Dear Readers: This novel does contain references to rape and abuse. I understand that these are sensitive topics, and I would not wish for any reader to suffer as a result of coming across these references without warning.

Be advised, this story is rated M.

Please do leave a review and let me know your thoughts, I am new to all this and would appreciate any feedback. xox.


CHAPTER TWO

It was growing late in the afternoon with only a few hours of daylight left in the winter sky, as Mr Darcy sat comfortably across from his sleeping wife, in the gently rocking carriage. He knew the journey to Netherfield was always going to be a difficult journey for Anne, it was nearly three days travelling and though, he had made sure to have plenty of heated rocks, furs and blankets packed along with planned stops every thirty miles, it would still not be much of a defence against the harsh cold winter settling around them.

It had never been Darcy's intention to marry his cousin, in fact, the more his aunt had pushed the union, the more resolved he came in not submitting to her will. However, on the morning of the Netherfield ball of his good friend Charles Bingley two years prior he had received his usual monthly summons from his Aunt Catherine to fulfil his duty and wed his cousin. He had acted as usual and tossed the letter, intending to dispose of it in the fire. It was not until the balls end, where he had once again discovered the festering wolf in sheep's clothing; George Wickham, had managed to turn the whole of the small town against him and had learned of his own apparent dastardly deeds from one of the most infuriating and impertinent young lady of his acquaintance, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, that he had felt the need to escape and finally face his aunt with the finality of his decision that they would not wed.

In truth he had quite enjoyed Miss Elizabeth Bennet's wit and marvelled at her intelligence, enjoying and taking every opportunity to spar with her on multiple occasions… until that moment. He felt duped and disappointed that he could have been so easily lead by his ardour and fooled by a pair offine eyes, who appeared to be no more than any other of her silly younger sisters, and at least they had their age and negligent parents to blame for their behaviour and being out in society before an appropriate age. He did, however, feel for Miss Bennet as he had since heard of her betrothal to Mr Collins; his aunt's current parson, who was the silliest and most grating man he had ever had the misfortune to meet.

When the ball had finally ended in the small hours, Mr Darcy had retired to his room, to discover his aunt's letter unburned at the edge of the fireplace, and without giving too much thought, ordered his things packed and left that morning.

Mr Darcy knew his rage had played a major factor in wanting to leave so suddenly, but it was also due to his embarrassment at having tarried too long in Netherfield for the sake of a growing infatuation that had in the end been revealed to be one sided and not reciprocated even slightly. He had learned one thing at least, now after having felt such an attraction to woman, not only for her body but for her brilliance of mind, he would have to put a stop to his aunt's misapprehension of his one day marrying his cousin. He had never thought much on marriage, but if he ever did, he wanted a wife who would challenge and inspire him, and his sickly cousin did not offer him that. Perhaps if the Anne he remembered from his youth had not been replaced by a resigned and weak woman, then she might have been a consideration.

When he had arrived in Kent, he had gone straight to see Anne to discuss things with her and see if she was still against the union, before speaking with Lady Catherine.

He had found Anne sitting in her art room, painting a picture of the small stream at Rosing's, from a painting by another. She had not been aware of his presence in the doorway, and he had witnessed her become frustrated, throwing the paint brushes to the floor as she began to sob. Not expecting her capable of such an outburst, Mr Darcy, did not hesitate to go to her, kneeling to the side of where she sat and offering Anne the use of his handkerchief to wipe away her tears.

"Dear cousin, what is the matter?" he asked.

"Oh, it 'tis nothing, I only grow upset at never having seen the stream for myself, well not that I can remember. I want to paint it from my perspective but can only ever paint from – Oh Fitzwilliam!" she gasped, realising it was he before her and smiling softly, "I did not know we were expecting you, what a wonderful surprise."

"I thought to pay you a surprise visit." he had replied, shocked at her welcome and then realized it was because his aunt was not here! It had been some years since they had spent time without her mother present!

"You cannot lie to me, cousin. Mother has summoned you and you have come to put an end to her meddling! You do not have to fear on my account, she will tell you that you will be ruining my prospects and how I have waited for you, and so on. But I am not fool at seven and twenty. My frail body will inspire no man and will most likely not last me much longer." she had sighed softly.

But it was not the words spoken by his gentle cousin, it was what appeared to be relief in her eyes that it would all be over soon, and the realization that his cousin from his memories was still in there that had weakened Darcy's resolve.

