3

Her first night at Pemberley returned feelings of dread tugging on Elizabeth’s courage. The setting sun reminded her of the terrors yet to come.

When Mr. Darcy escorted her to the customary suite for the mistress of the house, it was the second time she ventured into the country-rose-accented rooms for the day. He once more demonstrated the adjoining door between their rooms, much as they had enjoyed at his London town home.

As Elizabeth stood next to the bed, she shifted her weight between her feet and wrung her hands behind her back.

“Dearest? If there is anything that makes you uncomfortable please speak, for I should hate to see our home disappoint you.”

Elizabeth responded with a hollow laugh. “How on earth might this house disappoint even the King?”

She stretched her face into a ghoulish vision that broke through the awkwardness stifling the room. Fitzwilliam enjoyed a laugh and crossed the distance between them to offer the affection of an embrace. Elizabeth pressed the side of her face against his chest and closed her eyes, to feel a wave of security steady her agonized nerves. A gentle sway developed between the couple, as neither wished to release the other, but it was Fitzwilliam who slowly began to lessen his grip first. Her small hands gripped his lapels and did not allow much space to develop between them.

“Please, do not go. I wish to be brave; I tell myself I must be brave. But I fear that another strange house with another strange bed will make my nightmares return.”

“Elizabeth.”

“Please.”

Her pleading eyes welled with tears. She tilted her chin up, and her dashing beau leaned down to press a gentle kiss upon her lips. Their kiss deepened, and both parties shared a slight moan before, once again, Fitzwilliam pulled away first.

“It is different now that we are at Pemberley. I should dearly love to never spend a single night out of your company–”

“Then do not.” Elizabeth interrupted.

“It is not as simple as you think,” he tried to explain.

Elizabeth tilted her head to one side as her stubbornness began to rise at the declaration. “Pardon me, but are you not master of this great estate? And may not the master do as he pleases?” She tempered her impertinence with a minxish smile. But Fitzwilliam slowly shook his head.

“It is a complicated system of expectations that keeps Pemberley running smoothly. Like all great houses, my family has been marred with scandal in more than one generation, but my father and mother made enormous efforts to restore our dignity. And now with my sister…” he trailed off.

Fitzwilliam squinted to hold his emotions at bay, and the slightest indication of the previous year’s stress appeared in the deeper creases at the corners of his eyes. Elizabeth pressed the side of her face against his chest again, signaling Fitzwilliam to wrap his arms around her.

“It does not all fall upon your shoulders.” Her voice took on a deepness commensurate to her claim. “It cannot. It will not,” she ended in a whispered promise.

A brief silence filled the room as Darcy and Elizabeth slowly released each other, and both found occupation by glancing in different directions. So much had passed between them since the day Mr. Darcy’s horse forced Elizabeth to leap off the road into a gully of rocks, and yet nothing but the finality of a wedding ceremony could provide them sanctuary from the trials and tribulations of life.

“I should let you prepare for bed. Would you like me to summon your maid?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I already spoke with Betsy, and my things are laid out.” Elizabeth gestured toward the shift and robe draped elegantly across the crimson bedspread with gold thread embroidery in the quilting.

Fitzwilliam slowly began to back away when Elizabeth’s attention snapped to his movement, and she glared at him.

“You may only retreat to that room, sir, if you intend to return.” Elizabeth’s hands naturally found a position on her hips to emphasize her point.

“Not yet even a wife and playing the shrew already?” Fitzwilliam teased.

“I mean it; you may not abandon me to this enormous room with any number of monsters under the bed.” The mention of such childish things made both smirk, and neither was angry with the other. Sighing, Elizabeth finally offered a compromise.

“If you will not spend the entire evening in my arms, will you at least read to me so that I may go to sleep with happy memories?”

Another stab of inadequacy caught in Darcy’s throat as he lowered himself into a slight bow, and could only give the woman of his dreams a proper answer in the affirmative. Her compromise won out, Fitzwilliam readied for bed in his chambers and returned with a book of sonnets.

---

Although the future bride and groom attempted a shade of propriety by sleeping separately, it was but two hours into her slumber when Elizabeth woke in a screaming fit that brought Fitzwilliam hurriedly to the door adjoining their rooms. She tossed and turned in the darkness, and only his firm touch could rouse her from the mental anguish her cousin still wrought.

“My darling, my darling, you’re safe. I was a fool for making you sleep alone!” Mr. Darcy tucked Elizabeth into his arms as he sat on the edge of her bed. Though she had long recovered from her injuries, to him she always felt so inordinately small, a crumple of elbows and knees. He held her tightly to offer comfort while her body wracked with sobs.

“It is my fault; I am the one–” Elizabeth sniffled. “I am the one incapable of sleeping regularly.” She continued to cry as Darcy shushed and rocked her back and forth in an attempt to soothe her.

After a few moments her crying became no longer urgent, just a mere echo of the screams and yells from the height of her nightmare. Darcy pressed a firm kiss against the top of her head as Elizabeth slowly began to unfold herself to take a place next to him.

“Fitzwilliam?”

His husky voice answered her query.

“Yes?”

They settled into a sleeping position like spoons nestled in a drawer.

“I have changed my mind. I want him to suffer as I do. I want revenge.” Elizabeth’s voice came in a distinct tone Mr. Darcy had not heard from her lips up to this point.

Taking a deep breath and inhaling the comforting lavender scent of his Lizzie, Darcy grinned as she shimmied her shoulders against his chest to find a comfortable spot.

“I am happy to hear you say as much. I already took the liberty of putting such a scheme in place as we speak.”