Author's Note: Thank you for your reviews. I so appreciate all of you who have stuck with me thus far. Once again, many of you are very unhappy with me, and I totally understand your objections. I know that if an author has to explain what she has written then she has failed miserably in her endeavor. So, I suppose I shall simply have to muddle on, and hope that a few of you will hang in there.

To the reviewer who reminded me that I promised that I would bring Elizabeth back into the story to a greater degree, I have to apologize. I tried. But I either had written her in as being too sad or too happy. I also could not bring myself to focus too much on her marriage to the other guy. So I left her behind the veil for a while.

Chapter 7 is about redemption. Most probably, you will object strenuously to my method of redeeming Darcy. In your comments, one reviewer suggested that my method would be great, while another reviewer stated that I should not dare to use it. Therefore, maybe I will only alienate half of you. However, I wrote this part of the story months ago and this is how it worked best for me. Please do not throw any electronics if you hate it too much.

The story is unbeta'd so all the errors are my own. I appreciate your reviews, but please be kind.

Chapter 7

1814

The previous spring, Darcy had moved Annabelle permanently into the nursery at Pemberley. During the child's first year, he had arrived at the Bramwell's estate for one of his regular visits to find her abandoned by her mother and grandfather and left to the care of servants. After this occurred a second time, Darcy had sent for his larger carriage and packed the child and her nursemaids off to his estate.

The child's grandfather had never pretended to have any regard for his granddaughter. However, Cassandra had initially appeared to be a devoted mother. Therefore, Darcy had been loath to separate a mother from her child. But, the nursemaids informed him that over the last few months, Cassandra seemed to have less and less time for the child. Her excursions to town had become more and more frequent. Thus, the babe had been left to the exclusive care of the estate staff. Convinced that no child deserved to be so neglected, Darcy felt no qualms in taking charge of her.

Uneasy at the thought of Cassandra in London, he hired two men to follow her and ascertain whether she was getting up to any mischief. When the reports came back painting her behavior in a very bad light, he immediately traveled to London to collect her. He banished her to his estate in the north of Scotland with no regard to the vehement objections of the lady or her father. He would brook no opposition, for she had proved that she could not be trusted to conduct herself properly in society.

Annabelle thrived at Pemberley, and he found great delight in having her with him even though he was her father in name only. On those rare occasions when he was forced to go to London, she and her entourage accompanied him. Georgiana and Aunt Agatha doted on the child whenever he and Annabelle visited them.

As time passed, he tried to tell himself that he was reconciled to losing Elizabeth. Nonetheless, he knew that he was only fooling himself. He saw her in every room at Pemberley and upon every path on the grounds. Everything he had heard indicated that she was happy in her marriage, and it was rumored that they were expecting their first child in December. Although he was glad that she had moved on and made a good life for herself, the image of her carrying another man's child was unbearable.

London, October 1814

Early in October, Darcy and Annabelle had arrived on Curzon Street for a visit. On one particular evening, Richard, Georgiana, and Aunt Agatha had insisted that he accompany them to Covent Garden to see an operatic production composed by one of Aunt Agatha's promising new musical artist. Previously, he had refused to attend any event that might force him to be in the public eye. For he had despised the whispers and sly glances that he encountered since his disgrace two years before. However, society seemed to have moved on to other scandals. The estrangement between him and his wife no longer even raised any eyebrows.

He and his party entered their box just as the orchestra began to play the opening bars. Darcy and Richard sat with the two ladies between them. The music was quite good, and the opera singers were all veteran performers. Darcy was relieved to see that no opera glasses were trained on them, and no one was giving their box undue attention.

Idly glancing around at some of the other theater patrons, a jolt of recognition ran through him. Directly across from them was Elizabeth Jameson, neé Bennet. Beside her was her husband, Nathaniel Jameson, whom Darcy had known in Cambridge. It was in this very theater that he had introduced them to one another two years ago. He had truly demonstrated the power of paradox. That introduction had been by far the only good thing that he had ever done for Elizabeth.

