It's Thursday, dear friends, and you know what that means...another chapter! Thanks so much to everyone clicking on the favorite and follow boxes, and especially to those leaving me your thoughts. I am always so very pleased and encouraged by your enjoyment of the story.

This chapter, Elizabeth struggles with the truth and Darcy meets his son for the first time... ~CC

Although Mr. Bingley had said he would provide her transportation, Elizabeth elected to walk the three miles to Longbourn.

It proved necessary to take the time, as she alternated between sorrow, fury, confusion, and frustration the whole of the way. The last four years of her life had been governed by lies—lies told by Lord Disley and old Mr. Darcy. Lies told by her parents. Lies told by Wickham. Four years she could have spent as Darcy's wife in marital bliss, and their son's entire life he could have spent with his father.

It was time the three of them would never be able to get back.

Whenever she thought of her parents' part in the scheme, she became so overwhelmed with emotion it was actually difficult to breathe. Her eyes would fill with tears, and she would stumble because she couldn't see. Thus, Elizabeth chose to focus on another aspect of the affair, one which still left her feeling astonished:

Darcy wanted to take both Ned and her back to Pemberley.

His wanting Ned to go she could understand—he'd missed the first three years of his son's life, and did not want to chance missing anymore of it. But her? Would he really take her there so that she and Ned could remain together? And what of their marriage? Would she be his wife in name only, sharing his house and his fortune, living there merely as Ned's caretaker, or did he intend to make their relationship a physical one, exercising his husbandly rights in the hope of siring more heirs just because he could?

The idea of sharing his bed because she had to did not appeal to her in the slightest. Elizabeth was determined that, if Darcy was set on her going to Derbyshire to keep her place as mother to his son, she would have a say in what kind of relationship she would have with him. There would be rules. Knowing the truth—that he hadn't left her for a rich debutante—didn't negate the fact that he had left her. The pain of his abandonment could not be so easily dismissed.

Gathering her uncle and cousins Jane and Mary together to talk after her arrival was not as easy as she had hoped. She first had to freshen her attire, then there was Ned to attend to. Mrs. Harper called and brought with her some bolts of cloth and patterns for orders that had been placed that morning, and Elizabeth decided it would be best to get started on it right away. The sewing work took up the rest of her afternoon.

It was not until the family was dressing for dinner—Ned would be looked after by the doting Mrs. Hill—that the opportunity to speak to her relations presented itself. Kitty and Lydia were squabbling over some trifle, as they were wont to do, and Mrs. Bennet had been dragged into the middle of it. Taking advantage of the three being occupied, she followed her uncle into his book room and asked that Jane and Mary attend them.

Mr. Bennet looked to her with no small amount of curiosity when the door was shut by Mary. "What's this about, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth drew a breath to shore herself up, then told her story—all of it, from the elopement of two headstrong, foolish young lovers to the tense reunion with Darcy that morning. That they were all of them nonplussed by her confession was only to be expected, but that her uncle was speechless for several moments surprised even her.

"Uncle, what do I do?" she asked him.

Mr. Bennet moved behind his desk and sat, then opened one of the drawers and took out a flask from which he took a swig before replying. "Well, Lizzy, my first thought is to ask why you chose to tell us this now, when we have yet to meet the young man?"

"Because we are invited to Netherfield for dinner and Mr. Darcy is there. I knew you would recognize his kinship to Ned almost at once," Elizabeth replied. "Knowing their proclivities, I have no reason to suspect my aunt and younger cousins will notice anything so soon, but you are all of you very observant—one good look at Mr. Darcy, and you would know them to be father and son."

"Do they really resemble each other so much?" Mary asked.

Elizabeth nodded. "Colonel Fitzwilliam knew Ned to be his cousin's son on sight—he truly is but a younger version of his father, though his eyes are mine. At the least you would know them to be related, so I thought it best to eliminate any confusion your recognition would generate."

She moved then to sit in the single visitor's chair before the desk; Jane stepped up to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Oh Lizzy, how terribly distraught this must make you," she said. "I simply cannot imagine my Uncle Gardiner doing such a thing—and to his own daughter, no less!"

"I can now admit that I have long wondered where your father acquired the funds to buy his house. His first boat," Mr. Bennet mused. He took another sip from the flask. "I am truly sorry, my dear girl, that you have been dealt such a blow."

"That is most kind of you to say, Uncle."

