Chapter 1

Posted on Sunday, 23 October 2005

The final chord hung loosely in the air, a fading remembrance of the music which had only moments ago filled the halls of Pemberley. Slowly, her hands slid off the ivory keys and came to rest upon her elegant, empire-waist line gown. The lace fell from the ribbon under her bust so perfectly, the dress cascading to her feet in a beautiful array of yellow and cream. It had often been noted in London society that Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy always had the most elegant clothing. 'In fact,' Mrs. Phillips had eagerly informed her friends, 'Mrs. Darcy may have anything she wants!' That much, at least, was not a false statement. She had jewels, carriages, gowns, shoes and stationary to even please her love of writing.

But all she had ever wanted was her husband.

Mrs. Bennet seemed to disregard this point entirely - seeing the large estate and her daughter's enormous wealth as the only part of the equation.

Mr. Darcy did have, of course, ten thousand pounds a year.

It had long been noted that his eldest daughter but one was the dearest to Mr. Bennet's heart. Indeed, he found Elizabeth to be a perfectly agreeable and witty child - and she had grown into such an accomplished and intelligent young lady, all in the blink of the eye. Her father felt it was only yesterday she had been climbing trees in the grounds of Longbourn, and now she was the Mistress of Pemberley, married and miles away from her childhood home - and her father.

It must be said that after the marriage of Elizabeth, Mr. Bennet spent even more of his time in library - avoiding his wife's complaints of her nerves. Though even they had grown scarcer as she saw fit to attempt to throw Mary and Kitty into the path of other rich men, leaving little time for concerns of her health.

That early afternoon, Elizabeth mused to herself about her mother's expectations for Kitty and Mary to marry well. She herself expected both girls would marry for love - just as she had.

Of course, she was in love. Completely, absolutely, ardently.

Her husband may have given her whatever she wished for, but she rarely asked for anything - except his simple presence. She had endured three days without him only a month earlier, and had wondered fiercely how she would ever be able to survive without him.

Three days had seemed an eternity.

"My love," Darcy grinned as she walked into the room, seeing his wife still sitting at the Piano Forte, "That was beautiful."

She blushed softly, not knowing he had been listening. What he did not tell her was that he had been standing outside the room the whole time - listening to the beauty of her voice filter out the crack in the door and fill the house with her magical presence.

"On the contrary." She said with a smile, rising to stand before him, her dress smoothing out to fall at her feet, distracting him by kissing him lightly, "Such a beautiful instrument does not deserve to be abused so abominably."

"You give your self no credit." He murmured against her lips, entranced by her once again.

She rendered him speechless so often that he found himself lost in her - lost in her gaze, her 'fine eyes', her playful smile...

In that moment, she flashed him that same smile - catching him in his reverie.

"And what, pray tell, were you thinking about?" Her husband was used to her teasing words - he endured them nearly every day, and always replied with something equally as witty. That day, however, he had no words to match her own and instead, bathed in her beauty, the way her words always intoxicated him so vehemently.

"You," He smiled against her lips, pulling her towards him once more, "As always ... I was thinking of you."

And no more words were said.

The rain fell across the panes of the glass signalling the beginning of the winter, and the bitter cold that would come with it - a resolute sign of time passing, and of moving forward into a new season of hope.

With the falling of the snow, there had come a renewed gratitude for the indoors - long nights of dinner parties, balls, banquets...

Elizabeth Darcy, however, saw need to give up on her love of walking and often roamed the beautiful grounds of Pemberley, now covered in a fresh layer of sparkling, white snow that glistening and shimmered from every inch of the land. She always dressed sensibly, and so saw no reason for her to remain indoors if she could be used as warm outside.

She had woken to find the sun shining and had decided that, while her husband tended to business, she would spend the morning walking part of the way to Lambton. It seemed her journey was never meant to be, and she was stopped soon after she had left Pemberley by the sound of horse fast-approaching.

"I thought I might find you here." An all-too familiar voice called out, echoing through the glade hollow, causing a smile to grow across his wife's wife.

"And may I ask what you're doing cantering after young women, Mr. Darcy?"

"I had been informed you were walking this way."

"Your sources are then correct, Sir."

"As it would seem." He stepped down off the horse, greeting her in less inconspicuous circumstances than when they had first met at Pemberley. Indeed, he greeted his wife in the only way a man violently in love can, and Elizabeth was left breathless - her cheeks glowing.

"Lovely afternoon" Her husband commented, looking around him with feigned indifference and Elizabeth grinned as he took her hand in his, and they continued to walk side-by-side through the glade, "It is a lovely afternoon, is it not?" He asked when he received no reply. With a smile, she nodded.

"More so now I should imagine." She smiled up at him, her smile quickly gracing into a merry grin as she squeezed his hand tightly in her grasp.

"Yes." He agreed, admiring her fine eyes not for the first time that day - becoming lost in her gaze of admiration "Now that I am with you."