He could not make his eyes look away. She looked stunning. Her eyes were shining like stars and her smile was blinding. She and her husband had their heads together as if sharing a private joke. His face was full of adoration, while hers was iridescently happy. Darcy felt like he had taken a punch to the gut. Her sparkling beauty gave him physical pain. Behind her in the box was Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. Elizabeth seemed unaware or uninterested in his presence or perhaps she did not recognize him. For he had allowed his sideburns to grow, and his hair was also longer. Nonetheless, her uncle was staring right at him and gave him a solemn nod. He managed to nod in return.

What a fool he had been! He had cavalierly given up heaven for hell. What a miserable fool! The night two years ago when he had been at this same venue with his most darling girl came back to him in sharp detail. It had been a sweet seduction to hold her hand and whisper the interpretation for the Italian opera, to smell her lavender perfume, to gaze into her fine eyes. On that night, they had been so happy. But, no more. That happiness had been swept away by his terrible mistake. Therefore, it was appropriate that she was happy with someone else. For he had failed her.

Darcy bowed his head in sorrow. He had lost her. He had lost a woman who was everything good, lovely, and excellent.

Another memory from that night suddenly intruded into his thoughts. Lisle had appeared, been introduced, and then left. Why that memory came to him, he did not know. However, it was very vivid in his mind now. As he remembered it, Lisle's short visit had turned Darcy's thoughts down a dangerous path. Darcy felt a chill run down his spine.

There. There it was. That was the moment. That had been the start of his fall. It had been pride. It had always been pride.

Before, his pride had been centered around his elevated position in society. But after his first proposal to Elizabeth, she had broken him of that failing. However, this time his pride had been centered around his own moral infallibility. He had sat in this very theater box, this very chair, and declared to himself that he would never behave in the reprehensible way that men like Lisle or Wickham or the other rakes of the Ton behaved, that he would never commit the vile acts that they did. And the very next night he had fallen and had done so with such a spectacular crash that he had destroyed his whole world. His pride had allowed his defenses to be lowered. And in an unguarded moment, he had done the unthinkable.

It was so true, "pride goes before a fall." And once again, his pride had cost him Elizabeth.

He gazed across the theater once again. The soprano on the stage had the audience enthralled with a thrilling aria. Elizabeth had a look of wonder on her face as if she had glimpsed the divine.

During the interval, Darcy saw Elizabeth stand and turn to speak with some people who had stepped in to greet them in their box. The sight of her swollen belly had him completely bereft. She was so radiant and looked so vital in her pregnant state. Richard caught his eye and regretfully inclined his head toward the Jameson box. Georgiana also looked at him with sorrow etched on her face. He could not bear their pity and was glad when the performance resumed.

Wishing he could leave but knowing that he could not do so without drawing attention to himself, he leaned his head back against his chair. As he allowed the opera singer's haunting melody to envelop him, he closed his eyes and felt himself drift away, awash in his regrets.

Elizabeth. The memories flooded his mind. Her eyes, her smile, her scent. Even now he caught the fragrance of lavender on the air. It was soothing.

Suddenly, he became aware of the soft, warm hand that he held in his own. It was molded to his in a very familiar way.

Then a lovely voice whispered in his ear, "Darling, you must rouse yourself, for I am quite counting on you to translate the more difficult Italian passages for me. You were doing such a superb job of it before the interval."

Fitzwilliam opened his eyes and stared in stunned silence and disbelief at the wondrous image of Elizabeth gazing into his eyes from her seat beside him. He blinked and shook his head to clear his confusion. Glancing around, he saw Jane and Bingley sitting on the other side of Elizabeth. Her father and the Gardiners were in the chairs behind him. Across the theater, he saw Nathaniel Jameson sitting in his box with his mother. The performers had commenced the second act of "The Marriage of Figaro."

He clutched her hand in disbelief and managed to choke out, "Elizabeth, my love, is it really you?"

