A/N Here comes Day 10, we're getting closer to the end! Much thanks to Gayle for betaing, and to all of you for taking the time to read and leave me your comments :)

Day 10

Wednesday, January 27th 2010

Reluctantly opening one eye, Will craned his neck to see the alarm clock. Six forty-four. Determined to get his last sixty seconds of sleep, he fell back on the bed and squeezed his eyes shut. Exactly fifteen seconds later, the alarm went off. Bloody fuck. Groggily, he pushed himself up enough to reach the clock and shut it up. For a few minutes, he lay on his back, stretching his legs, his toes curling in distaste as his feet accidentally slipped from under the duvet and came in touch with the cool morning air. Groaning, he swiftly pulled his feet back in and snuggled closer to Bell's sleeping form. Forty-five seconds later, he realized that he was falling back asleep; so he grudgingly dragged himself out of bed.

If there was one downside to living with Bell, he mused while brushing his teeth, it was definitely the mornings. He had always been an early riser, but lately, living with her had started to wreak havoc on his morning routines. At least on chilly winter mornings like this one. Save for Saturday mornings, she always went to work later than he did, and every time his alarm went off at six forty-five and he was forced to tear himself away from the sweet warmth of their shared bed, he could swear he died a little.

Shaking his head at his morbid morning thoughts, he turned on the shower, shivering as he slipped off his t-shirt and boxers and stepped inside the cubicle. The hot water did nothing to warm him, and when he stepped out of the shower ten minutes later, he was still freezing. After vigorously scrubbing himself with a towel, as much to warm himself as to dry off, he tiptoed back to the bedroom, casting a longing glance towards the bed and Bell's messy hair sticking out from under the edge of the duvet, before opening the closet. He had no meetings that day and he blissfully could skip the suits and dress shirts, opting instead for a pair of jeans and the warmest sweater he could find.

While the coffee was brewing, he got the morning's paper and spread it on the kitchen table. Sitting down, he leaned his head against his hand and closed his eyes for a moment. The roughness of his cheek against his palm alerted him to the fact that he had forgot to shave, but instead of returning to the bathroom, he just smiled to himself lazily. Bell liked it when he forgot to shave. God, he was such a fool for her. He had no doubt that had she told him that she liked it when he walked around without pants, he probably would have tossed all his pants in the bin and would never have worn them again. Then again, he sniggered, she probably would like it if he did just that….

Pouring himself a generous cup of coffee, he threw a slice of bread into the toaster and took out the jam. He and Bell were forever planning to fill the cupboards and keep more food around the house, fruit and whatnot, but they never quite got around to doing it. Instead, they had an ever-growing pile of take-away menus and a discount card for Mr. Wong's.

At seven twenty-five, he had finished his breakfast and browsed through the Meryton Post, and headed back to the bedroom. This, he mused, while standing in the doorway and letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, was the best part of his mornings. Settling back on the bed, he wrapped his arm around the bundle that was Bell, and pulled the duvet slightly down to whisper in her ear.

"Love, it's time to wake up."

She mumbled something incoherent, as she always did, and burrowed closer to him.

"It's almost seven-thirty."

Yawning, she shuffled under the duvet until her face was turned towards him, and gave him a sleepy smile.

"It is?"

"Yup. Time to get up."

"Okay," she agreed, snuggling her head against his chest and closing her eyes again.

"Bell…." he smiled. She did this every morning, making him want to burrow right back under the duvet with her. Sweet torture.

After indulging himself for a moment, he kissed the top of her head. "I have to go now. I'll see you at noon, okay?"

She turned to brush her lips lazily against his jaw. "Mmmm, a stubble, I like that."

Smiling, he got out of the bed. In the foyer, he put on his jacket and wrapped a scarf around his neck. Looking in the mirror, he noticed that his hair was a complete mess, and quickly dashed to the bathroom to set it straight. Grabbing his briefcase and mobile, he was halfway out the front door when he heard a groggy voice calling him from the bedroom.

"Will?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

He smiled. "Love you, too."

