A/N: I own nothing

Big thanks to Gayle and Kat for offering their brilliant beta'ing services to this chapter, I could not have done it without yoy. x

The thrum of the engine vibrated through the cabin as the sleek private jet roared to life. After an unplanned delay, the luxury aircraft smoothly began to taxi along the tarmac slowly rolling to a stop behind a long line of monstrous 747's that had priority take-off.

The cabin crew sat towards the front of the plane, gossiping amongst themselves whilst shooting furtive glances at the jet's handsome owner. The importance of punctuality had been drilled into them from the on-set of their employment; Will Darcy was predictably impatient.

After years of observation, the regular cabin crew could spot subtle signs that indicated what mood their esteemed employer was in - tapping a pencil indicated his impatience, squinting signalled deep thought, a hand through his hair meant he was preoccupied – they could even distinguish from the tilt of his head whether he was sombre or angry. On this occasion he was tapping his fingers against an ancient notepad, and anxiously pulling back his shirtsleeve to reveal his watch; he obviously had something very important on his mind and somewhere else he wanted to be...they didn't know the half of it.

Fifty-nine days ago he'd left behind the two people who over the course of two months had become the dearest to him in the entire world, and he needed to get home to them.

Darcy absentmindedly stroked the worn brown leather notepad in his lap and stared out the small window; it was dark out, stars twinkled across the Japanese skyline, and skyscrapers pierced the skies. It was undeniably beautiful, but he was sick of the sight of it.

England for all its terrible weather, high taxes and grumbling inhabitants was the one place he most wanted to be.

After waiting half an hour, the Gulfstream G550 finally rolled onto the runway and launched into the night sky.

Darcy pushed his head back into the sumptuous leather pillow behind his head and screwed his eyes tight. He hated take-off. When he was a little boy, his mother eased his discomfort by putting a vanilla-scented pillow in her lap and gently easing her young son's head onto it; then she would lovingly stroke his hair until he calmed down. Sadly, there was no one around now to fulfil this duty, so he coped in the only way he knew how, by gripping the notepad tightly and going to his "happy" place.

Oblivious to Darcy's discomfort and still not cleared by the pilot to leave their jump seats, the cabin crew sat huddled together at the front of the plane reminiscing as to what they missed the most about home.

"A good fry-up: I mean bacon, eggs, sausages, beans, mushrooms, potato fritters – the works." One flight attendant said in a thick Liverpudlian accent.

"HP sauce and Tiptree jam," Michael, the only male cabin crew member, joined in.

"Bacon and not the streaky kind, the thick maple-cured good stuff," Jenny the cabin leader exclaimed. "God, I've missed bacon." Jenny was the most experienced member of the Darcy flight team, she had served the Darcy family for over fifteen years and Will had seen her grow from a bashful young stewardess, serving an awkward young boy, to an elegant woman.

Sensing Will's discomfort, she kept her gaze on him and seeing his face begin to pale she called out to him in an effort to distract him, "What about you, Mr Darcy; what do you miss the most?"

"Elizabeth and William," Darcy whispered. Was it his imagination or did the plane just make an unusual noise?

"Elizabeth and William? New horses?" Jenny called to him, her wide toothy smile beaming at him.

All concerns about the stability of the aircraft suddenly became background noise; on hearing Elizabeth's and William's names being spoken from someone else's lips, his eyes shot wide open and he stared at Jenny in a suspicious, open-mouthed fashion, as he tried to figure out whether she had discovered his secret.

Over the past few weeks Darcy had been on an emotional rollercoaster - anger, hurt, happiness, regret, remorse – he'd wanted to get off, but the coaster had left the platform, and there was no going back.

