On and on it went; one scene after another in rapid succession allowing no time to collect oneself. The haunting music rose and fell, ghostly voices droned, thunder and lightning crashed, specters and demons of all sizes materialized. Many of the scenes were familiar from literature or history: The Nightmare by Fuseli, The Head of Medusa, Macbeth and the Ghost of Banquo, other French Revolutionaries manning the guillotine, The Opening of Pandora's Box, The Mysteries of Udolpho, and more. Interspersed were the random bats, goblins, and ghosts, manifesting from all points on the main floor. The figures magically expanded to gargantuan sizes, hovering over the audience so closely that one felt they could touch them, and then shrunk before sinking into the ground as if returning to the underworld.

It was terrifying and fascinating. Fleetingly one would wonder how the effect was created, but generally the images and emotions engendered were so spectacular and realistic that coherent thought was eradicated. Lizzy, once past the introductory fright and comforted by Darcy's sturdy arm and warmth, calmed to a vague trembling and moderately heightened pulse rate. Screams were frequent, crying could be detected, and undoubtedly swooning occurred. The heat in the room increased from the combined press of bodies and raised body temperatures.

The crescendo was an appearance of all four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The Biblical Riders trampled across the stage and into the crowd, swords and scythe brandishing, the clap of horses hooves echoing, while the original inhumanly bleak voice quoted from Revelations. With final bursting neighs and a resounding crash of cymbals, the Horseman rode through the back wall and precipitous silence fell, the room plunged into cavernous darkness for a full ten minutes.

The lights were lit all at once, revealing a tiny figure before the drawn curtains on center stage. The familiar voice again penetrated the quiet, although now it spoke with a bit more warmth and normalcy, “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the Illusionist Extraordinaire, Master of the Magic Lantern and Limelight, Creator of the Macabre, Professor Leonardo Finocchi Sciarratta!”

The tiny man bowed with a flourish, his grandly feathered tricorne doffed and swept theatrically as he blew kisses to the audience. The crowd erupted in applause and cheers, standing for a glorious ovation. Darcy and Lizzy stood as well, clapping enthusiastically. Her heart still raced and she was yet torn between loving the spectacle or hating it, but there was no doubt it was a stupendously artistic performance. Certainly one she would never forget, her fervent hope being that the ghosts did not resurface in her dreams!

Chapter Six

Sunrise on the Sand

The room was sunk into deepest shadows. It was that singular hour of the night when the moon and stars were fading, but the morning sun was still well hidden beyond the threshold of the horizon. Darcy snored softly, in his typical comatose state of slumber, blissfully dreaming, and wholly unconscious to his wife's gentle nudging and whispering.

“William, wake up. Dearest, please. William? Fitzwilliam Darcy!” Lizzy knew her husband to be a deep sleeper, but this was ridiculous. She did not wish to startle him, but the easy rousing was not working.

It was their ninth morning at the resort in Caister-on-Sea and Lizzy had determined that today they would not only finally rise early enough to view the sun ascend, but would be settled cozily on the sandy shore when it occurred. Thus she had forced herself to sleep lightly and had risen to the chill of pre-dawn, dressed in the darkness, and was now shivering beside Darcy's warm body. She sighed, gazing at his peaceful, handsome face and seriously reconsidered the wisdom of her plan. However, the vision of the very body displayed now before greedy eyes encompassing her on a blanket lying in the sand as the sun ascended and heated their skin was extremely appealing.

She lifted her skirts and nestled, kneeling, against his side. Bending over, she reverted to a form of waking known to prevail each and every time.

“William, my love, I need you to wake up,” she spoke softly but clearly while bestowing firm kisses to his face.

Darcy groaned faintly, swiping at his face as if shooing a fly, then abruptly jolted awake and lurched up, nearly bashing heads with Lizzy, who fortunately had excellent reflexes. “Elizabeth! What is it? The baby? Are you ill? What…?”

“No, no! I am sorry, dearest. Please forgive me for startling you,” she soothed with a giggle, stroking his dazed face and squeezing his hand. “I want to see the sunrise with you.”

He stared blankly at her smiling face, illuminated by the single flickering candle on the bedside, very gradually and laboriously assimilating her words. “I have your clothes here, and a blanket, and I am certain it will be vacant down by the rocks. We can hold each other and watch the dawn.” She paused, Darcy yet befuddled, and leaned in to touch his lips with hers. “It is on your list of things to do, Fitzwilliam. Additionally we can perhaps add another item to the inventory that I am positive has occurred to you but you were too polite to place in writing.”

She accentuated her words with focused caresses, but it was not necessary as he was now fully awake and knew precisely what she meant. He smiled sensuously, staying her fondling hand but returning her kiss lustily.

“You are becoming quite proficient at these little surprises, my lover.”

“I have learned from a master,” she replied with a quick peck to his nose. “Now, get dressed, William! We have a sunrise to beat.” She leapt up before he could halt her for more kisses, grabbing the pile of clothing on the foot of the bed and tossing them into his face.

Minutes later they were sneaking quietly down the dimly lit corridors and out the rear double-pane glass garden doors. A handful of servants were about, performing their morning tasks, but they ignored the Darcys as if they were invisible. It was quite dark on the pathway to the beach, but they had traversed it so frequently over the past week that their feet stepped confidently. The shoreline was deserted; debris and seaweed deposited by the high tides dotted the smooth sand, offering breakfast to the hundred birds pecking and fluttering about, which also ignored the Darcys.

