****
That night, Elizabeth cried out for Aunt Jane in her sleep. Darcy was plagued with guilt for keeping Elizabeth to himself; he would always be selfish when it came to his darling wife. Ideally, she would be completely healed before he allowed her to see anyone else. However, lying beside her, his thoughts were riddled with disdain for how he had, for all intents and purposes, locked her up. There was some truth to her words spoken earlier; she was not a prisoner, and she was his wife—she relished spending time with him. In the morning, he vowed, he would set all right and call upon Jane to visit. When Darcy fell back to sleep, he was plagued with night terrors. He felt flames scalding his skin, smoke shrouding his eyes. He pushed his way through the fire, fighting his natural instincts to flee from it. His heart was racing—he had to save her, she had to be here. Darcy shouted for Elizabeth, head whipping from side to side, eager to spot her. No reply. He continued blindly stumbling through the blaze, caring more for his potentially trapped wife than for himself.
“Elizabeth,” he choked, in a frantic voice that he hardly recognized. Shadows danced in the flames. Was it Elizabeth? Was she safe? As he advanced closer, he was horrified to discover his wife lying limp in a metal beast. It made no sense, but he pushed aside the strangeness of what he saw before him, and rushed to her, reaching out to drag her from the burning inferno, jolting back as the flames snaked up his arm. Darcy hesitantly touched the metal abomination, not understanding how to open it. Think, Darcy! Instinctively, he smashed the glass separating them, and pulled Elizabeth to his chest. She had a deep cut on her forehead, and crimson blood gushed from the wound, coating her neck and shoulders. He was attempting to carry her away from the fire toward safety, when he succumbed to his exhaustion, falling to the floor—taking Elizabeth with him—darkness took over. He awoke, coughing and panting violently, as though he still lacked oxygen, and was still surrounded by flames. He shivered, despite the fever coursing through his body. It could not be a coincidence that Elizabeth had also dreamed of being trapped in a fire. Perhaps she had passed along her worries to him. He turned to Elizabeth; she was sleeping soundly, curled up in a fetal position, completely oblivious to her husband’s fears. He quietly climbed out of bed to get a glass of water, adding two drops of laudanum—preferring a drug-induced sleep to one riddled with nightmares.
****
When Aunt Jane arrived in this world after Elizabeth’s accident, she was unsure when she would see Elizabeth. Since her death, she had been Elizabeth’s guardian. Jane was not given many directions in her assignment from Heaven. God works in mysterious ways, and this was one of those times. She received a letter from Father Michael in London, stating that he was assigned as her guide. Also, in the letter, he stated that he was to help Elizabeth return home. He urged Jane to come to meet with him, and she went to London.
Their meeting was nothing short of strange, but she did not expect anything less since God was involved. Father Michael was a sweet old man, even though he spoke of the dangerous situation of Elizabeth’s presence in this world. He assured Jane that all would be well. No danger would come to Elizabeth in her world if Jane could protect her in this one.
Jane asked him how dangerous the situation was, and he was cryptic. “I cannot give you all the answers, but know that it affects the past, present, and future.”
Jane grew frustrated with the lack of information. She practically begged.
“My child, have faith and make sure you send her to me. I will save her, and she will be safe again in her world.”
“How exactly will you do that? At least answer that much for me,” she demanded.
Several weeks had passed since her encounter with Father Michael, and she sat on pins and needles waiting to see her niece again.
Despite the circumstances, Jane was elated to see her niece again. Jane thanked her lucky stars that Darcy finally let Elizabeth out in public. When Jane had left the earthly plane, she’d regretted not being able to say goodbye. She knew Elizabeth had been gutted when she passed away. Jane knew because she had been right there by Elizabeth’s side as the priest read from his Bible and as they lowered her casket into the ground. Jane had watched as Elizabeth laid a single white rose on her casket. Elizabeth couldn’t be consoled, as tears rolled down her cheeks. Elizabeth’s mother attempted to console her, by holding her close, but Elizabeth’s tears didn’t subside. Jane was furious that Charles hadn’t been at her funeral to console Elizabeth. She had overheard Elizabeth making up excuses at the funeral, and for weeks after.
