Lizzy sat swathed in layers of soft blankets in the middle of an unfamiliar bed. She had been staring at her reflection bathed in the soft glow of a single flickering candle from the moment she had been left to rest. Sleep had eluded her completely. What with the fact that her dear sister lay dead in the same house, that life could be so easily snuffed, Lizzy knew that she could not fall prey to subconscious dreams, or rather, nightmares. So she sat, mind numbed, seeing through her reflection trying to convince herself that everything would be fine.

A knock on the door awoke her, sunlight filtering through the open windows to brighten her room. "Miss. Elisabeth, breakfast is ready. Would you like a maid to be called to help you ready yourself?"

Lizzy tried to free herself of the blankets knotted about her, "No, thank you sir." She garbled, not recognizing her own voice. Blushing at the topic of the conversation and realizing to whom she was addressing, she tried to sound as dignified as she her throat she continued, "Mr. Darcy, thank you, but I can get ready myself."

Mr. Darcy gave a satisfied resemblance of acceptance and she heard his boots trod down the wooden floor of the hallway. As she twisted out of the tangled bedclothes, she tried to remember when she had let herself be overtaken by sleep and the dreams that had caused her to thrash about. Lizzy remembered no specific detail, but a feeling of absolute despair ensnared her. Accepting that this feeling could not be removed and would most likely intensify for the foreseeable future, she decided that there was nothing to be done. So, breakfast must become her mission.

Dressing in her nightgown and coat seemed a ridiculous option, but there was nothing to

be done. She walked to the mirror that had entranced her the previous night and began to pile her hair on top of her head. That is, until she realized she had no pins, sighing she bitterly concluded that Mr. Darcy may have actually been right in the need to call a maid. Lizzy turned to go to the door and see about calling someone to help her. When she opened it she found herself meet with an outstretched fist.

"OH! Ma'am, I'm ever so sorry! I was just going to bring you this dress. It was sent from your house just a few moments ago and he said to bring it to you." Shoving the previously mentioned article towards Lizzy, the small ginger housemaid dropped a quick curtsy then scurried away. Glancing at the gown, Lizzy realized that it was one of her favourite dresses. Closing the door, she dressed and settled on leaving her hair loose as she did when she was a child. Sighing, she made her way toward the breakfast room.

While entering the room, she had a brief but overwhelming feeling of deja vu. This is exactly as I was when i was coming to help Jane when she was sick all those months ago, she noted with dread. I wore this same dress, my hair was this way,and when I enter this very room I was greated by the startled expression of Mr. Darcy... Mr. Darcy! There he sat alone at the table, his head cradled between his hands. Upon hearing her enter, he immediately righted himself, rose to his feet, and ran a hand through his disheveled hair while explaining, "Miss. Elizabeth, your father has gone to see your mother. She has fallen quite ill after hearing the news of the," he paused looked away and proceeded, "the news of the deaths. I had sent someone to bring the rest of your family here, but moving Mrs. Bennet was deemed unsafe, so your father as well as your sisters will be remaining at her side. Mr. Bennet said that he trusts you with caring for your sister's memory. He will be back as soon as your mother is recovered, and, well, I believe that is all he asked me to speak of."

Finally looking back to Lizzy, he saw her eyes wide with shock. He hastened to her side and directed her to the table, offering her a glass of water. "Mr. Bennet also left you a letter," Mr. Darcy pulled a small folded paper from his breastpocket and handed it to her. The familiar curve of her father's writing consoled her as she began to read...

My Dear Lizzy,

It seems that fate has dealt us a rather hard blow. Your mother has fallen ill, her temperence as you know has always been weak and the recent shock of losing a daughter has not settled well with her. I trust that she will recover in a few days, but until she is well enough for me to leave, I trust you and Mr. Darcy to take care of two deceased. Mr. Darcy I trust will take care of all your needs, he appears to be a much better man then you made him out to be. Take care.

all my love,

Papa

Lizzy finished the note, rubbed her eyes, and read through it again in disbelief. That is all he had to say. To be sure he was never a man of many words, but to be so cold. To just leave me. She sighed, folded the note and set it down. Mr. Darcy was observing her closely. He stood a few feet from her waiting for her to finish the note, trying his best to gauge her response to her father's message. A frown appeared between her eyebrows. Confusion clouding her eyes, blinking it away, she reached for the glass of water setting on the table infront of her and gulped down the entire content of the glass. She proceeded to darkly stare into the now empty cup.

Mr. Darcy spoke into the silence, "Miss. Elizabeth, is there anything I can get you? Some tea or perhaps a bit of food?"

Lizzy replied, "Some tea if you will please."

He gave a curt nod and rang for one of the maids to fetch her request. As he walked back into the dinning room he noted Lizzy's pale features. What a wretched thing for her to endure, if only there was something I could do to comfort her. I would likely only frighten her more. That i could coax a bit of her former spirit into her frozen form. Oh, my lovely Lizzy, what has the world come to...

A maid burst into the room, breaking his train of thought. She carried a full tray of tea to the table setting it in front of Lizzy, "Are you sure this is all you will be needin, I can fetch a few biscuits, some toast, anything you might want? miss?"

"No, thank you." Lizzy replied blankly, still looking into the empty glass. Shrugging, the maid exited the room. Lizzy still sat motionless behind the porcelain tea set. Mr. Darcy, moved towards her, poured two cup of tea, and settled himself in the chair nearest her. Lizzy glanced at the cup he offered her. Grasping it lightly, the cup rattled as she brushed her hand against his. He paused, their hands still touching, entranced by her small hands covering his. Looking into his curious blue eyes, she suddenly turned away and burst into tears.