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Though they did not yet have another child of their own, they had taken in a babe who had become as a daughter to them both.

Rose was just two years of age and had been with them since her birth, when her mother, Elizabeth’s youngest sister Lydia, did not make it.

Lydia’s husband, George Wickham, had been killed just a few months before his daughter was born, and so, the death of her mother left the child an orphan.

Lydia’s body had been laid to rest by their father, and a letter was written to Elizabeth explaining the sad news.

The Darcys immediately left for Longbourn, Elizabeth’s family estate, three days journey from Pemberley.

By the time they arrived the family was in complete disarray, with the fate of the young babe bringing on such emotional distress as to send Mrs Bennet, Elizabeth’s mother, into a fit of nerves the likes of which no one had ever seen.

The state of the house settled quite quickly when Fitzwilliam Darcy declared that he and Elizabeth would take on the care of Rose.

No one dared contradict the decision, and so Rose was taken into the Darcy family as their own.

Now, two years later, Elizabeth lay motionless in the bed – the care of their two children falling solely to the staff, as Fitzwilliam Darcy was unable to tear himself away from his wife’s bedside.

The best doctors in all of England were called in to care for Elizabeth Darcy, but nothing they did could pull the mistress from her slumbering state.

It was with bated breath that everyone waited to find out whether the same misery would befall this generation of Darcys as it had the generations passed.

Through it all her husband lingered at her side, refusing to let her go.

He would read aloud her favorite books, talk of things the two liked to discuss, and tried to encourage her to open her eyes.

Every day it became more painful for him, but he still refused to leave her side.

No matter what happened, he wished to be with her when it happened.

Three weeks of this distress. Three weeks of his heart crushing within his chest at every moment that passed. Three weeks of the agony of knowing that every minute she remained asleep was one minute longer the two were held within the grasp of a chasm between life and death.

Three weeks.

When would it end? Would it be with the tragic death of another Mistress of Pemberley?

If he had anything to say about it, he would give every ounce of his own strength to see that Elizabeth made it through this. James and Rose deserved to have their mother, and Pemberley deserved to have its mistress.

It was during this time that Fitzwilliam Darcy came to understand, more than any other time before, just why his father had given up the will to live when he became ill.

George Darcy had lived with this kind of grief for years and it was too much to bear any longer.

He needed to be with his Anne once again.

A soft knock at the door interrupted Darcy’s musings, and he realized it had been hours since his cousin had left him alone. The person knocked again and the familiar cadence made him smile. Georgiana. He stood and quickly walked to the door, opening it and embracing his sister in a crushing grasp.

Georgiana wrapped her arms around her brother’s large frame as he clung to her in a way she never expected.

Tears formed in her eyes and her heart broke.

She should have come before now to be by his side, but it was simply not possible due to her own difficult confinement.

Her doctor was not even certain she should be traveling such a distance now, but she insisted it was time they return home.

Her husband Peter knew it had more to do with the fact that Pemberley was on the way to their own home, and she needed to see her brother to be assured of his well-being.

During the journey of the better part of a week, she had thought of all the reasons they should remain at Pemberley, but every mention to her husband was quelled with his insistence that she needed to rest and they must return to their own home.

She knew he was right. If she remained here, she would be at her brother’s side constantly worrying over him.

Pemberley was not where she belonged any longer.

No, she must return to Parkwell Manor with her husband and their dear, sweet, precious baby Anne.

Finally Darcy released his sister’s much smaller frame, apologizing for his rash reaction.

She lifted her hand to cup his cheek, the rough hair from days without shaving were felt even through her glove. “Fitzwilliam, what do you need? I am here for you, so please tell me what you need.”

“I am well enough,” he replied quietly.

“Your cheeks are hollow; your eyes are sunken in and dark. Fitz says you are not eating. He says even Mrs Bingley cannot convince you to take some broth.” She stepped back and looked over his body.

“Your clothing is hanging off of you as if they belong to someone else. You must not let yourself go like this. You must eat something. Let me call for Mrs Reynolds to have cook prepare your favorite meal.”

“No, I could not eat at this time.”

“Oh, Fitzwilliam, you know Elizabeth would not wish you to be like this. She would always wish good health upon you.”

He gave a wan smile, remembering the promise his wife had once extracted from him when she was ill a few years before and he refused any food.

She insisted upon his word that he would not distress her so in the future and would care for his needs while she was on the mend.

Darcy sighed aloud. “I will eat, but only if you join me in here.”

Georgiana smiled, “I will.” She turned to nod at Mrs Reynolds, who awaited the signal that the Master of Pemberley would finally take a meal. The housekeeper looked relieved as she turned and made her way below stairs to speak with the cook.

Georgiana entered the room and removed her spencer and gloves, laying them on the chair beside the door.

She walked over to the table that held a vase with Elizabeth’s favorite roses in it.

They were old and the dark petals were falling off the stems, so she gathered the petals in her hand and placed them into the bowl Elizabeth kept on her dressing table just for petals such as these.

She would often make scented oils and water with the flowers her husband routinely picked for her.

“Fitzwilliam?” When her brother turned towards her, she continued. “You have not kept your promise to Elizabeth to replenish these flowers. After we eat, you must accompany me to the greenhouse. We cannot have Elizabeth awaken to such a dreadful sight as this. You know she would not be pleased. ”

“I… I have not left her side.”

“I know; Fitz told us. We will be just outside though.” She walked over to him and wound her arm through his, leading him over to the window.

“Just out there in the greenhouse,” she pointed to the glass enclosed feature that dominated that portion of the garden.

“That is all I ask of you. We can even take the back servant’s stairs if you wish to not walk all the way around from the front entrance. ”

The barren garden below reminded him of the sorrow within his chest. Then his eyes came to rest on the greenhouse in which Elizabeth kept her favorite flowers.

The hothouse would give Elizabeth just what she desired all year long, and Fitzwilliam had gifted it to her just a few years before.

Since then she could often be found in the enclosure on these cold wintery days.

He knew he would find the perfect flowers within the glass walls to brighten her features when she did awaken.

After a large intake of breath, he finally said, “Five minutes.”

“Yes, we will quickly pick the flowers and you can be back at her side in just five minutes.” When she felt his arm relax a little more, she said quietly, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me care for you during the few short hours I am able to be here at Pemberley.”

He reached around her shoulders and pulled her close to his side, resting his chin on the top of her head as the siblings stood by the window looking out across the snow-covered lands below.

“You must meet my darling Anne as well,” Georgiana said quietly. “She is simply gorgeous; the most precious babe.”

Darcy heard in his sister’s voice that she needed him to do this for her, so he willingly gave in. “Perhaps a few minutes longer then, but we must eat in here.”

“Yes, we will eat in here first.”

Mrs Reynolds returned with their meal in record time. It was clear that the staff had the food prepared for just the opportunity when their master would agree to take sustenance.

Darcy ate what he could, but it was not much.

When his sister was satisfied that he had done his best, she pulled her spencer on and picked up the basket Elizabeth often used when gathering flowers, then turned towards her brother who stood beside his wife’s bed looking down at her near-lifeless form. “Are you ready?”

With a heavy sigh, he lifted Elizabeth’s hand to his lips, placed a tender kiss upon it, and smoothed the blanket before he laid it back down on the bed once again.

“I promise to return in just a few minutes,” he said lovingly.

He then turned to the maid who stood quietly in the corner.

“Do what you must while I am gone,” he said.

She acknowledged with a nod and Fitzwilliam linked his arm through Georgianna’s and the two left the room, latching the door quietly behind them.