It's Monday, dear friends, and you know what that means... Update time! As always, deepest thanks to the favorites, follows, and comments that have come in since last post. So encouraging to an indie writer like me to know the story is so loved.

Now, prepare yourselves - Darcy and Elizabeth are about to be reunited after four years. How will Lizzy react? ~ CC

Elizabeth was just coming down the stairs with Ned after changing her son's shirt—a spill at breakfast had soiled it—when there was a knock at the door.

Hill quickly appeared to answer as the two reached the ground floor, and it was with some trepidation that Elizabeth waited to see who was on the other side. She cursed herself even as her spine stiffened for her foolishness—she wasn't normally such a nervous creature. Since Monday, however, when Colonel Fitzwilliam had seen her son and known him to be his cousin's child on sight, she had been anxious. He would tell Darcy about Ned, and Darcy would come for the boy. He would try to take him back to Pemberley.

Not without a fight, she reminded herself, and drew a fortifying breath as the door was opened…

…to reveal Mr. Bingley.

He greeted Hill warmly before his eyes found her. The smile he wore faltered almost imperceptibly as he took in the stiffness of her posture, and then his eyes widened a fraction as his gaze fell to the child whose hand she held.

Almost faster than one could blink, he grinned as if nothing had passed between them. "Good morning, Mrs. Woods!" said he cheerfully. "I was out on some errands and thought to deliver this note personally."

Elizabeth moved forward and, after dismissing the housekeeper, accepted the folded parchment Bingley held out. She quirked an eyebrow upon noting there were actually two, the top one addressed to Mr. Bennet and Family.

"It is an invitation to dine at Netherfield, this evening or tomorrow, if your family is free," Bingley said.

Thankful that her position in the open doorway prevented anyone seeing, Elizabeth carefully slid the second folded note onto the top of the first and opened it. The message it contained was but one line and had no signature, but she recognized the hand even after four years.

Please return to Netherfield with Bingley if you can. We need to talk.

Elizabeth looked up at the man who'd brought her the note; Ned stared up at him also, the boy always fell silent in the presence of strangers. "Thank you, Mr. Bingley," she said as she folded it and carefully slipped the paper into the cuff of her sleeve. "It is most gracious of you to invite us again, and especially so to come in person with your invitation. Would you speak to my uncle directly?"

"Oh no," he replied with a casual wave of his hand. "I don't need to do that, I am sure. If neither today nor tomorrow suits, tell him—or Mrs. Bennet—to name a convenient evening."

"I will," said Elizabeth. "Thank you again, sir. I'll just give this to my uncle."

Convenient was the sudden appearance of her aunt coming out of the drawing room. Mrs. Bennet bustled over, enthusiastically greeting Mr. Bingley and inviting him in. "Jane will be most gratified by your visit, sir," she said with a wink.

Bingley smiled. "And I would be most pleased to see Miss Bennet, ma'am, but I'm afraid I cannot stay. Have a few more errands to run, you see, but wanted to deliver that invitation while I remembered having it with me."

Mrs. Bennet snatched the still-folded note from Elizabeth's hand, opening it eagerly. "Well now, sir, this is most gracious of you indeed! Oh, we shall be most delighted to dine with you, though tonight will not do I am afraid, for we are to dine with my sister and brother Phillips tonight. Just the family, you see, or I am sure you and your friends would have been invited."

"You are kind to say so, Mrs. Bennet," said Bingley. "Do speak to Mr. Bennet, and send a note with what day best suits you."

"You are so very kind and generous, Mr. Bingley," simpered Mrs. Bennet. "I shall go to Mr. Bennet directly!"

"Aunt," said Elizabeth, stopping the older woman as she turned toward the door that led to Mr. Bennet's book room. "Would you be so kind as to take charge of Ned for a little while? Or perhaps take him to Jane or Mary? Before you came, I had just asked Mr. Bingley if he would be so kind as to allow me to return to Netherfield with him, as I cannot find the reticule I had with me on Monday when I went there to deliver Jane's message to his sisters. He has been most gracious in granting me permission to go back with him to determine if I mistakenly left it behind."

"Mr. Bingley, you really are too kind, sir," gushed Mrs. Bennet as she came over to take Ned by the hand. "Be quick about your search, Lizzy, and do not make a nuisance of yourself. And the weather today is fine, so do not inconvenience Jane's friend by asking for his carriage to bring you back, you can walk home. You're so excessively fond of walking."

Although embarrassment flushed her cheeks, Elizabeth's chin lifted a fraction higher. "I would not dream of making such a request, Aunt," she said, then knelt to her son's level. "Be a good boy for your cousins, Ned. Mamma won't be gone long."

"You want I draw you more pitchures? I like drawing," the little boy said.

Elizabeth could not help but smile. "Of course you may, if that is your wish. You know I love your artwork."

