***

He stood there a moment before he was captured in Lizzy’s side vision. “William!” she cried as she jumped up from the chair and ran around to him.

“It’s about time you returned, brat. We feared highwaymen had snatched you.” Fitzwilliam smiled broadly and began to stand. “We didn’t even hear you enter.”

“Evidently,” Darcy said, his tone as ice cold as his eyes. Lizzy was just reaching her arms up to him when he stepped back and walked over to the decanter of port on the desk behind him.

“I was very concerned that you would be grievously worried about me, Elizabeth; however, plainly I had no reason for distress. It’s good to see you in such agreeable company, alone here with my cousin. Such good company, in fact, that he was able to relieve your darkest qualms.” He poured a glass for himself, downing it in one gulp, then he slammed the decanter down on the desk.

Fitzwilliam gave a grunt. “Aw, now…don’t start to pout, Darcy. It doesn’t become you. You’ll get wrinkles on that elegant brow of yours.” Chuckling, he sat back down in his chair to finish off his coffee, tossing back the few remaining biscuits. He was annoyingly amused, making Darcy all the angrier.

Lizzy stood motionless, confused, staring up at her husband. “Well, of course I was concerned. Richard has stayed with me for company and was a most welcome support. I would think you would be glad of that.” She was both surprised and hurt at his reaction, her voice barely audible.

“Oh, I know he always has your best interests at heart, don’t you, Fitz? In fact, ever since he first set eyes on you, Elizabeth, your best interests have been uppermost in his thoughts, amongst your other many lovely attributes.” Lizzy gave a little gasp.

Fitzwilliam put down his cup and burped, excusing himself. He used his napkin to brush the crumbs that littered his pants and jacket, then began to wipe his hands. “A word of caution, if I may, Cousin.” He turned to stare steadily into Darcy’s eyes. His voice was very quiet. “Do not say anything now that you will later regret.”

Darcy leaned back on the desk with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes flaming daggers. The two cousins stared, unspeaking, for several tense moments.

The colonel sighed and shook his head. “Very well, I will leave you both. Good night, Elizabeth.” He bent down to kiss the top of her head. “Don’t fret, dearest—Darcy and I have had bigger rows than this, much bigger, and have survived.” He tossed his napkin to Darcy as he passed. “Good night, brat.” With that, Fitzwilliam left the room.

Lizzy turned and stared at her husband in disbelief. “William! How could you?!”

Darcy struggled to loosen his collar, a dark and hateful look on his face. “You know, that’s another thing, my name is Fitzwilliam—Fitzwilliam Darcy. Not Fitz, not William, but Fitzwilliam. I am awfully sorry if it gets you muddled, but there’s nothing I can do about that.”

He sat down heavily into the desk chair and immediately turned his back on his wife. God, I am so tired, so very tired of waiting for this child. Closing his eyes, he rubbed them with his fingertips, feeling guilty and petty and stupid. He knew perfectly well that there were no illicit feelings between his cousin and Elizabeth, knew he had made a muck of things this night when he should have been trying to keep stress from her, knew he should have told her of his disastrous encounter weeks prior with Caroline.

Lizzy struggled to pick up her shoes, waddling out of the room with tears beginning to sting her eyes. I am supposed to trust him without question, and he does this. She was fighting emotions from anger, to hurt, back to anger again. How humiliating! How will I ever face Richard again? Ugh! My feet are killing me. She wanted to go pound on Fitzwilliam’s door so she could complain about her husband, but she realized that was not the best nor most logical plan at the moment.

Am I to have no friends at all? Is he allowed jealousy with no basis in reason, while I am allowed none, when he’s already admitted to a relationship with that woman? She walked slowly to their room, angrily swiping away her tears with the back of her hand. He looks very tired though. He looks tired and concerned. She stopped by her dressing room and pressed a hand to her heart. We’ll be home soon in London, and then we can relax and wait for the baby.

All will be fine as it once was.

It has to be.

***

For the first time in his life, he looked a mess. When he walked into her dressing room, he was barefoot, his hair wild, his eyes red-rimmed from exhaustion, his coat off, and his shirt pulled out from his pants, the tails hanging down from his waist. Their eyes met.