She grinned uncertainly at him and said softly, "Well, I believe so. Who else might I be?" Then peering into his eyes searchingly, she said, "Fitzwilliam you are quite pale. You look like you have just seen a ghost."

It dawned on him then. Could it all have been a nightmare? Could the misery of the last two years have been a horrible, horrible nightmare? No, how could it be? He had just lived through two years of agony that had been all too real. He even felt older. However, his hair and sideburns were as they had been two years ago. Even the back of his hand exhibited no scar from when he had cut himself last spring. But if it was not a nightmare, what was it? Regardless, he wanted this to be real, to be here with Elizabeth by his side. Then another thought occurred to him, what if this moment with Elizabeth might be a dream, and his real life was the nightmare? Leaving nothing to chance, he pinched himself and relished the sharp pain.

Then he thought, with hope rising in his chest, that if this was real…

But the pain of the last two years interrupted that thought, and he was afraid to hope. He found himself praying fervently that this would be his new reality. He could not countenance the thought that this was merely a dream. It had to be real. He could not go back to living the nightmare. Hope continued to push into his heart and mind. He wanted this moment to be real so badly.

The battle between hope and despair was overwhelming his senses. He bowed his head to hide the storm of emotion that was threatening to erupt in his breast. His throat closed as the crushing sensations came over him. He pressed his lips together in an effort to suppress a sob from escaping and closed his eyes tightly to try to restrain the tears that were threatening to leak from behind his closed lids.

"What is it, Dearest? What is it that has you so upset?" asked a very worried Elizabeth.

Due to the overpowering waves of emotion that he was experiencing, he could not speak and simply shook his bowed head and gave her hand a squeeze. In reply to Jane's concerned murmur, he heard Elizabeth whisper, "He's fine. Do not concern yourself. He's fine. Just a bit over tired."

Not wanting to cause a scene, he did his best to regain mastery of himself. Finally, he was able to look up and whisper to Elizabeth, "I guess it was a nightmare, a terrible nightmare. But it did not feel like a dream, it felt real."

Sympathetic tears were pooled in her eyes. She said soothingly, "Fitzwilliam, everything is fine." Then with a curious look on her face, she continued, "You only laid your head back for a moment. How could you have had time to have a nightmare that could distress you so?"

Could it have truly been a mere moment? It seemed to have been a lifetime. He forced the words out through a throat that threatened to close again, "I lost you." He looked pleadingly into her eyes wordlessly asking for her understanding and said, "I acted abominably, and I drove you away. I lost you completely."

"Shush, dear man. I am here. Everything is as it should be. We are meant to be together, and nothing can tear me away from you."

He could only murmur, "My abominable pride separated us in my dream. And it was all too late. You were gone and I was lost. I do not deserve you, my sweet Elizabeth."

She continued to repeat her assurances of their resiliency as a couple, assuring him that she loved him and that it was simply a dream and could not touch their reality.

For the rest of the opera, Fitzwilliam held tightly to Elizabeth's hand. She seemed to understand that he needed some time to come to terms with what he had experienced. So, she sat quietly beside him, occasionally gifting him with a reassuring smile.

However, he was completely undone. He could not embrace his good fortune, for he feared that, at any moment, he would blink and that his world would shift again, and he would be alone.

By the time they had returned to Gracechurch Street, he had regained a calm enough demeanor to give the rest of the party no cause for alarm. However, when it came time to leave, Fitzwilliam felt his fear and despair return. How could he leave her side?

As the two ladies farewelled their fiancés in the foyer, he gave Bingley a significant look which was interpreted correctly by the other man as a plea for privacy. As Bingley distracted Jane, Fitzwilliam drew Elizabeth into his arms and held onto her tightly as he buried his face into her hair. Sensing his anguish, she allowed him the liberty.

Finally, he released her to simply claim both of her hands in his. She gave him an embarrassed but loving smile. "Well, sir, I hope that my embrace will help to dispel the shadows."