After all, Elizabeth had had nine months to come to terms with the fact that she was having a baby. So far, Darcy had had eight weeks; to him she wasn't even in her second trimester. But somehow it didn't matter. It hadn't stopped him from dreaming about William and Elizabeth every night. Their faces were everywhere to him. He'd been beating himself up about the fact that he hadn't noticed the resemblance to young Will straight away, but on some level he had known; when he'd held William for the first time, a pleasant shiver had run through his body – a feeling he could no longer attribute to overzealous air-conditioning.

Fitzwilliam had repeatedly berated himself; it was irrationally stupid to think that he should have had some sixth sense about being someone's father. But then, why had he had such an intense, unexplainable feeling of hatred towards the doctor that had claimed to be William's father?

In truth, the hatred had been festering inside of Darcy long before the overeager doctor had even arrived on the scene. It had started the first time he'd held Will as an unexplainable feeling of jealousy that he'd passed off as some shock reaction at the news that the woman he loved had a baby; but then it had it grown. It had grown until Darcy was so livid that he wanted to hunt down Will's absentee father and castrate him for leaving behind such a beautiful baby and Elizabeth. Little had he known at the time, Will was the fruit of his loins; otherwise he probably would have rethought the castration idea.

Nevertheless the separation was almost bearable thanks to his notepad. The last time he'd seen Elizabeth, she'd been shutting the notepad he now held in his hands. At first his anger had been piqued, how dare she rifle through my things – what is she after? But that quickly dissipated when he'd realised how irrational and petulant he sounded.

It had been weeks since he'd heard from her, of her, about her – them.

For the past few weeks, time had been passing at a snail's pace. Darcy knew that the only way he'd get answers was to go home, but an untouched insecurity kept him from returning – what if she doesn't want me?

This notepad told him she was still his.

He had been an idiot for getting on the plane without her. It had vexed him too much to admit it at the time, but secretly he'd been distraught when she'd declined his offer for her and William to accompany him to Japan.

Fitzwilliam Darcy knew how to influence people without winning friends: he was used to getting what he wanted – as a boy, a boss and a man. Take, for example, his time in Japan; he had gone to secure the takeover of a struggling Japanese software firm, and he'd done it without resorting to bribes, unlike his competitors.

So considering his normal ability to get his way, he was struggling to understand why Elizabeth a) wasn't answering his phone calls, b) wasn't returning his messages, and c) hadn't come with him to Japan.

When Darcy had asked Elizabeth to join him, he had been as shocked as she was, but somehow it felt right; it was natural to want her by his side. He'd wasted enough time. In truth, that was why he hadn't settled in Japan; he missed her – he missed them, William and Elizabeth.

Eight weeks had been a long time to be without them.

To say the past few weeks had been torturous would be an understatement of the highest order. Normally Darcy was completely satisfied with his own company. It was true that even from a young age, he had preferred the company of books and an intimate selection of friends to parties and crowds, but something had changed. Solitude no longer brought comfort.

During his visit to Japan, Darcy had been surrounded by one of his best friends, close acquaintances and business associates nearly every hour of the day, yet he had never felt so alone. Now, one would be forgiven for wondering how a social recluse ended up owning one of the leading software companies in the world, and the honest answer was that he acted. Beyonce does it with Sasha Fierce and Fitzwilliam Darcy did it with Mr. Darcy. Thanks to his ancestors, the Darcy name was synonymous with success, and all he needed to do was play the cards he'd been dealt. In meetings he was charming, arrogant, gracious, and above all, feared. He was the antithesis to Dale Carnegie.

"It's been a long time since I've seen you with that goofy smile on your face... you haven't rediscovered the Wombles have you? Remember what I used to tell you, you'll only find them in Wimbledon Common." Noticing Darcy's vacant stare, Jenny gently shook his knee, causing Darcy to jerk his head up in surprise. As if he'd been sleeping, Darcy blinked rapidly, trying to hone in on the face in front of him. Slowly the fuzzy outline of Jenny, the chief flight attendant, came into focus.

Jenny chuckled softly, "I'm sorry. Was I interrupting something?"