Ned grinned hugely, and after asking for but a moment to get her hat and cloak, Elizabeth was soon sitting beside Bingley in a curricle and on her way to Netherfield. The silence between them was decidedly awkward, as she was certain he knew more than she had ever revealed.

"I… I do not know how I am to address you now," he said after a mile had been passed.

"Mrs. Woods," she said simply, then after noticing his discomfort in the set of his features, added, "Though I should not mind if you called me Elizabeth out of the hearing of others."

Bingley chuckled nervously. "I should like that," he replied. "I do hope you and I may still be friends."

Elizabeth looked to him. "Of course we may! You didn't do anything wrong, Mr. Bingley. Our mess has no bearing on my affection for you as friend…and hopefully, one day, a cousin."

Bingley's cheeks flushed. "I should like that even more," he said softly.

A short while later, they were pulling up to Netherfield's front steps. Bingley handed her down, but they did not go immediately inside. Instead, he guided her around to the back of the house, where in the rear garden there stood a tall shrubbery. She had seen it through windows on her family's last visit to Netherfield, and admittedly had wished she could walk the maze.

Colonel Fitzwilliam stood near the entrance to the shrubbery as they approached. About halfway there, Bingley stopped and said that his part was now over, and he bid her farewell.

"Oh, and despite what your aunt told you, you need not walk home. When you are ready to go, you have only to say so and I'll have the curricle or a carriage brought round for you."

Elizabeth offered a small smile. "Thank you, Mr. Bingley, it is very kind of you."

They parted ways and she continued on to the shrubbery, pausing next to Fitzwilliam to say, "You didn't have to tell him."

"Yes, madam, I did," he replied simply. "Darcy is my cousin, a man I love and respect like a brother. He has a right to know his child."

"He gave up that right when he abandoned me, then refused to answer my letters," Elizabeth snapped.

Fitzwilliam drew a breath as though to argue, then shook his head as he blew it out. "It's not for me to tell you what really happened, but I'll say this much: losing you did a number on him, and he's suffered other trials since which might have broken a lesser man. Don't go in there presuming you know everything."

Elizabeth scoffed and stomped off into the maze, irritation festering beneath her breast. The feeling was mutely tempered by wondering what trials Darcy could have faced which "might have broken a lesser man." The death of his father, which the colonel had hinted at before, might well be one, if it was Darcy to whom he'd been referring. She supposed she could sympathize with that, for she knew that losing her own father would devastate her.

The moment she stepped into the rounded center clearing, Darcy stood from a bench to one side and faced her. He was still as tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome as she remembered. Still as sharply dressed as a man of his wealth tended to be. That she felt the pull of attraction was both thrilling and irritating.

Elizabeth embraced the irritation, not wanting to be attracted to a man that had left her with nothing when their marriage was only a few hours old.

"Before you utter a single word," she said when he opened his mouth to speak, "I wish to make one thing abundantly clear: you will not be taking my son away from me. I am the only parent Ned has known for the entirety of his life, and I don't care how much money you have, sir, I will find a way to fight you if you try to separate us."

"I have no intention of taking our son from you, Elizabeth," Darcy said.

"Our son," she said with a scoff. "I don't know that you have any right to claim him, Mr. Darcy, when not only did you abandon me at that inn after making love to me, you also ignored every letter that I wrote to you, begging you acknowledge the child we'd created even if you didn't want me anymore."

He'd flinched when she addressed him formally as Mr. Darcy, and shook his head when she ended her speech. "I cannot deny that I abandoned you, but there were reasons for that, which I will tell you in but a moment. As to your letters regarding our son, I never received them—never even knew you wrote them. I learned from Lord Disley that he had given orders to Wickham to intercept anything that came from you and burn it."

Elizabeth frowned. "Wickham? The friend of yours who drove us to Gretna?"

Darcy nodded. "Yes. The earl apparently paid him a large sum not only to police my correspondence, but to say, if asked, that our marriage never took place."

"What of the others—the blacksmith who married us, and the boy who was our other witness?" Elizabeth asked. "Did he pay them off as well?"

Darcy snorted, and she noted there was anger in his expression which she sensed was not directed at her. "As a matter of fact, no. He claimed them not worth the trouble of bribing, as who that knew us would bother to go all the way to Scotland to ensure I'd not married there."

He took a few steps toward her and she stiffened, crossing her arms as though to ward him off. Darcy stopped, then said, "My father and my uncle told me that you'd been offered ten thousand pounds to leave me and let me marry a girl of my own station. That you took it eagerly."

"And you believed them," Elizabeth replied with a shake of her head. "Perhaps it is best we're no longer married, because if you truly loved me, you would never have accepted their word. You would have demanded to speak to me directly and I would have told you it was all a lie."

"That is another matter I must address with you, Elizabeth," Darcy said. "We are still married, you and I."