Seeking forgiveness with his eyes, he stated, "I dread leaving you tonight. I am afraid to close my eyes lest the nightmare return."

As Mr. Bennet stuck his head into the foyer to hurry along the goodbyes, she whispered softly, "Do not fear the terrors of the night, for you will be in my heart and in my prayers."

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The next morning Fitzwilliam awoke to the sight of his bed curtains from the master suite at Darcy House. It felt wonderfully familiar but surreal. Having only slept for the past few hours, he was exhausted. All through the night, he had worried and rejoiced, agonized and celebrated, doubted and hoped.

About halfway through the night, he was finally able to accept his good fortune. What he was experiencing now was indeed real. His life was truly proceeding as it had been before the night at the opera. He was, in fact, just weeks away from marrying the most wonderful, delightful young lady in the world.

But then, his mind had begun to worry over what it all meant. Questions ran through his mind as he paced through the night. Why had he experienced such a terribly vivid nightmare in which he lost Elizabeth? Was it a nightmare or a vision? Or had he lived those two years in some other sort of reality? Who was the real Fitzwilliam Darcy? Was he the man that Elizabeth thought he was? Or was he the scoundrel who lost his head over a woman who should have remained in his distant past? Was he capable of behaving as rakishly as Lisle and bedding a woman without a moment's thought for his betrothed? Did he harbor such vile tendencies deep down in his innermost being? Every way he approached the questions had him stymied. He could make no sense of any of it.

He had failed Elizabeth and acted in a most reprehensible manner. Although he knew that those actions had been a part of his nightmare or that parallel life that he had been trapped in, he felt tremendous guilt. Was he responsible for the sins of a dream? Should a man confess those sins? What if he told Elizabeth what he had done in that other life, and it drove her away? What if she decided that he was intrinsically flawed and not to be trusted? Or what if it made her think that he truly did not love her? By telling her, would it cause undue distress to Elizabeth? On the other hand, if he told her and she decided that he was unworthy of her love, she would have a chance to escape before it was too late and find someone more honorable like Nathaniel Jameson.

In addition, what were the true motives behind his relative's seemingly ready acceptance of his betrothal? Were they truly the scheming relatives of his vision intent on destroying his happiness? Was their betrayal simply part of his vision, an omen for the future, or merely a warning?

However, two primary questions ran through his thoughts over and over. Was it a nightmare or another life? Was he a rake and a seducer, or was he the man that Elizabeth loved? He had wrestled with these questions all night.

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Despite his lack of sleep, he was up and dressed quite early. Unable to wait until she came downstairs, Fitzwilliam knocked on Georgiana's bedroom door. When she appeared, he enfolded her in a fierce embrace. He was delighted to see her as she had always been and not as she was in his nightmare when she could only look at him with sorrow and disappointment in her eyes. He was so happy just to give her a brotherly hug and see that she was as he remembered her. Although his mind was troubled, he sought to appear cheerful.

"Good morning, Georgie. Get your hat and coat. We are off to the Gardiner's house for breakfast. Hurry up, my girl."

She giggled at his words. "My, my, you are in a good mood this morning for someone who looks like you did not sleep well last night. Your eyes are red and there are circles under them."

"Thank you for the compliments. You, on the other hand, are a sight for these sore eyes. Fresh as a daisy." He gave her a wink but not before she saw the uncertainty in his eyes.

"Behind your cheerful demeanor lurks a worried expression, Brother. Is all well?"

"Yes, my dear. Just the after-effects of a bad dream."

Steering the conversation back to more light-hearted topics, he guided her down to their carriage, and they proceeded to make their way to Gracechurch Street.

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At the sight of his pale face and bloodshot eyes, Elizabeth realized that he had slept very little, but he appeared somewhat more cheerful than he had been the previous night although a touch unsure. Bingley arrived at the same time, full of his customary, irrepressible, good spirits. When the children tumbled into the room, they were delighted to meet Georgiana and quickly named her "the fairy lady". Fitzwilliam was simply happy to sit next to Elizabeth at the table and wrap himself in the comfort of the company.

