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There was someone beside her. She could hear his deep voice, but who was he? Now there was a tinkling voice – much younger, and obviously a female, but again she did not recognize it.

Everything was dark. Why could she not see anything? She tried to open her eyes, but nothing could compel them to do as she desired.

In exhaustion, she finally gave up, slipping back into the sleep that held her captive.

After picking some flowers, and spending a few minutes with his family and getting to meet his new niece, Darcy reentered his wife’s bedchamber. Georgiana was right behind him with Elizabeth’s basket, and the two went to the table where the vase sat.

Darcy pulled out the chair and sat down heavily, his elbows on the table and head held in his hands. “What am I to do if she… if she does not…?” His voice faltered and he could not finish the sentence. Georgiana’s gentle touch to his shoulder made him lift his eyes to hers.

“All will be well, Fitzwilliam. Even if the worst befalls Pemberley, we will endure this together. It is not the first tragedy, and I dare say it will not be the last we shall face in our lifetime.”

He nodded his head, “Yes, as you say, we will endure this together.” He folded his arms on the table and laid his forehead down on them wearily.

Georgiana went to the window and unlatched it, opening it to let the cool breeze filter into the stale room.

She held the vase out and emptied the old water before walking back to the dressing table for a cloth.

After wiping the vase clean, she filled it with water again, and began to arrange the flowers in a becoming manner.

When she had completed her task, she placed the vase in the middle of the table and gathered the old stems into Elizabeth’s basket, setting it aside for the maid to dispose of later.

Then she leaned down and kissed her brother’s rough cheek, “Come, Fitzwilliam—you must rest.” She urged him to stand.

“No, no – I do not want to leave her side.”

“Very well; then allow me to do what I must to see to your own comfort.”

At his nod of acceptance, she went to the wall and pulled the cord, then stepped out into the hall to await the housekeeper, Mrs Reynolds.

Darcy was sitting in the wingback chair at his wife’s side when Georgiana and Mrs Reynolds returned, the housekeeper directing two footmen, as quietly as she could, with the moving of some of the furnishings.

“Yes, that sofa must go. Put it in the hallway for now. No, no, the table is remaining. Do not forget that,” she said to one footman as she pointed to a small footstool. Her directions were carried out quickly and efficiently.

When there was room enough, the footmen then entered with a small bed frame and placed it where the housekeeper directed, near the windows.

Georgiana went to her brother’s side, “This might not be the most comfortable bed for someone of your stature, but it was the only one we could move through the doorway without making too much fuss. I saw it in the nursery when I went up with Anne. I explained to James that his daddy needed to rest on it, and he was most eager to allow us to bring it in here.” She smiled, “He is so very much like his mother.”

Darcy nodded, “Yes, he has her intelligent eyes.” He chuckled, “You should hear some of the things he says to me when we are sitting here. He is so very inquisitive.” Darcy continued to watch the activity as he held tight to his wife’s hand.

“I am glad to hear that you and he are able to find solace together during these trying days.”

When the mattress had been placed upon the frame, Mrs Reynolds shooed the others from the room and took over the duty of preparing the bed for her master herself.

The sheets were laid out and tucked in, layer upon layer, just how he liked the bed in his own chamber to be arranged.

Her final touch was to spread a quilt out, with a knitted blanket on top.

It was one Lady Anne Darcy had knitted for her son when he was a young lad, and it was just the loving gesture her master needed at this time.

Her task now complete, Mrs Reynolds looked at the two and nodded, then quietly took her leave of the room.

Georgiana reached for her brother’s hand that still held fast to Elizabeth’s. She squeezed it, then said to him, “It is time you rest.”

He lovingly looked at his wife’s peaceful visage for a long minute before he released his hold on her and stood to let his sister lead him over to the small cot.

When he sat on the edge, she leaned down to give him one last embrace. “I will see you again soon. I promise. If you need anything, please write to me. Peter and I can return if that is what you wish.”

“No, I would not want to hinder your own recovery. I am certain she will awaken at any time now and all this will quickly be put behind us.”

“James has extracted a promise for us to return for his birthday celebration. So we will see you both again in a few weeks’ time.” She patted his shoulder, “Be sure to write to me when she awakens.” Georgiana kissed his cheek and took her leave.

When he was alone once again, he removed his boots and went to the window to ensure it was latched tightly.

He stoked the embers in the fireplace, placing more coals onto the grate and building up the flames.

When he was satisfied with having done as much as he could do, he returned to the small bed and laid down, cuddling beneath the blankets his mother had made him so many years ago.

He could feel her arms around him as he finally allowed sleep to overtake his weary body.

Darcy’s eyes opened and he saw his sister-in-law standing beside Elizabeth’s bed.

She was gently doing what she and Mrs Reynolds had been doing now for three weeks – giving his wife some nourishment.

It was a painstakingly slow process. The two would spend hours each day spooning broth into his wife’s mouth in small amounts.

Too much, and it would just trickle right back out again causing a mess of her bedclothes and the sheets.

Over time, the two had learned just how to best achieve the desired results.

He sat up and Jane turned to look his direction. “Good evening, Fitzwilliam.”

He rubbed his eyes and stretched his back. “It is evening already?”

“Yes; you have been sleeping since your sister left yesterday.”

“Yesterday! How could I sleep so long?”

“My guess would be that Georgianna had your food dosed with something,” she said in her sweet tone.

Darcy groaned, “That sounds like something she would do.”

“Mrs Reynolds thought you would awaken soon. She has your man awaiting you in your dressing room with water for a bath heated.”

He stood, scratching the beard that was beginning to form nicely on his chin, “Yes, perhaps it is time I get cleaned up.”

“Exactly – you do not want to have your wife awaken to such a frightful sight,” she said with a little hint of mirth.

