distressed to care, said quickly, "I believe she was only received an hour or so ago. She is 4 years old and was a car wreck victim."

"So now you tell me," she muttered under her breath as she rolled her eyes and scanned to a different section of her records, "Room 408. That would be on the 5th floor and to the left."

They sprinted down the hallway, Lizzy leading George by a few yards. The elevator was closing, but she managed to get there just in time to hold the doors open for them both.

The other passengers on the elevator looked surprised at the man and woman hurtling down the corridor at them, so they quickly made room as the doors closed behind the two.

The doors opened onto the fifth floor and they darted out. The narrow corridors on the 5th floor were narrow, so their sprint slowed into a fast jog. The door to room 408 was ajar, and they could see the many medics running around inside it.

At that moment, a wheelchair came around the corner towards them; neither of them saw it until it stopped right next to them.

"Lizzy," said Mrs. Jennings softly from the wheelchair. Her leg was in a cast and her right arm was wrapped tightly with gauze. "Lizzy, I think we had better talk."

Silently agreeing to follow Mrs. Jennings, she walked down the annoyingly yellow corridor towards the waiting room. George hesitated a slight second before following the ladies. It was a gloomy room with too many shades of gray, but other than the light above them that was flickering out, was well lit. Its stark contrast to the maddening yellow of the corridor was most welcome, yet also held a sense of utmost melancholy.

They took their seats and Mrs. Jennings took a deep breath. "Lizzy, today Anne and I went out to get some lunch at the McDonalds around the corner. I took the car since the traffic was light. Obviously other people were taking advantage of the unusual road conditions as well.

"We were turning a corner when all of a sudden I heard a car coming from behind me. I looked back and saw two teenagers drag racing on the street behind me. I tried to get out of the way, but one of them hit me full on in the rear of the car. It's a miracle we both survived it, though the doctors are saying that Anne isn't doing too well."

As if to confirm her last statement, a doctor with a clipboard came up behind them.

"Miss Bennet I presume?" he started. After a nod from her he continued. "Miss Bennet, your daughter is in critical condition due to an extreme loss of blood." His voice became softer, gentler, and less businesslike, "I do not know how to say this, but I am afraid that there is only a small chance that she will make it. I am sorry Miss Bennet, but the loss of blood is too severe."

"Well, doctor," she said desperately, "can't you use some blood reserves? Surely there is enough for a child such as herself!"

"Ma'am, your daughter has an extremely rare blood type, one known as LW (a-b-). I personally have never worked with such blood, which goes for most of my colleagues as well. We have no reserves for this type of blood, and, to be honest, it would surprise me if more than two people in the entire city would be able to donate for her. I will check my records for potential donors, but for the time being we have none."

Above them, the struggling light flickered out.

The three sitting around the table could have been mistaken for statues. "Oh, God," Darcy said, his voice barely squeaking out.

Elizabeth could not say anything. Tears pulled at her eyes, but years of holding her emotions allowed her to restrain them. She was devastated, but she had too much pride to let anyone else know that. She felt George's warmth as he pulled her into a warm embrace.

"If you would like to see your daughter, you can come with me. She is extremely weak, and drops in and out of consciousness, but I am sure that she would be glad to see you," the doctor said soothingly.

Without a word, Elizabeth slipped out of the embrace and followed the doctor down the hall.

George stayed put. He turned on his cell phone and dialed his son's number. It rang twice before one of the servants picked it up, "William Darcy household, how may I help you?"

"Perkins? This is George Darcy. Is William up yet?"

"No, sir," came the answer.

"Well then, throw some water on him, slap him in the face, whatever; just get him up now!"

"Yes sir, right away sir."

For the next couple of minutes, George was put on hold while his son was revived. When Perkins returned to the receiver he asked, "Do you want to speak with him sir?"

"Yes, tell him it is urgent business."

"Yes, sir," there was a moment of silence before the groggy voice of his son spoke on the other end, "Dad? Is that you?"

"Yes, William. Now listen to me, this is no time for excuses, you have to get to the hospital as quickly as you can, got it?"

"Yes, but..."

"No time for buts, except for yours which should be down here." He hung up the phone before his son could protest any more.

Chapter 6

William arrived at the hospital 25 minutes later still upset that his father had disturbed him. He still could not remember what had caused him to faint, but he had a feeling he was about to find out.

His father was waiting for him downstairs with a pale face. This slightly disturbed William, for he had not seen his father look that way since mother had died. Once he saw William, he rushed over to him and grabbed his wrist, pulling him over to the elevator.

