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Pemberley, Derbyshire

A sudden jolt made him open his weary eyes.

It took him a few seconds to realize his arm had fallen off the chair causing him to awaken.

He repositioned himself, turning more fully into the corner of the large wingback seat that had become his only means of any meager sleep these last few weeks.

Even though the exhaustion was unbearable, he knew inwardly he would not sleep again soundly anytime soon.

Fitzwilliam Darcy looked towards the large bed that dominated this side of the room, his eyes taking in the pale form of his wife of five years as she lay motionless between the covers.

Her dark tresses that he loved to run his fingers through were splayed out against the pale color of her pillow.

The crisp white sheets were pulled up to her chin and tucked in all around her still body.

Even in the dim candlelight he could see how pallid her features were.

With shaking fingers, he reached out to touch her hand.

His heart hoped she would respond, but there was nothing.

No response. She did not move. Her fingers lay limp in his hand.

His heart broke, just as it had each and every time he had reached for her hand over the last twenty-two days just to find it unresponsive.

Will you ever awaken, my love? That thought had become his constant companion – his heart’s plea and his fervent prayer.

He wound their fingers together, bringing her hand up to place a kiss upon the back of her knuckles. The strained whisper he often repeated came out raggedly through parched lips. “Please, my darling Elizabeth, come back to me.”

A gentle knock on the door interrupted the moment, but Darcy knew it was for the best. “Enter,” he called out.

“I thought you might need to stretch,” the solid voice of his cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam, encroached upon the quiet of the room.

“No, I am well enough in here.” He gently placed his wife’s hand back on the bed.

Then he stood and walked over to the window, drawing the curtains back in a subdued motion.

The sun was just beginning to come up over the horizon and the gardens and fields of Pemberley’s land— his land —would soon awaken to a new day with new opportunities.

He felt his cousin’s strong hand on his shoulder as Fitz joined him at the window.

“Will today be the day?” Darcy asked, his voice cracking with emotion.

“I know not—but we must be prepared for whatever is to come. What do you need, Darcy?”

“ I need my wife. ”

“I know,” was all Fitz could quietly say to his cousin’s anguished words.

The two stood beside each other in silence for untold minutes and watched as the sun slowly rose into the sky, taking the fog that had settled over the land with it and revealing the snow that had fallen overnight.

Finally, they stepped away from the window. Darcy walked slowly back to his chair while Fitz strode towards the door, just as had become their custom every morning.

“Fitz?”

He turned back. “Yeah, Darcy?”

“Thank you.”

Fitz gave a nod and quietly stepped from the room, latching the door and leaving the couple alone once again.

Darcy stretched his arms over his head, arching his back in hopes of the kinks being released, however, it did no good. His back had been sore for far too long, and he doubted very much if that would change anytime soon.

Today would at least be a change from the conventional. His sister was to visit. She, along with her husband, would only stay for a few short hours though, as they had a long journey still ahead of them to return to their home further north.

Darcy sighed heavily. Even in the midst of this tragedy his heart rejoiced with his sister’s recovery.

It was at Georgiana’s bedside in London just three weeks ago that he sat when the express from Bingley had come saying Elizabeth was in an accident and he must return home.

He left his sister’s side, not knowing if she would make it through the difficult delivery of her first child.

He received word just days after his return that he was now an uncle to a beautiful baby girl, Anne, named after their mother.

Today he was to be introduced to his new niece.

He shook his head in disbelief that Georgiana, his baby sister, was now a mother.

She was the same age their own mother had been when he was born, yet in his mind Georgiana would always be the sweet little girl who would crawl up onto his lap and ask for a story about their parents – stories she treasured, as they had passed on before she was of an age to really remember much of either of them.

While she had some vague memories of their father, Anne Darcy had died giving birth to Georgiana.

Darcy always loved telling his sister stories of their dear sweet mother.

Ahhh, their mother. She was so lovely, and Georgiana was very much like her.

Lady Anne Fitzwilliam fell madly in love with George Darcy during her first Season, but he wanted nothing to do with her.

Instead he was seen gallivanting all around London, dancing with any debutante who turned his eye for two seconds, promenading with a different lady every day in the park, turning the pages for every musical lady in the drawing rooms nearly every evening, and generally avoiding the little sister of his closest friend and neighbor, The Honourable Hugh Fitzwilliam.

The next year Lady Anne was determined to avoid him just as he had avoided her the previous year, but when she arrived in London everything changed.

George Darcy was visiting his friend when she arrived. He watched as the gorgeous blonde stepped down from the carriage. He was so taken aback at her beauty that he elbowed his friend in the ribs, asking who the striking beauty was.

“You do not remember my sister, Anne?” he asked in response to his awe-struck friend.

It was from that moment on that George Darcy gave her his every attention, and Anne’s decision to ignore him quickly melted away, giving rise to romantic adulations that quickly pierced the hearts of both.

By the end of summer the two were married and living at Pemberley, George Darcy’s family home.

While Pemberley was an enormous estate, and thus had a large income, there was one thing it had lacked in each generation of Darcys since nearly two hundred years before when the grand estate had been built—a longstanding mistress.

That is not to say the mistresses did not care for it properly while they were able to do so.

Indeed, each did their best. However, the Mistresses of Pemberley in each generation did not live long enough to leave many marks upon the estate.

Just as in the past generations, Anne Darcy died young.

Fitzwilliam Darcy was only twelve years of age when his mother delivered his baby sister, giving her own life in exchange.

They thought the babe would not live either, but she pulled through and began to grow strong.

She was named in memory of the love her two parents held for each other, a combination of their two names, George and Anne—Georgiana.

George Darcy’s heart never fully recovered from losing his wife.

He retreated into his own quiet world of grief, not going to London any longer and only receiving guests when they were his closest friends.

No one else dared show up at the door as it was well known he would refuse them entrance.

He had once even refused entrance to his wife’s only sister, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

George found her to be overbearing and had grown weary of hearing her espouse that her own daughter should be married to his son Fitzwilliam.

His boy was not even out of school yet, and she was already planning their children’s names.

And so, when she arrived uninvited to Pemberley, he refused to even allow her entrance into the park.

When she was turned away by the steward she swore revenge upon George Darcy, but she was never able to deliver that revenge during his lifetime.

George Darcy lived only until his son came to the age of two and twenty, then his sorrow overtook him and, while taken ill, he lost the will to fight.

He died, leaving his son the lands that had been in their family for generations, and leaving his precious daughter’s care to his son, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and his nephew, Richard Fitzwilliam.

So it was that the next generation of Darcys took over the vast lands and fortune of Pemberley.

It was several years before he found the person he wished to marry, and the story of how it came to be was one for the books, with his insulting her upon their first meeting and her refusal of his first proposal.

There were lessons of pride and prejudices to be learned by both, but eventually he won her heart and the two were joined in holy matrimony in November of 1812, right alongside his best friend, Charles Bingley, and Elizabeth’s eldest sister, Jane.

The double wedding was the pride of Mrs Bennet’s existence.

The Darcy family was blessed with the birth of their first child – a son – during the first year of their marriage.

James Bennet Darcy was the golden child of Pemberley—spoiled by his parents and the staff alike.

Though the cause was unknown, it seemed the Darcy’s were not to be blessed with another child in the years since James’ birth.

He was now almost four years of age, his birthday being in just a few short weeks.