The Trouble with Mr. Darcy by Sharon Lathan

encountered her obvious affliction and decline, but lately he had noticed other emotions rising: anger, frustration, impatience, and, most frightening of all, a horrid sense of detachment and grief, as if something precious had died.
    He sighed, closing his eyes briefly and offering a silent prayer. “Come, Elizabeth, take my hand.”
    She did, listlessly rising and walking to his side. She stood by the bed complacently as he removed her robe, strong hands stroking over the silky skin of her arms. He cupped her face, lifting it to meet his eyes. “Please, beloved, tell me what is troubling you? I am so worried for you.” His soft voice, brimming with concerned agony, brought tears to her eyes.
    “I do not know,” she whispered. “I am so tired… all the time tired.”
    “I keep encouraging you to rest, do I not? You must not push yourself so, my heart. Relinquish the chores to Mrs. Hanford and others. Let us help you! Please, Elizabeth, heed my advice.”
    In an instant her eyes were angry. “Oh yes! Mr. Darcy who knows what is best for everyone! Must you control the entire world, William? Tell everyone what to do?”
    Darcy paled, stepping back a pace in utter shock. But Lizzy followed, her face enraged, finger stabbing him in the breastbone. “I do not need you to tell me how to be a mother! I am a good mother, an excellent mother! My babies need me, not a servant! Stop… just stop… ordering me…”
    Her voice was shrill and body shaking as her eyes welled with angry tears. It was her wildest outburst yet and Darcy had never felt so cold.
    “Elizabeth Darcy, listen to me.” He spoke in his authoritative voice, normally more than adequate to quell any adversary. “You are irrational and raving. Calm yourself and let me help you. Try to be reasonable!”
    But his words were cut short by a stunning slap to his left cheek. He gasped, recoiling as his hand rose to cover the sting. It was not so much the pain, although his wife did have a strong arm, but the mind-numbing astonishment of what she had done.
    Lizzy instantaneously crumbled in remorse. Hands covered her mouth as an anguished moan escaped. “Oh God! William, please forgive…”
    “I shall be in my study if the children have need of me,” he icily intoned, eyes dead as he pivoted and left the room, slamming the door behind.
    Lizzy stood paralyzed for a long time, eventually releasing a wail of sheer animal intensity, her heart breaking asunder as the world spun and swirled. She whirled about, frantic for anything to relieve the twisted emotions ripping through her mind. Lunging toward the balcony, she only thought of escape and punishment for the sufferings caused by her words and deeds.
    She halted abruptly at the railing, wheezing and crying. She grabbed onto the freezing stone in a white knuckled grip, staring at the cobbled stones of the walkway far below. Oblivion from the pain called, but some small kernel of sanity beckoned. Perhaps it was the frigid cold restoring a hint of clarity. Perhaps it was a guardian angel stopping her steps. Whatever the case, she fell to her knees, sobbing until there were no tears remaining, only then finding the strength to stumble to the lonely, cold bed.

C HAPTER S IX
    Healing a Great Love
    Alexander, in the innocence and unawareness of a two-year-old, was oblivious to the tension and chasm between his parents. George was more observant and he was shaken to the core by what he witnessed.
    For the month of November, and much of October, he had been busy attending to his duties at the Matlock hospital and throughout the surrounding communities. It was the time of year for influenza and injuries sustained from the cold weather or wet conditions. Several days in a row would pass before he returned to the Manor, often for no longer than it took to bathe and sleep a day before leaving again.
    His intermittent interactions when able to relax at home had hinted to a strain between the two, but he had thought it no