The elevator was empty except for themselves, which was fortunate. "Father, what is all this about?" asked Will as they clicked past the second floor.

Mr. Darcy stared down at the ground and replied, "This morning, you read a column in the newspaper saying that you had a child, and the child's mother was Elizabeth Bennet. This is all true."

"Wha-what?!" he bellowed, as all the morning's events came flooding back to him.

"Elizabeth and I have been very close to each other these last 5 and some years, ever since her daughter was born. Your mother was also before she died."

"Why did you not tell me about her?" he demanded, anger now consuming his voice, "Why did you never tell me that I had a daughter?"

"It was Elizabeth's wish. She was afraid that you would take custody of the child away from her, and I can say that I can see the basis of that fear. You know how you get when your anger takes over."

"No I don't!" William bellowed, but as the words came out of his mouth his father gave him a pointed look. "Ok! Fine, I admit that I do get a little riled up, but I suppose I didn't get slapped in the face just so you can tell me that!"

Suddenly, George turned very grave, "No, the reason I have brought you here today..." the elevator dinged and they got off onto the landing and stopped, "...is that Anne was badly hurt in a car crash today. We have just been informed that there is almost no way that she can be saved." His eyes were stony, and to any outsider it would seem he was indifferent to the subject, but his son knew better. Mr. Darcy only got this way when he was under great emotional stress and turmoil.

"What!?" he said, his voice calming down and squeaking in distress.

"I was thinking you would like to see the girl before she passed."

"Of course! Oh, God, I can't believe I did not know of this!" he groaned in exasperation and anger.

George led the way and they soon found themselves outside room 408. He hesitated before going in, scared of what he might see. He knocked on the door and heard a soft grunt of assent from inside before entering.

Elizabeth was sitting in a chair off to the side of the bed, her eyes staring off into space. Her daughter's hand held tightly in her own.

"Hi, George," she murmured, not really paying attention, "What does the good doctor there have to say? Has he found any donors yet?"

"The doctor had not said anything else to my knowledge," he said realizing that she had mistaken the identity of his son.

William stood there stock still viewing the scene. Elizabeth was there, not even five feet away. Five years had not stolen the beauty from her features, but the expression she wore made him wonder if this was the girl he wad fallen in love with years ago. The sparkle in her eye that he had cherished with had vanished with no trace of returning. His first reaction was to go over to her and hold her, make her feel better. But then he realized that she no longer loved him. How could she after the way he had treated her?

Most of the anger that he had felt towards her after learning she had concealed a daughter from him was lost the second he looked at her. His eyes then strayed to the tiny girl on the bed. Even through the bandages he could distinguish her mother's features. They had the same dainty nose and soft curls. Her eyes were beautiful, though with a very pained expression in them.

He now noticed that even through the injuries, she was semi-conscious and was trying to tell them something.

Her mother perked up as she too realized this and spoke to her, "Anne, darling, what are you trying to say?"

The girl struggled, obviously, but she still managed to push the words out, "Mama, am I going to go see Grandmamma?"

Elizabeth choked back a sob, "Yes sweetie, and I promise that she will keep you very safe. Remember that I will always be there for you."

The girl nodded back at Lizzy, who felt as though her whole life was falling apart. It was then that she noticed the dark figure standing behind George. She looked up at him, willing herself not to cry. "What are you doing here?" she asked quietly, though her voice shook noticeably.

William started as her voice was suddenly directed at him. He looked down at her, taking it all in. Her eyes were directed at his, their heartbreak and woe tore though him like a knife through paper.

"My father called this afternoon and told me the situation," he said softly but firmly, "I wanted to see her before... before anything happened." He could not bring himself to say it.

Elizabeth broke her gaze, now looking at the floor, "And you aren't angry with me?"

William was stunned. This was the last reaction that he had expected from her. He had anticipated that she would be angry with him. Order him out of the room once she saw him. After all the pain he had caused her it would have been justified. Who could not be angry with the man who had ruined her family's life, for he had been responsible for the ordeal with Wickham, and the election. He had funded Colonel Fitzwilliam while he was running against Thomas Bennet. But she had concealed his child from him, and he could not lie.

"Yes, I am angry," said his slightly raised voice, "but I am more disappointed that you could not trust me with this. I would have liked to get a chance to see her while she was healthy."

A single tear rolled down her cheek. She bent down under the bed pretending to tie her shoe and indiscreetly wiped her eyes. She wished more than anything not to be in that room and to be indifferent to whether William was present or not. She did not want him of all people to see her weakness, but, as always, William caught the tear.