Jane stuck by Elizabeth, watching her every move and invading her dreams to let her know she was at peace. It broke Jane’s heart to see Elizabeth’s fight and feistiness engulfed by grief. She watched as her niece became complacent and allowed Charles to walk all over her. Her heart broke when she heard Lizzie’s prayers.
The night of the funeral, she found Lizzie in her room, with no Charles in sight, kneeling at her bedside. She was crying and pleading to God that He should have taken her instead of Jane. Jane reached out and caressed Lizzie’s hair. Unfortunately, Lizzie jumped in fear, cursing that whatever spirit lingered there, they were not welcome. How she wanted to speak to Elizabeth but didn’t want to freak her out or cause her any more stress or grief.
Therefore, when she first spotted her niece, Jane thought she was hallucinating. She deliberated on how to approach Elizabeth, but Elizabeth made the first move. Jane had been unsure when they would meet, so she had stayed in the guise of a peddler woman. She was unsure about Elizabeth’s reaction to seeing her. Elizabeth took it quite well; a little hysterical, but that was to be expected since Jane had felt the same when she arrived. She was upset that she was not able to answer all of Elizabeth’s questions. Jane was there to watch over her, but not to interfere, and to do it without alerting anyone.
Jane was excited when Elizabeth invited her to Pemberley. Apparently, she had convinced stubborn Mr. Darcy to have a party. When they exchanged goodbyes, Jane felt Darcy’s eyes bore into her. Elizabeth gave Jane a few coins, and in return—to make it look believable—Jane handed her a bunch of flowers.
She really didn’t want Darcy to complicate things; she had to set him straight soon. She was unsure of the complications a confrontation would pose, but she had to make sure Darcy stuck with her niece when she needed him the most. Darcy was very stubborn, proud, and obstinate. She wasn’t quite sure what Elizabeth saw in him—despite his handsome looks, obviously—but then again, Elizabeth always did love a challenge when it came to men.
Her niece was upset. Jane could tell that she was trying to hide her weariness and sadness from Darcy, but she never did have a good poker face, especially not with her aunt.
Jane overheard Darcy. “Darling, what is the matter with you, and what did that old peddler woman say to you?” Darcy was in protective mode; it warmed Jane’s heart to know that Elizabeth appeared to have a man who cared for her wellbeing. Elizabeth placed her hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze to comfort and reassure him.
She overheard Elizabeth reassure Darcy. “My love, all is well. She said nothing at all, don’t worry.” Darcy didn’t look like he believed her at all, but he removed her hand from his shoulder, kissed it sweetly, and started to walk toward Jane, stopping short when he couldn’t find her. Thinking on her feet, she had hidden behind a carriage, but not before discreetly waving goodbye to Elizabeth. She couldn’t wait to see her again . . . only two weeks to go.
****
Elizabeth awoke to blurry vision and a scratchy throat. She tried to get out of bed, but her body was incredibly sore. She wouldn’t ever get used to this annoyingly uncomfortable bed. She wished she were back in her house, in her nice soft bed with her downy pillows and puffy white comforter, complete with her queen-size memory foam mattress. Swoon! She also longed for her central heating; she absolutely hated waking up surrounded by the damp, freezing air. However, being here did have its advantages; namely Darcy. Just the thought of him made her blood co
urse, and cause arousal spreading through her veins. Before she managed to delve deeper into her thoughts about how delicious her Darcy was, the bedroom door creaked open.
“Mommy, Mommy!” A little girl leaped into bed, wrapping her tiny arms around Elizabeth’s neck. She was taken aback. I have a daughter?
“Mommy, what is wrong, do you not remember me?” Her hair smelled heavenly, like strawberries and honey. Her breath was hot on Elizabeth’s cheek when she kissed her. The contact shocked Elizabeth. It was strange. Though the girl was a stranger, she felt familiar. She experienced a brief memory of holding her in her arms after giving birth, with Darcy in the vision. He kissed her brow, beaming at the baby girl. Trailing behind her, in walked Darcy, carrying a tray of buttered toast and juice, setting it down on the nightstand. He paused, taking in Elizabeth’s confused expression. He placed a hand on their daughter’s delicate shoulder, ordering her to stand by his side. He appeared apprehensive at the look on Elizabeth’s face.
