Twenty Months

by Alicia Rogers

  Chapter 19

  Pray for Plagues (an interlude)

  :video clip:

  Billy Bush: Love is in the air tonight on Access Hollywood; from Katherine and Josh, to Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth, we've got the scoop on which Hollywood couples are tying the knot – coming up after the break.

  :end video clip:

  St. Brendan was impeccably decorated the results of thousands of hours of planning on the part of Los Angeles' most in demand wedding coordinator and Frannie Bennet (who could not be persuaded to keep her many ideas and overall self out of it). The musicians with their horns were setting up in the balcony where they would anxiously await the cue to echo one of the bride's favorite films and play "All You Need is Love"; the dove wranglers unloaded their cages with silent prayers the birds would stop shitting and pecking long enough to pull their job off without a hitch, the caterers put the finishing touches on the meal they were to serve to over two-hundred guests who would surely be starved for pate and an open bar, and the presently unhappy flower girl was in the middle of a getting stern talking to from her mother because chocolate cupcake frosting mysteriously smooshed itself into her pearl white dress (while her bemused older sister quietly thought it served cousin Darcy right for picking Daisy over her).

  Amidst all of the chaos surrounding her, for her part Lizzie seemed eerily calm; holed up in her bridal room she watched images of her and Darcy flash across the TV screen while Access Hollywood did their patented starfucker commentary. Her strange mood could be attributed to the fact she had finally accepted her fate – this was her 'Last Supper', her 'Green Mile' and it was going to hurt a helluva lot, but the ends would justify the means.

  The soft knock at the door indicated the high improbability it was her mother or any one of her heinous younger sisters, and Lizzie rose to answer the door without an ounce of reluctance.

  "Hey," she smiled lazily at Charlotte and Jane.

  Bug-eyed, the other two women wasted no time pushing their way inside. "Lizzie, you're not dressed!" Jane gasped.

  Charlotte followed the eldest Bennet's lead, "Why aren't you dressed?!"

  "I'm so glad to see you guys," Lizzie began, ignoring their question, "that chair is way heavy and I'd never be able to move it over to the window on my own. It's so dainty looking you wouldn't believe it's built like a boulder."

  Exchanging a concerned look with Charlotte, Jane spoke slowly, "Lizzie, why would you need the chair by the window?"

  Lizzie cut her eyes. "Well, the feng shui in this room is a little off…c'mon, Jane!" She threw her hands in the air.

  "Oh no, no, no, kid…" Charlotte grabbed her shoulders, "you've got hundreds of people waiting out there and the threat of litigation hanging over your head, you're not running out!"

  "He can sue me!" Lizzie spun on her heels heading for the sofa chair that had become her last hope of a Darcy-free existence.

  "Would you stop for a second and think about this," Jane pleaded. "What about the baby! Are you really just going to throw away the kind of life Darcy is offering for your child?"

  "I am thinking about the baby!" Feebly she tried to push the chair, but it refused to budge. "All the money in the world doesn't change the fact that Darcy is a violent, horrible man and this baby will be better off without him!"

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Christ, not this again…"

  "Not what, Charlotte?!" Lizzie snapped. "You were there, you saw what he did to Danny! As if getting his kicks by ruining the guy's life wasn't enough Darcy has to go and pick a fight and embarrass him in front of his coworkers." With an exhasperated grunt, she landed a well-placed kick to the chair's side. "Goddamn, is this thing cemented to the ground?!"

  Jane sighed, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. "You haven't even gotten Darcy's side of the story."

  "I don't need it; I had him pegged for an asshole the moment I told him I was pregnant and once again I wasn't wrong. Always trust a sober first impression."

  "Still, don't you think you should at least talk to him about Danny?" Jane continued her attempt to be the voice of reason. "Like I've said, Lizzie, how much do you really know about Danny – outside of work and a trip to the OB you haven't spent a lot of time together. You've at least gotten to know Darcy…"

  "I don't know him that well," Lizzie interjected.

  "You've met his sister, his best friend, and his closest relative for god's sake! You've spent the night together more than once – you let dad get him drunk, you've spent all of this time with all of these people who certainly don't seem to think him the walking embodiment of evil, and you're letting the opinion of one man who's not exactly your b.f.f. shape the way you see him?! Jane shook her head. "You owe Darcy a chance to explain himself."