:-:

After Will had gone, Elizabeth lay in the bed for a while, yawning. Reluctant to give up the warmth of the bed but knowing that she had to get up, she wrapped the duvet tightly around her and scrambled up. Squinting at the light coming from the hallway, she shuffled towards the kitchen and headed straight to the coffee maker. Will had left her a mug next to it, along with the jam and the bread that had seen fresher days. Some breakfast. They really should start buying groceries more often.

She poured herself a large mug of coffee and put a slice of bread in the toaster, then sat down at the kitchen table. Once again, Will had accidentally left the Meryton Post open at the very page where Longbourn Hall, still on the market, was advertised. She humphed. The man just didn't give up. He had calculated that if he sold the flat and invested a good part of the money he had got from selling his father's company into buying the house, they could get away with a remarkably small mortgage. And, after she had complained that she would feel like a freeloader, living in a house he would have spent his savings on, he had presented her with his latest argument – if they were one day getting married, then what was his would become hers, so it really didn't matter who paid for what.

Elizabeth sighed. While Will was not exactly mind-bogglingly rich, he was still relatively well-off and compared to him, Elizabeth often felt like a regular pauper. And while she and Will both knew that his money had nothing to do with why they were together, she could see exactly how people like Caroline Bingley or that Katrina Bergstein – or her own mother for that matter – would view it if he bought them a ridiculously pricey house. Married him for his money, they would say. She did not like the idea one bit.

Having finished her coffee and toast, she headed for the bathroom, reluctantly throwing the duvet back onto the bed on her way. She smiled as she looked around the room while brushing her teeth. It was ridiculous, she knew, but it made her happy to see their things, scattered around the shelves. His towel next to hers, a basket full of their laundry. He had been right – there was a difference between living together and her spending every night at his place. Now, the flat was theirs. Their home.

Sitting on the toilet seat, she flipped through an old number of Wallpaper. On page twenty-three there was an interview of a supposedly famous British designer, accompanied by a picture taken on a busy London street. In the background, she saw a Boots outlet, and absently made a mental note to stop at the one on Park Lane on her way home from work. She needed a new pack of birth control pills, and while she was at it, she could get Will more shampoo. And then, suddenly, something clicked in her head, and she nearly dropped the magazine. She was supposed to start a new pack of pills the next day, which meant that her period should have started three days ago. And it most certainly hadn't.

:-:

"Did you look at the message from the contractor already?" Richard asked, entering Will's office.

"Yeah. Called him back, too, already. He was hard-pressed to understand why anyone would want to leave old rafters that no longer serve any structural purpose exposed."

"And I suppose you set him straight?" Richard asked, an amused twinkle in his eyes

"I did."

"In no uncertain terms?"

"I don't know what you're insinuating; I was perfectly polite."

"Ah, I get it. So you only called him a bloody fucking idiot after you hung up the phone?"

Will flushed. "You heard?"

"Oh, I heard alright," Richard grinned. "As did poor Reynolds, I might add. I think you're in for a little lecture, or at least one of those disapproving glances she keeps throwing over her glasses. Quite uncanny, if you ask me."

Will smiled, too. "If I hide in here until lunch, do you think she'll have forgot all about it by then?"

"I doubt it; the woman has a memory like an elephant. But we can try."

"We?"

"Yeah, I have the sketches for the cycle shelters, I thought we could look them over. And I brought coffee..."

Without waiting for an answer, Richard closed the door behind him and settled in a chair on the other side of the table, offering Will one of the two paper cups he was carrying.

"Cycle shelters," Will grumbled good-naturedly. "The reason I became an architect."

"So," Richard said casually, after an hour of trying to decide how many bikes should fit a single shelter. "Any more crazy phone calls from Austria?"

Blinking, Will looked up from the papers. For a few days, he had actually managed to forget the unfortunate incident with Katrina Bergstein a few weeks ago. It still baffled him to think of what had happened.

"No. No more. Only twenty or so from Anne, saying how sorry she is. " Taking his glasses off, he stretched his hands above his head and looked at the clock. "I thought I'd go visit the campus before lunch, want to join me?"

"Sure," Richard agreed, gathering the sketches back into a neat roll. "After all, you need someone to shelter you from Evil Eyes out there at the front desk."

Chuckling, Will switched off the light and closed the door behind them. He was saved from the lecture with which Richard had threatened him, for Mrs. Reynolds was on the phone when they passed her. She did, however, find the time to give her boss a chastising glare and a shake of her head.