"No, no...Sorry I was..." The normally articulate Darcy was lost for words; he could hardly divulge to his cabin crew that he wasn't listening to her because he was too busy daydreaming about his previously unknown eighteen-month-old son.

"Your trip to Japan went well, I take it?"

Darcy nodded, "Japan, yes."

"You must be tired. Shall I stick to questions that only require monosyllabic answers?" Jenny teased affectionately.

"Sorry, I'm just really looking forward to going home." Darcy unconsciously continued to rub at the notepad in his hands.

"You still have that thing? William, I would never have taken you for a hoarder," Jenny teased as she kept her eyes on the notepad. Darcy followed her gaze and blushed slightly.

"I'm not hoarding," Darcy defended, pulling the notepad further into his lap. "There's stuff in here I need to know."

Jenny tilted her head to the side and smiled up across at him affectionately, "Will, what else could you possibly fit in that thing? You used to put more annotations in that than an English student reading Dickens. I'm sure I've got a spare notepad in my bag if you're that desperate."

"No. No, I... you wouldn't understand; it's complicated."

"A notepad's complicated?"

Darcy threw Jenny an exhausted look and glanced at his watch, hoping she would get the hint, but she knew him better than that.

"Right, well we've got," she paused, flicking back the sleeve of her shirt so she could survey her watch, "ten hours. Will that be enough time?"

Darcy glanced back at Jenny, and to the exits on the plane. It was useless; he knew she wouldn't give in, and at 30,000 feet he didn't exactly have many places to which he could escape.

"We might be able to get through the basics," Darcy finally acquiesced.

"For a man of few words, ten hours is plenty," Jenny parked herself into the seat opposite Fitzwilliam and shuffled with the seat controls until she found the one she wanted- the massage. Closing her eyes for a second, she let out a soft sigh of contentment. "If my Patrick had given massages half as good as this, perhaps I'd have thought twice about divorcing him."

Darcy opened his deep brown eyes wide in amazement. He couldn't quite determine whether she was joking; that is, until a small smile crept across her face, and she opened one eye to look at him.

"Have you seen something you like?" Jenny began to laugh, and with that, so did Darcy. "Anyway enough about me. What's making the old iceberg melt?"

"Iceberg? I think that's a bit of an exag -"

"Only finish that sentence if you can do so without lying. You forget, Master William, I've worked for the Darcy family for fifteen years."

"I don't know what you are insinuating," Fitzwilliam bit back indignantly.

"Yes, you do. I've only known you to take three women on-board this plane and one of them was your sister."

"That sounds strangely perverse in some way. Can we leave Georgie out of this?"

"Why? She's had more women on here than you."

"Are you saying my sister is a lesbian?" Darcy rested forward on his knees, rubbing his stubbly chin with his hand.

"Ha! No, trust me your sister has brought plenty of men on-board, too." Jenny held her hand out, surveying her company standard Black Blue nail polish, a mischievous smile playing across her lips.

"What? Since when? Why is my little sister bringing men on here?" Darcy sputtered, his brown hair flopping into his face as a sweaty sheen glistened on his tanned forehead.

"Bigger picture here."

"That is a big picture; she's a child."

"She's a grown woman, but don't worry. It's nothing to go grey over. I locked the bedroom door, and she wouldn't get up to any funny business with me around."

Eyeing the other cabin crew as they huddled towards the front of the plane, Darcy folded his arms across his chest and brought one knee over his other. The pose was a defensive gesture, used for keeping people at a distance, but Jenny, who had served the adolescent Fitzwilliam Darcy, simply rested back in her chair, preparing herself.

Her level gaze stayed on him, watching him, waiting for him to crack.

"What?" Darcy snapped.

"Nothing...I was just wondering when you were going to tell me about Elizabeth."

Darcy spluttered, his mouth working like a fish, with no words coming out.

"Is she your girlfriend?"

Still Darcy said nothing. He'd suddenly lost the ability to complete sentences.

