A/N: This is my first fanfic, although I have edited a friend's before. Also, unfortunately, it won't let me put in a sufficient break in between different paragraphs... so it's a bit chunked together VERY unfortunately, so I've been forced to put in those horizontal lines. I know that it's not a good thing to do, but it makes it too hard to read and follow properly otherwise. I apologise profusely.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the brilliant characters that Jane Austen invented. I just play with them... Neither have I made any money from this story, nor am I going to.

The sound of pounding hooves woke Longbourn in the night.

"Oh, oh! What is happening? Oh! We are all going to be murdered in our beds! And no Mr Bennett to protect us! Oh! What is happening? Hill! Hill!"
Lizzie could not help but be amused at her mother's senseless worries as she hurriedly pulled on her dressing gown. As Mrs Bennett continued to scream of murder, Lizzie and Jane made their way downstairs to see the housekeeper, Hill, pay the man with the express. Lizzie's amusement at her mother vanished like the wind when she saw that the letter was from her uncle Gardiner, and not her father.
Hill turned to the two eldest Bennett girls, and said
"I know that the express should go to the mistress, but…"Hill had no need to finish as another of Mrs Bennett's wails raced down the stairs towards them. Lizzie and Jane shared a look and took the letter from the housekeeper's hand.
"We'll take care of it, thankyou Hill," Lizzie said. Hill curtseyed and made her way up the stairs to calm down the still-hysterical Mrs Bennett.
Lizzie and Jane opened the letter, both reading it by candlelight.

My dear sister and nieces,

I am afraid that I bear both good and bad tidings to you, and it troubles me to write of them.

Firstly, you will be pleased to hear that Lydia and Wickham have been lately discovered and made to marry. There have been financial arrangements involved, all of which your father had agreed to, and even in light of current events they will be able to be fulfilled. But I am afraid that there will be few celebrations about the marriage, as it has been overshadowed by something so terrible…
I am sorry, I shall no longer sport with your intelligence. I am afraid that there has been an accident here, when Lydia and Wickham were discovered.

Your father, another gentleman and myself went to see Wickham and Lydia as soon as we found out their whereabouts, to see how it was between them.
Lydia remained upstairs, while we spoke to Wickham, convincing him that he must marry Lydia. Wickham was obstinate, and refused, unless he was granted the sum of twenty-thousand pounds, and an assurance of him inheriting Longbourn. Your father refused the last, saying that he had no power over who inherited Longbourn upon his death.
Wickham, however, had not stopped drinking wine since we were there. He was obstinate and grew violent upon your father's refusal, walking around the room, flaying his arms about and yelling. Your father stood to try to calm him down, but before myself or the gentleman who accompanied us could prevent it, Wickham had seized the fire poker and struck your father over his head. We immediately restrained Wickham and called for the authorities and a doctor, but I am deeply troubled to admit that the damage was already done.
Your father did not survive the blow.

I am deeply sorrowed, and join you in your despair of this loss. I apologise for being the one to bear such bad tidings, and my wife and I join you in mourning for the loss of Mr Bennett.
If it pleases you, I will make the arrangements for the transportation of the body and the funeral, to spare yourselves the trouble in such a time.

In sorrow,

Edward Gardiner.

Lizzie heard a roaring in her ears as Jane began to sob. She didn't hear Jane calling her name, or see their mother's appearance at the foot of the stairs as her knees buckled and she fell to the floor in a dead faint.

