She quietly undressed by the fire and slipped into bed beside her husband, feeling his eyes upon her: full of a reverent devotion that made her shiver.

"Merope," he said "darling…"

Darling. How long she had waited for him too call her that, for anyone to call her that. Those two syllables summing up love, happiness, wealth, everything she had ever wanted in life…but they sounded wrong now, flat and more than a little hungry, not like they used to when he talked to that other girl, the pretty one, Cecelia.

"He left her for you" she told herself sternly. "Because he loves you so much, so very, very much."

The glass on his bedside table glinted mockingly at her but she refused to acknowledge it, instead turning her head to meet his kiss. Everything that she had ever wanted.

Merope did not know about Christmas, her father would hardly have permitted them to celebrate it and even if she had known she would not have cared. Her entire world revolved around what happened between Tom and herself in the rooms he had purchased for them in London. But none the less it was the 25th of December. The snow was piled high against the windows and the cold was biting, even in spite of the fire that crackled in the grate, so that the sheets of their bed seemed to draw the warmth from them instead of giving it back.

Merope let herself become entrapped in her husband's arms and felt his hot breath on her neck with only the tiniest spark of unease.

"Say is again Tom, please."

With no trace of irony or irritation he immediately replied :

"Merope my darling, you are the most beautiful creature I have ever set eyes on and I love you completely."

Feeling comforted, she looked up at him.

"I love you too Tom. I love you" she couldn't quite keep the quaver out of her voice. "And you'll never leave me, will you? Not even if….if anything happened. You'll stay, won't you?"

His face seemed completely earnest and she was struck again by just how handsome he was, those dark eyes, those serious features…and yet he still looked at her as if she were a radiant beauty.

"always."

"Good." Her eyes flickered to his strong mouth…there was no hint of a smile there, no affection nor happiness. His eyes held desire once again.

Somewhere outside a Church's bells tolled loudly and Merope snapped out of her reverie.

"Drink up your medicine, won't you?"

Tom nodded obediently, and, curled up in the now warm bed, Merope felt a chill in her heart that was nothing to do with the ice creeping up the windowpane.

Author's note: just thought I'd try something a little darker and not as stereotypically Christmassy- not sure how well it worked but it's only a ficlet anyway :)