A/N: Hello! This is my very first fanfiction! How exciting! This is pure fluff, something that came to me a while ago. Thanks a lot to my amazing friend 'Grace' who helped me with this plot line. Please leave me a review, or some constructive criticism, but no mean comments please…
-K
PS: Astraphobia is the fear of thunderstorms
Elizabeth Darcy hated storms. It was a silly childhood fear she could never seem to shake. So on the nights when thunder crashed and lightning lit up the skies, she took refuge in her husband's arms. But not tonight. William had just returned from a week long business trip from London, and he had ridden hard in order to beat the storm. And he was thoroughly exhausted and had fallen asleep next to Elizabeth almost the minute they had retired. He slumbered peacefully, not even stirring when Elizabeth sat up at the first sound of thunder in the early hours of the morning. Her eyes widened with fear and she contemplated waking her husband, but she couldn't bring herself to, he had had hardly any sleep!
So she slipped on her robe and quietly departed the room, holding a small, flickering candle. Pemberley, in the day, was something dreams were made of. But, on a night like tonight, with the thunderstorm raging outside, it was something directly from Elizabeth's nightmares. She covered her mouth, silencing a scream as the thunder rumbled and rain began to pour down. She quickly padded her way down the staircase to Pemberley's impressive library. She certainly wasn't going to sleep anymore tonight. Perhaps she could find a book to entertain, and distract, her from the storm. She walked over to the shelf of poetry, her candle lighting the possible options. The house creaked and Elizabeth's heartbeat quickened. She took a deep breath.
"Don't be silly, Elizabeth. It's only the old house complaining." She told herself quietly.
But what was that scratching sound? Was it an animal of some sort? Or an intruder? Her eyes widened as the scratching became louder. Elizabeth walked over to the window to search for the source of the sound. Lightning lit up the sky again, and just outside the large window was a dark figure. She screamed.
...
Fitzwilliam Darcy sat bolt upright after a lightning strike lit up his room. He instinctively reached for his wife, ready to protect her. But his hands found nothing but empty bedsheets. He glanced around in panic as thunder shook the house. He heard a scream from downstairs.
"Lizzy." He mumbled. She was terrified of storms. But what if it was something worse. What if she had been kidnapped?
He panicked and quickly ran down the stairs as fast as he could. He looked around the doors, searching for some sign of his petrified wife. When he saw a flicker from beneath the library door, he immediately pushed open the door, surveying the room. A small light flickered in the corner of the room. Beside it, was his lovely, petrified wife, her eyes wide with fear and her face as white as the robe she wore.
Darcy rushed over and sat beside her, pulling her into his embrace. Elizabeth felt his strong arms slip around her, and clung to his nightshirt.
"I am so, so sorry, my love," He whispered into her hair, kissing her softly.
She sniffled, "There was a shape, outside the window. It looked like a man," She started to sob again. Darcy stiffened. A man? On his property at this time? What if it was some murderer, coming for Georgiana or Elizabeth? Or worse, what if it was Wickham? Lightning struck again and Elizabeth whimpered, pointing to the shape again. He looked closer and sighed in relief.
"My darling wife, 'tis nothing but a branch," He smiled, pulling Elizabeth closer. She blushed and looked down.
"I am sorry William. I shouldn't have woken you. But I was so scared and I-I thought-" She started to sob again as the rain continued to pound down on the windows outside. Darcy tightened his grip around her, wishing he could shelter her from the storm outside.
He whispered softly to her, "Nothing, nothing, my darling, is more important to me than you." Elizabeth smiled at her doting husband through her tears.
Soon, the candle sputtered and went out, leaving the pair in darkness. Elizabeth's breathing deepened and she fell asleep in the arms of the man she loved. Darcy relaxed and soon, he fell asleep too, the rhythmic sound of the rain outside soothing him into slumber.
And that is how, the Master and Mistress of Pemberley were discovered. With Darcy holding Elizabeth protectively, they had truly found comfort in each other's arms.