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He shifted in the chair, once more leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands coming together in an agitated manner as he rotated the signet ring on his finger.

“Your mother’s grief over the death of her favorite child was expected, but your father’s grief was beyond the pale.

He lost weight because he refused to eat.

He would sit in his book room and do nothing all day – not even his favorite books could bring him comfort.

Bingley and I went to visit him when Mary wrote of her concern for his health, and what we found was a shell of a man.

We were there only two days when he suffered an episode that left his one side paralyzed.

Though the doctor said the malady could eventually be overcome with much work from your father, he did not have the will to go on. Within the week we buried him.”

Elizabeth drew her hands up to her lips as tears filled her eyes and began their course down her cheeks.

She felt a handkerchief pressed into her fingers.

She found relief in the tears, and for a long time she let them fall freely, soaking them up with the fine cloth.

When finally they began to dry up, she whispered, “What of my mother? What of Longbourn?”

“As you know, your father’s cousin, Mr Collins, was to inherit Longbourn upon the demise of your father due to the entail upon the land.

He took possession immediately, and Charles and I hardly had time to remove your mother and her belongings from the residence.

We purchased a cottage for her right outside of Meryton, closer to her sister Mrs Philips’ side of town.

She has taken the loss of your father much easier than we thought, especially after how deeply she grieved for your sister Lydia.

I pray Mary’s fortitude remains, as she is now the recipient of most of your mother’s attentions.

We have lately been discussing moving your mother here to the dower house, but a decision has not been fully made yet.

” He sat back in the chair. “And that is a full account of your family – well, other than Jane, who, as you know, has married Charles Bingley and is now living a few miles south of Pemberley.” He smiled.

“They are completely besotted with each other and life, as only those two can be.”

She dabbed at the corner of her eye, “Thank you. I do so appreciate that you have told me all that you have.”

“I hope it has not been too distressing for you.” He looked down at his lap.

“Jane would kill me if something caused you to have the same malady that took your father from us.” He looked up to her warm brown eyes.

“Your sister has been a paragon of fortitude during this last month and a half. I could not have endured without her here.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks burned red as she thought of all this man had gone through with the possible loss of his wife, then to have her awaken and not even remember being married.

He was certainly not the austere Mr Darcy she remembered from Netherfield Park.

He was more relaxed and certainly more forthcoming with conversation.

Was this the man he had been all along, or had he changed during the years of their marriage?

Did he change before they even married? After all, she could not fathom marrying the Mr Darcy she knew from his time at Netherfield when he visited Mr Bingley. If only she remembered…

He interrupted her thoughts, “If that is all, I have a promise to fulfill and I must leave you for now.”

She nodded, “I thank you, yes, that is all.” When he stood, she asked, “What promise is it you have made?”

The corners of his lips lifted and he replied, “I promised to join our son in a battle of snowballs against Charles and his sons, Henry and David, and my cousin Fitz. We are to meet in the garden at ten, and.” he said, pulling the pocket watch from his waistcoat, “it is nearly that now.” He closed the watch and placed it back in the pocket.

“If you wish to see the battle, we will be right outside your window in the garden below.”

She smiled. “I would like that very much.”

“I shall set you up to view it then,” He said as he moved the chair he had just vacated over near the window. He returned to Elizabeth’s side and lifted her in his arms so quickly that Elizabeth shrieked at the unexpected movement. “I am sorry,” he whispered.

His face was so near hers that she could feel the hot breath escape his lips.

His eyes bore into hers. It unsettled her in the pit of her stomach.

She could not miss the longing his eyes revealed…

longing for his wife… longing for her . As much as she wished to remember, she could not, and the look in his eyes would plague her the rest of the day and long into the night.

She awoke the following morning with bleary eyes from her lack of sleep, and Jane insisted she take a drought to help her rest more soundly.

As much as she wished she did not need it, she knew she required rest, so she acquiesced to her sister and took the bitter tasting medicine, and soon she was fast asleep.

Her dreams were so chaotic – going from extreme grief over the details of her family’s situation to the other extreme of the love she saw in Mr Darcy’s eyes.

Love for her. She was not certain she was ready to accept her role as his wife.

She was uncertain if she even loved him.

It was absolutely clear though that he loved her with all his heart.

Darcy did not know what had gotten into him.

He knew Elizabeth did not have any memories of being his wife, but his arms longed to hold her, and so, when given the opportunity, he jumped at it, lifting her out of her chair to take her across the room to the seat by the window.

Being so close to her lips was almost more than he could bear, especially knowing he could not kiss those lips.

The woman he held in his arms was not his wife, Mrs Elizabeth Darcy.

She was Miss Elizabeth Bennet, a maiden whom he had insulted in the most ungentlemanly manner upon their introduction.

It had been years since he had remembered the aching in his chest at the thought of his own haughty words the night of the Meryton Assembly – She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me.

It was many years now that she was certainly very tempting to him, and although he had won her forgiveness and affection, she now did not remember either.

She only remembered the insult. Now, when given a small opportunity to prove his love toward her, he acted as a brute instead of the gentleman his parents had expected him to always be.

Darcy quickly left her sitting at the window and went to dress for his outing with their son.

When he was sufficiently dressed, he looked to the door that separated his bedchamber from hers.

How he longed to walk confidently through that door and kiss his wife as she deserved.

How he longed to draw her into his arms and rest his forehead against hers, looking into her beautiful brown eyes.

How he longed to sit with her curled beside him as they discussed the affairs of life as a couple madly in love often do.

How he longed for his Elizabeth to return to him.

His chest began to ache, and he knew he would have to distance himself from her.

He knew she was not ready to be his wife again.

He would refrain from visiting her unless she called for him, which he did not expect her to do any time soon.

The look of pity in her eyes was not what he wished to see.

He longed to see the look of love that she used to give to him freely.

He only hoped that she would soon remember their love.