Thank you for reading my story.

AN : Several readers pointed out that Elizabeth was way too young to retain any memories of the boys and I agree. However, I have also read that sometimes when children hold onto some particular memory due to any reason, they can remember it when they grow up. Maybe not completely but vaguely enough with some details. As for Elizabeth, her fond memories of her family were her security blanket, which she hung on to. She doesn't remember them vividly, but has the basic gist.

PLEASE REVIEW. CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM IS MOST WELCOME.

CHAPTER 5 : NIGHTMARE

As Elizabeth gazed at the expansive grounds of Pemberley from the huge windows in the Library, she felt a rush of nostalgia wash over her. It was this house where she was born, the one which had always sheltered her, protected her even from the demons, the heartless scums who had brutally murdered her parents.

And Pemberley was what which had preserved her sanity when she had been so close to precipice. It would have been so easy to tip over the edge, to fall in that bottomless abyss of deepest depair and an animalistic fear, to lose herself. Although she refused to speak, refused to even think of the night that had changed her life forever, she did not have the same iron control on her subconscious.

Even after a decade, she still woke up at night, drenched in sweat, her heart beating frantically and a scream of terror stuck in her throat. But now at least she had a semblance of control whilst initially, it had been nothing but a debilitating, destructive fear. Furthermore, the hostility and loathing which Mrs Bennet and later, her two younger daughters had shown her, did not help the matter.

It was in that time of endless despair that Pemberley had saved her. Whilst trying to suppress the memories of her parents' murder, Elizabeth had clung on to the fond memories of her childhood with a fierce obstinacy. Every moment, every laughter, every prank she had cherished and protected.

Remembering them, playing them iteratively in her mind to resist the sheer, unparalled force that the deep void in her life exerted over her, to pull her under, to overcome her completely.

As the years had passed, her memories had slowly started fading, like fog wrapping its wispy coils around a landscape so that only a vague impression was visible. That had scared her terribly, for those memories were her shield, her haven.

So, she had requested Uncle Darcy to tell her stories of her childhood, about her parents and Pemberely, whenever he had visited her. Being the perceptive man he was, he had perhaps sensed her desperation to hold on to her roots. Thus, he had narrated her life...her carefree, happy life, before her parents' death in great detail.

That had helped. Elizabeth had not lost her hold and managed to retain a few moments of unparalled joy, of mischief and sheer contentment for they were not just her memories, an imprint of her past on her mind.

No, they were her hope for a better future...the hope whose wings were brutally clipped, yet it had survived, carving a small shelter from the fierce storm that had ravaged her life.

"Lizzy?" She heard Darcy call her.

Elizabeth turned around and gave her cousin a wan smile. For several moments they stood together silently, revelling in the tranquillity of their beloved home.

"Life has changed so much." She finally breathed.

"So many have left us. The people who were so important, the ones we thought we could never live without." Elizabeth murmured, bitterness colouring her words as she thought of her parents and Aunt and Uncle Darcy.

Darcy remained silent, understanding her words for what they were...the anguish they carried. He gently laid his hands on her shoulder, drawing her closer. Being a Darcy, he had always carried himself with dignity and impeccable decorum, but at that moment he cared not for the fetters of propriety. All he cared was to comfort the girl beside him, the girl who had lost so much, had lost her childhood in just one moment of savagery and evil.

A heavy silent enveloped them, as they watched Colonel Fitzwilliam escort Georgiana in the garden below.

"So, Richard is a Colonel?" Elizabeth asked softly.

"Yes." His monosyllabic answer came, but perceptive as she was, she caught a sliver of evasiveness in his voice. She rose an eyebrow in question, her stare piercing. Finally, Darcy sighed in defeat.

"Fine. But do not utter a word about this to Richard. He wished to work his way in the ranks, not simply purchase a commission. But, Uncle Randall eased his way, though not so fast as to rouse suspicion. It eased Aunt Rebecca's mind. But Richard is not aware of it. He is too self-sufficient and independent to require any assistance, even from his parents."

For several moments, Elizabeth did not speak. Although she doubted that someone as astute as Colonel Fitzwilliam could be fooled for long, she did not voice her opinion.

"William, I..can I visit Pemberley's chapel on the morrow? I wish to pay my respect." She said quitely.

"Certainly. I will myself accompany you." Darcy readily agreed.

"Oh no, you don't have to. You already have so many responsibilities and I do not wish to burden you." Elizabeth protested, a pale blush dusting her cheeks.

"It is no burden, Lizzy. I will not let you go alone." He stated determinedly.

"You are not alone."

The door banged open and a loud cacophony of screams erupted, a ghastly amalgam of fear and anger. A scuffle broke out, a desperate struggle for survival, but to no avail. Soon, a fusillade echoed in the entire house, silencing the desperate plea and angry yell.

A deep burgundy stained the axminster carpet. Inundating, swirling, the crimson coil spread till it reached her feet, but she could not look away from the fierce gaze that held her captive, brimming with immense loathing.

She stared at a pair of sapphire. Hard, cold and lifeless, they glared at her.

As her parents' corpses grew cold on the floor, she stared in the eyes of their murderer.

Elizabeth awoke with a start. Sweat drenched her body and her heart beat in frenzied palpitations. A sob tore through her chest as she trembled violently, trying to dispel those blue eyes that haunted her even after so many years. Despite her best efforts, she still remembered the coldness, sheer cruelty and triumph reflected in them.

The man was ecstatic on her parents' death.

Elizabeth stuffed her fist in her mouth to suppress her desire to scream, to yell till her throat was raw, till she was cleansed of all anger, hatred and fear that was contained inside her. She wanted to let go of the raw emotions that enslaved her and poisoned her insides. She wanted to rage and storm at the injustice that was meted out to her.

A tempest rose inside her, lashing furiously at every shred of rationality and coherence. Just like every time she had woken from the familiar nightmare of her past, the violent energy of loathing and a ire coursed through her at a furious pace.

She yearned for justice...she yearned for revenge.

The indigo of the night gave way to the brilliance of morning. Mr Darcy arrived to break his fast, only to find Elizabeth already seated at the table.

"Good Morning, Lizzy." He greeted her warmly.

She looked up at him with a wan smile on her face and Darcy could tell that something had disturbed her immensely. There were faint shadows benath her eyes and her disquiet was visible on her face.

"Good morning, William."

"Lizzy, are you well?" He inquired hesitantly.

"It is nothing William. I just have a headache." She assured him, but Mr Darcy could easily sense her lie, still he did not press her.

"I have some estate business to finish and then we shall leave for the chapel, if it suits you?"

"That is fine."Elizabeth nodded in agreement and soon excused herself for her ritual morning ramble.

Darcy warned her to stay near the house, for she was not familiar with the grounds of Pemberley and may easily get lost to which she agreed.

As he watched her leave, he sighed. There were so many issues that needed to be addressed, so many lose ends to tie. Knowing he had tarried long enough, Darcy retired to his study, leaving instructions to request Colonel Fitzwilliam to join him there, after he broke his fast.

It was time to read his father's letter. The one he had left with the instructions, that it be read only after Darcy's return from Hertfordshire.