THANKS to all for your reviews.

I am dumbstruck and flabbergasted in one. 53 reviews! For one chapter! That might be nothing to some writers, but to me it is one great encouragement and inducement to write. If I forgot to reply to someone please forgive me.

A special thanks to Eb Evans who is so kind to read and edit my chapters now, so it might take more time in the future to post. Thanks Eb, for making this readable and your support. Look for Eb Evans stories here on FF, you'll love them, I know I do;). All remaining errors are mine.

And to darcysfriend, she Austen-nised (not a word I know) this chapter. She was the guest who al but ordered me to make things right between D&E.

William chapter 4

His breath came rapidly and his insides were churning as he thought about what to do in the next hour or so. What he wouldn't do for a stiff drink right now! For years he had lived as a recluse on his estate, precluding any chance encounters with her.

It was only of late that he had hired investigators to find her...and found her they did, bringing a detailed account of her life. However, there were only two things he was really interested in: one, that she was a wealthy widow; and two, that she had four children, and one of them, he was certain, was his. About this he had no doubt in his mind. Now he would demand answers – and by God, she would give them. He needed to know, there was nothing more as important this time, or ever. He was sick and tired of asking why, and speculating on ifs, maybes, should-haves, could-haves and would-haves. He would be bold and forceful; nothing would stop him now.

As he stood there, however, he found himself in wonderment how a grown man like him could be so affected by one dainty female. Slowly, the anger he had carried for so long dissipated, and was replaced by anticipation, nervous anticipation of the worst kind. Yet he was scared to let go of the anger for he would not have the courage to call if he wavered. Would he see his son when he called? Would she look at him with anger and disdain again? After seeing them he wondered at that for the first time – would she really act that way, given that she abandoned him? Was she afraid he would reveal her deception to all? That did not sound like the woman he thought he knew. But then, what did he really know about her?

Was something or someone else responsible for their separation? Before he saw them and her reaction when she noticed him, it had never occurred to him to think so. Now these thoughts assaulted his emotions severely. Calm down, Darcy, you can overcome this! He could hardly barge into that house like a raging animal. Perhaps he could visit another time, at a more acceptable time to call. He huffed at himself – damn his ongoing care for propriety.

So here now he stood. After being announced, he was led into a study by the butler who told him his mistress would be with him shortly. Darcy felt he would pass out – damn, he even unwisely decided to forego breakfast because of nervousness. Easy, Darcy, he told himself - you have done nothing wrong, you have hurt no one in this house. She abandoned me! He was lost in the tumult of his thoughts, when he heard a soft sound near the entrance.

He turned - and felt his breath catch and his tongue still. Good Lord she is as beautiful as ever! And yet … she looked as though she had cried; her bottom lip was quivering like she may start again. Her eyes wondrously mirrored his own, showing that same pain he endured for so long. And all they did was look at each other - no word was spoken for what felt like eternity.

Finally he spoke, his voice harsh and raspy. "The boy I saw in Brighton... is he mine?"

He saw her struggle with her emotions before she whispered, "Yes."

Tears finally ran unchecked over his cheeks. "Then why did you abandon me? I have lived in hell all these years, why?" he cried in both despair and anger.

That dam of emotions would not be stopped now, and yet in almost morbid fascination, he saw her straighten her shoulders and lift her chin, as she stepped up to him in fury.

"I... I abandoned you? I did not do anything of the kind, sir. You never came," her voice wavered and she gave an unladylike snort. "As if I could have forsaken you. I waited and waited but you never came for me. I was carrying your child... I loved you. I would have crawled from Hertfordshire to Derbyshire if you had asked me."

Disbelief then took over despair. How could this be?

"No!" he shouted. "I wrote to your father that very night I was called away by an express letter from my cousin. I wrote to him I would come." He took a deep shaky breath, and resumed calmer. "My uncle had an apoplexy and my cousin was hurt in a duel and died a few days later. They needed me urgently. I wrote missive after missive to your father, keeping him informed of my whereabouts, asking him if I could come to call on you. Did he not tell you?" His voice broke on a sob. "I never got any reply…" Darcy's heart was slowly being ripped apart, and the new sensation of blame seeped into his thoughts also. He should have left his family to deal with their own problems. He should have gone to Hertfordshire! But he had to do his duty, always his damned duty. Would there ever be respite for him, for them?

Elizabeth looked at him dumbfounded; she had not heard of letters. Briefly, she wondered if he was lying, but he did not look as if he was. She could ask her father, who was still at Longbourn, his body old and tired, but his mind as spirited as ever.

"No," she whispered. "I did not know. I thought you abandoned me because you thought I was wanton. Jane said you must have been using me." She spoke so quietly he could hardly hear her; she shook her head slowly as if to clear it. Helplessly she mumbled, "Papa never told me. Could he have deceived me? I can hardly believe that. No, Papa would not do that to me. No."

With tear-laced voice, Darcy replied, "I would not dare to doubt your judgment but I sent every letter by my personal courier, and he swore he delivered them all. He told me one of your sisters always gave him some refreshment in the kitchen, he even knew the name of your housekeeper, Mrs. Hill."

They stood there, tears running down their cheeks, looking at each other with a hunger that belied their years. Darcy could not stand it any longer, his body was about to crumble. "What do we do now?" he asked in defeat. "Where do we go from here?" When there was no reply from Elizabeth, Darcy said in a stronger voice, "I just want to know two things for now; what is our son's name? Does he know about me?"

Clearing her throat Elizabeth replied clearly and very determinedly.

"His name is William after the man I married. Yes, he does know you are his natural father. I just told him this morning."

And she added in a whisper, "He was very distressed."

After a pause, Elizabeth straightened her shoulders, and with a fire in her eyes, she declared, "As I am. I want to know what happened. I am going to find out who did this, and I will make him pay."

She looked at the rapidly-breathing man in front of her, who gazed back also with matching fury and determination, and asked, "Will you join me?"

Was it an anticlimax that they did not rant and rave?

Please review, I have discovered it's my writing fuel. And remember, you're leading me.