After the children were ushered back to the nursery for their lessons, the affianced couples, Georgiana, and Aunt Gardiner spread out in small groups in the Drawing Room.

Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth sat together on a settee where they could talk in relative privacy about what had transpired the night before. He had decided to lay out the series of events that had occurred in his dream. He could not hide it from her, especially if it indicated such an enormous flaw in his character. Elizabeth's future happiness was at stake and if she felt that he was flawed in such a shameful way, he would let her go.

"Fitzwilliam, you still seem distracted. Are you concerned about your nightmare?"

He answered, "Well, yes, to be quite honest. If you will allow me, I would like to tell you about my dream. I know that I should not put so much stock in it. However, it feels like something more important than a mere nightmare, and it is still so vivid in my mind. It is not a good tale and it cast me in the worst possible light."

Mystified, she nodded her head in agreement. Thus, he gave her the whole account, leaving nothing out. When he finished, they both had tears in their eyes. He looked earnestly at her and said, "My dear, dear Elizabeth, I love you so much, but I fear that this may indicate that my heart is flawed. What if this dream or vision is a foretelling of the future and I do something like it after we are married? What if I have some terrible tendency to be inconstant? You do not deserve to be stuck with a husband who is such a weak vessel. I would understand if you should decide that the risk is too great. I will release you if you so choose and not blame you in the slightest. I could give you a settlement, and you could find a man worthy of you."

Her eyes had gone from being filled with sadness to filled with outrage at his last statements. She focused a steely glare on him and spat out, "Are you trying to cry off Fitzwilliam?"

He stammered in confusion at her surprising reaction to his offer, "No, no, no. By no means. I am only trying to give you a chance of escape. I may treat you horribly in the future. In my dream, I failed you completely."

She gave him an indignant look before shaking her finger in his face and saying with great emphasis, "Well, I could very well become my mother with her fits of nerves and palpitations. Or I could become as shrewish as Caroline Bingley and plague your heart out. For, we are neither of us perfect, nor can we know what the future holds. Nonetheless, don't you dare try to use this dream as an excuse to get rid of me, Mr. Darcy. And do not try to fob me off on some 'worthy' gentleman. I have found the only gentleman who will do for me. And no silly nightmare is going to frighten me away. That must be the silliest notion that has ever come out of your mouth." She swatted his arm before continuing. "You, sir, are being ridiculous and I will hear no more of anyone releasing anyone else. So, tell me now, and tell me quickly that you love me and want to marry me. I will not countenance any other words from you but those."

The alarmed expression that had been on his face during her adamant speech morphed into one of total relief and happiness. Her impertinence was the joy of his life. How he loved her. With a huge smile, he took her hand and dropped to his knee. "I, Fitzwilliam Alexander Darcy, ardently love you, Elizabeth Rose Bennet, and desire to marry you with every fiber of my being."

Laughter erupted around them as their exchange had drawn the attention of the others in the room. Bingley quipped, "Darcy, I thought you two were already engaged. Did you not do a good job of proposing the first time?"

Elizabeth gave Fitzwilliam one of her brilliant smiles signaling her forgiveness for his earlier foolhardy words. He retook his seat, and then, grinning at his friend, he admitted. "I am willing to propose to Elizabeth as many times as she thinks necessary. And no, I did a terrible job the first time that I proposed to her." Everyone chuckled at his words.

When they had all returned to their own conversations, Elizabeth said to Fitzwilliam in a more serious but gentle tone, "You know that your dream or vision probably means nothing. However, you mentioned that it might be a warning. If that is true, then you should not fear it. Simply take the warning to heart." She reached to take his hand again, "You know that I pray for you every night. Perhaps this was an answer to my prayers. This nightmare may have been given to you as a gift so that you would be warned and not caught off guard."

He squeezed her hand and smiled into her eyes with a renewed lightness in his heart.

