Look who came back! I cannot promise to be regular (as some not-so-kind reviewers have pointed out - ouch!) but I do not plan to ever abandon this story, so please don't worry about that at least! I hope some of my dedicated readers are still around, please do drop me a line if you are, I would love to hear from you again. The story will go through a few time jumps now but we are estimated for around 40 chapters so we have just passed the halfway mark (as the end of this chapter will make clear). Enjoy, stay tuned, and remember: reviews always make the updates come faster!

"Well, Stanley," Cecelia Hart smiled and handed Dr. Stanley Lennox a cup of tea. "And where have you been hiding?"

"Nowhere, Cecelia," answered Stanley, smiling at his hostess. "You were away this week, not I."

"Yes, Timothy says you came to visit while I was gone," she stirred sugar into her tea and gave him a thoughtful look. "I hear you have been busy with some very important patients."

Stanley sipped his tea calmly. Cecelia told herself she was imagining how he seemed to avoid her eye. "Have I?"

"Do not pretend. Your landlady tells me you are always at Fitzwilliam House."

Stanley blinked and looked up at her in surprise, while Cecelia smiled in triumph. "Why would my landlady tell you where I am?"

"Because I went to visit yesterday and you were out," Cecelia waved away his protestations. "You know I have known her for years, and she thought perhaps you were courting someone, she was only curious. Of course, when she told me the address you were at, I realised that could hardly be true. Unless Diana has an acquaintance you are interested in, perhaps?" she asked, suddenly hopeful.

Stanley sighed. "Mrs. Fitzwilliam is the only lady currently in town who is with child, and is also a patient of mine. It stands to reason I would visit her more often than others."

"Certainly," said Cecelia, her enthusiasm significantly deflated. "She is well, then?"

"Very well. I am sure you can visit and ask after her health yourself, as well."

"No need. I will see her tomorrow night. It is Richard's brother's anniversary ball," said Cecelia. She set down her cup of tea and gave Stanley a smug look. This was the news she had been dying to deliver since he had walked in, after all. "Diana sent me an invitation."

Oblivious to her delight, Stanley helped himself to another slice of cake. "I am aware," he said. "I received one as well."

Cecelia blinked. "You did?"

He nodded. "With Lady Alexandra's card. I assumed it was out of politeness, but when I saw her a few days ago she made a point of reminding me that I was expected to attend."

"Did she?" Cecelia raised her eyebrows, not even attempting to hide her surprise. Her own invitation had arrived weeks prior, soon after the couple in question had returned early from their travels, with a hand-written note from Diana insisting upon her presence. Cecelia had, of course, informed various people of the exclusive honour immediately upon sending her acceptance. It had never even occurred to her that someone she was acquainted with would have received an invitation, and not told her of it. "Well, isn't that something?"

Stanley looked at her warningly. "I know what you are thinking, Cecelia."

"Do you?" Cecelia gave him an innocent smile. "Whatever could I be thinking, my dear boy?"

"It was you, Cecelia, not I, who said we must not judge Richard's family simply because of their higher station. Or are you forgetting the lecture you gave me when I first met Mrs. Fitzwilliam?"

"Of course not, Diana is a lovely girl and deserves all our love and praise. But I did assume the rest of the family would judge us," she shook her head. "Whoever heard of inviting one's doctor to a ball?"

Stanley shrugged. "People in the country do it all the time."

"We are not in the country, and you have not inherited a generations-old practice," reminded Cecelia. "Well, never mind that." She waved away the details; what use were they now? "I did say Diana would be good for that boy, did I not?"

"I do not see what she may have had to do with it," said Stanley. "Surely you and Timothy would have been invited to the ball regardless."

Cecelia snorted in a most un-ladylike fashion. "I have never received an invitation from the Fitzwilliam family, and Timothy has known Richard nearly a decade. A bachelor does not think of these things, Stanley, much less one like Richard, bless his heart. No, this was all Diana's doing. I tip my hat to her; she is very good at this."

"Perhaps," admitted Stanley, smiling slightly. "But I daresay she is good at everything."

