Chapter 25

Darcy could think of nothing else but his wife. There were many things that required his attention, but he could only focus on her. It had been a while since he had helped her into the carriage and he missed her. It truly was the most distracting, exhilarating yet fulfilling thing to love as much as he did. His life had never been fuller or more meaningful, but his desk was never empty. The weight he carried on his shoulders over the past three months had felt heavier than what he had carried in the last five years since his father's passing. Yet it took only the inadvertent brush of her fingers against his or the smile she gave him – without fail – whenever he entered a room, for him to feel weightless.

She was his partner through and through and their joint efforts had been rewarded. The situation in Nettleham had drastically improved. The harvest had been successful, their wool production sufficient and the necessary repairs were completed. But there was no time for rest and jubilation. Both Pemberley and Nettleham had to be prepared for the possibility of another harsh winter.

Even in this task, she was his partner. Whilst he looked to the land, she considered the preparations the people on the estates required. He had on many occasions observed her and Georgiana as they worked and could not help but be proud of the woman he had chosen. He marvelled that there had been a time in his life when he had questioned her abilities and suitability. But he had been foolish to worry and she proved that every day.

He readjusted himself on his chair as he tried to return his attentions to the reports he had to read and approve. He had been halfway through a report from Mr Thomas when he heard a quiet knock on the door of his study. "Yes?" he said in reply and was surprised to welcome Mrs Hopkins into his study.

"I am sorry to disturb you, sir. But Philip is sick." She said quietly when she moved into the room.

"What is wrong with him?" He asked as he stood from his chair.

"He has a fever, sir." She replied and he raised his eyebrow in response. He thought it strange that she would be so worried over a trifle cold, but he suspected that Philip had been asking for him or Elizabeth, so he indicated that she lead the way and followed her to the nursery.

But he was wrong; it was not just a trifling cold. When he entered the room he saw that Philip was neither awake nor responsive and he was much too hot to the touch.

"What has been done?" He asked as the maid stepped aside for him to examine Philip.

"We have been applying wet cloths, sir." Mrs Hopkins replied. "But it has not helped." He looked around and saw the evidence of their care. But it was not enough.

"Philip?" He said softly, but Philip's rapidly fluttering eyelids and quivering lips were his only response. "Call Mrs Reynolds and Mr Keith." He said quickly but his voice was stern enough for both women to leave in an effort to execute his command. He went to the windows and threw them open. The air was cool and he hoped it would help. He then returned to the bed and began to remove the beddings that were not necessary.

"Sir, you called?" Mrs Reynold's gentle voice stilled his actions. As he looked up to see faces awaiting instructions he remembered that it was not his duty to strip the bedding. He stepped aside and the maid was quick to take his place.

"Philip is sick." He announced unnecessarily, "call Dr Marlow."

"I am sorry sir, but Dr Marlow has not yet returned from Brighton." Mrs Reynolds replied.

He sighed in response. "Who is available in the area?"

"Dr Jacobs, sir." They shared a look of concern. He shared her sentiments with regards to Dr Jacobs but this was not the time to be reserved.

"Call Dr Jacobs." He conceded.

"Very well sir." Mr Keith said and disappeared.

Mrs Reynolds came and stood by him and he appreciated her desire to comfort him. "We will try and get the fever down before the doctor arrives." She informed him. "The bedding should be changed completely." She said to those remaining as she began giving directions.

"I will take Philip." He announced and collected him from the maid. With Philip in his arms he went and stood by the window. The heat radiating from him caused Darcy's brow to furrow. How could this have happened, he wondered. They had never worried about Philip's health; they had been given no reason to do so. "Philip." He tried again, but he received no reply. When the bed had been made ready he returned him to it.

"Shall I send someone for Mrs Darcy?" Mrs Reynolds whispered as she came to stand by his side.

"Not yet. I will not have her unduly distressed." He explained.

"Keep him cool and perhaps some broth when he wakes." He said. "Has he woken up at all?" He asked as a fearful thought occurred to him.

"No sir." Was the dreaded response. A chill ran through his body and they all shared a fearful look. Philip had not been awake when Elizabeth had left for Matlock. They had come in to check on him, but had found nothing untoward. He was not an early riser and she had decided against waking him up only for him to be upset at her leaving.

"What else can be done?" He asked Mrs Reynold with a look of desperation.

