Forgive, a pride and prejudice fanfic

Author's Note: This is my fifth fanfiction portraying Elizabeth & Darcy.

I went away for a while and regrouped, but I am back with this new ficlet. I'd like to thank the many people who were kind enough to review 'Distraction', 'Reunion','Awakening', and 'Dance', your comments were greatly appreciated, especially with the astounding response received on my last story; I hope you enjoy this next installment. Thank you so much!

Summary: (Complete) A fifth small, intimate interlude between Elizabeth and Darcy; Darcy consoles his grieving wife.

Disclaimer:Pride & Prejudice belongs to Jane Austen; I claim no rights, other than wishing Darcy could be a real man and not fictitious... If only!

Forgive.

The worn parchment trembled between her pale, cold fingers.

Something akin to sorrow blossomed within her chest, unfurling outwards like the delicate petals of a bruised flower. Her parched lips quivered, and her eyes, her most admired feature, misted with pained tears – tears that she hastily blinked back. But the words on the parchment remained the same; their meaning unchanged and clearly comprehensible in the cold light of day.

The silence of the room seemed to swell and swallow her whole, and nothing but the rushing blood in her veins could prove that she was still present amongst the ornate furniture.

"Ah, there you are."

The deep tenor of her husband's voice grounded her instantaneously, and she forced herself to look away from the hateful letter that remained wavering within her shaking grasp. Glistening, dark eyes found his and implored the new occupant of the room desperately – implored him to take away the brutal truth, along with the burning pain in her breast, so that her life could return to simple joy it had been before the cursed letter had arrived. However, Elizabeth knew very well that nothing could be done! The laws of nature could not be altered, and though her dear husband often sought to move the very stars from the sky for her, he would not be able to change the dreadful news that was stained permanently across the pages of the letter she had received from her sister.

Darcy remained in the doorway, frozen and floundering at the lost and vulnerable expression that marred her bright, exquisite eyes. She was torn between laughing and growing further distressed at thought of worrying her dear, sweet husband, so she forced herself to offer a watery smile.

The evidently strained gesture that stretched her lips only caused his eyes to darken further, now with even greater concern than before. He abruptly roused himself and strode quickly into their much-loved music room, kneeling before her with an anxious air. "Elizabeth, are you well? Pray, what is the matter? You look very ill…" He trailed off warily, his troubled eyes flying to her gently rounded stomach, hidden beneath the expensive layers of voluminous French silk and muslin.

Elizabeth tried to speak, but the words would not form beyond a strangled gasp. Instead, she handed him the dreadful letter and lowered her gaze. She could not bear to witness the look of shock and dismay upon his face. To see him as equally unhappy as she felt, would be her undoing.

There was a beat of silence as he perused the message, before she found herself completely enveloped within his strong, sturdy and unwavering arms. Without hesitation, without ceremony, he pressed a gentle and tender kiss upon her brow, offering her the solace that she frantically sought, as he murmured words comfort and love.

Elizabeth was undone.

Utterly undone.

At great length, cocooned within Darcy's steely embrace, she allowed herself the relief of tears. She wept bitterly with abandon, her fingers clutching at the lapels of his shirt, unafraid of showing the true extent of her feelings to her husband – the true, raw grief that threatened to devour her.

Her breath hitched as she listened intently to his heart-felt condolences. "I am sorry, my love, so very sorry. Your father will be sorely missed; he was an excellent man..."

Elizabeth merely sniffed in an ungainly manner before nodding wearily.

"What am I to do without him?" Her voice seemed so small and child-like that Darcy's sturdy resolve nearly broke, evidenced by the flicker of pain in his dark gaze.

It seemed that he too was filled with grief for the loss of her father. Certainly, there was no love lost between them, but she knew that her husband had respected her father, as much as he professed to love her. And though they had never developed a close relationship, Darcy always remained sensitive to the prominent bond between father and daughter; for which she would be forever grateful.

But now… there was no hope for the two of them, no hope of her husband and father forming a fond regard for one another.

It pained Elizabeth to dwell on it.

"Hush now, dearest heart, you must think of your condition," he implored gently, his voice like a soothing salve upon the cracked fissures of her heart. Warm, calloused fingers brushed away the residual tears before he placed a gentle – but welcome – kiss upon the end of her nose.

Elizabeth sighed, allowing a small smile to slip through her drying tears, before dread began to take over. She knew very well that her husband would not be pleased with her next announcement.

"It seems that I must away to Longbourn, once again."

Darcy immediately grew alarmed at her words. "So close to your confinement? Is that wise?"

She rose hastily from his embrace and began to pace the length of the room, deftly avoiding the furniture with her waddling steps. "I must be there!" she declared resolutely, ignoring the hardening of his stare. "Mamma is sure to be beside herself, leaving the entire house in an uproar! I cannot prevail upon Jane to attend our mother alone, along with the running of the house, including Papa's burial arrangements. It is too much for one person…"

"Could not your younger sisters see to your mother's needs, and the house? As for the burial arrangements, I am sure that your Uncle would be most obliging."

She whirled around to face him, incensed. "Indeed he shall, Sir! But what of my desire? What of my wish to attend –"

" – What of your health? And that of our child's?" Darcy seemed incredulous that she would gamble with their unborn child's safety.

"I am in perfect health," she assured him stubbornly, wary of his mounting anger.

"Elizabeth, do not be too hasty," he implored angrily, "It shall be a trying time; you are aware of the doctor's advice."