Abruptly he stood and walked to the window, in silent contemplation for a moment or two. His back ramrod straight as was always his habit when he was deep in thought or trying to fight his emotions. After a few long minutes Darcy turned and went back to where his cousin Anne sat patiently waiting for him to collect his thoughts.

"How are you feeling today, Anne?" he'd asked.

"I am well, as you see?" she'd replied quizzically, "Cousin, you are behaving out of sorts. Are you well?"

"I wondered... that is… how would you like to see the stream for yourself?"

"But my mother would never allow it. She has not allowed me to leave the house in almost a year, since my last seizure." Anne had been clearly nervous, scared even.

"Anne, are you frightened to go outside?" he had asked crouching down once more.

To his complete shock she laughed, it was not a loud invigorating laugh, but a breathy laugh as if she was unsure of how to do so, "No, I am terrified of what my mother will put me through before and after the fact. She will undoubtedly get angry and then try to tell me of all the painful ways such an endeavour will result in my death. Afterwards, I will be subjected to baths of ice, stretching of my limbs, stiflingly hot rooms and foul draughts, which never seem to make a difference." she had whispered, "Therefore, as wonderful as your gesture is, I would ask that we do not attempt it." Her weak smile had done nothing to remove the sadness and despair from her countenance.

Instead of arguing the point, Darcy was no physician, but he knew being kept in doors without sunlight and fresh air could only be a detriment, flowers always wilted without sunlight… Darcy had pulled up a stool and sat with his profile to his cousin to allowed her to capture his likeness.

"Now you can sketch something first-hand." He's offered. "I know it is hardly comparable to the outdoors but if you do not tell a soul, we can put my skill of stillness to good use, for you to capture me from your point of view," his eyes twinkling with mirth, but a sadness too.

As he sat there, he could hear the soothing strokes of her paint brush on the canvas and thought over all his memories of his cousin. In her youth she had wanted to play with him and their other cousins, but Lady Catherine had rarely allowed it, she had showed no signs of a sickly constitution then, but his aunt had always been too scared she would come to harm. He remembered her being lively and daring. A great lover of the theatre, music and had talked for hours of all the things she would do when she was old enough to leave Rosing's behind.

Once her seizure's had started, things became strained, and everyone was afraid to go near Anne. Gradually she had been confined in doors more and more, only allowed out when her Ladyship ventured outside, until that had been stopped last year. She had still maintained her wicked sense of humour and talked of things that she should not, he knew his cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam would often tell her stories of buxom actresses and tavern wenches and she would enjoy scandal of it all. Endearingly in her innocence, she thought she knew terribly wanton tales, but she had only heard of stolen kisses, never enough that would reveal the intimacies shared within the bedroom. Darcy had told Richard many a time he should not be saying such things to Anne, but Richard had always argued that she was not likely to know romance or adventure in her life. And he was right, ever since her first seizure Anne had never recovered, each one taking more and more from her but at such a slow pace it wasn't largely noticeable. She always appeared pale and tired and if you did not know her you would not see her decline.

"Anne?" he had asked, breaking her concentration.

"Shh!" she'd admonished.

The clock on the mantle ticked on. Tick… tock… tick… "Anne?"

"Yes, dear cousin?" she'd replied, archly pretending to be cross.

"Marry me."

Anne hands seized their movements, she had appeared unable to speak she stayed as she was, brush poised, mouth agape, blinking at him.

"Why?" she'd breathed, wide eyed.

"Do you love me?" he'd countered, with a question of his own.

"No, and you do not love me either."

"No. I do not."

"Then why?" she'd asked a second time, watching him shrewdly as she placed her hands in her lap.

"Allow me take you away, away from here."

"What is it? Are you short of money? Have you sired an illegitimate heir?" she'd asked unflinchingly.

"None of those things…" he'd paused, searching for the correct words when she interjected.

"I will most likely not live very long. I can feel myself weakening much quicker than I have ever done before and I do not need a doctor tell me I would be unable to carry a child to full term, let alone survive childbirth." She'd warned. Her brown eyes pinning him, seeing for anything that might give way to his true feelings.

Moving his stool closer to her, he had leaned closer, "Anne, I have never anticipated doing this myself. I am saying this only because you have a way of reading minds, no one can fool you, my dear cousin. I wish to give you some fulfilment and joy in your life. We could go to Pemberley and sit outdoors and paint to your hearts content. I know you are ill, but your mind is not, and it is being suffocated by Lady Catharine. I believe you deserve better." He was not lying, Darcy had come to Rosing's aiming to achieve the complete opposite outcome, but Anne did deserve better. And if she did have a month, a year, five years, she deserved to live them without ice baths and confinement and have memories when she was weaker to bring her joy and hope.