"Perhaps a cool bath." She began suggesting when the maid gasped. He rushed to Philip's side to see what was wrong when he noticed the convulsions. He reached to pick the boy up but Mrs Reynolds took hold of his hand. Convulsions were contagious. So all he could do was watch as Philip's arms locked at his sides, his shoulders lifted and his small boy began to shake. They were neither rapid nor violent but it felt as though an eternity passed before the spasms stopped. When they stopped, he pulled his arm from Mrs Reynolds grasp and took hold of Philip. Of their own accord, his hands began to soothe his arms and stroke his small body. "Where is the doctor!" He snapped and the ladies jumped before Mrs Reynolds broke her own rule and ran out of the door. He could hear her calling out instructions as she left the room. "Get me a pen and paper." He requested from the startled maid and Mrs Hopkins left to answer his request. He did not know what to think. Elizabeth had never told him that Philip suffered from convulsions. Philip was a perfectly healthy boy, that was what he had been told. "Give me the wet cloth and refill that bowl." He said to the frighten maid that had been left alone with him. She hurried to do as he asked, spilling some of the water as she brought the bowl to him.

He returned his attentions to Philip's face and watched as his eyes fluttered open to reveal the whites of his eyes. "Papa's here." He said over and over again as he dampened Philip's head and arms. When Mrs Hopkins returned with some writing material, he was glad to see that Laura did not shy away from returning to Philip's side. He went to the nearest stable surface and began writing when the sky rumbled and the heavens opened. He should not have allowed her to leave. "Tell Mr Keith that Jack and only Jack is to take this." He said as he handed his hastily written letter over to her. Jack was the fastest rider amongst the footmen and by God's grace, he would get there before the rain worsen.

Almost immediately after she left, Dr Jacobs was announced. He pushed aside his reservations regarding Dr Jacobs and stood to greet the man.

"Dr Jacobs thank you for coming so promptly." He said as he shook hands with him.

"I hear Lord Rockwood has a fever?" It was common knowledge that Philip was not his son, but it had been a while since Philip had been addressed by his title and hearing it made the situation worse.

"Yes, and before you arrived he suffered a convulsion." He reluctantly admitted. "But I am told he has never suffered from fits and he is by all accounts a perfectly healthy boy." He rushed to say.

"Yes, well you never know who can be affected." The doctor replied condescendingly. But as he was speaking, the maid gasps again and stepped aside. It happened again. But this time the fits were quicker and more intense and it was heart-breaking to watch. Unwilling to stand by doing nothing he took out his pocket watch and watched the time. It lasted for less than three minutes.

"He must be bled." The doctor announced as soon as the fits ended. It was to be expected, but Darcy's jaw stiffened and his arm jerked in response. His father had died of an infection after he was bled. He felt Mrs Reynolds come to stand by his side as the rest of the room began making preparations to follow the doctor's instructions.

But he was a logical man. "No!" He said sharply.

"Sir?" Dr Jacobs was the only one who dared to reply. "He must be bled to release the harmful humours otherwise he will convulse again." Darcy turned to the window and away from the doctor as he tried to settle his heart. His eyes focused on the rain that was waging a war outside as he tried to think. He had known what Dr Jacobs would recommend when he sent for him. It was no secret that he preferred Dr Marlow because he was a man of progressive science. He would have had other suggestions.

"No." He said with greater conviction as he turned to the room.

"Mr Darcy if Lord Rockwood is not bled, he will wake up an illiterate, that is if he should wake up at all." The doctor said forcefully in his attempts to browbeat Mr Darcy.

"I know the risk of what I suggest, but I also know the risk of what you suggest. I believe our efforts are better spent bringing the fever down." He declared and was glad to see that whilst the men were squabbling the women had not ceased in their attentions to Philip.

"Very well." He said with a hard stare. "If that is all you need, then I think my assistant should suffice, or the local apothecary."

"Then I thank you for the use of your assistant." He said dismissively.

Mrs Reynolds escorted the doctor out, and as the door shut fear gripped Darcy by a cold heavy hand. He had just gambled with her son's life. But before that thought could cripple him, he remembered that he was not alone. "Has the water been drawn?" He asked as calmly as he could, but the women still jumped at the sound of his voice. But they all moved to action.

Throughout Pemberley's long history the entire household had come together in prayer on many occasions. The most fervent had been the day the last Lord Darcy had been taken to the Tower of London to await execution. That was until the day Mr Darcy dismissed Dr Jacobs and took the fate of Philip's life into his hands.