“May I?” he asked quietly. She had been standing before the immense French doors overlooking the garden, staring unseeing across the moonlit expanse, a brush in her hand. She turned to look at him, tears streaming down her cheeks, and she nodded, offering him the brush.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I find it hard to hit upon a comfortable position when I sit on that antique vanity chair, and I am so very tired tonight.” He tenderly took the brush from her hand and began to glide it through her soft, shiny hair, then set down the brush to loosely braid it for her. Quiet surrounded them.

“Shall I rub your back?” His hands lay warm and gentle at her waist.

She nodded, and when she looked up, she saw him watching her in the dark reflection of the window. He looks so sad and tired, and her heart broke for him. She placed her hands upon his.

“Forgive me, Lizzy,” was all he could manage to say as he pressed his forehead atop her head. She turned quickly and reached up, struggling onto her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. They stood like that for a time, holding each other, then softly kissed.

He led her over to the bed, helping her up the two steps and onto her side to rest. Sitting next to her, he began to massage her back and hip through her night robe, a sad, embarrassed look upon his face.

Finally, he spoke. “I’ll apologize to Fitzwilliam in the morning. I don’t know what came over me; I think I may be losing my mind. I saw the two of you holding hands and…”

She turned on her back and placed a finger to his lips. “Hush! It is all right, William. I was crying, and Richard heard me, so he asked if he could enter. He was almost equally concerned, you see. I welcomed his company because it was frightening waiting alone for you with that storm blowing.”

Darcy lay down beside her and gathered her into his arms, pulling a coverlet over them. “I don’t think he sleeps well. Catherine is concerned and wants me to speak with him; it seems that some nights he just roams through the halls. I imagine he was lonely as well.”

“He is such a kind man, William. Truthfully, if you had come home an hour before, you would have seen a hysterical banshee instead of a wife.”

He took her palm from his face and kissed her soft hand.

“You’re tired, William, and you worry much too much. Let’s go to sleep. This will all be over in a few months.”

He grunted loudly. “I’ll collapse well before then,” he murmured in her ear.

***

The following morning, he found Fitzwilliam at breakfast early, as he knew he would. Fitzwilliam had to be off and on the roads to make London late the following day.

“Morning, Cousin. And how are we feeling today?” Fitzwilliam called out when he saw Darcy approach the breakfast room.

“ We feel like a complete ass, thank you very much, and how do you feel, Cousin?” Grabbing a cup of coffee, he sat down across from Fitzwilliam, stretching his long legs before him.

“Very well, actually. Finally slept like a baby.” He was eating three eggs, ham, and bacon. He also had a huge slice of buttered, freshly baked bread, which he was carefully stuffing into his mouth. “God, you are so predictable.” He let out a hoot of laughter. “I knew you’d feel absolutely miserable this morning. Made the whole thing completely worthwhile.”

“You truly are a black-hearted bastard.” Darcy roughly rubbed his sleepy eyes and then destroyed the achingly perfect coif his valet had given him by rubbing his hands through it. Resting his cheek on a fist, he gazed in amazement at the quantity of food his cousin could consume.

Fitzwilliam stopped in midbite. “What?” he groused defensively then swallowed. “An army moves on its stomach.”

“Well, it better not be going far. You’re going to be puking before the first road station.” He motioned with his hands for Fitzwilliam to pass food to him.

Fitzwilliam handed him an empty plate, sliding an egg onto it and a huge slice of ham. He then reached for the scones for both of them.

“I’m going to try to get an extended leave the month Lizzy’s due to deliver. Let me know if you need me for anything before then.” Fitzwilliam leaned back in his chair and stretched, finishing up his morning coffee.

Darcy nodded. “Thank you, by the way, for staying with her last night. At least you kept her calm. I, however, managed nearly to give her apoplexy.” He grabbed several pieces of toast.

“I know you, brat, and I know what is eating at you. There is no evidence for it. Many women never miscarry; some miscarry and then go on to have a perfectly normal delivery. Your mother had a history of troubled pregnancies. Her death was unfortunate but not something that will happen to Lizzy. You are worrying unnecessarily and driving everyone insane.”