Morning fog was minimal today, already drifted far out to sea where a thick blanket of clouds obstructed the black horizon. The sky immediately above their heads was crystal clear, the final visible stars extinguishing one by one as the sky began to lighten imperceptibly. Darcy spread the blanket on the firmer sand near the rocks. The waiting bathing machines provided additional cover from the possibility of prying eyes, although it was unlikely that anyone else would be about.

Their timing was perfect. The faintest glimmer of sunlight could be detected radiating above the massive fog bank, nearly indiscernible except for the hint of distinction between the rippling water and stationary cloud. Darcy was dressed in only a shirt and trousers with his large overcoat open and enveloping Lizzy, who nestled against his chest. Body heat emanated from his core, Darcy a true Englishman with internal furnace impervious to the cold. Lizzy wore a wool pelisse over her gown, so between clothing and husband, she was toasty. They sat in silence for the most part, Darcy gently caressing her arms and legs while Lizzy did the same, both content to enjoy the spectacle with nothing but the gently lapping waves as background music.

Like waiting for water to boil, the sun came up in timeless increments. Eyes burned with the strain of watching, but dared not close or look away in case that was the very moment she finally appeared in all her grandeur. Then it happened! No fanfare or blazing glory, but simply slipping above the clouds with majesty, completing a process performed millions of times in millions of ways in millions of places on the globe. Unconcerned with the mere mortals far below, she dawned, shining brilliantly with shades of gold unmatched on earth. All was illuminated and touched by her heat and beauty, the giver of life that she was, and all creation rejoiced at her coming. The birds flew higher and spoke louder, little crawling insects and sea crabs scurried about, flowers opened to receive the light, and the Darcys watched it all in awe.

Lizzy sighed, speaking barely above a whisper as it seemed somehow appropriate. “Not so dissimilar than all sunrises in the end, as they always move me, but I love how the waves glisten and the light outlines the clouds, showing all the layers. It is breathtaking.”

“It varies so, the sun as it touches the clouds and water. At home the dawns and sunsets are essentially unchanged. Unless a storm approaches or snow blankets the ground, it is rarely differing. Beautiful, naturally, but the same. The ocean is something else. We could catch the rise each day and never see it precisely alike.”

Warmth rapidly accelerated in the halcyon atmosphere surrounding them. Darcy rained tender nibbles along Lizzy's neck as she released a sound of pleasure. “Perhaps you are correct about ocean sunrises, but I shall never tire of the dawn as seen from home. I love how the innumerable greens of the fields and orchards are gradually revealed as the sunlight spreads. It reminds me of spilled liquid gold as it touches the colors, covering all the valley and eventually the gardens and Manor in a brilliant blanket of light. Besides, we have our own rippling waters at Pemberley. The Cascade Falls and lakes with fountains shimmer and sparkle so stunningly.” She sighed deeply. “I guess I am a bit homesick.”

She turned in his arms, leaning backward against his bent knee to peer into his smiling face. Immediately he cupped her cheek, stroking softly with a thumb, pulling her tight into his body and surrounding her with muscular legs. Brushing her lips lightly, he then spoke, “Elizabeth, my heart swells when you talk of Pemberley with such devotion. I cannot express how pleased I am that you love your new home.”

“The clichéd reply would be for me to say, 'How could I not love Pemberley as you are there.' Of course, this is largely the truth, but it is more than that.”

“In what way?”

“I do not know if I can explain it, William. All my life, as much as I loved Longbourn, it never felt completely permanent. I suppose that is because as a female I knew I would someday marry and leave, but also because there was a sense of instability. We knew that if Papa died it could, and likely would, be taken away from us. Hardly a day went by that Mama did not lament the fact. It was home, but I remember feeling somewhat like the nomadic Arabs or American Indians.” She shrugged and laughed, Darcy chuckling as well.

“I honestly gave it little thought, but I suppose I must have wished for a deeper feeling. Then again, I am fairly pragmatic, so undoubtedly figured experiencing emotions for a house impractical and silly. Whatever the case, when I saw Pemberley, something opened in me.”

“How so?”

She sighed, staring blankly as she attempted to recapture those long-ago sensations. “Since reading your letter I had spent all summer replaying all our conversations, or rather the attempts at conversation. You know all this, love, as we have discussed it. Between my preconceived opinions and rudeness, and your awful communication skills, I had little to work with!” Darcy blushed slightly and Lizzy tickled him, both chuckling and unable to deny the truthful accusations.

“Anyway, after months of reflection, and extreme annoyance with myself in that I could not evict you from my mind, I came to the conclusion that I had erred horribly. Not in refusing your proposal, but in allowing my prejudices and independence to ruin the opportunity to get to know you. I cannot say I loved you, but I did recognize the good man you are. Yet never, not once, did I think of your wealth. Until I saw Pemberley.” She reddened and Darcy lifted one brow with a crooked smile.

“Ah, mercenary after all, Miss Bennet?” He kissed her forehead and she playfully slapped his chest.

“Not quite that bad, but I am not completely stupid. We paused on the bridge and there she was. Oh, William, Pemberley is so beautiful! Maybe on some level it was because it was your home, but for a second all I could think was that I could have been Mistress of such a place. For the first time I truly grasped your station and the significance of your wealth. I laughed at what I knew every other girl alive would consider my extreme folly. I sat, still giggling, as the carriage resumed the ride up the drive. However, as quickly as those thoughts had come, they vanished. The closer we got to the house, and then when we did arrive and began our tour, all I could think of was you. Fitzwilliam Darcy, the man as I had begun to imagine you were behind the arrogant facade. I could see your elegance, grace, warmth, and taste in every corner of every room. Then Mrs. Reynolds began rattling on and on about what a fine Master you are, how all the servants and tenants revere you, what a doting brother you are, how generous and affable…”