As Stanley helped himself to more tea, Cecelia paused, her eyebrows raising in surprise. Stanley's voice was different; she had never heard that tone before, not from him. Of course, he spoke of many of his patients fondly; he often spoke of children with a great deal of affection; elderly patients were spoken of with respect; but women? Stanley rarely expressed an opinion on women; he either agreed or disagreed with whatever was being expressed, never anything more. He certainly never spoke of them in that tone. It was a tone that Cecelia knew well. She had heard it often enough.

It was the tone that young men, much younger than Stanley, used for women they admired.

Stanley was now smiling into his tea. What was he thinking? "How so?" Cecelia asked, her curiosity piqued even as she attempted to sound casual.

"Hmm?" he looked up, still smiling slightly, having quite forgotten what they had been talking about.

"You said Diana was good at everything," reminded Cecelia. "What did you mean by that?"

Stanley gave her a wry smile. "You won't ensnare me into gossip, Cecelia."

"I am merely curious about the family, since you have had the good fortune to meet them more than I have," Cecelia continued to smile innocuously. "Well?"

Stanley sighed. "She is a lovely woman," he said, and again she heard the distinct change in his tone that made her ears prick up. "She is handsome, as you well know, as we all knew from Richard's words over the years, of course. But she is so much more than that."

"Well, she is very clever," said Cecelia. "I never doubted her intelligence, of course."

"No, not just clever!" persisted Stanley. And again, she heard that tone in his voice. "She is so good, Cecelia. I have never met a woman who had so much, but was so kind. She pays attention to everything, puts such effort into every action and every word. Even the way she talks to her maid!" he almost laughed, as if recalling a memory that Cecelia was not, could not be, privy to. "A lady so fine, with such money and such status – what reason does she have to care so much about what her servants, or even her doctor, think of her?"

"Any decent human being should care, Stanley," said Cecelia, now unable to hide how taken aback she was by the fervour in his voice. "Surely her money does not make her an exception? Why, it was you who taught me that!"

"She is an exception to every rule, every thought I ever had," said Stanley, shaking his head determinedly. "I – All I can say is that Richard is a very lucky man."

"It would seem so," said Cecelia slowly. "I must say, Stanley, I have never heard you talk in such a way."

Stanley looked up from his tea immediately, his expression confused. Cecelia told herself she was imagining the look of guilt hidden in his eyes. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"The way you speak of Diana," said Cecelia. She could not control the concern that seeped into her tone. But this was Stanley. He would never be so untoward, and she could not risk offending him with an unfounded accusation. "It is… well, you seem to admire her very much."

Stanley immediately averted his gaze, and Cecelia bit her lip. He busied himself with his napkin as he spoke next, his tone colder than it had ever been with her before. "I assure you, my attentiveness towards her is the same as it would be towards any other patient."

"Of course!" said Cecelia, nodding vigorously. "And let us not forget –" she forced herself to laugh airily. "She is married to one of your closest friends! I would say that warrants more than your regular level of attention, Stanley."

Stanley nodded. "I have merely tried to help her, as any good physician would do. My personal feelings do not come into play when I am treating a patient, Cecelia, you know this."

Cecelia assured him that she did know this, offered him a fresh scone, and the conversation moved on to lighter topics. It was not until Stanley was climbing into the Harts' carriage to be driven home that he allowed himself to dwell on his conversation with Cecelia, and consider her reactions in more detail. Despite her flippant comments, Cecelia had seemed genuinely taken-aback at his tone when he had spoken of Diana. Stanley could not imagine why; he had said nothing wrong, he had merely said what he felt. Diana Fitzwilliam was a remarkable woman, and she did deserve all his respect and attention. But Cecelia had looked at him in shock, as if he were declaring his undying love for a married woman. The very idea was absurd. His interest in her was as a physician. And, as one of the very few people who knew her situation in detail, he had merely realised how much support she needed in the absence of her husband.

Her husband.

Stanley thought of Richard, the man he had befriended years ago, who had always been a constant, laughing presence in his life. There had never been a hint of melancholia in his behaviour, not in all the years Stanley had known him, even though he had been told that there was only one woman Richard could have ever been prevailed upon to marry. Stanley had thought nothing of it, until he had seen the two of them together for one evening. It all made sense now. How could Richard have married anyone else, when he had known what it was like to be loved by Diana Fitzwilliam?

