Author's Note:

Hi, guys! I've been working like crazy this past week and I still have so much to do, but I wanted to post another chapter today. You are all happy and excited about Lizzy's pregnancy and I didn't want to leave you hanging, so here comes chapter 22.

I have few comments about this chapter (slight spoilers, you can come back here after reading it if you want): I'm trying to show some character growth in Fitzwilliam. Unlike the previous year, when he bore the pain and the embarrassment of Lizzy's rejection by himself, he now decides to confide in his father and to seek help the minute he feels something might be wrong—no matter how embarrassing it might be. As you have probably seen in previous chapters, he is more willing to be open and share his burdens. Also, he really messed up things with Elizabeth before and his mistakes make him doubt himself and whether he deserves her or if it's too good to be true. Anyway, I wanted to give you a little insight into his head and what I was trying to do when I wrote this.

Some of you believe the Darcys should figure it out, I'm not sure whether it would be so obvious if it weren't a story, but in any case, humour me.

Thanks to each of you for your reviews!

Stay safe!

Jen

He looked down at her and his heart swelled with admiration. Her eyes were closed and he almost mourned not seeing her beautiful green eyes, but he watched the long eyelashes resting on her cheeks, the mouth he so loved to kiss, relaxed in a soft almost-smile. She seemed perfectly well. His Elizabeth, so strong, so brave, so determined to improve herself, to learn and work, to carry his name with pride. He kissed her forehead again, this time her temperature had nothing to do with it, and he thanked God for bringing her to his life.

22.

Elizabeth seemed to be better in the following days. She was still more tired than was her wont, but she could go through her day and she only retired a bit earlier than usual. However, Fitzwilliam had the feeling that she was hiding something from him. He trusted her completely and so he believed that if she was keeping something from him, she must have a good reason, but it did not mean that he liked it. He wanted to ask her, but "What are you keeping from me?" sounded like an accusation and he had no proof that she even deserved it. It was merely a feeling, not worth an argument, he thought. What the had seemed to be so perfect that he feared disturbing it.

They had been married for four months and they were still in the honeymoon stage and everything was sweetness and tenderness, passion, and desire; their arguments had been friendly and teasing so far. Although he knew they would eventually disagree, he was not ready for this phase to be over. He knew they would not always crave each other's presence as fervently as they did now, or need each other's touch and kiss as desperately as they still did, but he hoped their love and passion would mellow and become similar to his parents' love, which did not mean they would love each other any less, but that their love would mature until they did not feel the need to be always on top of each other. But that time was not now. No, he still craved her and he still did not wish to argue. Their honeymoon was still not over. That day he had held her in bed for hours, and then again at night, had only made him realise that he did not wish to have less time with his wife, as many husbands did, but more. He had enjoyed that day more than he should have, considering she might have been ill. He had watched her for hours and he had not tired of it. And he had delighted in the fact that she seemed to want him around, even desire him physically, more each day, and not less either.

But now he wondered if the honeymoon was over for her, or if it was over for him now that he seemed to be doubting her. He cursed himself for that. No, he did not doubt her! Even if she was keeping something from him, she had her reasons and he would trust her. Having made this resolution, he was even more confused when one day he entered the parlour with his mother and they found Elizabeth and Mrs. Reynolds whispering to each other. They both went completely silent when they saw them and their housekeeper curtsied and left as soon as she could.

"What was that, my love?" he asked her.

"Oh, nothing," she smiled and shook her head.

"Is there a problem with the household?" his mother asked.

"Not at all, Mother," Elizabeth replied. "You know Mrs. Reynolds would tell you if there were."

"Then what were you talking about?" he insisted.

His wife smiled teasingly at him. "Do I not have the right to keep secrets?"

She kissed his cheek and walked out. His mother did not seem to be worried, however. She laughed and declared Elizabeth too teasing for her own good. The next suspicious event happened the following week when he saw Elizabeth call for a carriage.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Lambton," she replied, glanced around to see if someone was watching, and when she found no one, she kissed him.

