Sarah tapped her foot against the floor anxiously, keeping her eyes fixed on the bell hanging by the door. Some modern houses had done away with the old-fashioned system, but she was glad the Fitzwilliams had not. The other end of the scarlet rope hung by her mistress' bed, and it would only take her a few minutes to rush up when called. She was due to ring any moment, and Sarah was loathe to be late. Cook passed by and clicked her tongue disapprovingly, nudging her to the side so she could set the steaming porridge down on the table.

"You should eat before running off," she scolded Sarah. "Mrs. Fitzwilliam wouldn't mind if you were having breakfast, now would she?"

"I can eat when she's up and dressed," said Sarah, still staring at the bell. "Is her tray ready?"

"Aye," Cook nodded to the covered plates lying on a silver tray on the counter. The housekeeper wandered in at that moment, and Cook turned to address her. "Tea?"

"Yes, please," Mrs. Edwards smiled and then noticed Sarah in the corner. "Oh, Sarah, be sure to get the newspaper from Mr. Avery when you take Mrs. Fitzwilliam her breakfast, Lord Fitzwilliam's taken to ordering two from the boy just so she doesn't have to wait for his."

"She shouldn't be reading it," muttered Sarah.

"She shouldn't," agreed Mrs. Edwards. "But Lady Fitzwilliam specifically asked she be kept happy, and this keeps her happy."

"She's a new wife who sent her man off to war," said Cook diplomatically, offering a cup to Mrs. Edwards and practically shoving one at Sarah as well. "What did you all expect her to do? Doesn't matter how rich they are, love is love."

"Hush now," said Mrs. Edwards, sipping her tea. "He'll be back before we know it. That boy always did love causing trouble, he just needed this bit of attention."

Cook chuckled, and even Sarah cracked a smile. Giving up her vigil, she sank into a chair and gratefully sipped her tea. Cook smiled knowingly and patted her shoulder. "We've known young Master Richard for a while, dearie. You tell your mistress not to worry, he can never stay away for long."

"My mistress does believe he will be back, but she is anxious," Sarah sighed. "And she doesn't eat or sleep, I fear. All she does is lay in bed or go off into the grounds on her own."

"Oh, she's never on her own," said Mrs. Edwards dismissively. "There's always a gardener around, and Mr. Avery was just saying the other day how Lord Fitzwilliam has instructed a footman accompany her if she goes too far."

Sarah frowned. "I don't think she knows that, Mrs. Edwards."

"She doesn't need to," Mrs. Edwards took another sip of tea, and quirked an eyebrow at Cook's and Sarah's expression. "Well, what is it? Would you like to face Master Richard when he comes back and demands to know why his wife wasn't looked after?"

Cook sighed. "Nay, but spying –"

"'Tis not spying, dear, do not be so dramatic –"

"The lady does not know –"

"She would refuse –"

"But she ought to know –"

"She's awake!" interjected Sarah, slightly louder than necessary. Both women abruptly stopped arguing and turned to stare at the normally meek girl, who merely blushed and pointed to the bell, which was now slowly ringing. "I-I'll take her breakfast, shall I?"

"Some fresh cream?" offered Cook.

"Remember the newspaper!" called Mrs. Edwards, but Sarah had already snatched up the tray and the cream and practically fled from the kitchen.

She found Mr. Avery in his office, looking over some accounts. Shyly, she tapped her knuckles against the open door, easily balancing the breakfast tray in one hand. Mr. Avery looked up, his eyes tired. "Yes, Sarah, what is it?"

"The newspaper for Mrs. Fitzwilliam, sir."

"Of course," blinking, the butler picked up a folded newspaper from his desk and approached her, placing it neatly on the tray. Sarah murmured her thanks and backed out. Mr. Avery nodded, a little absently, and returned to his desk.

The rest of the house was still sleeping. Sarah darted up the servants' stairs up to the main floor, and quietly began to ascend the main staircase to the household's private chambers. The rest of the lady's maids were still in their rooms, and she knew the valets were out by the stables with the footmen. She did not expect to run into anyone at this hour, knowing her mistress' routine and also knowing how odd it was. Married women breakfasted in their bedrooms, often not before eleven, but Diana Fitzwilliam was awake at six o'clock every day, rain or shine. Whether or not she actually did anything on the day, however, depended on her mood.

Her bedroom door was closed – she had shifted to her husband's chambers after his departure, and Sarah had only waited two days before moving her belongings from the larger room she had been given to the smaller one she preferred, knowing there was no use in arguing. She opened the door and set the tray on the table by the bed, deftly opening the curtains with one hand while trying to steal a glance at the figure on the bed from the corner of her eye.