“Anise, Mommy is fine; she had a bump on her head, and she is not feeling well.”
Anise, what a beautiful name! The little girl looked at Darcy and back at Elizabeth, tears in her eyes, visibly worried about her mother. Elizabeth took Anise into her arms, hugging her tightly, unable to hold back her enthusiasm.
“There, there. All is fine. Mommy is tired, that is all, sweetheart.” She smiled encouragingly, and the little girl cheered up, grinning back at her.
“Mommy, we brought you toast and juice to make you all better.” The gesture both warmed and broke her heart. She didn’t remember this life, or this little girl who was so fond of her. Nor did she truly know Darcy. She had been lucidly dreaming of being with the man of her dreams, of having their beautiful daughter. She wished it were all real. What a cruel dream! She yearned to give her heart to both lives, yet how could she, when either of them could be taken away from her so easily, and who could bear to love such a temporary dream?
She did consider the idea that she could be in Heaven, or most likely dead. It was raining the night of the crash. Nobody could have survived it. She shivered, recalling the ordeal. What the hell! Elizabeth’s stomach growled; she was convinced that she could still taste the delicious buttered toast. Darcy laid the tray next to her, handing her a plate of buttered toast. What are the chances? She bit into a slice with all the finesse of a ravenous child, savoring the buttery goodness. Darcy placed his hand in front of his mouth, as if to hide his chuckles.
“What is so amusing, my dear?”
Darcy grinned and laughed again, obviously finding Elizabeth’s behavior hilarious. “You are as greedy as a child! It is as if you have not eaten in decades, and it is precious to see you with such conviction to eat at all.” Elizabeth blushed; for a dream husband, he was quite charming. When she finished her toast—not without licking up the crumbs—she felt a bit better. She wanted to get out of bed, to take a stroll outside and explore the manor. With no sense of time, she felt unsettled, like she had been in bed resting for at least a week. Darcy had given her laudanum every night, which definitely caused her to lose track of time.
“Darcy darling, lying in this bed is dreadfully boring. I’d really like some fresh air. Care to take a stroll with me?”
She was sure that he would disagree, so she cast a playful grin in his direction. He sighed thoughtfully, pinching the bridge of his nose, reluctant as ever.
“Not for too long, promise! And I will ride with you in the carriage, we don’t have to walk.”
He smiled, appearing satisfied with her compromise. “You read my mind, darling, as usual. Only a quick ride in the carriage and back into bed to rest.” It was easier than she thought; she was convinced that he would be stubborn and make her stay in bed. “Anise, my little poppet, you shall join us. I believe the more, the merrier!”
Elizabeth looked forward to spending time with Anise, hoping that it would help to spark some forgotten memories. Anise squealed, jumping up and down in place, delighted to be around her mommy.
“Thank you, Daddy! It is such a beautiful day outside, I would love that ever so much. Oh, Mommy, Daddy! Can Aunt Jane come with us?”
I wonder if Lydia would turn up, too? “What a dream . . .”
“Darling, I am sure that all of this is overwhelming, but I can assure you that it is not a dream. I shall do all that I can to prove it to you.”
Of course, he would say that. She must have missed Anise rushing out of the room; Elizabeth was shocked to see her return with a young woman in tow. Jane walked over, hand in hand with Anise. Jane appeared to be concerned; Darcy must have explained Elizabeth’s condition to her. The doctor had told them in confidence that it would be best to continue with her normal routine, and for Darcy not to pressure Elizabeth to remember, as it would only frustrate her, hindering any progress already made. Elizabeth took a deep breath. Tread carefully; the less you say, the better. She tried to rack her brain for any Pride and Prejudice facts about Darcy and Jane. She came up blank; the laudanum was putting holes in her mind. She saw the hopeful look in Darcy’s eyes when Jane approached her. She felt guilty for breaking this poor man’s heart because she wasn’t prepared to acknowledge any of this as real life. At least, when it came to her relationship with Darcy, she wouldn’t have to try—each moment she spent with Darcy was magical; she couldn’t deny the electricity between them, and it was almost painful to accept that it was a dream. She longed for it all to be real.