He chuckled, “No… no, that would not do.” He stood. “Thank you,” he said to his sister-in-law, then left the room.

He bathed as quickly as he could, but when it came to his man shaving his face the task was a little more involved than usual due to the length of the hair beginning to form a nice beard along his jaw.

When he was finally able to return to his wife’s side, he was anxious to hear if anything had changed.

Jane was sitting in a rocking chair on the other side of the bed, quietly knitting and rocking, just as she had done for many hours during these last few weeks.

Darcy walked over to Elizabeth’s side and looked at her face. He drew his finger across her cheek, removing a lock of hair that had fallen there. Her cheeks had just a bit more color, and he said as much to Jane.

“Yes, I noticed that as well. It is a good sign.”

“Has the doctor been to see her today?” he asked as he drew the wingback chair as close as he could to the bedside and sat down.

“This morning he came, but he did not remain long. There was nothing new he could say of her situation. We simply must remain hopeful that Elizabeth will awaken very soon. He did say though that the longer she remains asleep, the less likely it is that she will…,” she could not finish the sentence as her voice caught in her throat and tears began to gather in her bright blue eyes.

“Yes, I understand,” Darcy said quietly. “We will hope where no one else has the strength to do so.”

“Exactly; you and I must continue to do so for Elizabeth’s sake.” Jane stood, laying her project in the basket beside the chair. “It is time I checked on the little ones in the nursery.”

“I am certain Rose is already asleep, but will you please have James brought down to see his mother?”

“Yes, of course,” she replied and left the room.

Darcy had a few minutes alone, so he reached for Elizabeth’s hand and, taking it in both of his, began doing what he had often found himself doing these last few weeks – praying.

He had pleaded and cried and bargained with God, and yet his wife still lay motionless in this bed.

Today though, his prayers changed. Today he began to thank the Lord for giving him the strength to continue on for as long as Elizabeth needed him by her side.

He heard his son’s familiar knock at the door and ended his prayer before calling out for James to enter.

Mrs Reynolds held tightly to the boy’s hand as she gave him a warning, “Now remember, we must be very quiet when we visit your mother.”

“Yes’m,” James said to the housekeeper. When he saw that his father was sitting in his usual chair, he quickly ran across the room and climbed onto his lap, his tiny arms giving Darcy the biggest hug the soon-to-be four-year-old could accomplish for such a large man as his father.

Darcy loved his son. Just like Elizabeth, James knew instinctively just what he needed. Darcy clung to his son until the boy finally loosened his grip and began to pull away. “Thank you, son.” He looked to the doorway and gave Mrs Reynolds a nod, thanking and dismissing her.

James settled on Darcy’s lap and the two looked at Elizabeth in silence for a long time. Finally, James asked quietly, “Did you twy kissing her, Papa?”

Darcy looked curiously at his son. “Now why would I do that?”

“Aunt Jane telled me that story.”

“Told;” he corrected, “and what story is that?”

“The one with the princess who sweeped just like Mama. When the prince kissed her, she came awaked.”

“Awakened,” he corrected.

“Right, she came ‘wakened.”

Darcy chuckled at his son’s blunder of the words.

“So did you kiss her?” He looked at his father as if the entire solution was held in that simple gesture.

Darcy could deny him nothing, so he replied, “I have tried. Perhaps what she needs is your kiss instead?”

He smiled, “I can do that.”

“You must be gentle,” he chided as he helped his son climb onto the bed beside Elizabeth.

He watched as James kissed her cheek and then he cuddled down beside her, taking her hand in his tiny grasp.

He began to sing a hymn, ever so quietly, filling the air with the beautiful words often sung by him and his mother.

It was all Darcy could do just to watch in awed silence as his son’s voice was left alone this time to sing the familiar tune.

She felt so heavy. Her arms would not move no matter how hard she labored to do so. She tried to focus on just lifting her finger, thinking it would be easier, but there was no movement.

In frustration she wished to groan, but even that was impossible. She could not talk. She could not even open her eyes. Twitching her toe was not possible either.

The only thing she could do was remain in the dark world that had engulfed her and hope something would pull her from its clutches soon.

She had begun to hear people talking around her, but so far, she did not recognize any of the voices. A solemn sounding gentleman was there most often. Who could he be? Was he the doctor that sat beside her bed?

She heard from a lady, but it did not sound like any of her sisters. If it was not, then who would have visited her bedside? Where were her sisters? What of her parents? Were they unaware of wherever she lay?

The distress of the situation began to build in her chest until she felt it would tighten and pull the last of the breath from her. Then she heard the soft voice of a child begin to sing.

“Amazing grace! How sweet the sound…,”

Elizabeh heard the familiar words of her favorite song, but she did not recognize the voice. It did not sound like one of her young cousins, but perhaps it was?

“That saved a wetch like me…,”

The boy continued past the word he could not pronounce properly and she somehow found joy in hearing it being sung in such a way. She tried to laugh, but the laughter just caught in her throat, refusing to be released.

“I once was lost, but now am found, was blind, but now I see…,”

Yes, I am lost. Will I be found, she thought.

Will I see again? She questioned as she tried, once again, to force her eyes to open.

There was still no response and again emotions rose in her chest nearly strangling out the words the child sang.

Suddenly she knew she had to refuse this course – that it would lead to the end, and she was not ready for life to end.

There were so many things she wished to still do.

She must endure. The young boy’s voice cut through her thoughts with the perfect words to give her strength.

“The Lord has promised good to me, His word my hope secures;…”

She knew this was true, and knew that holding onto that promise was what would get her through. Though she could not do so aloud, she mentally sang the next line with the boy, “He will my shield and portion be as long as life endures.”

Everything began to fade away again as weariness overtook her thoughts, until the boy’s voice was finally just a distant memory and she was once again peacefully asleep.