DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of Jane Austen or P. D. James' works or characters. Unfortunately.

Authors note: Hello fellow Austen'ers! This is my first Pride and Prejudice fanfiction, although technically it belongs under Death Comes to Pemberley. For those of you who don't know it's set 6 years later, and mine is based around the BBC adaptation. If you haven't seen it, kindly go and watch it. WARNING: Mild Spoilers. I do hope you like it. Please take the time to read and leave a review if you would be so kind? They make me very happy. Enjoy :) x

My Dearest Lizzy

A shadow cast itself like a dark rain-cloud over the threshold as silence fell deeply upon the great house. Sleep would come soon and claim all it could, but it could not forever keep the dark thoughts of death away. Night would continue to invite the most unwelcome imaginings when the mind was at its most vulnerable and could easily be prevailed and preyed upon. Such thoughts of death would remain a constant in the mind of one Mr Darcy, whose mind wandered far from its path and into the woods of Pemberley once more. The latter thought would remain until the rise of the early morning sun, of which whose warmth could not shake the horrors that had befallen them all.

"Darcy?" a small voice spoke with a tentative caution that could only belong to his wife. Mr Darcy turned his back to the voice, a reminder of the argument that had struck a chord between them only a few days ago. Mrs Darcy wrapped her shawl further across her shoulders; the icy exterior with which her husband shunned her sent a chill through her heart. Elizabeth was certain she could almost hear it breaking.

"Should you not be in bed?" Darcy questioned, his fists clenched in a strange manner as his gaze fell upon the distant horizon. Elizabeth faltered, her breath catching in her throat. "I could not sleep."

"Indeed."

"Darcy," Elizabeth began. "I cannot-"

"Cannot what?" Darcy bit back, the anger that arose within him spilling into his ill-mannered tone, the force of which caused his wife to send out a hand to steady herself in the dimly-lit room. She swallowed, and stood her ground. "You once told me that we were to have no secrets between us," Elizabeth argued, the usual air of calm that graced her voice departing as her weaknesses revealed themselves. "You promised that we would always tell one another the absolute truth…"

"Haven't we?" Mr Darcy asked, an eyebrow rose with both curiosity and hurt. Elizabeth shook her head slowly, a sad teasing laugh halting as her chest fell painfully. Once she would have provoked him, teased him, even laughed at him. Now however, she needed her husband back more than anything. "Will you permit me to speak plainly?"

Darcy huffed, his patience wearing thin as he turned to face his wife. "Whence did you ever need my permission to-"

Elizabeth let a small smile pass her lips - a ghost that only her husband would have noticed in the shadows as tears threatened to fall unashamedly down her weary cheeks. Mr Darcy was taken aback, the manner in which he attempted to collect himself failing as he stood arrogantly in the candlelight. "Speak plainly, then."

Mrs Darcy stepped closer towards her husband, her fingers clutching at the shawl that covered her small frame with desperation as the glowing flicker of the surrounding candles cast dancing shadows around them. Elizabeth could not contain the despair and fear that laced her voice as she spoke, the rejection she held concealed in her downcast eyes. "You regret your decision, do you not?"

Mr Darcy looked upon his wife, every word piercing through his soul. "My decision?"

"Your decision to marry me," Elizabeth sighed, her voice breaking as she spoke the last word and a trembling hand came to cover her face as she began to cry. Darcy stood still, her words echoing within the walls of his confused mind. What had inspired such feelings towards himself? Surely his wife had not come to doubt his love?

"Elizabeth…"

Never in the six years they had been married had Mr Darcy seen his wife in such a dreadful state, and the deep guilt of knowing it was entirely his doing befell his weary conscience. Mrs Darcy turned from him, her eyes hopeless as she tried to regain her composure. "I am sorry, I should not have-"

Darcy took hold of her shaking hand and gently pulled her towards him, her tears falling silently onto his chest as he held her close. "My dear, I have never, never stopped loving you."

Elizabeth breathed a low shaky breath as she clung to her husband. Darcy carefully lifted her chin to face him, and gently smoothed her hair away from her tear-stained face. "Do you doubt my love for you?"

Mrs Darcy closed her eyes. "I… I cannot help but feel that somehow you would regret your marriage to me because of the shame of my family's situation. And now George Wickham is-"

Mr Darcy raised a finger to his wife's lips. "Shhh. Do not trouble yourself."

Elizabeth sighed as her husband wrapped his strong arms around her and her head rested soundly on his shoulder, tears continuing to fall from her tired eyes. Darcy took a deep breath as he tenderly held his wife, stroking the unruly curls that lay across her shoulders. "I always knew that we would never be free of George Wickham, Elizabeth. He is a troublesome man and a man that needs help at that."

Elizabeth lifted her head to face her husband. "But if-"

Darcy laughed hearty laugh, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Oh, my dearest, do you not see? I care not if George Wickham comes and goes leaving chaos in his wake, or if others mock me or laugh at me. I care only for one thing."

Elizabeth smiled at her husband. "And pray what is that?"

"You," Darcy whispered as his lips came to rest against her own and he drew her into a soft kiss. Elizabeth laughed quietly as her husband wiped away her tears, and the morning sun came to greet them from the distant horizon.

"And I am certain, my dearest, that I will continue to love you until my dying breath."