"Good morning, mum," she greeted, keeping her tone forcefully bright. "It didn't rain last night, as we thought, so the day is dry enough for you to have a stroll. And Cook sent you some fresh cream for your breakfast, and the newspaper came as well," Sarah moved back to the table and began to set the tray on the empty side of the bed, still not looking at her mistress. "Did you sleep well?" she asked finally, turning her eyes up.

It had been an average night for Diana, Sarah could tell immediately. There were dark circles under her eyes, and the pallid complexion she had adopted sometime after arriving back at Matlock was still there. However, there was a small smile on her face as she re-braided her hair, tossing it over her shoulder and holding her hand out for the newspaper.

"I slept fine, thank you," Diana said quietly. Her voice was not hoarse – she had clearly been awake for longer than Sarah had initially suspected. "Is anyone else awake?"

"Not that I know of," replied Sarah. She handed Diana the newspaper and set about pouring tea. "Would you like milk?"

"Hmm? Yes, fine," Diana waved a hand casually, already flicking through the paper to get to the special section that was dedicated to the war effort. Sarah's movements slowed, her eyes betraying her curiosity even as she pretended to not know what her mistress was doing. Ignoring her breakfast tray, Diana flattened the paper out onto the bed, pointing silently to the small column with a list of names. Sarah glanced at it quickly, and then let out a jagged sigh of relief. None of the names were familiar.

"Jam or butter?" asked Sarah finally, as if nothing had happened.

"Both," said Diana. She folded the newspaper back neatly, her eyes lingering only momentarily over the large, bold letters that read MISSING IN ACTION. It was as if she wanted to assure herself, again, that her husband's name was not on it. Sarah did not begrudge her that. "Any letters?" she asked, accepting the tea and allowing Sarah to finally remove the newspaper from her side.

"None yet," Sarah sighed.

Diana nodded, her expression still calm, but she put her teacup down with shaking hands and began to fiddle with the end of her braid. "Do I have anything to do today?"

"Simply more packing for town next week, and Lady Emily and the Lady Fitzwilliam would like your company when they visit the shops this afternoon."

"Must I?" Diana groaned. "I will hardly be any help."

"You ought to buy yourself something too," said Sarah. She picked up the teacup and pressed it back into Diana's hands, cheering inwardly when she drank absently. "You will have to attend many gatherings in town."

"I do not feel like shopping, Sarah."

"Of course, mum."

Diana sighed. "You won't give me the key to his desk until tomorrow, will you?"

Sarah smiled grimly. "You asked me not to, mum."

"I just –"

"You also asked me not to let you convince me otherwise."

"I know," moodily, Diana picked at the piece of toast lying on her plate. "Would tonight at midnight be a good compromise?"

"Perhaps," said Sarah. Seeing that Diana would not be eating anymore, she removed the tray and held up her robe. "I could run you a bath, if you wish."

"Yes, please," Diana sighed and sat up, slipping her arms through the offered garment. "Shopping, a walk, perhaps some drawing, and I should write to my mother asking for her travel arrangements. Am I forgetting something?"

"No, mum," Sarah headed to the dressing-room.

"Is this what the life of a married woman is like, Sarah?" asked Diana. Sarah did not respond, knowing the question was rhetorical. Diana continued, "Surely this can't be all I have to do. I'm going to go mad in this house with nothing but my thoughts for company. I need a distraction."

Sarah did not need to ask what Diana truly wanted to say: that she was lonely. "You will be sufficiently distracted in London, mum," she said, forcing her tone to be cheery.

"The wrong kind of distraction, unfortunately," said Diana moodily.

Sarah bit her lip. She returned to the room with a few dresses and lay them on the bed, gesturing for Diana to pick one. "I am sorry, mum, but I know you want me to give you the key now, and I won't do that. You'll want the letter tomorrow more than you do now."

Diana stuck out her tongue childishly at Sarah, who merely giggled and picked up the tray again, departing the room. She would be back with water for the bath and attempt to chatter and keep her distracted, but she knew as soon as she was alone Diana would simply stop and stay in the same place, leaning against the wall and gazing out the window blankly.

{–}

"Did you hear me, dear?"

"Hmm?" Diana looked up from her cup of tea, catching her mother-in-law's eye and blinking rapidly. "Pardon me, mamma. You were saying something?"

"I was," Lady Alexandra Fitzwilliam handed her the bunch of fabric samples she had been looking at, clearly ignoring the fact that Diana had not been listening to a single word she had said. "Curtains for the front parlour in London, dear. What do you think?"

