Author's Note: This is to tide you over. It is effectively a sneak peek into the future and I hope you enjoy it. Please read and review. I apologise if the fourth chapter may take a little longer, but I promise it will be well worth it. Post Haste!
As always, I do not nor shall I ever own any of Jane Austen's characters. Xxx
1816
The company was pleased upon hearing the lady's fingers move so smoothly over the keys: the harmonious sounds bled out into the corridors and servants could be heard humming the tune as they went about their work. Although there may only have been four people in residence at Pemberley, each person enjoyed the rare moment during which the hostess would bestow them with her performance.
Despite being embarrassed and quite nervous at the prospect of playing, Lizzy could not conceal the pride that emanated from her face as she thought of her husband and her son, now almost three years old. The man in question was equally enamoured of his wife and watched her with the same intense stare he employed during their acquaintance. This was not lost on Lizzy and she tried to coax a smile out of him by offering one of her own, an endeavour at which she never failed to succeed.
Jane Bingley sat in a similar manner; her thoughts consumed by images of her daughter stumbling about after her elder cousin; Charles beamed at Elizabeth's musical ability, especially as she began to sing and Georgiana allowed herself a vow of self-congratulations for having taught her sister to such a level.
When the piece was finished, Darcy kissed his wife affectionately whilst the family applauded and thanked their hostess. But as Lizzy turned to receive praises from her brother and sisters, she began to realise what an effort she had to expend just to focus on their faces.
"Lizzy . . . what a marvellous piece, the children would love it!" Jane kissed her sister and began suggesting other pieces. Georgiana soon joined her, but Elizabeth could only force a small smile. She wanted, nay, needed to sit down.
"Dearest?" Lizzy was thankful to finally hear a concerned voice, particularly her husband's. "Are you unwell again?"
"I do not know." She whispered. But her confusion over her health was soon settled when she turned pale and she could no longer hear the demands from her husband for a cool cloth. "Fitzwilliam," she said as a hot flush came over her. She breathed more deeply, her sight was gone, and she slipped into unconsciousness.