"I am well aware, but my wish remains unchanged. I am quite determined."

Darcy's face grew alarmingly pale by the minute. "Have you no consideration for our child's well-being, Madam, or are you so utterly selfish and unfeeling?"

The echoed accusation hung heavily between them.

Darcy remained frozen, shocked that he could utter such a stern rebuke to his wife. He rose hurriedly, as if to erase his cruelty. At moments like this, he wondered how his wife could love him so utterly selflessly as she did.

Furious and grieved by her husband's words, Elizabeth made to leave the room, but stopped abruptly, unable to resist throwing an icy retort in his direction. "You have made yourself perfectly clear, Sir. I am truly ashamed of myself, and the grief I bear for my father's passing."

She willfully ignored his flinching posture as she swept gracefully out of the room, without another word.

Evening-time came upon the occupants of Pemberley far too soon for their liking. Both husband and wife had made a conscious effort to avoid one another's presence, with Darcy sequestered in his study, and Elizabeth finding solace amidst the trees of the estate.

Dinner had been a strained affair, neither willing to break the fragile wall of peace that had formed between them.. Even the servants treaded around them delicately, as if sensing the discord between the married couple.

All too soon, the time to retire was upon them, which they did reluctantly.

Finding herself alone in their chambers, Elizabeth sighed sadly, rubbing the base of her spine as a recurring twinge of pain shot up through her back.

Perhaps her husband had been correct with his protestations, but… how could she not be present for her father's burial? She would never forgive herself if she was not there to comfort her sister and family; she would never forgive her husband if he forbade her.

Forgoing the ritual of summoning her maid, she prepared herself for bed, noting sadly that perhaps this was to be the first night she and Darcy would spent apart in anger since their wedding.

It was an unhappy thought.

With a resigned air, clad only in her nightgown, Elizabeth settled herself before the vanity, and went about the arduous task of brushing out her formidable curls. So engrossed was she in the chore, that the sound of the door opening and closing was all but lost to her.

She started with surprise as she spied her husband, reflected in the mirror, standing morosely behind her. There was an awkward flush of tenderness painted across his reserved features.

Lowering the brush, she turned to face him. "I – "

" – Forgive me!" He interrupted almost instantly, his breath ragged. "I behaved in a truly repugnant manner, and I cannot have you thinking ill of me."

Elizabeth was swept away by the relief she felt.

She rose with difficulty, unshed tears brimming beneath the lids of her eyes, as she crossed the space of the chamber to embrace her husband.

He welcomed her eagerly, pressing small kisses to the bridge of her nose.

"I could never think so ill of you, Fitzwilliam," she murmured urgently. "Never!"

"Then you forgive me?" He seemed disbelieving. "My conduct to you was abominable."

Elizabeth laughed freely, the knot in her chest unravelling. "Nay! We both spoke out of turn… Though I shall forgive you if you desire it, on the condition that you forgive my obstinacy and unwillingness to comply with your wishes."

There was an element of teasing laced behind the words, that caused Darcy to chuckle. "Done and done," he smiled, leading her eagerly to their bed.

Elizabeth lowered herself gratefully onto the soft mattress, delighted as her husband slid in behind her.

There was a suspended moment of silent joy and contentment that cocooned them, broken by the sound of soft but ardent kisses, heated whispers of skin brushing against skin, and eventually, the quiet moans of completion.

Blissful and sated, Elizabeth took comfort in her husband's arms, her cheek pressed against the steady beat of his heart. "Shall I be permitted to journey to Longbourn?" she asked, still with some hesitancy.

A muscle in his jaw seemed to tick nervously; Darcy never could resist her wide, imploring gaze. Especially not when she looked upon him with such hope, love, and forgiveness for his harsh and unnecessary rebuke.

Disheveled and flustered, but ultimately satisfied, he nodded ruefully, "I bow to your every whim, my dear wife," he paused, "on the condition that you will allow a care-taker to see your needs, and…"

"And?"

"That I be allowed to accompany you."

Elizabeth blinked, stunned by the declaration. "I had thought that business in Town would prevent you from – " She stopped herself, allowing a small smile to shine through. It would greatly ease her mind to have her husband present. She would say nothing further on the matter.

"I would be delighted for you to join me, my love. However, I must warn you that I believe Mama's manner will tax you severely, perhaps more so than usual."

"I am willing to disregard any impertinent behaviour from your mother, Elizabeth, as long as you are within my sight, and in good health."

"And so it shall be! I acquiesce to all your terms." Elizabeth smiled serenely, the shadows of her grief hidden for the moment. She was no longer bewildered by her husband's earlier non-compliance, and though still a little hurt by his former accusation, she understood his genuine fear for her health.

Steeling herself to the task ahead, she grasped his hands with a beseeching countenance. "You must understand that I would never do anything to jeopardize the well-being of our child. I promise you this."

Darcy sighed regretfully, absently brushing away the stray curls of her hair at her forehead. "It was foolish of me to suggest otherwise. I spoke without thought. Only my fear can justify such a malicious accusation. I cannot comprehend the scope of your mercy, but I am very glad to receive it… I do believe that I shall continue to need it in future altercations." And although he grumbled and postured, his words were uttered with the deepest sincerity, that Elizabeth was overcome by another wave of love for her occasionally mulish husband.

"All is forgotten," she whispered quietly as her lips sought his, and offered him the absolution he desperately desired.

Reviews are welcome.