He sighed away his remaining anger and moved over to her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. Then he spoke softly to the girl on the bed, "Hello Anne." The little girl looked up at him (or rather turned her eyes) and he found he could not continue on; that he could not find the right words to convey a simple idea. After a short pause Elizabeth continued for him.

"Anne, darling, you know papa who I have always told you about?" the girl gave a nod of assent, "Well this is him, my dear. Papa has come at last."

At that moment a doctor ran into the room carrying his clipboard. "Miss Bennet? We have found only one other match in the city, but I am afraid that he is an impossibility." He looked over to her, "The match is William Darcy, the presidential candidate. I am sure he is an unlikely donor." Up until this point he had not noticed the very man of whom he was speaking, but as soon as he did he jumped back, "You're, you're... By God, you're William Darcy!" The doctor shook his hand and continued in a more excited tone than what would fit the situation, "Sir, would you possibly wish to donate some of your blood to this little girl here? We might have to take a little more than regulation, but you look strong and fit and would recover more quickly than others.'

Darcy looked at Elizabeth who sat tensely in her chair. She was looking at him with eyes that still portrayed extreme dismay, but they now held a look of hope, a hope that had not existed until the moment the doctor announced the potential donor. He could not decline, how could he? She was his daughter, his blood already ran through her veins, but now was his first chance to demonstrate that he could harbour fatherly affection. "Yes, of course I will." He watched as Elizabeth's features visibly relaxed.

"Well then sir, come right this way." The doctor walked out of the door and turned left down the corridor. Darcy gave them a serious parting look before he followed the doctor and shut the door behind him.

George Darcy looked at Elizabeth with a sorrowful expression. "I am sorry Lizzy, but I would not be able to stand it if he never met his daughter. I know it must be hard seeing him after all these years, but I'm sure he does not dislike you."

"No, he does not dislike me," she said ruefully, "I could see that in his eyes. When he spoke to me I could tell by his words that he must loathe me for this."

George thought about this a moment. That couldn't be right. Of course, his son had reprimanded Lizzy, but compared to the tempest he had brewed up in the elevator, his words to her had be merely a quick gust of wind. "No, Elizabeth, I can tell he does not."

Part 3 - Chapter 7

Posted on Sunday, 7 December 2003

George was anxious for his son. Such emotional turmoil certainly had to take its effect some time or another. With another look at the melancholy figure sitting next to the bed, he stole out of the room and went in pursuit of William.

Darcy was led down the corridor to a small room that was filled with packs of blood, ice chests and sterile needles. He had always had an aversion to needles and had never given blood, but then he thought, I have never been under such pressing circumstances as these before either.

William was seated in a small chair and his arm was swabbed with disinfectant while a nurse scurried around in the background preparing the needle and packets.

William was starting to get nauseous when the door cracked and the doctor raised his head to see who was coming in. The doctor stepped outside for a moment to talk to the incomer and then reappeared again with George trailing behind him. “Hello,” said George as he pulled up a chair next to his son.

“What are you doing here?” asked William in a morbid voice. “Why are you not in with Elizabeth? She is fragile right now and in need of support.”

“You too are in a fragile state of mind now, so what of your support?” But George took his son's reaction as a positive hint as to if there were any repressed feelings that may still be held by his son, so he decided that he was going to have to probe further. He was just about to ask another question that probably would have embarrassed his son to no end when William spoke up. “What is her full name? Please, I want to know everything of my little girl.”

“Well, her name is Anne Rebecca Bennet (or Darcy I suppose you could say). She is in pre-school at the moment and her favorite pastimes are watching Scooby-Doo and walking around the city with her mother.” Here William interrupted.

“What is her birthday? When was she born?” At this point the doctor started withdrawing the blood from his arm and he winced in pain, however the earnest expression he bore while asking the question never left his face.

George sighed, “Anne was born October 17th, 1999. That would be in just two days. Is there anything else you want to know?”

“Yes,” William replied, “I want to know if I still have a chance to set things strait.”

“William, you have done nothing wrong in this matter besides run away from the woman you loved and who loves you dearly. The thing to do now is to go and make peace with her. We can worry about other matters later.”

William stared. Had his father just said that she loves or loved me? Surely it must be the latter. It was impossible for someone to harbour feelings for a person who was almost the sole participant in ruining their life, wasn't it? Well, no matter where her feelings stood, he would still have to attempt reconciliation with her. But how to go about doing it would be the problem.

