Dear reader, I am so very sorry for this delay. It just wouldn't come. But it is finished; including this one, three more chapters and I will post it a.s.a.p. This is accomplished with not a little help of Darcysfriend, thank you, you are a great friend. And of cause a grateful thanks to Patricia and Eb. Thank you for your support and reading this little tale. Furthermore I want to apologize to the reviewers, whom I haven't responded to, I am sorry! Like with the story, I just didn't know what to say.

Chapter 7

Darcy and William had already left, and Elizabeth found it difficult to rest and get her thoughts in order. A semblance of composure would be appreciated, she thought with a sad chuckle. She requested for her children to meet with her after dinner, to talk about the emotional upheavals in their home. They will have to be told, and I will do it, she thought dejectedly, not looking forward to another emotional confrontation and censure of her unthinking act. I can only hope they will not follow my dire example. Please let this be a lesson to all of us.

She decided to remain in her chambers until dinner. But first an express to Longbourn, so Mary could order rooms to be ready for her and her children. True, they could stay in their Hertfordshire home, situated only two miles from Longbourn – but at this time, Elizabeth wanted to be near her father. Would Fitzwilliam want to come too? Maybe he could stay in her country house. Will there be a future for us together? He seemed to believe so. Well, she would deal with that later. She needed to talk with her father; she was glad she still could. Elizabeth chuckled affectionately. She suspected her father stubbornly refused to die because he did not want Mr. Collins to inherit his estate. And he may well succeed. Collins' ever growing girth and rapidly worsening health did not bode well for long life. It would be divine intervention, as he too had five daughters and no son. As it was, Longbourn would go to William as the eldest grandson, as soon as Mr. Collins would meet his maker. She felt sorry for Charlotte Collins ... but life can be cruel, and she knew all about it. Elizabeth vowed to make sure Charlotte and her daughters were taken care of. Her friend would not have to live in the hedgerows as her own mother always feared.

Having written and sent the letter, Elizabeth tried to rest but could not. Thoughts made her stomach roll. Elevation, disillusionment, anger and exhaustion battled for recognition in her body and mind. Shocked, astonished, flabbergasted… no words were strong enough to describe her feelings. To have seen Fitzwilliam … he loved her still. How was that possible? All the hate she had felt for him... gone with one embrace, replaced with warmth in her heart. At the same time, the thought of a loved one's betrayal chilled the blood in her veins. All these years, she had blamed Fitzwilliam's deceit following their passionate encounter.

She had had a good marriage. Mr. Lloyd had treated her with the utmost respect, and in the end she believed them to have been happy together. He had made her a partner in private and in his business; she worked with him to bring his business to a higher level, and she enjoyed seeing the fruits of their labour. Their marriage might not have been her choice, but she had made the most of it. Even so, she had been so in love with Fitzwilliam Darcy that in the first years of their marriage, it was difficult for her to have marital relations. She had tried not to think about him, for her admirable husband, Mr. Lloyd, deserved not to be second to Fitzwilliam. But try as she might, she could still feel, smell and taste Fitzwilliam years after, knowing no man could compare. Elizabeth felt for him the deepest of loves … mind, body and soul kind of love, even if only for a night. If she had not lived through it, she would have never believed that after such a short acquaintance, she could have loved so fiercely.

Thank God, Mr. Lloyd had never known, but she had, and it made her feel guilty for a long time. And for what? All because one of her family decided to betray her? That it was one of her own family who interfered in their lives was astonishing and especially hurtful. Who would do that to her? For twenty years, she had been deceived by one of her own. Not once did it ever cross her mind – not once! And God, it hurt – it was as if she was reliving the pain all over again. Which of her sisters could have been so cruel as to steal Fitzwilliam's letters? Or could it be her father, her mother, or a servant? Which one was responsible for the ruination of so many lives?

Her father would not do that on purpose. He had been supportive of her refusal of Mr. Collins. He let her go to London to evade her mother's abuse of her after the fact. He was also supportive of her hurried marriage to Mr. Lloyd, thinking she loved him. He had no reason to hold back communications of Mr. Darcy as a suitor, before her marriage to William Lloyd.

He did not even know she was with child when she finally married William Lloyd. Oh, had she told him, he would have been in Darcy's home to call him out and everything would have been all right … if he would have known. But as so many things… it did not happen. No, definitely no, Papa would not have done that to her.

Her mother? No, she would have been ecstatic. "Oh, Elizabeth, ten thousand a year, you are so clever to catch him. The carriages you will have, the jewellery, and pin money." She could hear her mother still, even after her long absence in her life. No, certainly not her mother.

And Jane? Her dear, dear Jane – NO, she was not capable of doing such a dastardly deed. Jane supported her throughout the whole debacle as her only confidant, until her pregnancy made her turn to her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner for help in resolving her situation. Elizabeth was reminded to write to her relatives about this, knowing they would be devastated as well. The Gardiners had relocated to retire at Lambton in Derbyshire some years back – and though her aunt and uncle were instrumental in matching her with Mr. Lloyd, only Jane knew who the father of her child was. Dear Jane ... Elizabeth's heart went out to her, trapped in a marriage of convenience. Her precious heart was hurt first by that rake Charles Bingley, and then by her cold husband, although she had made the best of her marriage as well, just as she had with hers. Jane took her husband's coldness in stride, and said she was content with her lot in life.

Jane's only daughter Francine Jane at eight and ten years resided more with Elizabeth's family than at her father's estate or townhouse. Fran was rather plain, taking after her father in looks, but was lively, joyful and intelligent. Elizabeth loved her as her own daughter, but had the distinct feeling Fran's infatuation settled on William from an early date, though William saw her more as a sister, almost on even keel with Lauren. Elizabeth hoped Fran would find a husband in her first full season, because William was not interested and she did not think Jane's husband, the Honourable Harold Seymour, would be pleased to have his only daughter marry a tradesman's son, no matter how wealthy. Fran's dowry was in fact only one third of Lauren's. If Harold knew who William's father was, only his wealth and connections would make Harold rethink his position, coming from the wrong side of the blanket or not.

Back to thinking of possible perpetrators, Elizabeth's thoughts turned to Mary. Could Mary have done it? No again, Mary would not been able to have done so. Her conscience would have forbidden it; she was the most religious of them all. Her loving and pious Mary could not have performed such betrayal.

As for her other two sisters, they had only officers on their mind at that time. They were silly girls, but not malicious. In the end, Elizabeth had no definitive answer as to who could have done the atrocious deed. But she planned to find out, and she knew that William and his father would also expend the effort.

For the first time in almost two and twenty years, Elizabeth felt the freedom to explore the truth about her son's paternity, and it made her feel warm again. Father and son had been amiable, if not emotional with each other. William had expressed his feelings evenly, showing tremendous maturity and empathy that made Elizabeth proud. On hindsight, it had been a blessing he overheard all what was said between her and Fitzwilliam.