"As to what to do… I'm afraid you haven't much choice," her uncle went on. "Anvil marriages are as legally binding in this country as any performed in a church, believe it or not—especially when consummated. If this Lord Disley person truly did not have the marriage quietly annulled or see to it a divorce was granted, then Mr. Darcy is still your husband and he does have the right to take both you and Ned back to Derbyshire with him."

Hearing the words spoken by another, though she already knew their truth, felt like a blow to the chest. Elizabeth sat forward with her head in her hands. "I really cannot stay here with you all?"

"Not if you want to remain a part of your son's life," said Mr. Bennet. "I would, of course, be most glad to have you, as much as I have loved having you here these last few years, Lizzy—you've been like another daughter to me. But I haven't the means to prevent Mr. Darcy exercising his parental rights over Ned."

"Would it really be so terrible, do you think?" Jane asked. "You don't imagine he intends to be unkind to you, do you?"

"No," Elizabeth replied as she sat straight again, and realized she was certain of that. "Though I admit to never knowing him so well as I ought, I cannot imagine he means to be cruel. Even when his anger was stirred, I did not get that feeling from him."

She sighed then. "Perhaps it will not be so bad. Pemberley really is a very grand house—it's much larger than Netherfield. I suppose I'll be its mistress now, unless Mr. Darcy means to keep his mother in that role. And there are many hills and dales in the area, woods to be explored. Ned and I will want for nothing."

Tears stung her eyes suddenly, and she reached for Jane's hand. "But I know I shall miss you all so very much. Four years' acquaintance may be all we've had, but I feel as though I've known you all the whole of my life."

"It will not be forever, Lizzy," said Mary with a smile. "We'll write to each other regularly, will we not? And I am sure we shall visit each other, though perhaps not often."

"Indeed, Mary," said her father, who took a final sip from his flask before replacing it in the desk drawer. He stood and moved around the desk, then held a hand out to Elizabeth.

"My dear niece, do not despair. Give it time, I am sure all will be well in the end."

Elizabeth gave his hand a squeeze. "Thank you, Uncle. I am sorry to have burdened you all with this, but until Mr. Darcy and I work out what may be said, we must keep it between us. Only the three of you, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Mr. Bingley know the whole story at present."

"Mr. Bennet? Girls! Where are you?" came Mrs. Bennet's voice through the door. "We must be going or we shall be late for dinner!"

Elizabeth groaned softly. "Uncle, may I press you for one more favor? With all that is weighing on my mind, I am in no mood for company. Pray make my excuses, if you will. Tell my aunts I have a headache, for it is not so far from the truth."

Mr. Bennet patted the hand he held and smiled. "I will see to it, my dear," said he, and then he gestured for Mary and Jane to follow him out.

Elizabeth heard her Aunt Bennet protest when her uncle informed his wife that she would not be joining the family for dinner, and was ever more grateful that he prevented the lady from barging into the library to harangue her about it, as it was clear from the noise outside the door she fully intended to do. He and his elder daughters were at last able to press her into departing, and some seconds after she heard Kitty and Lydia's giggling pass by, the front door was shut hard. Next she heard the carriage start away down the gravel drive, and with a sigh, she quit the library at last and went in search of Mrs. Hill, that she could take Ned off the housekeeper's hands.

A thankfully quiet evening was spent with her son playing games and coloring pictures together, and after a simple dinner Elizabeth tucked the little boy into his bed and read him a story. Once he was asleep, she made a valiant attempt to do more work on the gown she had started earlier that day, but found she simply could not concentrate. Thoughts of the morning's revelation, Darcy's determination to take her and Ned to Pemberley, and what she would say to her parents crowded her mind. She found herself evaluating her parents' behavior over much of that first year and realized that there were many indicators of her father's duplicity. She now wondered if the anger he had displayed on that very first day was directed more toward himself, for having allowed his integrity to be so weak as to accept the bribe.

He deserved to feel guilty, she mused bitterly. I hope he still does. God, how could he do it? How could a man who professed to love me more than his own life stand idly by and watch my heart break a little more every day?

The need to vent her anger and frustration at being so wronged by her own parents compelled Elizabeth to begin a long, strongly-worded letter to them. By the time she finished it there were multiple words almost too smudged to read, for she had begun to cry in the midst of the writing and splashed the pages with many tears. Though she was feeling the devastation of having been lied to, she found herself debating whether she should actually send the letter or confront her parents in person, but realized she couldn't bear it if they tried to deny the truth to her face. So she folded the letter and sealed it, and decided she would send it to the post in the morning.

