“Elizabeth, your chocolate is here.” There was no reply. “Dearest, please open the door. I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to upset you. Please open the door and let me talk to you.”

Elizabeth debated whether or not she should let him in. She was very angry with him, and he was being very difficult. But they were also very newly married and she did not want to set a dangerous precedent. Her parents often argued and then would be silent, her father locked in his bookroom and her mother ignoring him whenever they were in a room together. She did not wish such a marriage for herself. She would hear her husband. Even if it took more patience and humility than she currently possessed.

He stood there for what felt like ages before he heard soft footsteps and the click of the lock. She pulled the door back and stood behind it, using it as a barrier between them. He stepped in slowly and placed the chocolate on the table by the bed.

“Elizabeth, I —” he looked at her, her eyes red and her cheeks wet, and felt himself the worst sort of brute. “God, Elizabeth, I am so sorry! I don’t know what came over me! I didn’t mean it, truly. I was just—please, my love, forgive me?”

She looked at him warily, not sure what to believe or that she even understood what was happening. She’d never seen a lovers’ quarrel before and this was more than they’d experienced in their courtship, which had been far from smooth. He’d actually raised his voice to her!

“I hate to see your tears. Please, let me make it better,” he pled.

“How do you plan to manage that?” she asked skeptically.

He looked dumbfounded for a moment and she found it irritatingly endearing. “I will start by apologizing profusely.”

“I believe you’re well on your way there.”

He took a small step toward her, a contrite look on his face. She responded with a step closer to him.

He made up the remaining distance and tentatively took her in his arms. Her arms hung limply by her side, not returning his embrace.

“Will you forgive me for being a brute?”

“Of course.” She brought her hands up to rest lightly on his elbows, not prepared to go further just yet.

“I am so sorry, my love. You are right. I was being spoiled. I didn’t get what I wanted and acted like a child. Forgive me.”

“You are forgiven, Mr. Darcy. I apologize for calling you hateful. It was unkind. Forgive me?” She looked up at him, completely drained and wanting nothing more than for them to make peace and go to bed with her chocolate.

“Of course. This whole thing was my fault.”