They continued to chat about certain aspects of Anne until about 15 minutes later when the doctor felt that he had obtained a satisfactory amount of blood, and was ready to attempt the transfusion.

“Mr. Darcy, sir,” asked the doctor addressing William, the expression on his face still portrayed traces of awe, “May I ask of what relation you are to this child? Are you related by blood, marriage, or no connection at all?

“I am her father,” he said in a slightly bemused voice, as if conveying some ironic situation.

“I'm sorry sir,” the doctor said with a questioning look on his face, “but did you say your daughter? I thought I understood you were unattached and unmarried.”

“You were correct about the unmarried part,” William growled, this time with nothing but the most serious expression grazing his features, “but I am far from unattached, even if she has no feelings for me.” His voice pronounced a tone of finality.

The doctor took the hint and scuttled out of the door with the bags of William's blood in his hands.

While the blood was taken to the radiation treatment centre to be cleaned before transfusion, William was taken to rest in one of the rooms. He felt drained, both emotionally and physically. As he lay there, he mulled over the events of the day over and over, focusing on some moments while trying to forget others.

He saw Elizabeth's face in his mind's eye, her eyes dull and red. Had he truly done this to her? Of course he had, but he was ready to face those tears every day if only to see her one day break into a smile just for him; just as she had done so many years ago. The light had gone from not only her eyes, but her entire person, and he felt that he should be the one responsible for putting it back. But then, he thought to himself, that would be one responsibility he would be easily persuaded to bear.

He also tried to sort out his feelings on the subject of his daughter. He wanted to be around her, get to know her better and be a real father, but how far would he go to do so? If Lizzy refused to let him see Anne (which at the moment seemed perfectly possible) what would he do? Would he simply obey her wishes and leave them alone, or would he try and claim some custody of her? But he knew the answer to that immediately. Anne needed Lizzy, that much was clear, and he could never think to be so cruel as to separate them in the first place. Let me just put it off until the time comes; then I will be able to make a better decision.

There was also the subject of his career to worry about. The voting would not be until next fall, but any scandal revealed during the campaign would surely count against him. Though at the moment this was certainly the last item on his list of priorities, he would quickly have to make a decision regarding this major part of his life.

Soon fatigue overwhelmed him and he fell into a fitful slumber.

Chapter 8

George walked back into Anne's room as they were rolling the girl away and into the operation room. Lizzy was standing in the corner of the room staring absentmindedly at the Monet print on the wall. George was sure that she did not notice his entrance, so he went up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. Lizzy flinched under the pressure and turned to look into his eyes, her own brimming in unspent tears.

George pulled her into an embrace and they just stood like that for many minutes until there was a soft tapping on the door. They pulled away and George called out, “Come in.”

Once again a doctor came into the small room with his clipboard in hand, “Sir, Ma'am, we have just started the transfusion and it seems to be going quite well. Her body is accepting the blood with little resistance.” George smiled openly at this, and although she didn't show her happiness quite profusely, Lizzy's eyes glittered with newfound hope. Here the doctor continued, “Our only stipulation is that the patient may have a weaker immune system, which is a common side effect when the blood is taken from a family member.” This news of course did not damper their spirits, and Lizzy even smiled a little when she heard that this was the extent of their troubles.

“Is there any other news that we should know about?” asked George.

“Ah, yes. Due to the sever repercussions of the crash we will have to keep Anne here for at least a week and a half. At her age, her broken bones have to be mended and of course the wounds sufficiently healed before we release her.”

“Of course,” Elizabeth agreed, “I don't think I would be up to playing nurse this week anyways.”

“Good, then it is all settled. It will take close to four hours to complete the surgery. You are welcome to stay in the waiting room if you wish to, or we can phone you when we are finished.”

At this time Elizabeth's stomach growled audibly and she flashed a guilty smile at George. “I know it has only been a couple of hours since we last ate, but stress really makes me hungry. Mind if we get some take-out and bring it back here?”

“Not at all,” he turned to the doctor, “If you need anything please ring me up.” He recited the number and then he and Lizzy went to check on Anne before pushing their way out the front door.

George turned on the engine, but before he pulled out of the parking lot he faced Lizzy with his hands still on the wheel. “Do you really know what you are going to do about William? With this big secret out will you feel comfortable raising Anne the way you did before? Though I hate to say it, the press will be all over you about this. The last thing I want is for you to lose your lifestyle.”