Writing the letter felt cathartic, but also emotionally draining. Elizabeth decided to retire early and readied for bed, and she drifted off to sleep wondering how introducing her son to his father would go.

-…-

Darcy rose at dawn and dressed in riding breeches. He knew he would need to expend some of his nervous energy before meeting his son later that morning.

His son. He could scarcely believe it possible that he had a child of his own out there, and even moreso that the boy had been alive three years and he'd never known of him. Yet another thing he could lay the blame for at his uncle's feet, that he'd had to practically beg to be introduced to his own offspring. He and Elizabeth should have been together when Ned was born; he should have been the boy's primary male influence, rather than his great-uncle.

Well, that would certainly change in the next week or two. He hoped that he and Elizabeth could amicably discuss their removal to Pemberley during the visit. He didn't want to wait long to show his little boy the house that he would one day be master of. He wanted to take him horseback riding, show off his hunting dogs, to instill in Ned the respect for his land and the people that worked it that had been instilled in him from about the age the boy was now.

Darcy could also hardly wait to introduce Ned to his mother and sister. Lady Anne would adore him. He hoped that his mother would be so delighted to have a grandchild to dote on that she would begin to forget the fears and insecurities that had plagued her since the accident. A child in the house to play for and entertain might also bring Georgiana out of her shell.

The only thing that caused him to doubt was revealing the whole dark truth to his mother. Would she be able to handle it? And though he believed her innocent of any real wrongdoing, he could not help but wonder what, if any of it, she already knew. She certainly could have no knowledge of Ned—her brother would have kept that secret from her as well as he had his nephew, even knowing how much a grandchild would mean to her.

He rode for nearly two hours, and upon his return immediately ordered his carriage to Longbourn. Darcy hurriedly bathed and dressed, wanting to be downstairs waiting when the carriage returned. Bingley and Fitzwilliam kept him company in the drawing room, both men trying and failing to urge him to stillness.

"You'll wear a path in Bingley's carpet if you keep that up, Will," said Fitzwilliam at one point.

"I can't help it," Darcy replied. "I'm nervous—bloody nervous, Theo—to meet a three-year-old boy."

"That's because he's your boy, and you want your son to like you," Bingley observed.

This, at last, made Darcy pause. "Yes," he said. "I do believe you're right, Charles."

His cousin then turned a discerning gaze toward him. "Do you really mean to take them both back to Pemberley?"

"We already discussed this, Theo. Yes, I do," said Darcy. "I knew as soon as I read your letter that I'd not return without my son—Pemberley is where he belongs—and as I'll not be so cruel as to force their separation, his mother must therefore come with us."

"Then you mean to uphold your marriage?" asked Bingley.

"I see no reason not to," Darcy replied. "After all, there are some few advantages to having a wife."

Fitzwilliam snorted. "Such as fending off fortune-seeking young ladies like a certain sister of our friend, do you mean?"

Darcy nodded, and even Bingley grinned at the jibe. "Yes, that is certainly one of them. Another is that Elizabeth will be able to perform those duties as Mistress of Pemberley that my mother cannot."

"And since she's your wife, you'll be able to bed her without risking a scandal."

Darcy whirled to face his cousin. "Don't be crass, Theodore," he snapped. "The thought of taking her to my bed never even entered my mind."

Liar, said his inner voice. Though they had been much occupied in reviewing his meeting with Elizabeth and the varying scenarios which might occur when he and Ned were introduced, his thoughts had—quite unintentionally—strayed into more intimate territory. As he'd lain in his bed praying for sleep the night before, the memory of the only time he'd made love to her resurfaced, and his dreams had been full of varying scenarios in which he convinced her to lay with him again.

Fitzwilliam held his hands up in a position of surrender. "My apologies, cousin," he said. "I meant no offense. Just saying it will be convenient having her there if you should be so inclined, and if she should be willing."

"I must not think of such things," Darcy said as he turned back to the window, his eyes on Netherfield's gravel drive. "Though I certainly cannot deny the truth of your words, my first object is to do as you said yesterday—build trust. I want Elizabeth to be comfortable with the idea of living at Pemberley. It should have been her home these four years already, but circumstances being what they are… I know it will take some time to become accustomed to it, for both of us."

"True enough, Will. True enough," agreed his cousin. "And really, I did not mean to be a vulgar prig."

"You know, there's something I've always wondered about anvil weddings," said Bingley then. "How does one prove it happened when you have no license? Do you really just tell all your acquaintance that you stood over an anvil, declared your desire to be man and wife, and they accept it?"