"Friend?"

"No! Well...yes" Darcy stuttered, pulling his hand through his hair.

"Your dog? Lover? Married socialite? Prostitute? Thai bride? School sweetheart? Oooo… is it unrequited love?"

"Enough… stop!" Darcy couldn't take anymore. "She's – she's so many things," Darcy breathed.

"Really? And none of the things I said? Hmmm!" Jenny tapped her chin thoughtfully, her mind devilishly working to come up with something else. "I've got it. Is she your-"

"My son's mother." Darcy shouted, causing the sleepy cabin crew to stir. "Elizabeth is my son's mother," he clarified softly, sinking back into his chair and raking his palm down his face.

The silence in the plane became deafening. Had he not just revealed his most intimate secret, he might have laughed at the look on Jenny's face. It was a mixture of shock, incomprehension and tears.

Testing the words again, Darcy repeated, "Elizabeth is my son's mother; William is my son." He began to laugh, repeating the words over and over. It felt good to say them out loud. It felt right to say them out loud. "Do you know I haven't told anyone about this?"

"And you chose to off-load this kind of publicity stunt on me?"

"Wait, what publicity stunt?"

"Am I the unlucky secret-bearer because I'm under contract with you?"

"Hang-on Jenny, I think you've got this wrong."

"Well, what was it, a one night stand? Drunken one night stand?"

"Are you judging me?"

"I thought you were better than that."

"I am better than that; Elizabeth is better than that."

"Obviously not. Have you had a paternity test?"

"I don't need one. Look, this is ridiculous; Elizabeth is Emily."

"Who's Emily?"

"Emily Benedict."

A look of confusion swept across Jenny's brow, her previous coolness dissipating. Jenny had been around through the whole Emily Benedict saga. She'd had to watch Darcy lose weight, grow an unseemly amount of facial hair and jaunt about the country chasing a pink unicorn. Until this moment, she'd always secretly believed, in some way, that Darcy had made Emily up in order to chase away the haunting idea of loneliness in your thirties; but now here she was, back again.

"I don't get it."

Darcy's eyes lit up. He grabbed Jenny's hand and pulled her closer. "I didn't either, but it's true. Elizabeth is Emily Benedict. Emily Benedict doesn't exist, Elizabeth does." With that, Darcy began to recount the whole Emily saga, omitting only the most intimate details about his relationship with Elizabeth – from the first day they'd met, when she had attached his lapel microphone, to the fruitless attempts he'd made at finding her, after she had left him in bed. He told Jenny everything, right up until the revelation of William's paternity.

"...and she hasn't returned any of my phone calls." Darcy finished, collapsing back into his chair. Noticing a tumbler of brandy next to his chair, Darcy necked it, savouring the burning sensation of the cool liquid as it hit the back of this throat.

Mirroring her employer's posture, Jenny flopped back into her seat, throwing her arm across her face, "That was..." pulling back the sleeve of her jacket Jenny surveyed her watch, "…that was a five hour soap opera. Why didn't you warn me your life was so complicated?"

"I'm glad my life is providing entertainment for you," Darcy bit back sarcastically.

"I'm glad you've finally got a life exciting enough to provide me some entertainment."

"Jennifer," Darcy's tone was tinged with anger, but his body was too exhausted to respond. He simply glared at her from under his thick eyelashes.

"You look just like your dad when you do that," the weary hostess twitched in her seat, pulling at the lapels on her jacket and fiddling with the hem of her skirt. "Do you want my opinion?"

"Am I going to get it even if I don't?"

Jenny nodded and grasped for his hand. Her sea-blue eyes searched his face for a minute before she spoke, and when she did, her voice was clear and unfaltering, "You should never have left the UK."

"Why not?" Darcy shot back defensively, trying in vain to pull his hand back from her iron grip. "I gave Lizzie the opportunity to come with me."

"What was it you said she does again? Events?"

Darcy nodded in silent affirmation.