"They are all lovely," said Diana. She flipped through the samples mechanically, picked the fourth one out and held it up. "This one?"

"Or perhaps this?" gently, Emily plucked the sample from her hands and replaced it with another one which, as Diana finally looked at it, was admittedly a much better choice. "The blue will go well with the painting you did. Pappa is most anxious to hang it up."

"It is hardly good enough to be displayed in such a place."

"Nonsense," Lady Alexandra took the sample from her hands and began to put them away, as a maid immediately came forward to help. "Didn't I tell you Lady Spencer was demanding to know who my mystery artist was, when I put up your old watercolours in my sitting-room? She is has said she will commission my artist at whatever price they say if only I will tell her who it is."

"I don't see how she hasn't realized they're all Diana's," said Emily amusedly. "She's visited Mrs. Harris' home only a few hundred times, and all the paintings were there as well."

"It has more to do with where the paintings are than who did them," said Diana, finally cracking a smile. "The Fitzwilliam House sitting-room has just been done up, Emily, and you know what that means."

Emily's eyes widened in understanding. "She wants to copy it again?"

"She has been doing it for the past five years," reminded Diana. "Though by now, you'd think she'd grasp that mamma has caught on."

Emily shook her head smilingly. "Well, no wonder mamma has been so insistent on getting the carpenter in as soon as we reach town. It appears we are in the midst of a competition."

"Pardon me! I'll have you young ladies know that Lady Spencer and I are very good friends," sniffed Lady Alexandra. "I find these accusations quite rude."

Emily stifled a giggle behind her hand as Diana looked up and raised her eyebrows. "Mamma, friendship aside, we know Lady Spencer has been copying your sitting-room's style for five years. The whole of London knows."

"The whole of London also knows that is why you change it every summer," added Emily mischievously.

"And this little rivalry, of course, has nothing to do with the fact that you once gave her your milliner's address and she bought all the crochet pieces you were so fond of," finished Diana.

Emily gave her mother-in-law a questioning look. "I thought that rivalry ended after she told you about those wonderful ceramic pieces at auction and you privately bought them all before they could go on sale?"

Lady Alexandra turned pink, and Diana gasped. "You did what?"

"She even had me pick them up from the auction house, so she wouldn't be seen doing it," laughed Emily. "And then we served Lady Spencer tea in the very cups she thought she would be buying at the end of the week!"

Diana burst into laughter, and the sound was so unexpected and yet so welcome that Emily joined in, her own, much quieter giggles creating a pleasing harmony with Diana's musical tones. Lady Alexandra smiled, her embarrassment forgotten as she watched the two girls – because to her, they would always be girls – forget their troubles for a few moments and clutch at each other in delight. She chuckled herself a little at the memory, remembering her friend's look of surprise. She was fond of Amelia Spencer, of course, but the china patterns had been too lovely to risk giving up.

"Alright now," she said finally, when their laughter had died down. "Enough amusement at a poor old woman's expense."

"We are merely admiring your tenacity," said Diana.

"That is a polite way of saying cunning."

"And I am nothing if not polite," Diana patted her hair back into place and exchanged another look with Emily, who was still trying to control her laughter. "Now, where were we? China patterns?"

Lady Alexandra rolled her eyes as Emily burst into laughter again.

{–}

"– but Aunty Diana said I could!"

"And mamma says you mustn't, Master Henry, now don't fuss!"

"Is everything alright in here?"

"Aunty Diana!" the child threw himself into his aunt's arms and glared at his governess, who was sighing exasperatedly. "Miss Williams says I can't paint until tomorrow!"

"Paint?" Diana raised a questioning eyebrow and picked up the little boy automatically, the feeling of his small fingers digging into her shoulder oddly comforting as he buried his face into her neck. "What's all this about painting?" she asked loudly, while throwing the governess an apologetic look. "If Master Henry has finished his arithmetic, he can paint all he wants. Isn't that right, Miss Williams?"

"Of course, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, but he hasn't finished his sums yet," stressed Miss Williams, her wispy hair falling out of her usually neat bun. "Lady Emily was very strict when she said we must give time to all his lessons."

"So she was," Diana sighed and nudged Henry's head with her chin, smiling when he peeked up at her. "Miss Williams is right, my darling. And you mustn't use my name to get out of doing your lessons, you know that will displease your pappa."

Henry pouted. "But I don't like arithmetic, Aunty Diana."

"Neither did your pappa, or your Uncle Richard," reminded Diana gently. "But they did their sums when they were your age, and now they do not have to. So you must as well."

"Did you like sums, Aunty Diana?" asked Henry innocently, as she put him back onto the ground.