By the time the sun had begun to set Philip's fever was non-existent. It took an hour and twelve minutes from the time he was declared sufficiently cool enough to the time he opened his eyes and focused on Darcy's face. "Papa." He whispered hoarsely, and the taste of relief had never been sweeter.

But fear came to drive out relief. Dr Jacobs' predictions hung heavy on Darcy's shoulders and so for the rest of the day Philip was closely watched. From what they observed, Philip was like he always was. He was tired, but that was to be expected. He had no appetite, but they gave him broth and Darcy encouraged him to drink when he would not eat. His every need was tended to and when he asked for his mother, Darcy tentatively explained that she was away and would return as soon as possible. "Oh," was his only response before he drifted off to sleep. Mrs Reynolds had tried to encourage him to return to his room to sleep. But he would not hear it. A comfortable chair was all he needed, and so for the rest of the night, Darcy stood on guard.

The fever did not return, nor did the convulsions. When Philip woke the next day, he did what he could to comfort and tend to him. But they both wanted Elizabeth. He had sent her a letter when Philip's fever had gone. But he had made no mention of the convulsions, as he had been told the roads were impassable and he saw no need to worry her unduly. The remaining warmth of the summer season had returned and Darcy was glad for it, as the roads would dry quicker. So he knew that as soon as she could persuade his uncle to release her, Elizabeth would make her way to them.

As he predicted, by late afternoon their very muddy carriage was spotted making its way to the house. Ensuring that Philip was not left alone, Darcy made his way to greet his wife. But she did not wait for the carriage to stop, or for him to open the door for her. All that was left for him to do was catch her as she jumped from the carriage. He held her in his arms and whispered, "Philip his out of danger. He is fine." He said it over and over until she stopped struggling and sank into his arms.

"Thank you." She sobbed with relief. He let her go to help Georgiana out, but she did not remain by his side. She hoisted up her skirts and ran all the way to the nursery.

Pemberley's stairs numbered at over a hundred - including those designated for the servants to use. As Elizabeth made her way to the nursery she felt as though she had climbed all of the hundred and twenty-six stairs. She burst through the nursery's opened door to find her son awake and sitting on his bed.

"Mama!" He rejoiced as she took the remaining steps and wrapped him in her arms.

"Thank God!" She cried repeatedly as she kissed all of him. She heard Georgiana and Fitzwilliam enter the nursery behind her, so she picked up their son and stepped into her husband's embrace. He put his arms around all three of them and they remained in that manner for some time. But eventually she began to register Philip's weight and her exhaustion caught up with her. She handed Philip over to his father and sat in the nearest chair. "What happened?" She asked when he returned Philip to his bed. She collected the glass of water Georgiana handed to her and they both listened to all that he had to say. When he finished his narration, she set her glass down, stood up and took his face in her hands. "Thank you." She whispered softly and reached up to kiss his lips. "I have always disliked bloodletting and to my mind, it creates more problems than it solves." He wrapped his arms around her and she laid her head on his heart.

They spent the rest of the day in the nursery. All of them watching for signs of any peculiarities in Philip's behaviour. But there were none."Elizabeth, you are exhausted." Fitzwilliam tried again as she yawned. "Why do you not go to your room; I will remain here."

"Why did you not sleep in your room last night?" She challenged. He had been successful in persuading Georgiana to return to her room at the end of the day, but he will not be with her. She turned gently to look at her son, he had been fine throughout the day and had been sleeping just fine for some time now. But that was not enough of an inducement for her to return to her room.

"What are you doing?" She whispered as he moved to carry Philip. But he would not stop. So she got up and followed him. She followed him all the way to her door and helped him open the door.

He settled Philip on her bed and said, "there. If you will sleep with him, you might as well be comfortable." She kissed his cheeks and thanked him. After making all the necessary preparations for the night, they both settled on the bed with Philip sleeping between them.

"Elizabeth," he whispered after some time.

"Yes?" When he did not reply, she lifted her head to see his face.

"It is nothing." He finally replied, "goodnight my love."

Philip made a full recovery and despite Dr Jacobs' predictions he grew to be a strong and intelligent gentleman. Five days after the incident, he was already requesting his freedom from the nursery. But for the sake of her rather delicate heart, she kept him there just a little bit longer.