"So, about this Anne Bergstein," Richard started, when they got in the car. "Is she pretty?"

"What?"

"Just thinking," Richard replied, shrugging.

Will sighed, shaking his head. "Richard..."

"Yeah?"

"Did Char break up with you again?"

"She might have," Richard mumbled defensively.

Will sniggered. Richard and Char Lucas had supposedly been dating ever since Charles and Jane's New Year's party. In the space of a single month, however, they had managed to split up at least four times, always for the most absurd reasons.

"So what came in the way of true love this time?"

Richard sighed dramatically. "She's too possessive. I went to have one pint with Andrew after work yesterday, one pint!"

Will eyed him skeptically.

"Okay, it might have been three. And when I came home, she had slipped a note through my letterbox. 'It's over,' it said. A bit dramatic, don't you think?"

"And was there a reason she was standing behind your door and had time to scribble notes for you?"

Richard shrugged sheepishly. "Well, I might have told her to come to my place after work, and then forgot to mention that I meant after I'd had one pint with Andrew."

"Or three."

"Aren't you supposed to be on my side? One pint, three pints, who's counting?"

Will laughed at his cousin's sour expression. "Apparently, she is."

:-:

"Ed?" Elizabeth asked, lifting her head from the papers in front of her, trying to locate her uncle between the shelves.

"What is it, dear?"

"Just looking at the numbers. Tell me, did we pay Will's guys already?"

"Oh, yes, I took care of it yesterday."

Elizabeth let out a relieved sigh. "Good. That explains a lot."

"Don't worry, little Lizzy," her uncle said, walking to her and wrapping his arm around her shoulders in a comforting gesture. "We're doing just fine."

"Oh, I know Uncle Ed," she smiled , leaning into him. "I know. They did a fine job, didn't they?"

"Sure did," her uncle agreed, and both he and Elizabeth let their gazes once again sweep over the posh new floor.

On the second week of January, after a big sale had been arranged, Extensive Reading Co. had closed its doors for two weeks. All the books had been packed up and taken into storage along with most of the furniture. Earning the eternal gratitude of both Elizabeth and Ed Gardiner, Will had called in a few favours, and so, on the morning of the third day, Sam, Oz and Harry had arrived. After a couple of days of watching them work, Elizabeth had been convinced that they were probably the three most efficient repairmen in the whole of Britain – and she much suspected that what she and Ed had paid them was a lot less than they were used to receiving. In nine days, the three men had uncovered the old, black and white tile flooring, cleaned it up and sealed it. In addition, much to the surprise of Elizabeth and her uncle, they had repainted the walls and fixed a whole bunch of other little defects – the doors were no longer creaking, a frame that had been long missing from the front window had been replaced, and the wooden counter had been sanded and re-varnished. At the re-opening party, even Mrs. Bennet had declared that the shop looked very much improved – though Elizabeth was fairly sure that her declaration had mostly been inspired by the fact that Will had been standing next to her, and she had wanted to please him.

"Oh God, you're staring at the floor again, aren't you? I swear, I'm starting to worry that there's something seriously wrong with you two."

Both Elizabeth and her uncle jumped at the sound of Georgiana's voice coming from behind them, embarrassed to have been caught admiring the floor for what must have been the hundredth time that week.

"Georgie!" Elizabeth cried. "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be working until this evening, are you?"

"No," she replied, shuffling off her winter coat, "but it was freezing at the flat, so I thought I'd come to hang out here for a while. You're going to lunch with Will, right?"

"Right. But why were you freezing? Whatever happened?"

"Oh, the heater broke. I'll have to talk to my landlord about replacing it. But you know, he's such a scrooge that I'll probably freeze to death before he'll agree to buy me a new one..."

Ed Gardiner cleared his throat menacingly, but Georgiana ignored him and continued cheerily,

"The only man I know who's even more miserly than him is my boss. Now there's a man who knows how to pinch his pennies! You know, we needed a new floor at work, but instead of spending his money on a new one, this cheapskate decides to rip the old floor off in the hope of finding an even older one underneath it, and then..."