Elizabeth smiled wanly, the shock of seeing her daughter injured and then meeting William not long after that still ran through her system. When she spoke she chose her words carefully and tactfully avoided the first question, “I suppose we will have to make up some lie to the press so we don't hurt Will's reputation. I can deal with the ones who come my way myself. I believe Anne will be fine in my care for at least the time being. I was thinking back in the room, and I came to the conclusion that if it gets to be too much for me to bear, I can always move.”

George was concerned. He knew that Lizzy loved the city she lived in greatly, and to separate them would be like tearing off a piece of her. Then he caught it, “But what are you going to do about my son?”

Lizzy sighed, depressed that she could not avoid the question that had pressed on her mind more than any other ever since she picked up the morning paper. “I truly don't know. I suppose it is up to him really. I can't make my decisions without consulting his feelings.”

“Yes, I understand.”

The rest of the drive was made in silence. They picked up a couple of hamburgers and quickly drove back to the waiting room.

William arose from his sleep with his hand aching. When he looked down he realized that his hand had been clenched and that his knuckles had long since turned white. He relaxed them and rolled over to look at the clock.

He had slept for only an hour, yet it felt as though an eternity had passed since he last saw Elizabeth. He got up and attempted to walk. He was still weak, but he easily managed to make his way to the bathroom down the hall and back.

He smoothed out his wrinkled clothes and then thought he would try for a further destination; the waiting room perhaps.

He made his way down the hall in the opposite direction he had gone to find the restroom and soon found himself in the small foyer. Without noticing any of the occupants of the room he slid into the closest chair and stared out the window. He was hoping to get some more thinking done when he heard two familiar voices trailing across the room.

“How long has it been since she was put under?” asked a female voice he knew to belong to Elizabeth.

“Hmmm, I'd say about two hours. I wonder if William has woken up yet,” said his father.

Here William felt was an ideal place to enter in the conversation, “I dare say he has,” William called as he slowly rose from his chair and walked across the room. His father and Elizabeth spun around as quickly as forces of nature allowed, and when she saw him, Elizabeth paled and let out a soft scream of distress.

When he got within two feet of her, her first instinct was to run, to be out of the building in which the man that she so loved and feared now stood. But at the same time she knew she could not leave Anne, so she compromised. “Excuse me for a minute; I have to go to the restroom.” She stood quickly and was about to make her way out of the room when a strong hand stayed her arm.

“No you don't,” said William firmly. He nudged her to sit back down and she acquiesced with no small amount of apprehension, though her eyes were averted from his face. “Please do not be afraid of me Elizabeth, I will not hurt you,” he said in a soft voice. She turned to meet his eyes and at once beheld the pleading expression in them. She relaxed a bit, but the feeling of anxiety did not leave her completely.

William watched from the other side of the arm and hand that still firmly clasped hers. He was surprised at his own daring in actually touching her skin. But the second he made contact, nostalgia overtook him and he was drowning in a sea of lost memories. He knew that he did not want her to leave, that he would not be able to bear it if she did. This emotion of need and want passed over his features knowingly as he spoke the first words that came to mind in face of the situation.

An awkward silence fell over the trio as they each struggled to find a safe topic of conversation. William inquired after Anne's current state and way met by a positive reply from his father. Elizabeth fidgeted noticeably but remained steadfastly silent. George now felt it was his responsibility to strike up the conversation. “The weather has been absolutely gloomy these past few days, have it not Lizzy?”

“It has indeed sir,” replied Lizzy quietly, hoping that she did not have to participate anymore in the conversation. George caught the hint and stayed silent.

They continued in this manner until around fifteen minutes later when the doctor called William in to do a vitals check. Lizzy was grateful for the release and it showed visibly on her features. William caught this and his heart sank; by her actions he could tell that she obviously did not want him around. How could he ever imagine that she could possibly still hold feelings for him?

He was barely aware of his surroundings all the way through the tests until the doctor told him he was good to go, but also informed him to return home and rest for the remainder of the day.

The doctor went and talked to his father to arrange a ride, and when William left through the lobby he caught a glimpse of her staring out the window as he himself had done on so many occasions before. Then the doors shut behind him and he slipped into the car for the drive back.

Chapter 9

Posted on Saturday, 20 December 2003

Elizabeth watched from her window as the two men passed through the doors that led out of the building. Though her heart was lighter now than it had been since she first caught sight of William, she could still not shake off the feeling that she could have done something more to rectify the situation.