It was an objective judgement, nothing more. Stanley was merely being a respectful friend, attempting to offer whatever comfort he could to the woman who made his friend so happy. There was simply nothing more to it.

There could not be anything more to it.

{ – }

"Careful!" warned Diana, as the three footmen struggled under the weight of the large chandelier. "If you break that, I'm afraid Lady Alexandra's grandmother will come back from the dead and haunt us all for the next decade."

"And if you do not sit down," said a voice behind her. "Mamma will haunt us all before she even departs this world."

"A gentleman would offer his arm before making smart comments," said Diana, without turning around. Chuckling, Henry stood next to her and willingly offered his arm, which Diana accepted. "How does it look?" she asked, gesturing to the ballroom. "The flowers are coming later this afternoon, but we've had the chandeliers polished just this morning."

"You have full control over the festivities," said Henry, looking around with only faint interest in his eyes. "Would it even matter what I thought?"

Diana huffed. "It is your anniversary celebration, you know, not just any festivities."

"It is indeed. Ten years of marriage," he mused, patting Diana's hand that was resting on his arm absently. "What do you think of that?"

"I call it a miracle that any woman has put up with you for so long."

Henry snorted. "Pardon me, I was looking for my sister-in-law; but I seem to have stumbled upon my brother's sense of humour instead."

Diana laughed. "I am sorry, Henry," she apologised, squeezing his arm. "I am tired. There is so much to do. We really did not expect you back for another month, you know."

"I could hardly let my niece or nephew be born in my absence," said Henry. "Besides, my wife lost all interest in me the second we received my father's letter. I know when I am beaten."

Diana smiled and rested her head against her brother-in-law's shoulder, still watching the household stuff scurry around the large ballroom and finish their duties. She knew Henry was truly uninterested in the ball that was to happen that evening, but that was just him; he had been the same way before his own wedding, always looking forward to the aftermath of the event rather than the celebration itself. The fact that he had voluntarily entered the ballroom before he was forced to told Diana that he had come in to check up on her, not the planning, and she was grateful for it. Emily had taken charge of her children again, as well as Georgiana and Anne de Bourgh; Diana still saw them, but she was not bound to attend every ball, or take callers with them every morning any longer. Instead, she had accepted the task of planning Henry and Emily's tenth anniversary ball, determined that it would be her last event in London.

A fact that she had yet to voice to her mother-in-law.

Sensing her fatigue, Henry finally escorted her to a chair. Diana smiled in thanks and watched him eagerly leave the room, her smile slipping off her face when she was alone again. Wincing, she leaned back in the chair and allowed her perfect posture to slump for a few seconds, inhaling deeply at the sharp pain at the base of her spine. She knew it was normal to have these aches and pains after standing for so long in less than comfortable shoes in her condition, but she could not repress the tingle of worry that shot through her at the feeling. Once again, she resisted the urge to send for Dr. Lennox. The poor man had already been summoned thrice that week, and was due to arrive at the ball that evening as well; she was determined to finally entertain him as a guest, and not a doctor.

Diana was relieved of her duties by the arrival of the housekeeper, who practically pushed her out of the room and instructed her to go lie down, assuring her she would supervise the rest of the day's preparations. Unable to feel anything but relief, Diana left the ballroom and ventured towards the parlour, intending to rest before climbing the stairs up to her room again. Inside, she found Emily having tea, reading a letter.

"Hello," she smiled brightly. "I did not think you would leave the ballroom before nightfall."

"I would not have, but Mrs. Edwards insisted," said Diana. She lowered herself into a chair and accepted a cup of tea gratefully, trying not to let her weariness show on her face. It was difficult, however, to hide it from Emily.

"You should have let me help you today," chastised Emily. "And I told you, Diana, neither Henry nor I are in the mood to celebrate. Not without Richard. We should have cancelled it altogether."

Diana tried not to wince at the mention of her husband's name. "Nonsense. You deserve to celebrate, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Besides –" she stopped herself before she could complete her sentence.

"Besides?" questioned Emily. "I can only help you if you tell me what is wrong, you know."