  Charlotte snickered. "But, Janie that would require maturity and sanity."

  "And, this is why I didn't make you Maid of Honor." Lizzie glared at her best friend. "I owe him nothing and this is no longer up for discussion; now are you guy's gonna help me or not?"

  xx

  "I'm an idiot!"

  Cocking his head to light his cigarette, Richard grinned. "I'm not arguing." Patiently he waited for a comeback and when none came the bright smile slowly slipped off of his face and with great concern he turned to Bingley. "Wait, what's wrong with him?"

  "Long story," Charlie shook his head.

  "What dumbass thing did he say to Lizzie now?"

  "I'm sure he said lots of transcript-worthy stupid shit to Lizzie, but it's more of a 'what did he do' and a 'what he didn't say'." Charlie sighed, "Really, Darcy this whole thing could be cleared up if you'd just tell her the truth."

  Marlboro firmly planted between his lips, Richard glanced sideways at the two men. "Anyone care to clue me in?"

  "I ran into Danny," Darcy said dejectedly.

  "He works with Lizzie," Charlie supplied, "and it's more of a 'ran his fist into Danny'."

  Richard beamed nearly leaping off of the bench. "Outstanding! You kicked his ass, right? Oh, please tell me you kicked his ass."

  "Apparently, Danny's been feeding Lizzie a load of bull about Darce and all of the boogey man images came true the second he hit him."

  "You didn't hear what he said," Darcy clenched his teeth. "I was extremely generous considering."

  "What did he say?" Richard flicked the last of the cigarette's ashes into the grass and made sure there weren't priest or nun-like figures around when he tossed the butt into the church bushes.

  "He's going to try to sleep with Lizzie."

  "He hinted at it," Charlie corrected.

  Richard chuckled. "I knew you were in love with her."

  Darcy's head whipped around at that. "Goddammit, I am not!"

  "That's fifty-six Hail Mary's for you."

  "I like her," Darcy hesitantly admitted.

  "Like a fat kid 'likes' cake," Richard said getting a laugh from Charlie.

  "And, I think maybe she was starting to like me, too – or at least starting to tolerate me a little bit, and then there's Wickham standing there all smug and dropping these snide comments while blatantly checking her out and I snapped." A heavy sigh escaped his lips as Darcy ran his weary hands through his dark hair. "I should've kept my cool."

  "No, you should've kicked his ass and told Lizzie why." Putting a comforting hand on his cousin's shoulder, Richard said, "Talk to her, you idiot."

  "I can't; you don't know what it's like trying to talk to Lizzie, those eyes glaring at you – it's horrible. She wants nothing to do with me, hell she's probably climbing out of a window right now."

  Climbing to their respective feet Charlie and Richard pulled a dejected Darcy to his; Richard took the time to brush any trace of ash off of his tux while Charlie straightened Darcy's tie. "If you can't say it to her face then find another way," Charlie told him.

  "C'mon, cuz," Richard began throwing an arm around Darcy's shoulders, "let's get you married."

  Chapter 20

  Ball & Chain

  In th
e end, Jane and Charlotte found themselves resigned to 'help' Lizzie; since Charlotte was the more stoutly and scarily strong of the two, she ultimately had the task of pinning the younger Bennet to the chair while her sister wrestled off her T-shirt and jeans. Several bruises and bite marks later, Lizzie was imprisoned in flowing Vera Wang white and at the mercy of a hair and makeup team.

  When her auburn locks were sufficiently pinned up to the point where escape was laughably futile, and foundation and lipstick were gingerly applied, the parade of expensive stylists left the bridal room leaving the door open for the rest of the female side of the Bennet clan to file in. Frannie battled running mascara while simultaneously hugging everyone in sight, Mary attempted to look bored as shit while bemoaning the lavender color of her bridesmaid gown (black would've been so much better), and Lydia couldn't stop talking about how big Lizzie's boobs had gotten while Kit parroted her sentiments.

  "Seriously, Lizzie your tits are huge!"