The next week passed in a saddened blur for the Bennetts. Lydia and Wickham had returned together from London, and Mrs Bennett had uncharacteristically driven them both from her home. She told her daughter and son-in-law that since they were both culpable for her husband's death, they were never going to be welcome in her home, and so disinherited both of them, refusing to even allow them to attend the funeral. Mr and Mrs Wickham had no choice but to return to London, Lydia sobbing as the carriage drove away. Jane asked Mrs Bennett for clemency for Lydia, at least to attend the funeral. Mrs Bennett reluctantly agreed, and so Lydia came to Longbourn alone, but her stay was an unhappy one, as her mother refused to see her while she was in her home.
Mr and Mrs Gardiner came and took over the house, helping take care of the family affairs and arranging everything to do with the funeral. Mrs Bennett and her daughters were very grateful to the Gardiners for their kindness, as not even Lizzie or Mary wished to take care of such mundane matters in the wake of their loss.
Jane cried at almost every moment, everything in the house reminding her of her father.
Mary refused to speak, being unable to find or offer comfort in those moralistic musings that had so often characterised her speech.
Kitty acted like a child caught in misbehaviour, scurrying out of sight whenever somebody came into the same room.
Lydia, by contrast, was the perfect child, the only one able to receive visitors as they came to call to offer their condolences. The event had sobered her from her normal flighty, flirtatious self, a change which Lydia had every intention of keeping, if only to do penance for her wrong.
Mrs Bennett kept in state above stairs, banishing all visitors from her, including some of her daughters. Lizzie she could not see, as she reminded her far too much of her father. Jane she could bear with some fortitude, but her constant crying was almost unbearable to her compassionate mother.

Lizzie suffered the worst, however. She began to rise with the sun and walk in solitude for almost the entire day, returning only when the sky began to darken. She lost weight, and gained dark circles under her eyes from a lack of sleep. For the first few days, nobody noticed her behaviour, each of them attempting to cope in their own way. But when the day of the funeral came, and Lizzie was nowhere to be found, Jane began to worry about her sister. But an hour before they were to leave for the church, Lizzie returned to change into mourning. The Bennett women walked to the church together, the widow and her daughters silent and strangely forlorn in their mourning black.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. We lay the body of Edward Bennet to rest, while Our Father who art in Heaven welcomes him into the fold with open arms. We only pray that those of us left behind would be able to bear the loss of this dearly beloved husband and father."
The kindly old minister of Meryton church gave the graveside speech as Mr Bennet's coffin was lowered into the ground. Sir and Lady Lucas, the Longs, Mr and Mrs Philips, all their friends in Meryton had come to say goodbye. Even friends from London and beyond had made the journey; The Gardiners were there, Mr Bingley had come, though not his sisters, Mr and Mrs Collins had arrived the day before, even Mr Darcy came to bid farewell to Mr Bennet. Though the attention of the latter few was not on the heavy coffin being lowered into the grave, but on the small knot of women in black, weeping or proudly defying tears, according to their natures.
Lizzie looked up, tearless, to see Mr Darcy watching her with compassion and regret. Lizzie met him stare for stare, not moving till he did, feeling as if he was intruding on her sorrow from the depth of despair that filled her eyes.

"Thankyou, Mrs Long. You have been most kind," said Lydia. Mrs Long smiled, and moved away, content that she had fulfilled the compassionate duties of a neighbour and friend.
"If I am forced to listen to one more condescending neighbour who is so sorry for our loss, and bear their oh so kind questions on where we shall go after Mr Collins takes possession of the house, and their conviction that we shall find somewhere suitable, then I shall wring that person's compassionate neck," Lydia complained to Jane.
"I am sure they mean well."
"Perhaps. But their condescention is insufferable all the same."
Jane smiled, eyes bright with held-back tears. The funeral had been finished for an hour, and the mourners had all retired to Longbourn, where the Bennet women thanked them for coming. But this was trying to all their nerves. Society was not welcome in wake of their loss, yet propriety and courtesy must be met ahead of the grieving families' own needs.

