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Later that night

Elizabeth quickly sat up in bed, her heart racing as she recalled the dream that had awakened her. Throwing off the blankets, she turned to place her feet on the floor and began to cry as she closed her eyes and the entire drama played out once more in her mind.

She had been nearly asleep in a large four-poster bed when she felt the mattress dip with the weight of the man she loved coming to her. Two strong arms had wrapped around her waist, pulling her close to his rock-hard chest, whilst his soft lips found the spot just below her ear that he knew always made her desire burn hotter. She could barely breathe as he began planting wet kisses from there to her shoulder, turning her towards him slowly as he did, so at length their lips met in a passionate kiss.

Just as he grasped the hem of her chemise and was pulling it up and over her head, the door to the bedroom flew open, crashing against the wall with a loud thud.

Jane stalked in heading straight to the bed. Scowling at Elizabeth, she shouted, “Fitzwilliam Darcy, I thought I made it clear the last time I caught you with my sister that if you took her to bed once more, she would never be welcome in any of my homes ever again!”

“You knew I loved Elizabeth before we married, and I cannot give her up!” Fitzwilliam had cried.

That was the moment Elizabeth woke up, paralysed with mortification and feeling as though she might die. Jane will be married to Fitzwilliam, not I. That thought gave rise to a sob that escaped despite her best efforts.

Knowing she would wake Lydia if she continued crying, Elizabeth reached for the robe lying across the end of the bed and stood to don it. Finding her slippers, she slid them on and walked through the apartment and into the parlour. At that point she recalled her pelisse was hanging in the bedroom; however, a warm wool shawl lay on back of a chair and she picked it up and threw it over her head and shoulders before taking the key from where it hung next to the door. She opened the door and stepped into the hallway before turning to quickly lock the door behind her.

The hall ran between the women’s quarters and the men’s, and, for a brief second, her thoughts flew to Fitzwilliam. Recalling the look on his face when she explained that she could not marry him for Jane’s sake, tears began to flow fiercely again. That caused her to rush to the door leading onto the balcony.

When at last she went through that door, a gusty wind blew the shawl from her head. The temperature had not only dropped since the sun set, but small white flecks had begun falling. They were sticking to her hair and eyelashes, making her regret not going back to retrieve her pelisse. Pulling the shawl back over her head, Elizabeth plunged her ungloved hands into the pockets of her robe to keep them warm. Inside one pocket, however, she discovered a large handkerchief. Realising it had to be the one Fitzwilliam had given her the last time he visited her bedroom at Pemberley, another sob escaped as she brought it to her nose to smell the scent of sandalwood and soap that permeated it.

William had done nothing but toss and turn since he lay down. Not only did Mr. Wilburn snore louder than any man he had ever had the misfortune to share a room with—including his cousin Richard—but also knowing Elizabeth was only a short distance away kept his heart in a continuous state of anguish.

If I cannot tolerate being this close to her, how could I stand to be under the same roof if I were married to her sister?

Recalling what Elizabeth had said about moving far away once he married Lady Morgan, at that moment William knew that would never suffice. He would never forget Elizabeth. He would always love her no matter the distance between them.

Rising to his feet, he was pleased that he had not removed his boots, for all he had to do was don his greatcoat, hat and gloves to leave the room. Once he opened the door, his attention was drawn to the balcony door, which was swiftly closing behind someone—a woman, if he was correct. Thinking it was likely Lydia, his temper rose, and he headed in that direction, intending to rebuke her for ignoring his guidance.

Reaching the door, he opened it and stepped onto the balcony to instantly declare, “I asked you not to leave your—”

Immediately, he realised this woman was shorter than Lydia. His heart sank with the realisation of who it was. “For-forgive me, Elizabeth. I thought you were Mrs. Wickham.”

Whilst William spoke, Elizabeth began to sob harder, using his handkerchief to cover her face. Though he knew he should keep his distance, William found her tears rendered him powerless. Clasping both Elizabeth’s shoulders from behind, he waited for her to gain some measure of control before slowly turning her to face him.

Her eyes were still tightly closed as he asked, “How may I be of service?”

The sound of his soothing baritone made Elizabeth cry even harder. Falling into William’s arms, she declared against the warmth of his chest, “Aft-after how I hurt you, I cannot fathom why you would wish to!”

The wool shawl had nearly slipped off her head again, exposing the dark silky locks William adored. After taking a deep breath of the lavender scent found therein, he framed her face to say, “Because I love you, Elizabeth, and love does not always make sense. Love just ... is.”

“Oh, Fitzwilliam, if you truly love me, help me be a better person ... someone much nobler than I am. It is my fault that my family lost Longbourn, that my mother went mad and my sisters were left to fend for themselves. My selfishness drove me to turn down Mr. Collins ... and, and you.”

“Oh, my dear. You are hardly the only person to desire a marriage based on love.”

“We both know that a woman should marry whoever offers for her.”

William could not help replying, “Yet even now you refuse me.”

“If only you knew how much I long to accept you! To be your wife, to bear your children … but I could not live with myself if I deprived Jane of the man she has fallen in love with. She has asked so little of me, or of anyone, that I cannot be the one to break her heart again.”

For the first times in days, William could see past his hurt feelings. What a fool I have been to remain angry at Elizabeth. She still loves me, and if we remain friends, I stand a better chance of changing her mind.

Pushing her back just enough to look in her eyes, he declared, “I intend to ask God to open Lady Morgan’s eyes to the fact that I only entered the engagement as a favour ... nothing more. I shall pray that she will be so thankful for my help that she will set me free to choose whomever I please.”

“Oh, my love, I shall pray for that as well! If Jane gives you up of her own free will, I promise never to turn you down again.”

Opening his coat, William pulled Elizabeth into his arms, wrapping the coat around her as he did. It felt so good holding his beloved that he dreaded setting her free; however, the icy wind had picked up, reminding him that she was not properly dressed for the weather.

“I shall survive on that promise until you are mine. Now, let us get you inside before you catch your death of cold.”