A/N: This chapter went in a completely different direction than I had planned, and features something I wasn't even planning to include in this story (which I really hope I did justice to!), and is like 3x longer than expected, so… enjoy!
Archibald was sat at his desk, mechanically signing paper after paper that Pitcher put before him. He'd written easily two dozen letters that morning, always beginning each with the date: 22 June, 19––.
In his youth, the summer solstice was nothing special – it meant more time being ridiculed for not going outside. Once he met Lilias, he grew to love it as she did; she wished for sunlight, not just so she could be out in her garden, but because her garden itself thrived in the summer sun.
Now, nearly a year after he'd last set foot in the garden, Archibald was thankful he'd buried the key: if Lilias couldn't spend the day in the garden, he didn't want anyone to disturb it; not even himself.
He wondered as of late if she could still be there – not in body, but in spirit. While he had been having trouble distinguishing his dreams from a mere fanciful reality, he sometimes thought that, as he sat up into the early hours of the evening, he heard her calling his name.
He knew it wasn't possible, but a part of him wanted to believe; he needed to believe that she was still there with him, guiding him, keeping him alive.
"You need rest, Archie," the doctor had recommended, "I could give you something to help you fall asleep, but I fear this is a result of more than just fatigue; ever since Lily's death you've thrown yourself into your work, and it's becoming too much of a strain on you. I think you need some time away from it all."
Archibald dreaded a trip to the continent almost as much as remaining at Misselthwaite. What if, no matter where he went, he couldn't escape the memories of Lilias?
Or worse: what if he did?
He'd turned down his brother's sedatives; these nights spent somewhere between dream and waking kept Lilias close – he didn't want to lose her. He couldn't.
In the night, after the rest of the house had gone to bed, he began slipping out of his apartment, nightlight in hand, to search for the source of the beautiful voice he heard calling to him.
His stealth wasn't so much for fear of the servants finding out about his midnight wanderings – he was their master, and the few staff who remained after the passing of their mistress wouldn't risk losing their positions for some gossip – as it was for fear of his brother finding out; he hadn't told Neville about the voices he heard, afraid the doctor might try to have him committed.
He knew Neville was already considering such.
Archibald thought he saw glimpses of her skirt rounding a corner, heard her light footsteps running down the hall with that childish energy she radiated.
He at last stopped in front of the grand oak doors which led into the shut-up ballroom. This was the first room he ordered closed, just a few days after she was laid to rest: without Lilias on his arm, he couldn't imagine hosting another one of those parties Misselthwaite was once known for.
But he'd seen the door close as he came around the next bend (or so he believed to have) and he braced himself to enter the room.
The door wasn't locked – he trusted the household to stay out of whatever rooms he ordered – and he prepared for the memories associated with this room to come flooding back.
However, as he looked into the ballroom, he saw neither stacked chairs nor dingy sheets, neither drawn curtains nor cold stone. Instead, he found the last rays of light pouring in from the tall windows, the non-electric chandeliers shining, and a fire blazing in the wall across from him; the air was filled with music and gay chatter.
Brightly dressed guests sat at the tables, drinking and gossiping, while others danced across the middle of the hall. Lord Craven walked to the centre of the crowd, still in his dressing gown, yet feeling more confident than he'd ever felt in full tails out in society; besides, no one seemed to notice his strange choice of dress. He'd turned toward the entrance where servants were bustling in and out to care for the guests.
Slowly, the dancers parted, leaving Archibald alone. He turned back to the fireplace, but was met with a much more radiant sight:
Lilias stood smiling and offering her hand to him, holding her skirt up in the other.
It wasn't exactly her dress; Lilias had not wanted Archibald to spend so much money on a dress she'd only wear once before converting it into another evening gown which would join the dozen or so that would crowd her wardrobe. The boxes which arrived from Paris following the wedding tour had seemed endless – did one person really need this many dresses? – but she didn't mind that her wedding dress wasn't among them.
Instead, it was boxed up again in the attic, where is had gone after the former Lady Craven wore it for the same occasion decades earlier. It wasn't in fashion, as her sister, Rose, had critiqued, but Lilias didn't mind: it was beautiful on her; she'd even once quipped that she could spend the rest of her life in it.
