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It was the second morning in which Elizabeth had awoken to her husband's stillness. As she leaned forward to take note of his comatose state, she noticed his eyes. In the morning light, she determined the movements under their delicate covers; a fluttering of lashes batting his cheeks, and a gentle squeeze of her hand, which clasped his; all indicating he was waking up.

"Fitzwilliam, it is Elizabeth, please wake up."

"Dear, Lord!" he croaked, "What has happened?" he said as he scrunched his brows in pain. "Why does my head hurt so much?"

"You have been in an accident. A branch came down in the storms, and we think it startled your horse and you fell. You've been unconscious since the day before yesterday."

Darcy opened his eyes very slowly; squinting in order to focus. "Why have no candles been lit? Elizabeth, why are you sitting with me in the dark?"

"What do you mean? It is quite bright in here."

Darcy remained silent for a few moments, but his stillness was gradually replaced with an increasing amount of trepidation. His body stiffened, initially when he discerned what had occurred, then his breathing became heightened as the seriousness of his condition ensued. "Elizabeth, I cannot see. I cannot see a damn thing!"

"What do you mean!? You cannot even see me!?" She tilted his head by grabbing at his chin and pulled it towards her, but he only stared into her direction with indistinct eyes. His gaze was positively myopic.

"I cannot see one jot!"

Without hesitation, she rang the bell cord above the bed for the housekeeper. When Mrs Reynolds was permitted to enter the room, Elizabeth moved towards the servant and quietly requested that Doctor Evans attend without delay, articulating that the master had awoken, but all was not well. Mrs Reynolds felt profoundly unnerved by the mistresses words, but would not beg for Elizabeth to elaborate upon what she had already offered. The Housekeeper quickly removed herself and sent the errand boy to fetch Doctor Evans from the village.

"Elizabeth… Do not leave me," said Darcy, after the housekeeper had left. Elizabeth was still removed from his side, and he wanted nothing more than to be able to touch her and so ensuring her presence.

"I have no intention of leaving you, Fitzwilliam. I will be right by your side, even when the doctor is here." She hurried back to the bed and as soon as he felt the dip of the mattress, he frantically searched for her hand. When found, he could do little more than to grapple it into his own, hoping her touch would diminish his growing anxiety and give him the courage to bear Dr Evans' prognosis. He would not release her, not even when the physician wished for privacy. His sole desire at that time was to not break the bond with the one person who had been able to bring forth a sense of calmness to the turbulent thoughts in his head.

"Well, Mr Darcy," the doctor sighed after he had examined his patient. The physician's exhalation had made both Darcy and Elizabeth flinch. Was it bad news? The doctor continued, "I have looked into your eyes, and I cannot see any cause for the blindness; there is no trauma to the optic nerves. I have seen this dozens of times in my career, and each patient recovered their sight, so I can advise you that the condition will be temporary."

"His sight will return? You are certain?" Elizabeth asked, just to make sure she understood, and that her husband was absorbing everything that had been spoken.

"That is correct, Mrs Darcy. Your husband should make a full recovery. I cannot say how long it will take, mind you. It could be hours, days, weeks or even months."

"Months! I cannot live like this!" Darcy exclaimed. "I need my sight back!"

"I am afraid, Mr Darcy, there is little I can do. How do you feel, besides your eyes?"

"I feel rather nauseous, and my head hurts."

"Ah, that is also to be expected. You will have to let mother nature take its course and heal you, sir. I would advise that you do not venture anywhere outdoors or do anything strenuous until your sight returns and you are fully recovered. Bed rest for at least this first week and try not to stress yourself too much. Is your steward able to cope on his own for the time being?"

"Yes, he is very competent. All my staff are excellent at their jobs."

"That is good to hear because I do not wish for you to lift a finger for this week. By the end of the week, your steward may take counsel, but you are not to go out and about doing your rounds."

"I do not have a blasted choice, for I cannot go out! I cannot see!"

"Fitzwilliam, please be patient. It is not the doctor's fault."

"No, it is mine! I should not have driven Neptune so hard in bad weather. The poor brute must have been foaming at the mouth when he returned."

"I do not know; I was too concerned that you were missing to notice the state of your horse."

"He is not hurt though; I would hate for him to be injured in any way."

"No he is not hurt," is all that Elizabeth could say. She thought on what she had said about the horse; the guilt now began to brew, Elizabeth wished her words had not spilt and remained in her own mind, but at the time, she needed to blame someone, and the steed seemed the easiest option.

After the doctor had taken his leave, Elizabeth lay down and took her husband into her arms, where she soothed his woes. "Close your eyes, dear. I am here, and all will be well."