That helped exceedingly. She was not less affectionate, and he took it as a good sign that it was all in his head.

"Alone? Maybe Georgie can go with you. Or I could go with you. Let me search for Father and—"

"No, I shall go alone," she interrupted him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He arched an eyebrow at that. "Do you wish to go alone?"

"Yes, but I shall take a couple of footmen before you say it is not safe."

He shook his head. "Lambton is not more dangerous than Meryton, though roads can always be. You never know who might be passing through."

"The carriage is ready, Mrs. Darcy," a footman said.

"Thank you, Jasper," Elizabeth replied and kissed her husband again when Jasper was gone. "I love you," she said against his lips and then walked out of Pemberley.

He watched her through the window as she climbed into the carriage and was driven away. He stood there, surprised and confused until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to find his father watching the carriage too.

"Where is she going?"

"Lambton."

"Why did you not go with her?"

"She did not wish it," he admitted, ashamed and upset. "Should I worry?"

"No, I am sure there is a good reason for that," Mr. Darcy replied and watched his son closely. "But you are worried."

"I am worried the honeymoon might be over."

"Why would you think that?" Mr. Darcy chuckled. "You can barely stand to be a room apart. Surely you do not think so merely because she wished to go to Lambton alone."

"It is not only that," he said, and turned around from the window to face his father and decided to be honest. "I feel she is keeping something from me. And... the other night... well... she is usually passionate and enthusiastic, but that time, she... she fell asleep on me. I was not very offended then, for I knew she was exhausted, but now, I wonder..."

"She fell asleep on you? You mean...?"

"Oh, I should not have told you! 'Tis so embarrassing, but you are the only married man I can talk to."

"Did she fall asleep before or during?"

Fitzwilliam felt himself blush so much that his cheeks burned, but he might as well finish what he had started.

"From her point of view, it was after, not so much from mine."

"Oh, that must have been frustrating, but I am sure it has nothing to do with you. She has been exhausted lately."

"We have been married four months, is it not too soon for me to bore her so?"

"You do not bore her. I know it must have hurt you, but she is not bored with you, you must see that," he argued and when he saw his son was not convinced, he insisted: "Does she use excuses to avoid you?"

"No, I do not think so."

"Is she less loving or affectionate?"

"No, she kissed me and told me she loves me just before she left."

"Have you caught her in any lie?"

"No, but she implied she has secrets."

"It might be nothing bad. Are you back to sleeping on your own bed?"

"No, I have not slept in my chambers since we married."

"Are your... encounters less frequent?"

"No... actually, I think they are more frequent," he replied as he realised he had probably been exaggerating with his worry. "I think she is the one who starts them, lately."

"Then, do not be such a nincompoop. Your honeymoon is not over," Mr. Darcy said and started walking away before he turned around and said: "Oh, and Fitzwilliam?"

"Yes?"

"Now that I think about it... your birthday is next week."

"I know," Fitzwilliam said, confused.

"It is a good time for a wife to keep secrets, do you not think?"

There was a whole minute of silence before Mr. Darcy turned to leave.

"Father, wait!" Fitzwilliam said and Mr. Darcy stopped and turned around. "I am the biggest idiot in the history of mankind," he reflected.

"I agree," his father teased with a smile.

Fitzwilliam sighed and sat down, holding his head in his hands.

"I have been worrying for nothing. She is probably at Lambton getting me a gift and that is why she wanted to go alone and I was standing here, worrying our honeymoon was over. It just that... it seems too perfect, I suppose. I am too happy. Does that make any sense?"

"You are waiting for the bubble to burst."

"I suppose I am. I never thought I would feel as I do for her. I never expected to have intelligent conversations, shared interests, tenderness, love, and passion with someone who also cared so sincerely about our estate and family. It seems too perfect," he repeated.

"What is it that you doubt? Her faithfulness?"

"Never!" he exclaimed, horrified.

"Her love?"