"Charlotte," Jane said as she came to her, "thankyou for journeying so far." Lydia smiled thinly, ready to move away should Mrs Collins begin spouting insincere comforts.
"My dear Jane, how can you bear such society at a moment like this? Surely all you and your family must want is solitude to remember the dead."
Lydia's smile became true at this sincere affection, but it was Jane who replied.
"Oh, Charlotte, I am glad somebody understands. While society can be wonderful in it's turn, there are times when it is a little hard to bear with fortitude."
"I thought as much. I will see what I can do to encourage people to leave. But before I go, I know that this is a hard time for all of you, but I am beginning to worry about Lizzie. I have never seen her look so ill," Charlotte said, worried.
"I know, I fear that while we all had a great love for our father, it has been Lizzie that has felt his loss the most. I simply do not know what to do for her," Jane replied.
The three women looked at Lizzie, sitting alone in a chair by the fire, unaware that she was being observed.
Charlotte interrupted the reverie. "If it pleases you, I will go see what I can do about suggesting to people that they should leave. After all, many have young children and business matters that they desperately need to attend to. But, if I may stay after, and talk to Lizzie? Perhaps she will feel better after I have come."
"Thankyou Charlotte, of course you may. But I have already tried talking to her, and she will not answer. Yet you were such good friends, perhaps you will do her good."
Charlotte smiled and moved away through the people clustering around. Jane sighed.
"I don't know what's to become of any of us," she said to her sister.

It was not five minutes later when Mr Collins asked for the attention of all gathered in the room.
"My dear friends," he began. "Today it is with sorrow that we say goodbye to our beloved friend, Edward Bennet. He was a good man, if a little eccentric, and will be sorely missed. My esteemed patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh has informed me that the loss of a father is the worst misfortune that can befall a family, aside from the loss of virtue in a daughter."
All eyes in the room turned to Lydia, and she blushed but held her head high under their gaze.
It was at this point that Mrs Collins, seeing the discomfort and shame of the Bennets, attempted to halt her husbands speech.
"Well, my dear, I think that…"
"But to be sure, we all grieve with Mrs and the Miss Bennets on their severe lack of fortune during the past months," again, he directed a very pointed look towards Lydia, "and I am sure that we all, as their dear friends, sympathise. Lady Catherine de Bourgh too, very kindly and compassionately, bids me to offer to you her condolences, and she has brought it to my attention that this house and the estate will bring to you and your family only the saddest of rememberances. So she has suggested to me, with only your wellbeing in mind, that I, in the service of my dear relatives, help you to remove yourselves from this dwelling immediately, within the next week, so that your hearts may heal in the peaceful assylum ina a house not filled with so many sad memories."

At Mr Collins' words, a gasp went up from those assembled. Mrs Bennet nearly fainted, the girls could only look with shock upon Mr Collins, and the men began to mutter menacingly at the gall of the man to throw a penniless widow and her daughters from their home before their father was cold in his grave. Mr Collins, however, was oblivious to this, and felt quite proud of himself for his speech. He believed that Lady Catherine would be very pleased with him. Mrs Collins, however, was another story altogether.
It was four weeks before she could bring herself to talk to him again, another two months before his dinner was brought hot to him, and an added half year complete before she once again shared his bed. It may have been more if Mr Collins had not been prevailed upon by his wife, his father in law and two angry, rich gentlemen, one being the nephew of his esteemed patroness, the other being held in everybody's good opinion, to allow the Bennets to have at least a month before being forced onto the streets.

To the Bennets, however, such punishments and extensions were almost useless. Upon finding out that they were destitute, Mrs Bennet was rendered incapable of any coherent thought or action, and the rest of the girls hardly knew what to do. Lizzie continued her walks, but had reduced herself to only one spoonful of porridge in the morning to sustain her for the day's excercise. Jane, Lydia and Kitty knew not where to start to even begin to economise and find a place to stay. It was Mary who began enquiries and reduced unecessary spending, though despite her best efforts, there was nothing to be found anywhere that the Bennets could afford. Neighbours gave their apologies, moneylenders sympathised but could do nothing. All too soon, the month was nearly over, with no words form Mrs Bennet, no house, little money, no prospects and the health of the second daughter deteriorating every day.

A/N: Review please!! Flames are fine, as long as it's constructive. I'm always looking to improve!