"But what if it is not? What will happen if my eyesight does not return? I will no longer be able to run the estate, gaze upon my beautiful wife, or…" he paused then added with a considerable amount of uncertainty, "or watch our children grow. I will not even know their likeness."

Elizabeth hesitated before responding. Her heart almost broke on hearing his sobs, and she struggled to think of something that would give him strength. What if he does not fully recover? What would happen then? Remembering what the physician had said, brought her some reassurance. She had to hold onto those few words for her own and her husband's sake. "Do not say that, Fitzwilliam. You heard the doctor as well as I."

"But what if he is wrong?"

"He has been a physician for several decades and witnessed this occurrence dozens of times; he said so himself. I doubt he would have misled you into thinking you would fully recover when you would not. His professional reputation will be ruined if he was to tell the master of Pemberley falsehoods."

Elizabeth held her husband for over an hour, hearing his quiet snuffles indicating he was still awake. By the time the clock had struck one in the afternoon, Darcy had fallen fast asleep after shifting to a more comfortable position. His respite allowed his wife to remove herself from the bed and at least dress, as she had little chance to that morning.Dear lord! she thought, Dr Evans saw me in my nightgown.

Three days had passed, and Darcy was as irritable as ever. Elizabeth had likened him to a dog who had had his favourite bone taken away for no reason, although he was more rambunctious than an overactive puppy. "No, I do not want to be read to! By you reading, it will remind me that I cannot!… Elizabeth?! Where are you?!"

"I am here, at the end of the bed. So you do not wish for me to read?"

"No, I just said so! Can you not pay attention?!"

"Please do not take your mood out on me. I only asked if you would wish to while away the hours in some sort of entertainment."

"Then come here, and I will show you entertainment," he grinned.

"Mr Darcy! How very mercurial you have been these past days. I will have no more of your mood swings; I want my husband back."

"Then, come here."

"It has not yet been a week, and you were told specifically to get bed rest for a sennight. I cannot go against the doctor's orders."

"Well, we will be in bed, so you are not specifically going against his orders."

"But you will not be resting. Fitzwilliam, please, I beg of you."

"Oh, begging? I like begging… You can do all the work. I will just lie here and imagine you riding me like the brute of a stallion that I am." Darcy threw back his covers and scrambled to the end of the bed, flaring his arms out and around him, hoping to make contact.

"You will not succeed in your efforts to grab me. I will just move when you come close," Elizabeth stated as she jumped off of the bed. Luckily for her, her husband could not see her expression. She thought it all rather fun that he would not be able to catch her.

"Elizabeth! I am your husband, and you vowed to obey me on our wedding day. Now, obey me!" he shouted, then huffed and fell back onto the bed with a bounce. "Please?"

She returned to his side and innocently nestled up to him, hoping that she would comfort his mood rather than his ardour, which had been building steadily from the second day of his incarceration. But Elizabeth had been a dunderhead in her opinion. "No!" she snapped at his hand, as it wandered into the direction of her bosom. "I know what you are doing, Fitzwilliam. If you do not stop, I will leave you in the capable hands of Roger, and he will sit with you, whilst I go down and take tea with Georgiana."

"No! Do not leave me. I am sorry. It is just… grrrrr!"

"I know you are bored out of your mind, but you know what the-"

"Yes! Yes! The doctor has ordered rest," he huffed once more.

"Do you want me to ask Georgiana to play her pianoforte in her room. We can have the doors open and listen to your favourite pieces."

"I suppose, that is if you are not to comfort me."

"But I am. I am keeping you company. Is that not comfort enough."

"You know what I mean. I want favours!" Darcy frowned and Elizabeth witnessed the return of his mood.

Mercurial!

The week's confinement had passed, and the situation had not improved. If anything, Darcy's mood had been gathering storm the longer he was made to rest. He was bored, he was aggravated by his blindness, he was concerned that said blindness could be permanent, but lastly, Darcy was concupiscent, and Elizabeth refused him his due. It was getting to the point that even his wife's patience was being tested to the fullest with his constant demands.

It was nearly noon on the seventh day when Georgiana had taken to keeping her brother company. Elizabeth had allowed herself a brief sabbatical to enable her to do some of her duties, without the interruptions of a less than happy patient. "Fitzwilliam?"

"What is the matter, Georgie?" he asked. He could sense the hesitation, even in just saying his name.

"I did not mention it before, but did you know that Elizabeth was going to have Neptune destroyed?"

"What?!" he sat up in bed sharply at his sister's words.

