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Elizabeth heard the door latch, then she felt the bed move and giggles escape from a child.

“Shhh, Papa says we mustn’t be loud or she’ll be waked up.”

She felt someone lift her hand and soon realized there was a child giving her a hug. She slowly opened her eyes and saw the cutest little blonde headed child cuddling up to her side and a dark-haired boy sitting near her feet. “Hello,” she said, startling the two.

“Mama!” The young girl shouted as she threw herself on top of Elizabeth, causing her to lose her breath.

The door opened and Jane entered, saying, “You two are not supposed to be in here. Your nurse is looking for you.”

“But look, Aunt Jane – Mama waked up! She waked up! My kiss worked!”

Jane went to Elizabeth’s bed and lifted the girl into her arms, saying to the boy, “Your Papa said he would bring you in here later, but for now you had best go and join your cousins in the nursery.”

“Wait,” Elizabeth called out. “I wish to be introduced, if it is all right?”

Jane turned, looking at her sister before she walked back over to the bed and sat Rose down. “This is Rose, and this here,” she ruffled the hair of the boy beside her, “is James.”

James smiled ruefully at his aunt, “She knows who I am, Aunt Jane.”

Jane leaned down to whisper into his ear, “Actually, your Mama does not remember. Her injury took her memories from her.”

The whispered tone of his aunt made James regulate his voice as well, though his whisper was still quite vocal. “You mean you do not remember me? Or Rose? What about Papa? No one could forget him!”

Elizabeth chuckled. “No, I do remember your Papa, but I do not remember being married to him. The doctor says my head was injured, and my memory has not yet fully returned.”

He crawled up onto the bed and over to her. He ran his index finger over her forehead, an expression of concern on his features. “Does it hurt?”

“A little,” she replied.

He nodded, then said with confidence, “My Papa will fix it. He always fixes my hurts with a kiss. I will go get him so he can kiss you and fix your hurt,” he said as he jumped down from the bed and ran from the room.

Jane chuckled, “I am sorry Lizzy. He does not understand.”

She waved her hand, “I know.” She then turned her attention to the girl who sat on the bed beside her. “And who might you be?”

The girl boldly replied, “I am Rose.”

“Well, hello there Rose. How old are you?”

The girl lifted her hand, trying to hold up the correct number of fingers, and replied, “I am two.”

“Wow! Two! Such a big girl.” Elizabeth was immediately silenced when the girl flung herself into her arms, hugging her neck so tightly that she could hardly breathe.

She drew her arms around the small frame and closed her eyes, letting the child receive and give the affection they both needed.

Elizabeth breathed in deeply the smell of roses she so adored.

Someone had washed the girl’s hair in rose water.

The familiar scent along with the hug calmed her spirit.

She opened her eyes when the girl let go, to find that Mr Darcy was now standing in the doorway, James’ hand in his.

He let go of his hand when James came bounding into the room, remaining at the door.

“Mama, I telled Papa about your head. He has to kiss it now so you can be better.”

Darcy’s face reddened and he started to step into the room, “James, I do not think…”

Elizabeth raised her hand to stay his words, then turned to smile at the boy. “Thank you. I am certain your Papa will help any way he can.”

James ran back, grabbing Darcy’s hand and pulling him closer to the bed. “Come on Papa, you have to kiss Mama.”

Darcy let himself be pulled closer to the bed, but he still stood a few feet away.

“James, perhaps now it would be best if we let your Mama eat something. I am sure she is hungry. Perhaps you could go down to the kitchen and tell cook that we would like a tray brought up.” He looked sternly at the boy, “Remember, do not run through the halls.” He stooped down to his son’s level and said quietly, “If you are good, perhaps cook will give you a biscuit or two to share with your sister.”

James ran to the door, then suddenly stopped and turned, saying with a downtrodden face, “Sowwy Papa – I forgot,” then he turned and walked quickly out of the room, his arms swinging forcefully as he left to do as he was bid.

Darcy chuckled and was nearly knocked off balance by Rose bounding into his arms for a hug.

“Papa!” she cried, bringing her arms tightly around his neck as he bent down.

He returned the hug and stood, then nodded to Elizabeth, saying, “I apologize. We will leave you now.” With that he turned and took Rose out with him.