  "Ginormous, actually."

  Cornering Lizzie on all sides, the twins leaned in conspiratorially. "He got your boobs done, didn't he?" Lydia whispered.

  Kit followed her lead. "You can tell us if he did."

  A glint that was nothing short of evil flashed in her dark, brown eyes and the corners of her mouth curled up. "No, the secret is, if you do this…" elbows pointed in towards her chest, Lizzie flexed her arms, "at least five times a day – totally increases your bust."

  Lydia's eyes lit up. "Seriously?"

  Lizzie gestured towards her ample chest. "You really need anymore proof?"

  Exchanging a look with Lydia, Kit gave a small shrug of her shoulders and immediately began Lizzie's bosom-enhancing regimen.

  "Okay, everyone," Jane began clapping her hands together, "I think we should all head out and take our places – give Lizzie a moment to herself."

  As she ushered everyone out of the room, Jane took a second to grab her little sister by the hand and told her how gorgeous she looked and when the door closed on those encouraging green eyes, Lizzie collapsed against it with all of her weight trying very hard to stave off the tears that threatened to spill from the corners of her eyes.

  Her breath came in short, panicked bursts and thoughts of setting fire to the chair that was supposed to be her ticket to freedom raced across her brain. This truly was it – good god, when she screwed up, she really knew how to do it with brilliance. Her future was comprised of five more months of swollen feet and stretch marks, followed by fifteen more filled with diaper genies, chapped nipples, and Darcy. She wanted to be dancing on bartops with Charlotte, she wanted to be living off of Ramen and booze (and coffee), she wanted to date all of the wrong people this time with Depo Provera backing her up, and she wanted the only mention of St. Brendan's in accordance with her life to have more to do with a lie to her parents about whether she'd been attending mass and confession and less about marriage preparations.

  She wanted the complete non-responsibility of being twenty-one years old, but mostly, she wanted Fitzwilliam Darcy to fall off a fucking cliff. The thought of having to look at his smug, rotten, little face day in and day out made her equal parts angry and sick. Angry at herself for lacking judgment and getting mixed up with such a pompous, spiteful twat, and sick over the fact her child would have half of said pompous, spiteful twat's genetic material.

  The lump in her throat refused to be swallowed and when the floodgates were prepared to burst open, the doorknob turned.

  Sean Bennet poked his rumpled head inside the room. "So, Darcy's a nervous git; how are you holding up?"

  She smiled, quickly pulling herself together as she let her dad inside. "I'm great. I think I'll be even better once all of this is over."

  "I get ya." He nodded. "There's, a lot of people out there – all sorts of relatives of ours I didn't even know existed…"

  "So, what you're saying is the open bar was a fabulous idea," Lizzie joked getting a chuckle in reply.

  "Did you know that Darcy is related to that Catherine De Bourgh woman your mother watches all the time on the Food Network? I thought she brought Michael Jackson as her date, but Richard swears it's just her daughter. If you need a moment to quietly laugh at the spectacle this whole wedding business has become, then throw your eyes in that direction." Sean grinned. "I had a feeling you let your mum pick out the planner."

  Taking a second to regard Lizzie with his head tilted and a warm smile on his lips, he softly asked, "So, when are you due?"

  Eyes widening, she played dumb. "In about five minutes, I think. I can hear mom screaming for everyone to line up."

  "Five minutes, huh?" Sean raised a brow. "You're having the baby in the first pew?"

  She sputtered. "What? I…uh…"

  "Elizabeth, you can fool the press, you can fool your friends, Christ, knows you can fool your mother, but you can never, ever fool me." Lovingly placing his hands on her cheeks, he continued, "When I walked into this room just now, you looked very much like a girl on the verge of a crisis and I felt the need to tell you this is not the end of the world. You and Darcy are in for an awfully big adventure, that I get the feelin' you were both quite ill prepared for, but I think in the end you'll find that this will bring out nothing but the best in the two of you. Life has a tendency to veer off into directions we weren't necessarily looking to go, but the trick is to take your lot in it, and handle it with grace and strength, and you've got those qualities in spades. No matter what, my Lizzie, I'm very proud of the woman you are fast becoming, and I can't wait to meet my grandchild."