So she was not surprised to find that when she went up to check on him, he had made his escape. When she asked Laura where her son was, Laura's reluctance to reply that she could not say, told Elizabeth that he had had help in liberating himself. So she went in search of the master of the house. She found them in his study and was met by a very sweet image. For before her was Philip on Fitzwilliam's lap and the two of them were sharing some cakes and other sweet treats.

"It is no wonder that you have such a way with a small boy." She said to announce her presence. "You eat like a small boy, Fitzwilliam." The co-conspirators looked up and smiled at her. "You will spoil him and his appetite." She declared as Philip returned his attention to the treats on their plate.

"I think you will find that the blame for Philip being spoilt - if he is spoilt - lies elsewhere." He said with a smile.

"Yes, Jane has done her best to spoil him." She quipped. "But I had hoped with him being removed from her influence things would improve. But you appear determined to prove otherwise."

"I was not talking about Jane."

"I am shocked!" She exclaimed in mock horror. "I am ill-used! For there is nothing worse than for a father to accuse me of spoiling his son." She finished with levity and so was surprised to see that his smile had fallen off his face. Then she realised what she had said. His reaction hurt her, for she realised just how much she had hurt him. Even before he proposed to her, he had been willing to be nothing less than a father to Philip and she had undermined that desire every time she called Philip her son.

"Thank you for my son." He said, his voice full of emotion.

"You are welcome." They smiled at one another as she approached his desk, she kissed their cheeks and then left father and son to their treats.

A week after her hasty removal from Matlock had passed and Philip had returned to his state of perfect health and their family had never been stronger. So Elizabeth could happily receive her father and sister into her home. She had sent and received many letters from her family, but neither Mr Bennet nor Kitty had mentioned their plans to visit. But she assured them that their arrival was a wonderful surprise.

Once they had been given refreshments and adequate time to recover from their long journey, Elizabeth proudly showed them Pemberley. But she ensured that the library was the last room she showed them. The look on her father's face was all that she had expected and even Kitty could appreciate the majesty that was Pemberley's library.

"You are very cruel to show the library last, my dear." He said with his usual humour. "But this is beautiful." He declared with all sincerity.

"Yes, it is." She said proudly. "Fitzwilliam would have made himself available to show you around if he had had any notion of you coming to visit."

"Ah – Is that you hinting at our unannounced presence in your home?" He asked as he settled in one of the armchairs. "I will have you know that when I last saw your Mr Darcy he said – and I am quoting here, – 'come whenever you want, sir. You are most welcome.' I hope that is a sentiment you share, Elizabeth?"

"Of course it is, papa." She replied as she kissed his forehead. "How are mama and Lydia doing? Did they refuse to come along with you?"

"They are fine. But I am sure that Kitty can adequately inform you of your mother's latest nervous complaints." He said dismissively, she was a little peeved to be dismissed out of her own library. But, on second thought, she considered it a fitting retribution. After all, she had shown him the library last. So she left her father in peace.

Elizabeth was indeed very happy to see her sister. Letters were no substitute for speaking face to face. Of course, she had Georgiana and her company was precious to her. But just as she would not dream of replacing Georgiana with Kitty or Jane, Georgiana had not replaced any of her other sisters. So the three ladies sat together and talked. Kitty retold of all that she had experienced in town and Georgiana told of all they had accomplished in Derbyshire. Kitty was delighted that there was to be a ball and declared that if her father could be persuaded to stay for the ball, she would be Georgiana's companion for the night. Elizabeth tentatively asked about how things were in Hertfordshire and she was told all.

Lydia had improved, but not as much as any of her sisters would have wanted. The novelty did wear off, and when it did Lydia became less boisterous. But her youthful vigour and womanly figure still attracted some attention, and Lydia was not willing to behave in a manner that would minimise the attention she got. All her actions proved what Elizabeth suspected; Lydia was not without hope, but she required a firm hand and if her father would not provide it, Elizabeth was beginning to think a husband might.

She also heard from Kitty that Mr Bingley had not renewed his lease or purchased Netherfield Park. So the house stood empty and Mrs Bennet lamented the fact daily. She was proud to hear that Kitty, with Mrs Hill's encouragement, had taken up the duty of tending to their tenants. So she could give a favourable report on all of them. She informed them that Mr Bennet had occasionally ridden out to visit the estate. It warmed her heart to hear such news, but she also knew her father still had much to do.