"No, she would never pretend what she does not feel and she loves too passionately to be a pretension. To be loved by her is a privilege I do not always think I deserve."

"Perhaps that is the problem. She seems to think you deserve it," Mr. Darcy said, resting a hand on his son's shoulder. "Stop trying to find fault, Fitzwilliam. Believe me, troubles will come eventually, do not seek them."

"Thank you, Father."

Elizabeth was gone for a few hours, and Fitzwilliam noticed, as he watched her walk into the manor from the drawing-room window, that she was not carrying anything and he cursed himself for noticing that.

"Is Lizzy back?" his father asked over his book from where he sat, watching his son standing near the window.

"Yes."

A few minutes later, the door opened and a happy, lively Lizzy walked to her husband—almost dancing with joy and with the brightest smile on her face—and threw her arms around his neck. He was startled when she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him passionately and thoroughly.

"Hello," she smiled when she finally let him go.

"Hello," he replied, amused. "What was that?"

"I missed you."

His smile fell instantly as tenderness filled his heart and he felt even more guilty for thinking her feelings were not equal to his. His hands were still on her waist, so he pulled her closer, but could not utter a word.

"If you did not miss me," she teased, "I shall have to leave you for longer."

"I miss you every time you are gone no matter how long," he admitted.

"That was the correct answer, Mr. Darcy, and I admit it satisfies my romantic notions," she smiled and tilted her head to the side.

She was so obviously flirting, so playful and teasing. It was clearly not the behaviour of a cold, disinterested wife. Before he could reply, she kissed him again.

It was not an innocent kiss, like those they shared when there were witnesses. No, this was an open-mouthed, delicious, knee-weakening attack, and for a few seconds, he became so overwhelmed by love and passion that he forgot his father was in the room—a fact she was clearly ignorant of—and kissed her back with just as much ardour.

The sound of a throat clearing brought him back to reality and he pulled away, blushed, and said:

"My father is here."

Elizabeth turned bright red, jumped away, and looked around until her gaze found his father who was sitting with a book in his hand and an amused look on his face. When his eyes found Fitzwilliam, his expression conveyed a message that was a clear mix between yes, you are definitely an idiot and I told you so.

"I am sorry," Elizabeth said, still blushing. "I thought we were alone."

"Oh, do not mind me," Mr. Darcy smiled. "You can keep attacking my son, for I am perfectly comfortable here with my book and not disturbed at all."

Although she still looked terribly embarrassed, Elizabeth chuckled and stepped away from Fitzwilliam.

"I am fortunate in my father-in-law. Many others would be scandalised and horrified by my behaviour."

"He owes me many uncomfortable experiences in which I have found him with Mother," Fitzwilliam explained. "He can hardly be horrified."

Elizabeth laughed more freely now as she turned to Mr. Darcy.

"Have you traumatised your children, Father?" she asked.

"Hardly," he smiled back at her. "I am a firm believer that children should know their parents love each other. And I shall not be traumatised by you either."

"I am glad to hear it," she told him before turning to Fitzwilliam again. "Come, walk with me."

She took his hand and tugged him outside and with a shrugged to his father, he followed her to the gardens.

"Did you have fun in Lambton?" he asked.

"Yes," she beamed at him but did not explain herself.

"You are still keeping secrets?" he smiled at her.

After that demonstration, he could no longer be bothered. No, he would stop waiting for something to be wrong and he would trust her love for him.

"Of course! A wife must, you know? How else can I keep an air of mystery and allure? You might lose your interest in me."

"That shall never happen," he promised.

I do not own any Pride and Prejudice properties, nor do I make any money from the writing of this story.

Characters and situations, created by Jane Austen, are taken from Pride and Prejudice and from the Pride and Prejudice (1995) adaptation created by Simon Langton and distributed by BBC.

This story is released under the GPL/CC BY: verbatim copying and distribution of this entire work are permitted worldwide, without royalty, in any medium, provided attribution is preserved.