  And with that, Sean bestowed a tiny kiss on her forehead and enveloped her in a hug.

  "I'm due in May," Lizzie laughed through tears as she held onto him tightly, "and you're a bastard for making me cry. Did you see how many people it took to make me look like this?"

  Removing the handkerchief from the pocket of his tux, Sean gently dabbed the cloth at her wet cheeks.

  "I know I'm an absolute wanker."

  * * *

  Though it was surely no easy task for whatever higher power happened to be in charge that day, the Bennet/Darcy wedding managed to go off without a single hitch, though, it was quite touch and go for a moment when a hysterical Caroline Bingley had to be escorted out of the church during the vow exchange.

  Doves were released, the band played "All You Need is Love" nearly on cue (on orders from Richard Fitzwilliam, the tune began as Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up", because he and he alone thought it would be hilarious to Rick-Roll his cousin on his wedding day), and somehow all two-hundred and fifty guests made it to the Amada Plaza for the reception in one, impeccably dressed piece.

  Darcy and Lizzie concealed massive amounts of discomfort and dislike (the later more on her end), during their first dance to Georgie's acoustic rendition of "Time after Time", and as per their nature, around 3/4ths of the Bennet's drank like it was going out of style resulting in a lot of slurred, Irish brogue filling the air, and an embarrassingly white attempt at the electric slide.

  When 2:00 a.m. rolled around the ballroom finally cleared, and the exhausted 'couple' along with an equally exhausted Georgiana, climbed into the back of a limousine, and Lizzie mentally conceded that if it weren't for the fact she hated Darcy's face, the day would have actually been a lot of fun.

  Georgie stretched out like a cat across the seat propping shoeless feet up against the door handle, while Lizzie and her brother took their places on the opposite side. "I still don't understand why you guys feel the need to stay at Pemberly…" she began, her mouth wide to accommodate a yawn.

  "Maybe it's because my seventeen year old sister is still in town on her winter break, and I wasn't born yesterday, so leaving her on her own is out of the question?" Darcy shrugged sarcastically. "I'm not sure, though."

  Georgiana rolled her eyes. "You've just avoided an argument about how I'm not in diapers anymore, be glad I'm totally drained."

  "Hey," Lizzie started, draping her legs lazily across Darcy's lap, "
I've never been to Napa, plus a huge ranch and servants? Sounds like a honeymoon to me. Ooh, can I get one of those obnoxious bells and call everyone Jeeves?"

  "No, but we could get Caroline to teach you how to abuse the intercom and ensure the entire staff is plotting your death." He smiled.

  "Even better," she quipped, earning a sleepy giggle from Georgie's direction.

  "We've really got to thank Caroline one day."

  Darcy practically did a double take. "What the hell for?"

  "For outshining my family in the embarrassing department," Lizzie told him matter-of-factly.

  "I dunno," he snickered, "Lydia was definitely not going down without a fight…"

  Lizzie sighed, "I swear to god, the dress I picked out for her stopped well below her cooch; I should've known better than to give it to her more than thirty minutes in advance."

  "Lydia's pretty cool, actually…" Georgie spoke up suddenly.

  There was a simultaneous horror-filled shout of "Stay away from Lydia!" and Lizzie socked him in the shoulder.

  "Jinx; and don't you talk about my sister like that! I'm the only one allowed to comment on her sort of very slutty ways."

  "Hey, I said she was 'pretty cool', not that I'm going to take fashion tips from her." Shutting her eyes, the teen added, "Not even married for a day and I'm already getting double the overprotection; yeah, you two are perfect for each other."

  The sky was fully bathed in daylight by the time the limo rolled its way through the gates of Pemberly Ranch, its occupants sound asleep – the easy chatter of the first hour or so of the trip having been traded in for snoring.

  Darcy was the first to wake, his neck painfully stiff and his lap mysteriously full of Lizzie who must've decided at some point in the night that resting her head on the window was far too uncomfortable and thus outweighed her hatred for him. She stirred lightly and he held his breath; he wanted this one moment between them where she didn't have to pretend to like him, and she was too unconscious to behave otherwise, to drag on as long as possible.