Her beauty in the garment was inherent to Archibald, and he had no qualms parting with the dress for the sake of her proper parting wish to be laid to rest in it.
But, even with the night air blowing in, betraying that the memory was an illusion, Archibald pushed that thought away, and walked forward to take his wife's hand, reliving the joy he felt when they first danced as husband and wife. (Archibald may have been traditional, but one precedent Archibald was willing to stray from was leaving for the wedding tour directly after breakfasting – and he was so happy he did; there was nothing he could compare to the bliss he felt as he danced with his wife for the first time, showing her off to all the people who taunted him, made him believe that he'd never know such joy.)
Was this even a memory, or had he actually found sleep and gotten absorbed in a dream? Archibald couldn't tell, but he hoped for the former, fearing that a dream would too quickly turn into a nightmare. Such a wish was granted as the woman in his arms pulled him close and kissed him sweetly.
Perhaps he hadn't forgotten what it felt like to hold her in his embrace.
The couple danced around the ballroom as the music swelled, Archibald willingly losing himself in Lily's eyes, while she hummed along to the tune the quintet played, equally lost in the gaze of her husband' kind brown eyes, full of love, and devouring her as though she were Heaven itself.
Archibald wasn't aware of how absorbed he was in this fantasy until it all vanished into thin air at the sound of his name being called from the doorway; someone was chastising him, he could hear it in their voice.
He frantically, pathetically, groped around him, mumbling his wife's name, trying desperately to get Lilias back. The doctor had come up behind him, reaching to restrain his brother's flailing arms.
"Goodness, Archie," Neville exclaimed, desperate to calm his brother, "she is gone, let it go!"
"But she's not gone," Archibald protested," she was just here a moment ago, and you drove her away!"
Leading him out of the room, "this has gone too far – you thought you were dancing with her? She is dead! This isn't healthy," the younger continued to complain, still trying to process the scene he walked in upon.
He had been awoken in the night because Colin was in a fit. It took some time to get the infant under control, and, by then, the doctor was wide awake.
He had been walking to the library when he saw that the door to the ballroom was open; upon investigating, he saw first an abandoned candle resting on a nearby table, then he noticed his brother twirling around the room with his arms out, as though he were dancing with an invisible partner. A broad grin spread across the Baron's face like nothing the doctor had seen in the months since Lily's death.
"As a doctor, I think you need to leave this house," he proposed while leading the elder back to his rooms, hoping Archibald's fantastical, sleep-deprived state would make it easier to convince him to leave, "and as your brother, I say the same."
"Why not go to Paris for a few weeks," he continued, the other nodding along, "I can take care of the house in the meantime."
His brother tried to argue that point, but Neville quieted him with reassurances.
Thus, it was decided: Neville would take over the estate for the next few weeks, while Archibald spend some time off in Paris; hopefully, a change of scenery would improve his spirits.
Neville also secretly prayed that this sojourn would also make it easier to convince Archibald to stay away longer, perhaps even turn the running of the estate over to his brother full time. Of course, he wasn't entitled to his brother's inherited status, but if Archibald were to formally retire–
"Of course, then the estate would go to Colin," the doctor pondered, "so long as the boy is alive, that is."
The boy had been quite ill as of late, and Archibald hadn't seen him in longer, but thinking (hoping?) that the boy wouldn't live long enough to see his father's return, he figured it best to visit the child before he set off.
When Archibald had finished packing, the master steeled himself to say a quick goodbye to the boy. Thankfully, the child was asleep by then.
It took all his strength to go into the room, especially after noticing Lily's portrait – "foolish girl" he grumbled, drawing it closed, hiding his late wife's laughing eyes, mocking him; he figured the new nurse (Neville had recently ordered the dismissal of the child's wet nurse) must have looked at the portrait in curiosity, and forgot to cover it when she left.
"Or it could just as easily have been Neville?" he continued wondering, doing whatever he could to avoid going to his son's bedside.
"Farewell, Colin," he'd finally managed to say to the sleeping baby, "I have to go away, but your mother is looking out for you."
He learned over the cot and placed a gentle kiss upon the little boy's head.
Memories rushed back to him, the last time he'd shown this much genuine affection toward the boy was while he was in Lily's arms.
She was sitting up in bed with Colin, Archibald supporting her weight in his own, trying to pretend that everything would be okay.