"Well she can hardly move her job to Japan; that's a lot to ask," Jenny said sympathetically.

"She has a sister," Darcy retorted very matter-of-factly.

"She has a baby," Jenny said adopting Darcy's tone.

"Correction, we have a baby."

"Precisely."

A puzzled expression pulled Darcy's thick brown eyebrow's together. "What?"

"You have a son, Fitzwilliam. A baby boy. A baby boy who needs his father, not relocation to Japan."

"You know these things; they are only temporary."

"Says the original jet-setter. It's easy for you to pack up your things and temporarily relocate, but when you've got a baby, a business, and a family, it's not so easy to fit your life in a suitcase."

"I have a family," Darcy replied defensively, "and I'm here for business."

"We're getting off point here, my point was that you said Elizabeth gave birth – alone, set-up a company – as a single parent, and is raising a toddler – on her own. Do you not see the pattern here?"

Darcy stared at her blankly, the wind whistling between his ears. "She's a loner?"

Steeling her determination, Jenny gritted her teeth and snappily jumped forward and smacked Darcy around the head, ruffling his perfect mien.

"Ow! What was that—" Darcy rubbed the side of his head, nursing the wound.

"She's scared. She has done everything on her own for the past two years, and suddenly you come along, take her out of her comfort zone simply because you're gorgeous and her baby's daddy, and then you offer to take her and your son to Japan. From the sound of things, you two barely know each other; so why would she want to go to Japan where she has no-one to turn to?"

"Well...I guess, I never thought of it like that."

"That doesn't surprise me; you're a man," Jenny finished with a cheeky smile.

"Okay, so explain to me why hasn't she called me back? I've tried at least three times a day, every day, for the past two months, and she just doesn't call me back."

"Have you got the right number?"

"Yes, well...no, not at first, I typed her number in wrong."

"Typical, the woman you love gives you her number, and you go all thumbs and no fingers."

"Hold on a second, I tried to rectify the situation. I called Charles and asked him to get Elizabeth's number from her sister, Jane, but that number just keeps going to voicemail. Then I tried her work and she's always 'in a meeting,' and finally I called her house phone and have been leaving messages with her aunt, but still Elizabeth doesn't call me back."

Jenny quietly contemplated what William had said and just as he was about to fill the silence she cryptically said, "There seems to be a lot of people in that equation that isn't you and Elizabeth." Jenny proceeded to press her nose up against the plane's small window and looked out at the stars and the world below.

William waited for Jenny to turn back to him, he wanted her to clarify what she meant, but she didn't. Just as he went to speak, she stumbled to her feet and slipped on her comfortable pumps. "Well Mr Darcy, I better get a status report; we wouldn't want you to be late for a very important date."

Without stopping to make conversation, Jenny edged out from the seat opposite William and left him to go check with the captain. William stared after her, watching as all the cabin-crew jumped to attention, straightening their lapels and righting their cravats. He didn't want her to leave. As her boss, he wanted to demand that she come back and explain herself; but somehow, he felt that he was meant to figure this one out on his own. What equation?

William sat back and felt around his chair for the notepad again, thumbing through the well worn pages of the leather-bound book. He let his fingers guide him to the right page and under his breath he whispered, "I'm right here waiting for you."

Hi remember me...that terrible author who has kept you waiting for what seems like forever - sorry about that!

Personal life officially went down the toilet in September and that doesn't go hand-in-hand with writing, maybe if I was a more skilled writer it would be my muse, but sadly it was just depressing and I'm glad it's all over (kind-of) - bad things come in threes right...

On the plus side I managed a large event in Bath a month ago, whilst the Jane Austen Festival was on and I loved it - I would definitely recommend it!

Anyway, thank you for so much for reading this chapter, with everything that has happened I would really really wecome your comments (they would make my day) - coming next will be the picnic and I will try not to keep you waiting so long.

Thanks,

Titans123 x