Snow watched as the maid approached, placing a cool cloth upon her brow and setting a cup of warm milk on the table next to her bed. The woman smiled, then glanced at her master knowingly, curtsied, and left to sit in the antechamber of Snow’s room. With the door cracked, it was still proper, but would give the two a few minutes to speak with some privacy. All of the maids knew about the mark upon Miss Snow’s arm, for when one saw it when helping Snow into her dress, the rest of them knew by the end of the day.
She reached for the cup and took a small sip, then returned it to the table and turned towards Mr. Darcy and nodded to his question. “Oh yes. It’s several times a week, usually. Have you ever had them before? They’re quite distressing. They feel so real in the moment, and I wake up and cannot tell where I am for a few seconds. Then I remember I am here, safe at Pemberley with you and Georgiana, and I can usually calm myself enough to try to sleep again after a time.”
He was grateful, truly, for the presence of Miss White’s maid, as he felt, foolishly, safe,
though it should be the woman before him who would be concerned. The situation is, still,
not entirely proper, but he cannot find a way to quit the room without alarming Miss White.
So, begrudgingly, he remains in place, stiff and seemingly distracted even as his eyes
remain on her. His hands do not stray from their designated place in his lap.
“ Yes. When I was a child. ” He would not tell her how he would wake crying for his mother
only to remember that reality was too cruel to face. That he would be confused – did he
prefer to hear his mother’s cries of pain behind a closed door while he was dreaming, or
did he wish to hear silence while awake? He had not known at the time. Now, he finds, he
much prefers the silence. “ What would you recommend to soothe oneself, then? ”
(Source: gentlegrace, via gentlegrace)