"The night you were found. She said she wanted him gone. It was only through Richard and myself talking her around that she gave in."

"Are you sure?" he could not believe his ears. How could his wife kill an innocent animal and a most beloved one at that?

"She said she wanted it gone because it had thrown and injured you twice this year. Richard tried to persuade her not to shoot the thing, but Elizabeth was adamant she wanted it gone."

"How dare she order my horse be shot!" Darcy was angry.

"I stood against her decision and told her that she couldn't, then she pulled rank and told me that she was the mistress. She was seething at me, brother. But… but then she fell to the floor, and Richard sent me to bed. I did not want to go, but he told me I would be needed in the morning and to get rest, so I left."

"So, you do not know if she changed her mind?"

"Oh, she will not shoot it. Richard said that she had retracted her decision."

"Georgiana, I want to be left alone. I am tired and need to sleep," was all that Darcy stated. He needed to think things through before confronting his wife, but how could he believe his wife would do such a thing? He had little choice other than to try and not mull it over until he allowed Elizabeth to explain herself.

Darcy woke about an hour later, the room was quiet, but he could smell Elizabeth's perfume. "Are you in here, Elizabeth?" he stated firmly. His anger had not diminished, and he needed to get to the bottom of this revelation his sister had disclosed.

"Yes, I am sitting in the chair." She leaned forward and touched his hand, but he snapped it away, causing his wife's confusion.

"Georgiana has told me what you were going to do to Neptune. How could you!?"

"Fitzwilliam. I was not in a good place. You were unconscious, and the doctor indicated the horse probably threw you."

"But to deprive me of my own steed?! How could you do that to me?!"

"I said it in the heat of the moment!"

"It only takes a moment to pull the trigger! Then, there is no reversing your decision as it would have been final!"

"Pull the trigger?"

"You were going to get someone to shoot it, dead! And probably sell it off to make glue!"

"I would not have done that. I wanted the horse taken away."

"Taken away? Georgie told me you were going to shoot the thing!"

"Shoot it! I said no such thing!"

"Are you calling my sister a liar?"

"Are you calling me, your wife, a liar, sir!?" He said nothing. "Either way, sir, one of us is not telling the truth, and it is not me!"

"Then why did my sister say you were going to shoot it?"

"I do not know! Richard was the only person who mentioned shooting and that was an assumption on his part. I said I was going to get rid of it and that was before I collapsed on the floor, in another bout of hysteria, BECAUSE MY HUSBAND COULD HAVE DIED!" She took a few deep breaths before continuing. "I would not have even sold the horse, let alone kill it. I was in a desperate state; you were lying in your bed, and for all I knew, you might not have survived! I needed to blame someone or something, and the horse seemed an ideal scapegoat at the time." Elizabeth was crying at this point but soldiered on with her explanation. "I would never have put you through that; You love that animal." She stopped there, realising that he probably loved that horse more than he did her. He had insinuated she had lied and that his sister, who was immature for her age, had told the absolute truth. "I am going to my rooms, I need some time alone," she mumbled before she left via the sitting room.

Darcy remained in bed, alone in his room for some time. It had then dawned on him that his sister had miscomprehended his wife's outburst, assuming it was one of malice. But now he realised that Elizabeth had only lashed out in desperation, clinging onto something that would help her in her then frenetic state. There was no deep-seated meanness in her words, only those of a woman in despair and whose thoughts were aberrant at best. How could he have been such a brute for not believing her? For his sister had been known before to have upended a conversation to complete nonsense. Why would this be any different?

With a heavy heart, he rose from his bed and trundled across the sitting room with all attempts to not bump into the furniture in his path. "Elizabeth?" he asked with much reparation in his voice. "I am sorry. I think Georgie has got the whole thing wrong. I do believe you, but after hearing what she had said, I could only think of what would have happened if…"

"But it would not have happened, Fitzwilliam. I would not have deprived you of that animal. He means more to you than… than… Oh, it does not matter!"

"Then you will forgive me for my outburst?" he said as he wandered over to her.

"I do not know. Not yet, anyway. I am sorry, Fitzwilliam, but I want to be left alone. This past week has been taxing enough without your accusations… Just leave me be for a short while. I will come to you later when I am myself once more."

He wanted to step forward and kiss her, hoping his caress would make it all better, but he knew he was not going to be forgiven that easily. So he turned to leave the room, but when he reached the connecting door, he stopped to think. The past week he had only thought of himself and not what his wife would have been going through. He did not turn, but cast his head to the floor and uttered, "Please forgive me, my darling. I am such a clodhopper, and a selfish one at that."

Then he was gone.