"Georgiana Darcy!" Ed cried in mock indignation. "That's quite enough!" And then, with a mischievous smile spreading on his face, he added: "You know, I've got a half of Maddy's apple pie in the fridge in the backroom, she gave it to me so I could leave it there waiting for you. But now that I think of it, it's probably best that I eat it myself..."

Elizabeth laughed at her uncle and Georgiana, disappearing in the backroom, arguing over the apple pie. Glancing at the clock, she noticed that it was almost noon. Soon, Will would be there. She wondered if she should tell him of her suspicions already. What would he say? Would he be happy? Would he be as nervous as she was now, at the mere thought of being pregnant. But it was impossible, right? She was on the pill, and apart from that one day after Charles and Jane's party, she had remembered to take them most regularly. One lapse didn't make a baby, did it? Her hands started to shake when she imagined herself, sitting on the rim of a toilet seat, one of those home pregnancy tests in hand, waiting for the verdict to appear in the form of a blue line or something like that. She wasn't ready to be a mother yet, was she?

Her thoughts were interrupted when the bell above the door rang. She put a smile on her face and looked up, waiting to see a customer, but saw Will standing in the doorway instead. Without another thought, she ran towards him and crushed herself against him, burying her face in his chest.

"Oh, Will, I've missed you!"

He laughed, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the top of her head. "I appreciate the sentiment, love, but you just saw me less than five hours ago."

"I know," she sniffed, "but I... see, there's something I need to..."

But before she had time to finish her sentence, she was interrupted by Richard, pushing past Will to get inside. "Bloody hell, you two really are disgustingly happy!"

"Don't mind him," Will whispered. "He's in a bit of a mood; he and Char broke up."

Elizabeth's brows shot up in surprise. "Again?"

Will nodded, chuckling. "Yeah. Don't even ask why. He's a bit down, so I promised I'd go to his place after work, to watch the game. I hope that's okay. You hadn't planned anything, had you?"

Elizabeth smiled, shaking her head. "No. Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow."

:-:

In the evening, Elizabeth sat alone in the kitchen, staring at the plastic bag on the table in front of her. Boots, it said on the side of the bag, written in bold white strokes inside a blue oval. Inside the bag there was a bottle of shampoo, a pack of birth control pills – and a home pregnancy test.

She had sat through lunch, trying to laugh with Will and Georgie as they had poked fun at poor Richard and his and Char's latest break-up, all the while wondering if she shouldn't pull Will aside and tell him that she was late. After work, she had called Char and asked her to come and grab a cup of coffee with her. For two hours, they had sat at Joe's, Char complaining about Richard and men in general, Elizabeth trying to gather courage to tell her friend of her suspicions and ask her advice. In the end, she'd said nothing. It didn't feel right to tell someone else before Will.

What if she really was pregnant? What would people think? She shuddered as she remembered the strange incident a few weeks ago. Will had been in the shower when his mobile had rung, and as she often did, Elizabeth had answered his phone. Without preamble, a strangely familiar voice had started ranting at the other end of the line.

"Is this Elizabeth Bennet?"

"Yes," Elizabeth had replied warily, trying to remember where she had heard the voice before.

"So you are the hussy who's been dallying with my daughter's fiancé!"

Elizabeth's jaw had dropped, and she had instantly realized who was at the other end of the line. It was not the first time Katrina Bergstein had told her that Will was engaged to her daughter. "I beg your pardon?"

"Don't play coy with me, young lady, I know exactly what your game is. Bill Collins told me all about it!"

"What? Bill Collins? Is this some sort of a prank?"

The voice had grown even more irritated and loud, and Elizabeth had had to move the receiver further away from her ear.

"The only prank here is the one you're playing on Will Darcy! I know the arts and allurements you English girls can stoop to; a quick bat of your lashes and a few pretty words, and before the man knows what has happened, you've got yourself pregnant and are demanding that he marry you!"

"What the bloody hell are you talking about? I'm not pregnant, and even if I were, it certainly wouldn't be any business of yours!"

Katrina Bergstein had begged to disagree.

Ten minutes later, Will had come out of the shower and discovered Elizabeth sitting on their bed, the phone still in her hand, a dumbstruck look on her face. When she had explained what had transpired, Will had looked at her with an equally baffled expression on his face.

