I am aiming for at least 10 reviews for this chapter, so please read and review. This is chapter 10. I hope that you all like it – I have included a nice memory for those of you who are not liking the way the story is going. Don't worry, I promise that it will all work out.

Chapter 10

For many years to come, the guests at the Pemberley ball would say that the new mistress of Pemberley was a shimmering ray of light, who captured and held the fascination of every pair of eyes in the ball room. Elizabeth desired no company but her husbands, and in the absence of that, settled for the company of everyone else who paid attention to her. So she danced, and flirted, and talked and sparkled, innocently and vibrantly. The women were envious of her rich gown and fine slippers and unaffected air, the men were envious of the husband who seemed to be paying far too little attention to such a beautiful wife.

When she got tired of smiling, her mouth aching from the tension and worry that had plagued her, Elizabeth slipped out to the garden for some much needed fresh air. In normal circumstances, she would have nearly gasped with appreciation of the scene surrounding her. The fragrant blossoms of all kinds, and in every colour, surrounded her. Something about seeing it at night, lit up by soft lamplight, should have had Elizabeth singing with joy. Tonight, all she could see was a pair of brown eyes, the colour of chocolate, and all she could smell was the masculine smell of skin, warm and comfortable first thing in the morning, and all she could think about was how she longed for those eyes to melt for her, and that skin to heat for her. All she wanted was for him to follow her out to the privacy of the garden, and for his strong hands to encircle her waist in a suffocating embrace. She wanted to be loved, and no longer live with this heart-wrenching uncertainty of not knowing how her own husband felt about her.

As her mind wandered, Elizabeth strolled further into the garden, not realising that she was moving away from the light. She sat on the bench and looked out into nothingness, imagining Mr Darcy as he was on their honeymoon.

Mr Darcy watched all evening as Elizabeth danced and flirted and talked and sparkled. It didn't greatly surprise him that men of all ages flocked around her, fighting for her hand in a dance, her attention during a conversation, to be on the receiving end of one of her smiles. He wished that he could be one of them, that she would smile that way for him again. Mr Darcy knew that it was of his own making, however he couldn't control the green eye of jealousy that cloaked him when Elizabeth was being held too tightly in one of his neighbours arms. It was all he could do to stand passively back, and almost beyond his capabilities to act out his disinterest and not give in to his need to watch her all night.

Mr Darcy could never afterwards have said how he managed to sense Elizabeth's whereabouts throughout the ball, without actually watching her, but somehow he did it. He knew that she had left the room, even before he saw that she was no longer there, and somehow he stole out unnoticed to follow her. Darcy told himself that he just wanted to see that Elizabeth was safe. But he knew in his heart that she could lure him to the grave if she had the mind to.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth was lost in her memories.

She trembled, her fear of what was to come mingling with excitement. Nothing in her previous experience had prepared her to face her wedding night. Darcy was so kind and considerate, and she felt a passionate regard for him like nothing she had ever known. When his soft knock upon the door alerted Elizabeth to his presence, Elizabeth turned her head to face him, her body facing the mirror, smiling the most natural smile that she could manage. Yet she felt that it probably looked more like a grimace to Darcy, her whole body including her lips now trembling. "Lizzie, there is no need to be scared." Darcy came to her side to reassure her. "I won't hurt you."

"I know," she whispered.

"I promise." He murmured, placing his hands into her loosened hair, and extracting the remaining pins. "I cherish you..." He placed a kiss atop her head. "I adore you..." His hands raked through her long black curls. He buried his face into Elizabeth's hair and inhaled deeply. She smelt like apples and roses. Elizabeth could only sigh, wide-eyed and awed with this man.

Darcy brushed her hair away from her neck and placed soft, tender kisses on its nape. Instinctually, her neck tilted to one side to allow him greater access, as he moved in front of her, tilted her face up to his own, and placed his lips upon hers. And soon she was returning his kiss, her passion blossoming.

Elizabeth found herself sighing as she recalled the perfect night. Mr Darcy had been perfect, relaxing her with those kisses, and then leading her over to the bed when she was pleading for more. He had led her slowly and sweetly into love-making, so that there was only the slightest twinge of pain before pleasure took over. And afterwards, Mr Darcy had pulled her to him, held tightly in his embrace, her head resting on his chest and learning the beat of his heart.

So carried away in her reminiscences was Elizabeth, that she didn't hear the intruder until it he was almost upon her. In the darkness, she could make out the tall figure of a man, but until he spoke, she wasn't aware that it was the object of her sweet memory.

"Elizabeth... where are you?" Mr Darcy couldn't see her, but he knew that she was there. He could smell the rose and apple scent that he had come to know. "It is really dark out here, you really shouldn't be here alone."