Diana grimaced. "Oh, yes, very much."

Henry beamed and trotted off to his little desk dutifully, while Miss Williams threw Diana a grateful look and followed him. Diana shook her head smilingly and continued on to her destination, poking her head into the room next to the nursery and coughing to attract the attention of the occupant.

"Busy?" she asked, as Lord Fitzwilliam looked up from his papers.

"For you, my dear, never," smiling, he beckoned her inside. "I was expecting you before luncheon."

"Mamma distracted me with paint samples," said Diana, sinking into the armchair opposite Lord Fitzwilliam's desk. And then she frowned. "Or perhaps they were wallpaper clippings? Oh, dear."

Lord Fitzwilliam smiled. "Did you see the newspaper this morning?"

"I did, thank you," Diana sighed. "And Henry has arrived in London, he will be waiting for us next week. He sent a messenger," she took the short note out of her pocketbook and passed it across the table.

"Thank you," Lord Fitzwilliam nodded. "Are we to expect the Darcys?"

"Elizabeth and Georgiana are already there, I had a letter from them yesterday saying they are in the midst of preparations and anxiously awaiting our arrival," said Diana. "Darcy should arrive the same day as us, I think, though I can take a look at her letter again and see if she mentioned it."

"That is quite alright," Lord Fitzwilliam waved a hand dismissively, scanning Henry's letter. "He says Lady Catherine has left her card. I suppose the first order of business will be to host her."

Diana grimaced. "I had thought of that. But considering her relationship with Elizabeth…"

"She would not dare disrespect her under my roof," said Lord Fitzwilliam. "Would you tell your mamma when we reach London, and not a minute before? She does not enjoy planning for Catherine's visits."

Diana shrugged. "On your own head be it."

Lord Fitzwilliam smiled again. "You are a great help, Diana. I do hope you do not mind catering to an old man's whims like this, but things being as they are…" he trailed off. "Well, usually Richard is around to look after such things when the season comes along."

"You know I like to keep busy," reminded Diana. "Please, by all means, take me on as a scribe if you must."

"Your handwriting is certainly better than mine," Lord Fitzwilliam chuckled. "And has Little Henry's crisis been resolved?"

"He is not fond of his sums," replied Diana. "He has taken quite a liking to painting, though."

"I am sure that is your influence, my dear."

"I suppose," Diana played with a loose thread on her sleeve idly. "He does seem awfully young for a governess, though."

"I believe engaging Miss Williams at this time also had something to do with easing your burden, once Henry and Emily go on holiday," said Lord Fitzwilliam. He had put his papers away some time ago and was looking at her, hands folded on his desk patiently, but Diana was still looking anywhere but at him. He did not seem to find that odd at all.

"Perhaps they should have just gotten a nurse."

"This will be quite educational. One is never too young to learn something new."

Diana smiled a little. "Was it that philosophy that prompted you to send Richard to Cambridge?"

Lord Fitzwilliam chuckled. "I did have to send him to university, but Richard was never an academic. Sharp as a razor, of course, and an avid reader. Fond of music too, but he could never have done well in the law, or medicine. I was almost relieved when he decided to join the army. It seemed something that he could do well."

"And you did not find the timing odd?" Diana raised an eyebrow. "Two months after I was married, he decided to ship off to war?"

"I admit, the thought did cross my mind," admitted Lord Fitzwilliam. "But your mamma was adamant that, had he truly wanted to marry you, there was nothing standing in his way – all he had to do was ask, we all knew you would have said yes. Of course, we did not consider other factors."

"Like my mother."

"She was one, yes," Lord Fitzwilliam chuckled. "How is old Mina? I know you two have your problems, my dear, but she was not always like this. Why, when your father and her first married, they were the talk of the town!"

Diana smiled a little. "I do not know much about that time, I am afraid."

Lord Fitzwilliam smiled wistfully. "We had some very happy years, all of us. Mina was a beauty, a wit, and the best hostess in London, by far. They were never particularly wealthy, of course, but James… well, you know," his voice turned fond. "There was nothing that man couldn't do. It was no wonder Mina pushed him into those kinds of circles: he impressed everyone wherever he went. But all he truly wanted was to live a quiet life at home with his family. I remember the letter he wrote me when you were born. Six pages with description upon description of your perfection, your beauty, your good temper. Had I not been a father myself at the time, I doubt I would have understood."

Diana sniffed. "He was the best father I could have asked for."

"And he would be proud of you today."

"Proud?" Diana snorted. "What have I accomplished?"