He could see in her eyes that she struggled with it all, and silently cursed himself for pushing Jane and Anise on her. Yet what other choice did he have? He did not want her in an asylum, in which he very well knew she would be better off under the supervision of Dr. Lansing. He put on a brave face, walked over to her bedside, and took her hand in his, as she stared blankly at Jane. Jane grinned at Elizabeth, sitting beside her, talking to her about how perfect the weather was for a stroll, and how the fresh air would do her good.
“Elizabeth, you need to take it easy. Don’t push yourself; a quick stroll won’t do any harm but rest up, and I’ll play the piano for you when we get back. We all can sit in the study and drink hot chocolate. Anise could sing for us too.”
Anise was thrilled by the idea, waving her arms in the air, almost vibrating with joy. “Oh yes, Mommy! I shall sing your favorite song—‘Amazing Grace’.” Elizabeth loved the idea as well, though she wasn’t familiar with the song; not that she’d admit that to anyone.
“That sounds lovely, darling. Now please, leave me be. I just need to get ready, so I can start this lovely day with you all.” Darcy cast her a strange look.
“You are not going to get dressed by yourself! I will fetch your maid to assist you and wait outside your door to help you down the stairs.” Indeed, he was dashing, she thought to herself, smugly.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A fortnight passed, and Elizabeth mentally prepared herself to greet the friends of old Elizabeth’s. She was racked with anxiety and plagued by strange dreams of a life she did not have a claim to, or so she thought. She desperately wished Jo were with her, and that her Aunt Jane could provide her with more answers.
On the night of the party, Elizabeth was nervous, and she was unsure if she would be able to keep up her front and not cause any suspicions. Her heart raced in anticipation to see Aunt Jane again. She wasn’t sure how she was going to explain her presence to Darcy.
She nervously prepared for the evening and dressed in her finest gown. It was a deep crimson, and she kept on fidgeting with her bodice and skirt. She sat in the waiting area to greet her guests as the butler ushered them in. Darcy was in the room with her, and he made it clear that he did not like parties; however, he put on a brave face in support of Elizabeth. As they began to arrive, he made sure he had a drink in hand.
One guest caught his attention as she was ushered inside. She looked familiar, but he could not pinpoint where from.
Elizabeth grew relaxed as she saw Aunt Jane, and her heart beat wildly as she felt Darcy�
�s scrutinizing stare.
She jumped when she heard Darcy’s baritone voice in her ear. “Darling, are you going to introduce me to your friend?”
Elizabeth panicked; she could not introduce her as her aunt.
On cue, Aunt Jane curtseyed. “I am Lady Agatha Christie; it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth speaks fondly of you.”
Darcy assessed Aunt Jane; before responding he took a drink of brandy. He laughed. “No need for formalities; I am not the King of England.”
Aunt Jane laughed, and her laugh was that of an angel, melodic and easing Elizabeth’s anxiety. Elizabeth grew misty-eyed; how she had missed her aunt’s laugh.
“You look quite familiar, yet I do not think we’ve been introduced before.”
Elizabeth’s eyes darted back and forth from Darcy to her aunt.
Aunt Jane smiled. “We have met in passing; I take care of Lady Grey.” She nodded to the old woman sitting in a chair, in deep conversation with an older gentleman. “However, it does feel we know each other, for Elizabeth speaks very highly of you.”
Darcy fidgeted uncomfortably at the compliment. He took another sip, finishing his drink. He cleared his throat. “Would you care for a drink, Lady Christie?”
She smiled politely. “Thank you, but I do not drink, although I appreciate your hospitality.”
He nodded and turned to Elizabeth. “Would you like some punch?”
Elizabeth nodded, not able to get a word out. She stared at Jane as he walked away, and whispered, “That was close.”
Jane’s eyes twinkled. “How about a tour?”
Elizabeth was hesitant. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea; Darcy might become suspicious.”
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