Elizabeth stepped out from the hidden area where her bench was positioned, and then Darcy could see her clearly, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, her eyes glazed with frenzied excitement.

Before he could protest, Elizabeth was in his arms, her slender limbs wrapped around him in a vice like grip, her body pressed up against his as close as she could get it, and her head turned into his neck. "Oh, Fitzwilliam, I was daydreaming that you would come." Her warm breath fell on his neck, her lips so close to where his pulse raced, his heart pounding until Darcy was sure that it would burst.

"Elizabeth..." Darcy whispered unsteadily, his arms coming around her of their own volition, his entire being yearning to keep her there.

She spoke in a rush. "I was remembering our wedding night, and the blissful days afterwards. I knew that you wouldn't forget. You couldn't forget how right we are for each other." In a few short seconds, Elizabeth had shown more vulnerability to Darcy than she ever had before. Yet, Mr Darcy struggled with his warring feelings – his heart urging him to give in – his head warning him to stop this while he was still able.

"I came to see that you were okay! When I turned around you weren't there." Darcy explained.

"I am surprised that you noticed. You haven't danced with me even once!" Elizabeth scolded quietly, her entire body still moulded to his, her voice shaking with the helplessness of her emotions.

"Please kiss me?" She pleaded softly, lifting her head from his shoulder long enough to look enticingly up at Darcy, her lips turned down sensuously awaiting his kiss.

"Elizabeth... don't..." he groaned in a torrent of agony. "We can't... I can't..." He grasped her upper arms and put her away from him.

"I don't understand. Fitzwilliam, something is very wrong. Tell me what it is." Elizabeth demanded of him, trembling even as she said the words, her eyes filling with unshed tears at his rejection.

"I can't Elizabeth. I wish that there could be an easier way. I pray that you will forgive me for what I have done to you."

"Fitzwilliam... please..." Elizabeth choked the plea out through her tears of grief. But he had left her in the garden where she had begged for his love, that which he denied her. Irrational Elizabeth took over at that moment, and she decided that Darcy no longer loved her and didn't want to have to find a way to tell her. In that moment, rational Elizabeth had ceased to exist and life, for the first time since Lydia had eloped with Wickham, life looked eternally miserable. How could she live with Darcy, yet distant from him in all the ways that mattered?

My Darling Wife,

I know not how much longer I shall have to keep up this ridiculous farce. However I cannot bear to go any longer without at least writing to you of the things in my heart that I would say to you if I could. I hope and pray that by doing this, if not today, sometime in the future when all of this is behind us, you will know what I was thinking – and that my primary thoughts were of you! How cruel you must think me, my beloved Lizzie, for I have stayed as much away from you as is humanly possible in the past days.

In doing so, I believe that I hurt myself as much as I hurt you. Lizzie, the thoughts that must be going through your brilliant mind, as you await me in our bed-chamber, only for me to disappoint you once again. Yes, Lizzie, for I still think of it as ours, and as soon as I am able, I will take up residence there once again. If you will still permit me. I know you well, my love, and know that my actions will be difficult to forgive – but I assure you that I do it for you! In an attempt to save your life! For I could not live without you. Not after finally having found you. I apologise for my clumsy words and stilted sentences, darling, but you always knew that I was awkward with words, and there is much to say that rushes through my heart tonight.

Tonight you looked like a dream in your ball gown, your beauty radiant. But your eyes were dulled my love, and it pains me to know that I caused that. Still, you sparkled, capturing the eye of every young man in the room. How I wanted to take you in my arms to declare that you were mine! So ecstatic in marriage that you would never stray. I desperately desired to dance every dance with you, hold you close to my side when the dances ceased, and laugh with you in your diversions. The ball tormented me, Lizzie, you tormented me! But I was proud at the certainty that you would raise yourself above all, and act as you did. Truly, you were born to be mistress of Pemberley. I desperately wanted to kiss you when you asked me in the moonlight – indeed it took every ounce of strength that I have to pull you away from me. But I couldn't, Lizzie, and you will one day understand.

I confess that I have been stealing into your chamber in the early hours of the morning, when you are sound asleep, if only to assure myself that you are still there and are well. How I have longed to wrap you into my arms and hold you, to wipe the remnants of tears and hurt and heartbreak from your lovely face. You were never meant to cry, Lizzie, you were created to laugh, and it tortures me that i have brought you to tears on more than one occasion.

Know that I will always love you.

Yours,

Fitzwilliam

He sighed as he sealed the epistle. One day soon, Elizabeth would read that letter, and hopefully it would help her to understand the true depth of Darcy's feelings for her.

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