Dinner that night was a wonderful affair. Mr Bennet informed them that he had no intention of staying until Elizabeth's ball. But he did not see why Kitty could not be left behind if her sister was happy to take charge of her. Elizabeth was happy to inform him that Kitty was welcomed for as long as she cared to remain with them. He then surprised them all by announcing that he intended to visit Jane in Leicester and Mary in Kent. Elizabeth could not describe her joy at hearing such news, so she said instead, "Do try to send a note beforehand. If you dislike the trouble, I can send one on your behalf."

"No. I think it would give them more joy if it came from their father's hand." He said with a significant look to his daughter.

Mr Bennet's visit was a wonderful time for everyone. To her surprise, her father had not spent the entire visit in the library. He spent the daytime with their family; he had been happy to entertain Philip or accompany Fitzwilliam and he had even spent an afternoon with her. Their time together was so precious that no one could begrudge him for spending the evenings in the library.

Unwilling to disturb their time together, Elizabeth had postponed speaking with her father. But it had to be done; so she made her way to the library, where she knew he would be. On entering the library, she picked up the nearest book, sat across him and paid it some attention. He had acknowledged her presence when she had entered, but they had remained silent. As she waited for the right opportunity to interrupt him, he looked up and said, "Lizzy I suggest you start by just saying what you need to."

"I would not want to intrude." She dissembled.

"A necessary evil when you have something to say." When she did not immediately reply he said, "it is a difficult thing to challenge a beloved parent, is it not. You have more courage than any young lady I have ever seen my dear." He got up from his armchair and joined her on the chaise and took her hand.

"It is not my intention to challenge you." She whispered as her father kissed her forehead.

"Reprove then, and it would be well deserved. But if I may say it is unnecessary." At her quizzical frown, he continued, "I am not saying my actions do not warrant reproof. I imagine they always have. But great men always have the ability to influence plain men such as myself. It was that way with Andrew and even now, with Mr Darcy."

"What has he said?" She asked surprised.

"Nothing, as is his want. But then great men never have to say anything to affect change, and Darcy is a great man. If you would permit me, I would say he is an even better man that Andrew. It is rare for a gentleman to care for his own children, so I cannot help but admire Darcy for caring for Philip as he does. But that is not the present issue. I have a decision to make. Should Lydia be sent away?" He asked.

She looked at him and a part of her wondered if he was not, yet again, trying to pass off his responsibility. "I would say more than anything Lydia needs her father."

They sat in silence for some time before he said, "I had not planned to be a negligent father. I was disappointed that I did not have a son. But that is no excuse."

"No, it is not." She replied a little sharper than she intended. "Neither of us could help it and it is not mama's fault." He sighed heavily. "But let us not dwell on the past. Neither mama or Lydia would accept being sent away and I can imagine their complaints would harm your determination to take charge of the situation." She had no intention of being too harsh on him, but it was the truth and he knew it.

"Yes, it would." He graciously admitted. "And I have no intention of setting myself up for failure. Your uncle has found a governess…"

"That alone will not help things." She interrupted.

"I know this." He replied defensively. "I make no promises, my dear. But I will try, for my sake and yours. I hope you will never experience the pain I feel, my dear. It is not a small thing to disappoint the ones you love." He finished. She sighed and kissed his hand. He was wrong, she knew the pain all too well.

"I have never been ashamed to be Elizabeth Bennet." She declared. "I was disappointed, but because you have shown me so much love and patience. You have raised and nurtured me into what I am." Her voice broke. "I was disappointed because I knew what you were capable of. I am grateful to be the recipient of your love. But I am asking that you show that love to Lydia."

"That is fair to ask of me and I promise to do so." They sat in silence for some time. Before he did something he had not done in a long time. He read to her, and the timber of his voice brought comfort and a sense of security.

As Elizabeth watched her father's carriage pull away, her goodbye was bittersweet. She could only imagine how glad her sisters would be to receive their father, but with their relationship repaired she was sad to see him go.

Once the carriage was no longer in sight, Fitzwilliam took her hand and together they made their way back inside. When they reached the door of her study, he kissed her forehead and then took his leave, and she felt bereft. She walked into her room and cast her eyes on all the things that required her attention. Georgiana and Kitty were off somewhere together; she had assured them that she would not need their help with the remaining preparations for Lady Anne's ball.