Elizabeth watched as he walked away, with Rose’s arms latched tightly around his neck.

The girl peered over his shoulder at her, smiling in a manner that reminded her so very much of the girl’s mother, her sister Lydia.

She returned the smile and Rose lifted her hand to wave her fingers as they disappeared through the doorway.

Elizabeth woke with a start – her brow wet with perspiration at the intensity of the dream she had.

A chill ran down her back that nearly matched the chill that the room held as the fire had gone out overnight.

It must be very near time for the maid to come and stir the coals.

She sat up and reached for a handkerchief that lay on the table beside the bed.

With it she mopped her brow, wiping away the beads of sweat.

She had dreamt she was in a cold and dark place and could not get away from the grip of deep darkness that held her.

What was so frightening was that she felt it was real, not just a random dream.

She would have to ask Mr Darcy about her recovery before she awoke. There were times she was certain she would never wake, and yet she had. Those memories were fading though, except for the occasional dream like she had had tonight.

The maid entered. When she saw Mrs Darcy sitting up in the bed, she curtsied quickly and set off to tend the fire. When she had it roaring again, she gave another curtsey and exited the room, acknowledging Mrs Darcy’s lady’s maid as she entered.

“Good morning, Mrs Darcy.” She said as she crossed to help the mistress from her bed.

“Good morning…” Elizabeth cocked her head, “I am sorry, I do not re member your name.”

“Betsy, Madam.”

“Good morning, Betsy. And how long have you been here?”

She helped the mistress stand, wrapping her arm around her waist and leading her over to the fireside chair. “I have been with you since three years past.”

“Three years. Then you joined us when Miss Darcy had her debut?”

She nodded, “Yes, ma’am. Miss Darcy… that is, Mrs Stokes, made her debut when I joined you and your family. I was recommended by your aunt, Mrs Gardiner, after your previous lady’s maid became ill.”

“Oh, I hope she recovered?” Elizabeth sat in the chair and reached for the blanket to lay across her legs.

“She did recover, but it was not easy for her and she continues to feel the effects of her illness. She is now employed at Darcy House in London and takes over when you and Mr Darcy travel to town. It allows me the opportunity to see my family during that time, and the short weeks you are there do not tire her as much as being your full-time lady’s maid would.

” Betsy fluffed the pillow that she then laid on the footstool, lifting Elizabeth’s feet to rest on it. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Yes, I would like to know when Mr Darcy is available.”

“I will see to it that he knows you wish to see him.” Betsy nodded and gave a curtsey as she left the room.

Elizabeth sat in silence, looking around the room.

It was a lovely chamber. She wondered if she had chosen the fabric or if someone else had.

It looked like something she would choose.

The large bed was much more substantial a frame than she was used to at Longbourn.

It could have easily held herself and two sisters.

She and Jane had shared a bed for most of her life.

Now it seemed, being a married woman, she would naturally have shared a bed with her…

her cheeks grew warm. She had to think of something else.

Her eyes roamed around the room and landed on a bookcase in the corner.

It was filled with books of various colors.

Though she could not see the bindings from where she sat, she knew they would be her favorite tomes.

She recognized one as being a book of sonnets that someone gave her, though she could not remember who that someone was.

Certainly, it was someone of import… not her mother or father – neither of them were of the persuasion to appreciate sonnets. Could it have come from Mr Darcy?

Mr Darcy… Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy… Fitzwilliam …

Somehow that name fit him. It was a stately name, not simple like William wo uld be.

Yet it was also not overly stuffy like… well, she could not find a good example of a stuffy name at the moment, but it certainly was not and it fit the man well.

She was glad his name was not William, as the mention of that name only brought to mind her father’s cousin, Mr William Collins.

The man was a headache to be around, with his sermonizing on every subject possible and his obnoxious habits.

He bowed so low that it was a wonder he did not topple over every time.

His hygiene was not a top priority. In fact, she doubted if he bathed even once a month.

His teeth were yellow and his breath always smelled of something sour.

Her fingers rubbed against the soft wool of the quilt on her lap when she had another thought that startled her,

Almost as soon as I entered the house I singled you out as the companion of my future life.