"He's so tiny," she murmured, her effervescent smile masking the pain she felt all over, "and he's so perfect."
Neville had advised Lilias against attempting a feeding, but she fought him: "it's the first instance a mother gets to develop a special bond with her child," she'd argued, "and, if I won't have the chance to properly raise my son, I need at least that. Please," she begged, "you are a doctor, you know I'm not inventing this as an excuse."
Dr. Craven wasn't going to argue with such determination anyway – it was late, and the day had been too long.
The baby looked up at his parents with wide, curious eyes – just like his mothers – his mouth forming a tiny "o" as he held onto his father's finger.
"Of course he's perfect, you made him that way," Archibald professed, kissing his wife.
"We did, Archie," Lilias replied, giggling as a faint blush formed in her cheeks.
Archibald pulled her even closer, happy to see some colour in her porcelain skin; she had been getting paler since that afternoon.
As the new little family continued to bond, Neville returned with a nurse to retrieve the boy.
The nurse reached for Colin, but Lilias wouldn't let go.
"Lily, you need to get some rest," he brother-in-law suggested wearily, taking up the camera across from the bed. (Lily had wanted some photographs as a family, "for Colin" she'd said.)
"Just," she protested hastily, "one moment more, please."
The doctor and nurse stepped back, and Archibald nuzzled into her golden hair.
"Colin, my love," she began with quivering voice, "Mummy has to go to bed now, but know that I'll always be with you," taking a deep breath, "I love you so so much, my sweet little boy, and so does your father; he will take such good care of you, for both of our sakes."
Tears were falling by now, gently yet steadily: her façade had cracked.
"And your uncle is a very good doctor – he'll make sure you get well."
She pulled the infant closer to her bosom, and Archibald wrapped his arms around the both of them. He leaned in a bit to softly kiss his son's brow.
"Never forget that we love you, Colin; mum loves you more than the earth. And I'll always be right there inside you, my dear."
The doctor gave a glance to the nurse, and the young woman went over to Lilias, successfully retrieving the child this time, and briskly walked out of the room.
Lilias looked longingly after the retreating figure, until she had passed through one of the outer doors.
"You've been very brave today, my dear," Neville said plainly, fighting to maintain a stoic exterior, "and I think you should face everything before you go to sleep."
She knew what he was referring to – she'd been planning to do as much once she was alone with her husband – she hadn't wanted to frighten Colin.
"Goodnight, my dear," kissing Lilias on both of her tear-stained cheeks, "and God bless you."
"You will help him get better," she asked, lip quivering.
"Anything for you two."
"Thank you for everything you've done for me and Colin today," she softly replied, "and for being a wonderful brother to me," she continued, "Goodnight, Neville."
The doctor nodded and turned to walk out, hiding his sorrows. He closed the bedroom door behind him, leaving husband and wife alone together for the first time that day.
Almost immediately, Lilias broke the silence which hung thick in the air, choking out a heart-breaking sob.
"Archie, I'm so scared."
Archibald held her protectively, his heavy tears falling upon her.
"I know, love," he spoke softly, trying to reassure her – how do you reassure someone in this situation?
"You've been through so much today, my dear," he continued, hoping the sound of his voice would ease her a bit. "And I am so proud of you – for fighting to bring our child into the world."
Her crying was starting to let up, and she wasn't shaking as much.
"I just feel I've failed you," she managed to reply.
"Not at all! It's all right that you're scared – I'm terrified – but you've done nothing but make my life better since I met you."
"And you've done the same for me," she said. She tried to smile at this, but it only made more tears fall. "I don't want to lose you, Archie; you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
She seemed lost in thought for a moment, and Archibald kept his focus on the unsteady rise and fall of her chest.
Then, "I always said I couldn't imagine my life without you," she mused, "and now–"
Archibald cut Lilias's newest revelation off, quieting her with a kiss, not wanted to spend their last moments together worrying about the future.
He expressed as much to her after pulling away, concluding, "let's enjoy each other's company now."
"While we still can," he thought, but dared not add.
"Just one more thing about the future." Archibald sense her restlessness and nodded for her to explain.
"You will take good care of Colin, even if he's not," she paused, searching for the right words, "even if he's not perfect? Promise me."