Elizabeth snorted. "Impossible."

"It is true," Darcy insisted. "After receiving Theo's letter on Tuesday evening, I knew I would come here to confirm what he had seen with my own eyes, but first I went into Cheshire to ask his father what I ought to have asked him four years ago; whether our marriage had been ended by annulment or divorce, that I could determine the legitimacy of my child. Lord Disley confessed it to me himself that he never actually sought either, though he had promised me he would take care of everything."

"But that's ridiculous!" Elizabeth cried. "How could a bloody earl be so hubristic? What reason did he give for doing nothing?"

"The same as he gave for not bribing the blacksmith and the witness: who would think to ask questions?" Darcy replied. "In his arrogance, Disley believed it entirely unnecessary to act, as our family's wealth and reputation meant we were above reproach. It pains me to admit that he was not wrong, as I could go into Town tomorrow and declare myself ready to marry, and have at least half a dozen fathers at my door ready to hand over their daughters' dowries, if not more. It is the prestige and wealth of the Darcy name and the power of my Fitzwilliam legacy they want, and even should one or more of those fathers learn the truth, I daresay they would be willing to look past my irregular wedding as there is no license to prove it, and all for the connections he would gain by selling his offspring to me."

Suddenly feeling a need to sit lest she swoon, Elizabeth turned and walked somewhat unsteadily to a bench that faced the one on which he'd been sitting when she entered. She lowered herself onto it gingerly, trying and failing to wrap her head around the fact that she and Darcy were still married. She was still a wife, he was still her husband.

"There are other things Disley told me about what happened, Elizabeth," Darcy said slowly. "Things that will be difficult for you to hear."

"I cannot imagine what else you can have to say, Mr. Darcy."

He moved to sit on the other end of the bench. "Wickham was not the only person to whom Lord Disley gave money to ensure our separation," Darcy said. "I was told then that you had taken his money, but in fact it was…your father."

Elizabeth's head snapped up. "You're lying," she snapped angrily. "My father would never do such a thing. He actually loved me, unlike you."

Darcy frowned. "I did not want to believe it of my father and Lord Disley either, Elizabeth, but it is the truth."

"No," she said, pushing to her feet to pace away from him. "No, I won't believe it. My father loves me too much to do something so abominable. He's a good man—"

"My father was a good man also, and so was Theo's," Darcy countered. "Or so I thought."

Elizabeth shook her head. "I cannot believe it of him. He's a good man. He works in a very respectable line of trade—he has an import business now, and it does very well!"

Darcy stood. "And how do you think he managed to start that business? To build it up so that it does so very well?" he asked. "It was Lord Disley's money what enabled him to do it, Elizabeth. Tell me, did your father try to contact mine after Ned was born?"

She turned slowly to him. "He…he did. He went into Derbyshire to see your father but he was turned away at the door."

His countenance showed sympathy for her confusion, her pain. She didn't want to see it, did not want to believe her father capable of such a thing as he was suggesting.

"Elizabeth, about the time our son was born, my parents were in a terrible carriage accident in Kent," Darcy was saying. "My father was killed, and my mother so gravely injured she can no longer walk. When your father came into Derbyshire to see mine, he met with Lord Disley instead. The earl offered Mr. Gardiner more money to go away again and not tell me about the child."

She backed away from him, not wanting to believe what he was telling her…but deep down, knowing his words were true. Elizabeth remembered that it was only a few months after Ned's birth that her father had gone to London determined to start a business, something that would enable him to move his wife, daughter, and grandson to Town. Mrs. Gardiner had followed as soon as he had secured a house for them. It was Elizabeth's determination never to chance encountering Darcy that kept her at Longbourn with her aunt and uncle's family.

A tight knot formed beneath her breast as tears stung her eyes. Elizabeth moved toward the opposite bench and almost fell onto it as the tears spilled over.

"When I woke up after we… When I woke up, my parents were there. I gathered they had… that they had come with your father," she said haltingly. "My father told me to forget you. He seemed angry—I thought it was because of the elopement. He stormed out of the room, told my mother to deal with me. My mother, she… she said that you had gone. I didn't want to believe her, I insisted you would never leave me, because you loved me. She said you didn't love me enough not to leave me for a girl with a fortune of sixty thousand pounds."

Elizabeth looked up at Darcy again. "It was all a lie, wasn't it? My God, Fitzwilliam, how could they do it? How could the people we loved most in the world, besides each other, betray us so?"

"I wish I knew, Elizabeth," he replied. "Lord Disley's motivations are clear enough—he's an arrogant, ambitious snob who did not wish the family to be degraded by my marrying a girl hardly above a servant. But our parents? I cannot answer to my father's motivations, and I am determined to forgive his transgressions for the sake of my mother and my conscience. It does no good to be angry at the dead. Forgiveness of your parents is for you to decide."