"Really? Pollute the shades of Pemberley? She actually said that? Bloody hell, the woman must have gone mad!"

A quick phone call to Anne Bergstein had confirmed Will's suspicions. Katrina Bergstein had gone positively insane. Anne had been seeing an English guy for a couple of months, often flying to London to see him. Not inclined to share her life with her mother, Anne hadn't told her anything specific, and for some unfathomable reason Katrina Bergstein had assumed that the man Anne was seeing was Will. When Anne and the man had broken up after New Year, and Anne had refused to talk about it with her mother, she had apparently decided to take matters into her own hands. She had contacted Bill Collins who had at one point worked at Bergstein and Koell's London offices, and who she now knew to be living in the same town with Will. Katrina Bergstein had asked Collins to snoop around to find out what had happened, but Bill Collins had not needed to snoop. He had told Katrina Bergstein that he knew exactly what had happened, or rather, who had happened. Elizabeth Bennet.

And so, in an amazing show of high-handedness, Katrina Bergstein had decided to act. Her original intention had been to call Will and confront him, but when Elizabeth had answered the phone, she had seized the opportunity to give her a piece of her mind. Will had been livid. Even Elizabeth had been surprised by the icy contempt in his voice when he had returned Katrina's call. Anne Bergstein had been mortified. She had called Will a number of times over the past few weeks, and Elizabeth had spoken with her, too. She no longer wondered that Will liked the Austrian girl so much – it seemed that the only thing Anne had inherited from her crazy mother was her last name.

A sudden giggle burst out of Elizabeth's mouth. She supposed she could stop worrying about what people like Katrina Bergstein would think if Will bought them the house. A baby would put her in a whole different category of gold diggers. Her laughter stopped as soon as it had started. A baby. Could it really be? But then, there were a thousand other possible reasons for why she was late. A baby was hardly the most likely option. Surely she was fretting for no reason at all.

:-:

At half past eleven, Will stumbled through the front door. Richard had convinced him to go to the pub after the game, and he was a little tipsy – and embarrassed about it. Trying to move as quietly as possible, he tiptoed into the kitchen, heading straight to the fridge for some cold water. Leaning on the counter with a big glass of water in his hand, he noticed the plastic bag on the table. Boots. Wondering if Bell had remembered the shampoo, he reached for the bag, emptying the contents on the table. He smiled when he noticed that she had bought his favourite shampoo. And then, his heart nearly stopped. On the table, next to the bottle of shampoo, lay a small, pink cardboard box. Swallowing, he re-read the text printed on the side of the box to make sure his eyes had not deceived him. First Response. His knees nearly buckled and he had to sit down. Holy crap, could it really be?

With fumbling fingers, he took the box in his hand to see if it had been opened. It had not. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he pushed himself up from the table and started towards the bedroom.

"Bell?" he whispered, but there was no reply. He repeated her name, a little louder this time, but still she said nothing. Turning on the light, he saw that the bed was empty and felt a momentary panic constrict his chest. But then, he heard a sleepy voice coming from the drawing room.

"Love?"

In a few quick strides, he was in the drawing room. She squinted when he turned the light on, and he had to smile at the endearing sight.

"You fell asleep here?" he asked, crouching next to her.

"Yeah," she yawned, reaching to hug him, her eyes still half-closed. "I was trying to wait up for you."

"Sorry, love," he whispered, nuzzling her hair. "My evil cousin lured me into the pub."

"Oh," she mumbled, "I should have guessed. Take me to bed?"

"My four favourite words," he chuckled, scooping her up from the sofa. She leaned her head against his shoulder, yawning again.

"You had something you wanted to tell me today, didn't you?"

"Mmmmh," she agreed, her lids drooping.

"Something important?"

No reply. Looking down, he saw that she had fallen back asleep. Shaking his head, he gently lowered her onto the bed and tucked her under the duvet. In the bathroom, he quickly brushed his teeth and splashed his face with cold water. Leaning against the sink with both hands, he looked at himself in the mirror. A baby? Was he going to become a father?

When he climbed into the bed, she instantly wrapped herself around him, snuffling contentedly against his chest. He contemplated for a moment if he should try to wake her up, but then decided against it. He could wait one more night. Tomorrow, they would talk.

Tomorrow, they would know.