After Philip's illness, she had proposed that the ball should be cancelled. Surprisingly it was Fitzwilliam that objected and she was glad he had. But as she sat in her study the preparations for Lady Anne's ball could not hold her attention. Her mind and heart would not allow it.

A serious examination of her life thus far had always intruded whatever task she had given her time to. She had looked upon the last four years of her life with the critical eyes of maturity and it had been a painful experience.

She had loved Andrew. But with the wisdom she had gained, she could not wholeheartedly say that their love would have been able to grow and weather the storms of life. She hoped that, if she had been fated to spend the rest of her life with him, she would have endeavoured to nurture their love each day. But she feared that by the time her eyes were opened to the imperfections in her notions of love, she would have been too weary to fight for their love. She feared that her love for Andrew lacked the foundation needed to stand the test of time, and so one day she would have woken up disillusioned with her partner in life.

There had been so much that had encouraged her to be foolishly in love so quickly. But much of what had encouraged her affections for him were not sound. Her pride and vanity had been given too much consideration, she had finally admitted. At the young age of seven and ten, her mother's lamentations about her impertinent ways had been proclaimed loudly and often enough. She had begun to submit to the notion that her character would leave her an old maid, undesired and unable to find love, destined to spend her time caring for Jane's children. So when she was chosen instead of Jane, she had secretly been pleased. But she also realised that neither her pride nor her desire to be free from her mother's influence would have been enough encouragement. Andrew was a kind and loving gentleman. She loved him because of who he was, but her father was right, Fitzwilliam was a better man.

Her warm thoughts about her husband were interrupted by his entrance. Her face lit up with a smile that could not be maintained without causing pain, but she could not help it. But as she looked at him, she realised he was very apprehensive and she frowned instead.

"May I have a moment of your time?" He asked as though he was speaking to his steward.

"Yes, of course. You need not ask." She replied as he took his seat. She disliked the distance between them, so she got up from behind her desk and joined him on the chaise. It was then she noticed he held something in his hand, a book. On closer inspection, she noticed it was the book she had thrown at him that day when she allowed her fears to override sound judgment.

She looked at him quizzically as he said, "I do not know how this will be received, but I hope you will take it and consider that at the time I was thinking only of you, and I had the best intentions." She collected the book from him, in between the book were some documents. But that did not hold her attention. The binding that she had damaged when she threw the book, had been fixed by him.

She looked up into his eyes and she knew; it had alway been there. She had liked him the day he had held their son in his hands, she had respected him the day he requested mercy for Mr Wickham and had trusted him long before she agreed to share her life with him. "I love you." She whispered. She looked at him to see if he had heard and he had. He stared at her, but said nothing, so she continued, "I am so sorry it took so long to understand, to see the foundation that we had built for love to grow. But with all my heart I love you Fitzwilliam." There was only one emotion on his face; joy.

He gathered her into his arms and said, "I love you, my Elizabeth." They shared a sweet and loving kiss before he brought her attention back to the book. "I do not know how this came about, but there is something you must see." He said as he handed her the documents that had been tucked in the book.

They were Change of Custody papers; he had gotten Lord Durham to sign over Philip's guardianship. She looked at him confused. When had such a thing taken place? How had he persuaded Lord Durham to hand over Philip's guardianship? She was free. She read the documents thoroughly for answers. Along with Philip's custody papers were the documents detailing Lord Durham's duplicity. She looked at him, shocked by all she had read.

"Why have you not given me these before?" She asked confused.

"With regards to the first set of documents, I did not want your gratitude. As for the second, I did not know how to tell you."

"Oh, my beloved husband." She said softly as she stroked his cheeks. "You have my eternal gratitude, whether you care for it or not."

"So you are not upset?" When she frowned, he explained. "You do not think it highhanded, that I named myself as his guardian? I have been thinking that it might have been better for me to have given you full guardianship, but I feared it might be challenged and I…" She placed her hand on his mouth and stilled his words.

"I am so sorry Fitzwilliam." She said as tears gathered in her eyes. "I doubt I will ever know the extent of the pain I caused you. But for you to think I would not have recognised the love and care that caused you to do such a thing for me and Philip, hurts me. As to the other matter, know this, our son is blessed to have your love and guardianship."

Tears gathered in his eyes, but they did not fall. She went deeper into his embrace and laid her head upon his heart. The rest of the afternoon was spent in each other's embrace and she soon fell asleep with her head on his heart.