"That is essentially how it is done, Charles," said Darcy. "In Scotland, marriage by declaration is still an accepted and binding ceremony—which can in fact be performed anywhere, not just in a blacksmith's shop—so long as there are at minimum two witnesses."

"There are also others who can testify to the marriage having taken place, such as the anvil priest himself," added Fitzwilliam. "The innkeeper who puts a couple up afterward, and basically anyone that hears the hammer fall."

Their conversation ended there, as Darcy noted his carriage at last coming up the drive and hurried from the room. Drawing a breath to calm himself, he opened the front door just as the vehicle came to a stop before the steps, and went out as the footman jumped down to open the carriage door.

As soon as Elizabeth had put both feet to the ground, she turned back and reached inside the carriage to help a small figure climb out. The boy that emerged did indeed have his dark curly hair, his bone structure… Fitzwilliam was right, the relationship between them was clear, though he silently admitted he could be presumed to be the child's uncle.

Darcy looked to Elizabeth and offered a smile as the carriage was then taken away. "Good morning, Elizabeth. Thank you for coming."

"Good morning, sir," she replied, then cast her eyes down at Ned. "This is Edward, our son. As you know, I call him Ned."

She gave a slight tug of the boy's hand and he looked up at her. "Ned, this gentleman is your father. He's your papa."

Ned turned his gaze to Darcy, who found himself holding his breath. "You say he went to heaven."

Elizabeth's cheeks colored slightly. "I know I did, dearest. I was mistaken."

Darcy could see that the child was confused, and so lowered himself down to his level to try and explain. "It was not your mamma's fault, Ned," he said softly. "Someone told her I had gone away, but it wasn't true. And I did not know where to find her, to tell her the truth, for a very long time."

"They lie to Mamma?"

Though he remained eye level with Ned, Darcy noticed when the boy's words caused a tear to run down Elizabeth's cheek, which she hastily wiped away. The sudden urge to comfort her was almost overwhelming, and it was an effort to keep his attention on Ned.

"Yes, I am afraid they did lie," he said at last. "But Mamma knows the truth now, and I have found you both. It has made me very happy."

"Mamma says lies bad. God not like lies," said Ned then.

Darcy stood slowly. "No, God does not like lies, so we must always endeavor to tell the truth. Will you do that for your mamma and me?"

"I try."

Elizabeth smiled then. "That is all we ask of you, dearest, that you try your very best to be a good little boy."

Ned looked around Darcy then, his eyes roaming over the stone edifice of the house behind him. "This you house, Papa?"

An emotion he could not quite define coursed through Darcy on hearing his son address him as Papa. He found himself wondering if Elizabeth had been moved to tears the first time he had called her Mamma, for he felt dangerously close to them in that moment. For Ned to so readily accept what they had told him… It felt like he had just been given a gift from God.

"No, this is not my house," he managed past the lump in his throat. "A very good friend of mine lives here, and I am only visiting."

"Where you live?"

"My home is in a place called Derbyshire. It is rather far from here."

"Can I see it?" Ned asked.

Darcy smiled. "I should like to show it to you very much."

The boy looked up to Elizabeth. "Mamma, we go to Papa's house?"

Her answering chuckle sounded nervous. "Not right this second, Neddy. As Papa has told you, it is very far away, and such a journey must be planned before it can be undertaken."

It pleased Darcy that Elizabeth did not seem as averse to the idea of going to Pemberley as she had the day before. Studying her countenance, however, told him she was feeling rather uncomfortable, and so he decided a change of subject was in order.

For now.

"Ned, your mamma has told me you like dogs. Would you care to see some?"

Ned's cherubic little face brightened immediately and he nodded with enthusiasm. Darcy turned to walk around the house toward the stables, with Elizabeth and Ned falling in beside him.

"Are there puppies, Papa?"

"Mr. Bingley's dogs are all boys, I'm afraid, but they are handsome dogs," Darcy replied. "I have a dog at Pemberley that will soon have puppies, though."

Ned looked up at him. "What Pemberry?"

"Pemberley," said Darcy, carefully enunciating each syllable, "is the name of my home, as Longbourn is the name of the home where you live. This house here is called Netherfield."

Ned turned his gaze to Elizabeth. "I wanna see Pem-ber-ley," he said.

Elizabeth glanced at him; Darcy offered what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "As I told you, Ned, a long journey must be planned. Remember what I have said about patience, dearest; I believe we will see Pemberley before long."

They would indeed, if Darcy had any say in the matter.