George will know what to do, she concluded, I will just ask him how to approach Will nowadays and the whole process will be a lot less painless.

But as soon as those thoughts had floated through her mind she realized that George could not do it all for them, and that most of the weight of reconciliation would be placed on her shoulders. She sighed and sat back down in the seat she had occupied earlier, her fingers absent-mindedly stroking the spot on her arm that William had clutched. The warmth she had felt from the contact had long since subsided, but the memories it had stirred were still circling in her mind.

The room was quiet and her eyes closed involuntarily and she soon fell into a light doze of fatigue only to be awakened thirty minutes later by the subconscious response to the calling of her name. She looked up to see who had spoken to her and looked over to the doorway where a doctor was talking to a dark-haired man with his back turned to her.

But that was enough; she would know that figure anywhere, but she hoped against hope that it was not him. Then the doctor pointed over at her and the man turned his head, confirming her worst suspicions. Facing her was the man that had filled her nightmares for many years, George Wickham.

She got up, pulled on her coat, and made to leave, but she was too slow. “Hello, Elizabeth,” said a cool and all-too-familiar voice at her shoulder, “How are you doing today?” His tone would be considered innocent enough by any person who was not acquainted with him, but Elizabeth knew him better than that. To her his voice was full of mocking and barely-concealed laughter.

“Get away now,” answered Elizabeth in a low tone that clearly expressed her anger. “Go away and never seek me again.”

“Tut, tut, dear Elizabeth, not even the barest civilities for an old friend? How rude of you!” A smirk was playing around the outer corners of his lips and there was a malicious glint sparkling in his eyes, daring her to act.

“No more rude than you ruining my life and my Lydia's!” she yelled, her voice was now loud enough to travel throughout the entire floor. “How dare you come to me at such a time and act as though nothing is wrong! This all happened because of you! You split me and William, you killed Lydia, and you wrote that stupid newspaper article that led me to leave my daughter with a sitter this morning in the first place! If she had been with me this accident never would have happened. I don't have the emotional energy to deal with you at the moment, so please, leave me in peace!”

Just then a nurse scurried up to them with an anxious look on her face, “Sir, Ma'am, excuse me, but could you please lower your voices or go outside. The patients are complaining about the racket.” She was met by two angry stares, but Elizabeth acquiesced and lowered her voice so that she was not being overtly loud.

“I insist that you leave now. I am waiting for my daughter to come out of surgery right now and right now I do not want or need your `sympathy'.” She turned on her heel and stormed out of the doors.

Wickham smiled as he counted to ten and then broke into a stride and left the hospital in Elizabeth's wake.

Outside of the hospital the temperature had dropped nearly 10 degrees and people were now settling in at the cozy cafés on the street corners. Elizabeth pulled her down jacket tighter around her form and stuffed her hands deep inside it as the cold, harsh air bit at her skin. Her quick and reckless pace through the streets left more than one person scrambling to catch a bumped parcel.

She stood on the curb and hailed a cab, but before it could reach her she felt icy breath on the back of her neck and Wickham's voice whispering, “We meet again, Elizabeth.”

Her first instinct was to slap him, but with her hands tucked harmlessly in her coat, she was unable to do so. She turned and strode away from him, well aware that he was but one step behind her. She was so preoccupied that she didn't notice a very familiar car park across the street from them.

“Elizabeth,” he said, now in such a honeyed tone that any typical girl would have swooned then and there, “you know that you were always my favorite. You're impertinence only furthered to endear you more to me.” He came up behind her, put his arm around her waist and smiled with false sincerity. “You've had a stressful day, why don't we pick up a drink somewhere?”

She looked over her shoulder at him with unmasked horror and quickly pulled away, but before she could make her way out of reaching distance he swung her around and kissed her full on the lips. Elizabeth was in such a state of shock that for a moment she stood paralyzed.

Soon she regained her wits, but when she tried to pull away from the icy embrace she found that she could not. Wickham was holding her behind the head with one hand while he searched her body with the other. She wanted to scream in protest, but was soon relieved of the situation due to an abrupt release from Wickham. She looked up quickly and found George Darcy holding Wickham by the collar of his coat, and being a much stronger man, was managing so quite easily.

“What were you thinking George?” asked Darcy in terse tones.

Wickham didn't answer, but instead spat at the older man's feet.

Darcy released Wickham and pushed him down the sidewalk. “Come on, Lizzy,” he said gently now addressing the young woman beside him, “We had best be getting back to the hospital.”

She nodded mutely and headed towards the car on the far side of the street

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