"You survived," said Lord Fitzwilliam gently. "You kept your perfection, your beauty, and your good temper, all the things he raved about from the day you took your first breath. He loved you with all his heart, Diana. But he was not well. He had troubles, and it was a struggle for him to function, on most days. And yet there is no doubt in my mind that, seeing you here today smiling and making others smile despite everything, would have made him very proud of you."

Diana brushed her hair out of her eyes, discreetly wiping her cheeks in the process. The unspoken words were there, and they did not need to be said: she had not turned bitter, despite the hands she had been dealt. She still smiled, and laughed, keeping busy and going on with her day despite the hollow, empty feeling inside her heart. The loneliness had not taken over her life. She had not let it.

In other words, she had not turned into her mother.

{–}

Diana was just finishing a rather short letter to her mother when she heard her bedroom door open. Looking up, she was surprised to see Sarah.

"What is it?" she asked, slightly worried at her maid's look of trepidation. "Has something happened?"

Sarah shook her head, hesitated, and then set a single key down onto Diana's desk. "It is almost midnight," she said quietly. "I thought you might like to have his letter now."

Diana smiled softly, taking the key with trembling hands and hurrying towards the other desk, the one stood in the corner that she could not bear to touch. Her hands lingered against the polished wood, remembering the last time she had sat at this desk, writing letters while Richard looked over her shoulder. The memory was painful, but also invigorating. Any memory she had with him gave her that odd, bittersweet feeling. Biting her lip, she knelt down and slipped the key into the only locked drawer of the desk, twisting it slowly until she heard the inner mechanism click. Aware of Sarah's watchful eye, she resisted the urge to snatch up the stack of white envelopes inside it and instead only picked up the one on top of the pile. Almost immediately, Sarah was taking the key from her hands and locking the drawer again, slipping the key into the pocket of her dress and nodding at Diana.

"I'll leave you an extra candle, mum," she said softly.

But Diana was not listening. She had already ripped open the envelope, her eyes raking over the familiar script greedily.

My dearest Diana,

It has now been almost two months since my departure, and doubtless you have already given the key to my desk to Sarah, to ensure you are not tempted to read more than one letter a month. Of course, I suspected you might do this: you are far too intelligent to think that you would not want to read them all in one day.

I would like to think I have been a regular correspondent by now, but we are both far too realistic to think I have been diligent in writing you letters from France. You already know this is why I chose to do this, but I do hope you have kept this a secret: if my brother ever found out I had written you a letter for each month I am meant to be away and hidden them all in my desk, I'd never hear the end of it.

If you are indeed following my instructions in my last letter and only reading one letter a month, then you must all be getting ready to depart for London by next week. The season should be starting soon, and along with it Georgiana's coming out ball. I confess, I am upset at having to miss out on such an occasion. Darcy and I often talked about the day we would be able to scare away any of her potential suitors. We intended to keep the tradition going for a few years, or at least until we thought we had found someone worthy. It was not until Mamma pointed out we would never think anyone worthy of Georgiana that we started to reconsider our actions. Fortunately, Darcy assured me that there would be no marriages taking place in my absence. However, if such a need should arise, my lawyers have instructions on a particular gift I wanted to give Georgiana on such an occasion. I think you will approve, when you see it.

Am I flattering myself by thinking you are all now still wretchedly missing me? Surely, as the stay-at-home younger son with a beautiful wife, I can afford the luxury of imagining that your days are incomplete without me. Ah, you are shaking your head and laughing at me: I do not need to see you to know that is what you are doing. Despite how much everyone's misery uplifts my fragile ego, I must insist you stop it at once. It would not do for me to return and see that you are not exactly how I left you. After all, your miniature is all I have of you: people would talk, if I were to return and not recognize my own wife. Therefore, for all our sakes, you must laugh and sing and draw and be as happy as you were when I was still with you.

While I trust that my family is doing their utmost to keep you happy, I would insist that you enjoy the season in London outside of our home as well. Please be assured that Col. Hart and Cecelia, Darcy and Elizabeth, and any number of our other friends would be delighted to host you, or accompany you should you wish to go anywhere. While I understand completely that you may choose to hide away the season after the unfortunate incidents that occurred over Christmas, I know you too well, and you are too strong and stubborn to allow society to keep you from enjoying yourself. You have many companions other than Lady Rosalind, my dear, and I would urge you to take advantage of their genuine affection for you.

I shall preach no longer, particularly since you have no way of retaliating to my sermons. I will only add that I love you, and my love for you only grows with each passing day. No matter where I am, or what I am doing, I can assure you, you are the foremost thing on my mind. I am counting the days until I can be with you again, my love.

Yours faithfully
RICHARD.