"I promise," he replied, "he's a part of us both – he's a part of you – as you said before: he is perfect; and he will always be so in my eyes."
That was apparently enough talking for the moment. Lilias cuddled closer to him, trying to find the least painful way to sleep; He helped her move, hypnotized by the bittersweet sound of her still-beating heart, straining under the exertion of her movement.
"I love you, Archie," she declared as she settled into her new position. "I'm sorry if I never said it enough."
Even just hearing her speak his name was enough for Archibald; her love made him feel inexplicably blessed.
"I just can't stop saying it now – it's like my heart is ready to burst will all the years we're to lose."
"I don't mind hearing it now," her husband chuckled, which relaxed Lilias even further; this felt like any other night they'd spent together.
"Though you have said it plenty before, even if you didn't always use your words to do so."
"Well I'm using them now." Her smile grew a little fuller, then fell, like a star growing to its brightest right before it reaches its end, and she added, "while I still can."
Despite Lilias clearly being saddened by this revelation, it had the opposite effect on Archibald: to him, it meant that she'd find a way to show him she still loved him when she was no longer there to tell him so, even if she didn't realise this in the moment.
Thus, he was surprised by her next comment.
"You'll never forget me, will you? Even once you've found a new wife?" There was no distracting her from his future without her.
"I wouldn't dream of such a thing, Lily," he exclaimed, feathering kisses all over her face. "I'll never love anyone, except perhaps Colin" – perhaps – "as much as I love you! And certainly not another woman."
Lilias tried to laugh at this, determined to not give in to the true gravity of their situation.
Twelve bells chimed in the night, signally a new day was upon them. Lilias reminisced on the first time she'd heard the bells of the famed Notre Dame Cathedral, while they were in Paris on their wedding tour.
This topic led to further conversation of happy memories, keeping the foreboding future out of the mind of husband and wife alike for the time being.
When Lilias began yawning to the point where she could hardly speak a sentence without doing so, Archibald ended this reverie.
"It's late."
"We should be getting to sleep now." He spoke slowly, trying to keep his voice steady. "You look so tired."
It was more a lamentation than an observation, but it came across to Lilias as a proclamation; she had to give in to sleep eventually – better it be natural before eternal.
His wife was shaking in his arms, her eyes glistening as they struggled to focus, betraying her exhaustion.
"I don't want to , Archie," she protested like a child, "I can't."
Both understood this declaration – they both believed it – yet neither had said it, until, "once, I go to sleep, I won't–" Lilias admitted, "I won't be waking up."
She had thought saying this aloud would make her less afraid, but she was instead consumed by the shock of it all.
"I know, I know," Archibald repeated, trying to ease her sorrows while masking his own.
"But wouldn't you rather we both be sleep when–" he didn't want to finish that sentence. He took a breath; Lily understood him too well regardless.
"No more tears," he declared, trying to wipe the constant stream on his wife's cheeks away, "just sweet dreams."
"Only if you're holding me all night," Lilias countered, sniffling.
"I swear I won't let go." Archibald squeezed her gently to emphasise his assurance.
"Goodnight then, Archie – my husband, my love."
She tried to reach up to kiss him, but winced in pain before she was able to do so. Instead, Archibald took her face in both his hands and lent down to kiss her with all the ardour he could muster in his overly-tired state; it had been a dreadfully long day for both of them , and he wished he could spend the rest of eternity frozen in this moment.
"Sweet dreams, Lilias," he whispered, reluctantly parting their lips, "I pray you find peace."
"And we'll be together again when you do too," Lilias said to reassure Archibald, as well as herself.
"But hopefully not for a long time. I'd love to take you with me, but I can't," she added, "for Colin's sake."
"For Colin's sake," her husband repeated, acknowledging his comprehension of this warning: don't try to come after not, not while we have a son you need to take care of.
"I love you," she murmured, at last shutting her eyes, ready to submit to sleep.
"And I love you, Lilias, always," he replied, gently.
She smiled at his declaration, and Archibald fell asleep to the sound of her slow, yet calm, breaths.
This memory was too much for the master to handle, though, and Neville, who had been lurking outside the room in case Colin stirred, had to nearly drag his weeping brother out to the carriage.
"A sojourn on the continent will be good for him," the doctor muttered, "and having him out of the way will do wonders for us all."