"Forgiveness," she said bitterly. "I do not even know that I could stand the sight of them were they to walk into this shrubbery right now! My whole world was shattered when you left me, and only the realization that followed soon after that I had conceived kept me from succumbing to my despair. And now, to learn that everything I believed about you, about them, was a lie?"

Darcy had nothing to say for a moment. He turned and sat down on the bench across the clearing, then said to her, "Perhaps we might put that aside for a moment. I know you are angry, and hurt—I am as well—but I should very much like to focus on the one good thing to come of all this: our son. Will you tell me about him?"

Elizabeth smiled falteringly through her tears. After taking a moment to dry her face, she said, "Ned is the greatest joy of my life. Such a happy child, so curious about everything. He's a very smart boy who likes to draw and has some interest in the pianoforte, thanks to my cousin Mary. He likes horses and dogs, and delights in chasing the chickens about the yard, much to the chagrin of our cook. She says it sets the hens off of laying."

Darcy chuckled, then said, "My cousin said he looks like me."

She nodded. "He does. Every aspect of his appearance is yours, from his cheekbones to his hair—except for his eyes. He gets those from me."

"It cannot have been easy for you, to see me in him every day believing me to care nothing for either of you."

"Not at first, though it has become easier over the years," Elizabeth replied. "I chose to focus on that fact that though he resembled you, he was he own person."

"When… when do you think I can meet him?"

"Oh, Mr. Darcy, I don't know," said Elizabeth. "I don't know that I'm ready for that—there's so much I need to process after everything you've told me."

"And your family to prepare," Darcy said. "I know Bingley intends to have them to Netherfield soon—it was meant to be our reintroduction, but I was too impatient to wait. I wanted the truth of our circumstances in the open between us, that we might begin to rebuild our family."

Elizabeth frowned. "Rebuild our family? Whatever do you mean?"

Darcy sighed. "Like it or not, Elizabeth, we're still married. And now that I know I've a son, I won't live without him in my life. I fully intend to bring both of you back to Pemberley."

"You cannot be serious," Elizabeth said, her incredulity evident.

"You didn't expect I'd return alone, did you?" Darcy rejoined. "Do you really think I'd be content just knowing Ned existed, that I would leave him behind to live out his life on an estate at the edge of an insignificant little market town while I returned to the manor in the north that will one day be his? Think again, Elizabeth. I'm not leaving Hertfordshire without my son, and as you've declared you'll not be separated from him, I daresay you'll be obliged to come with us."

Indignation swept through her, galvanizing Elizabeth to stand and stalk toward him. "How dare you think that you can just come along after four years and dictate the course of the whole rest of our lives, Mr. Darcy!" she cried. "You don't have the right!"

He stood and stepped up to her, stared down at her with an equally determined expression. "I am your husband and he is my son—I have the only right."

They stood that way, their furious gazes locked on one another, until a sharp whistle sounded not too far away, followed by Colonel Fitzwilliam's voice.

"My dear Miss Bingley!" they heard him say. "How delightful you should come along just now—I have been in want of a partner to stroll about the grounds. Do say you'll join me."

Miss Bingley's response was too low to be understood, but it soon became clear that Fitzwilliam had acted to prevent them being discovered alone together. Elizabeth stepped back, drawing a deep breath in an attempt to settle her frayed nerves.

"I think it is time I returned to Longbourn," she said, and turned to start out of the maze through the rear path.

"Elizabeth, wait," Darcy called out.

She paused. "I must go and prepare my family, remember?" she said over her shoulder. "My aunt and youngest cousins are good creatures, but they have not the brightest of minds. It will take them rather longer than my uncle and older cousins to realize you've some relationship to Ned, so I must speak to those three, at least, before this dinner engagement that's been proposed."

"Will you bring Ned with you?" Darcy asked.

Elizabeth turned partway and looked back. "Mr. Darcy, I'm sure you're aware that children are not often included in dinner parties."

"I know, but… Elizabeth, I just want to see him. It's not as though I intend to carry the two of you off tomorrow," Darcy said. "We can talk about that some more when we're both of us feeling rather more rational. A lot has been learned today on both our parts, and I daresay neither of us is completely sound of mind at present."

Elizabeth inclined her head in reluctant agreement. "That much is true, I suppose," she said. "I do not know that I can bring him to dinner, but perhaps we can meet again here. I'll ask my uncle if I may have the carriage, or perhaps our pony cart will be available."

"Do not go to so much trouble, I will send my carriage for you. You've only to say what time it should be there."

"That'll be rather conspicuous, don't you think?" she pointed out.

"It would be were there any reason to pass through Meryton, I imagine, but there is not," Darcy said. "You'll come directly here and go directly to Longbourn again after."

"Very well," Elizabeth conceded. "Tomorrow morning, then. Nine-thirty."

Darcy smiled. "Thank you."

Well, that went... well. ;)