She was the only one who had understood his silence and temperament after the death of his parents and did not mock him or tease him for being different or socially awkward. They had created a unique friendship when Anne lost her father the year Darcy lost his mother. They had not spent much time in each other's company of late, but they had always understood the other with perfect clarity.

"Perhaps, you and I will be able to bring out a contentment and optimism in each other?" he said.

Waiting awkwardly, unsure if he wanted her to accept or decline his offer. When finally, she had looked up, he released the breath he had not known he was holding and moved back to give her space to speak.

"If you are truly serious?" she'd asked and for the first time Darcy saw hope flare in her eyes.

"Am I not always, so?" he'd answered, with a small quirk of his lips. Anne knew most missed this and always thought him very severe and critical, when often he was joking, but his sense of humour was typically quite dry and if you did not know him, his expressions appeared unwaveringly straight.

She had smiled then, felling her courage grow, "I will accept, but I have conditions…"

"Very well, if it is in my possession to grant them, I will do so."

"Firstly, I will never be made to do anything I do not wish to do?"

"That goes without saying, Anne. I can promise you; I will never impose upon you in any way." Darcy had vowed, knowing this would not be a conventional marriage, but one of companionship.

She'd held out a trembling hand to shake as though sealing the promise.

"Secondly, I do not wish to be carted off to Pemberley, I find that now I have been offered the chance to leave here, I wish to go to London. I do not mean to say that we spend no time in Derbyshire, but I long to go to the theatre and museums again!" two spots of colour appearing in her cheeks, which had been absent for too long. It was then that Darcy knew he had done the right thing and not for his aunt but for his cousin and old friend, Anne. He suddenly felt his guilt keenly, for leaving her forgotten here at his aunt's mercy for so long.

"I will agree, but if it is a detriment to your health we will retire to the country for a reprieve and then return, yes?" he'd countered.

"Agreed," they had shaken hands once more, "Thirdly, I wish to try everything at least once before we say my health will not permit it and we retreat to the country!"

"Granted," they shook hands another time.

"Finally, I never wish to come back to Rosing's ever again. It has been my prison for so many years and I had made my peace with only leaving, upon my departure from this earth. But now I am going to leave, I never wish to return." She'd said, with such vehemence that Mr Darcy simply held his hand out to shake it.

Mr Darcy found himself, jolted from his memories from Anne groaning as she awoke.

"How far away are we, Fitzwilliam?" she shivered.

Leaning over and putting the fur he was using to cover his legs and now warmed from his body over her, he shuffled the warmed bricks, picking one as they had cooled enough and gave it to her in her lap. He knew he should not have allowed this trip, but his wife was adamant and she had been denied so much until they married, he could not say no. Noticeably, in the past months she had improved greatly, it had been the longest spell without seizure she had experienced in years, but left Darcy feeling as though one was eminent any day now. And even though, there had been great improvements she was still very weak and prone to illness and the winters were always the hardest.

"We are entering Hertfordshire now, so we should be there in the next hour. Is there anything you need for your comfort?" he asked gently.

"No, I am happy, if a little stiff. I am eager to stand." she said, turning the brick in her gloved hands.

"I could ask the driver to stop?" he suggested.

"No, please stop fussing! As you said, we are not far off now, I am more eager to see Mr and Mrs Bingley and baby Charlie!" she said. She had always loved children, and he regretted that she would never be able to have any of her own.

He bent and clasped her ankles and brought her feet to rest on his lap, "Better?"

"Yes, thank you, Fitzwilliam." she sighed, closing her eyes once more.

Darcy pretended not to notice the blush staining her cheeks and looked out of the window the rest of the way. He knew Anne's affection for him had grown and in truth his for her had grown too, but they both admitted they did not feel passion towards each other. Darcy was decided he could not go further than small intimacies, sometimes sharing a small chaste kiss here and there, but otherwise they were more friends and would stay that way. He had learned his lesson four months into their marriage, when Anne had come to him asking him to make her a proper wife. She had argued that she was greatly improved in her health and did not want to die without experiencing something which her body was made for. And they had tried, but Anne had experienced a most violent seizure almost immediately afterwards. Without knowing whether the act itself had brought it on or her orgasm, he could not bring himself to ever risk her health in such a way. He knew that Anne did not feel that kind of affection for him, and neither did he for her, but as they were very open, he knew she always blushed when he touched her because she could not help remembering the night they had shared together.

Just then the carriage, gently rolled to a stop, they had finally arrived at Netherfield!