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As the morning progressed, it became apparent that Bingley and the Darcys intended to stay for the day. Fitzwilliam for his part could not tear himself away from Elizabeth, and Georgiana was enjoying herself immensely in the ladies' company. Thus, they were invited to join them for a light midday meal.

During the meal, Fitzwilliam told Mr. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner that he was concerned that their reception that night at Matlock House may not be as welcoming as he had hoped.

Gardiner gave him a shrewd look. "Why do you say that? Has something happened to make you feel that they are not as sanguine about your betrothal as they had indicated?"

Fitzwilliam shifted uncomfortably. He really did not want to tell them that his suspicions were entirely based on a dream. So, he prevaricated. "I really cannot say. I simply feel that it would be best if we were on our guard."

Bennet grunted in agreement. "I, for one, was a bit surprised at their ready acceptance to the union. We are, after all, below them in standing."

Gardiner's face grew contemplative. "Darcy, would you object if I were to send a couple of my groomsmen below stairs during the dinner? They might be able to find out the true opinions of the Fitzwilliams. It never hurts to feel the pulse of a situation."

Fitzwilliam gazed at the two older gentlemen and saw their sincere desire to protect Elizabeth. In light of what had occurred in his dream, he could only nod in agreement.

Gardiner gave him a satisfied wink. Then he turned to the ladies at the table who had been attending to their discussion, and stated, "Ladies, we would not want you to be troubled if the situation is not as we have been led to believe. But it would be prudent to go into this evening's dinner prepared for whatever might happen."

Georgiana's face had taken on a very alarmed expression and asked her brother. "Do you truly think that they have misled us?"

Fitzwilliam sought to reassure her. "My dear, you know how proud the Earl and Countess are. I am just saying that you should not be surprised if there is a bit of unpleasantness. But do not fear, we will be there and will take care of you. Please do not become distressed."

Elizabeth met his eye and nodded her approval of how he had tempered everyone's expectations for the evening.

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A chill wind kept them from venturing outdoors, so after lunch, they spent time with the children reading books and playing parlor games. The older children adoringly trailed in Georgiana's wake and stayed by her side. She, in turn, was happy to be included in their games. However, Adam clambered up into Fitzwilliam's lap and was soon asleep. Fitzwilliam was touched by the trusting nature of the small child and found that the atmosphere in the room was such a comfort to his weary mind that he drifted off to sleep himself.

Elizabeth's heart squeezed at the sweet picture that the two sleepers presented. Georgiana giggled softly to see her older brother in such undignified repose. Aunt Gardiner, with a bemused expression, gently lifted her sleeping son into her arms and took him off to his bed. Darcy never moved during that exchange. While her shoulders shook in quiet mirth, Georgiana laid a soft throw on Fitzwilliam's lap and tucked it around him. Elizabeth gathered her embroidery and sat next to him on the settee. Activity continued around him while he slept undisturbed.

At length, Elizabeth reached over to sweep an unruly curl from his forehead, saying softly, "Fitzwilliam, you must awaken. It is getting late, dear."

His eyelids fluttered open, and his eyes fell on her face. With relief, he sighed, "You are still here, my love."

She smiled and replied, "Yes, I have been here these last two hours while you slept. I hope that your nap was restful." At his surprised nod, she went on, "You and Georgiana must leave soon if you want to arrive at your relatives' house on time tonight."

Fitzwilliam grimaced at the reminder of the dinner that awaited them. He sorely hoped that all would be well and that his nightmare would prove to be just that, a nightmare, and not a foretelling of the future or even an omen for some evil to come.

He had his carriage brought round, collected Georgiana, and then, absorbing as much love and reassurance from Elizabeth's smile as he could, he departed for Darcy House.

Author's Note: I know that by employing the overused dream trope I will infuriate some of you. However, it was truly the only way to get ODC back on track. Besides, I really enjoyed writing it.

The next chapter is a Darcy Do-over.