Diana sighed. "I would like to go back to the country," she admitted reluctantly. "I was delaying it, because I realised Georgiana needed some guidance, and Anne is certainly a handful. And since Elizabeth announced her pregnancy, I wouldn't be surprised if they decided to return to Pemberley before the season is out as well. I cannot imagine Darcy wanting his child born in London."

"My dear, if you would like me to take everything off your hands, you need only ask."

"I wanted to ask after the ball."

Emily laughed. "You could have cancelled the ball at the last minute and I'd still say yes! Of course, you must return, and the sooner the better. I will speak to Mamma and Pappa about it tomorrow."

Diana sighed with relief. "I confess, the thought of spending my confinement in London was making me uneasy."

"I understand," said Emily sympathetically. "Of course, you should go home where you feel more comfortable. We could even make arrangements for the doctor to come and stay closer to your confinement, if you prefer that."

Diana perked up immediately. "Dr. Lennox?"

"Mamma mentioned you liked him, and after everything that's happened…" Emily trailed off pointedly. "Well, it is unorthodox, but people do stranger things all the time. I am sure Dr. Lennox can be persuaded for the right price."

"If it was about money, I do not think he would have helped me to begin with," said Diana, shaking her head. "He is a good man, you know. Honest, and kind. He actually listens to me."

"Well, that settles it," Emily said with finality in her voice. "You must have everything you want, and then some. No niece or nephew of mine is going to be born with their mother feeling overwhelmed."

Diana smiled and sipped her tea. "You are too good to me, Emily."

"I only wish I could do more," said Emily. Diana waved away her words, but she persisted. "You are very calm, Diana. It must have been terrible for you, while I was away. I wonder at your composure."

"It is only London," Diana shrugged. "Lady Catherine was the worst of my problems, I assure you."

"That isn't what I meant," said Emily. She fixed Diana with a questioning look. "What about your mother?"

Diana's face froze. Slowly, she put her cup of tea down and folded her hands in her lap, clenching her fists tight enough that she felt her nails dig into the skin of her palms. Emily did not notice. Diana took a deep breath. "What about her?"

"You have said not one word about her since the day I arrived, not since you finally told me the truth of what happened. Nothing about what she did, or what she may be doing now. Wouldn't you like to talk about any of it?"

Emily's eyes were full of sympathy, and pity. Diana tried not to flinch. "There is nothing to talk about. She did something terrible. I fixed it. The earl fixed it. There is no need to discuss her, or even think about her, ever again."

Emily looked as though she would say more, but Diana did not want to give her the opportunity. She had gotten what she had wanted; she could leave London with her conscience clear. There was nothing else she wanted to think about. Not caring if she looked rude, she stood up abruptly and excused herself, and Emily let her go without a word. Aches and pains forgotten, Diana practically fled up to her room, closing the door securely behind her and heaving a sigh of relief. If she was expected to get through the ball that night, and make it through the rest of the week before she could realistically return to Matlock, the last thing she could spend her time and energy thinking about was her mother.

{ – }

"– and most importantly, to my newest sister," said Henry, and the sudden change in atmosphere as every eye in the room immediately flickered to Diana's face caused her to immediately force her lips up into a smile. "For organising this ball in under a week, at her own insistence, despite the difficult time we are all having in my brother's absence. Please join me in raising a glass to her, my brother, their future child, and my whole family."

Diana raised her own glass in unison as voices rang out around her, and tried to keep her smile from slipping. Next to her, Georgiana Darcy squeezed her hand reassuringly, and Emily gave her a sympathetic look from across the room. They were not alone; at least half the occupants of the Fitzwilliam ballroom were throwing her looks of pity, and Diana mustered up her – dwindling – strength to cross the wide expanse of the dancefloor, headed towards a small group of people that, to her relief, were merely smiling at her warmly.

"Thank you for coming." She squeezed Timothy's hand and gave Cecelia a hug. "I assure you, I needed to see your faces in the crowd tonight."

"Timothy may not like socialising, but he is fond enough of you to risk a chill," said Cecelia, while her husband merely grunted in response. But he still held Diana's hand, and it made her smile. "It was good of you to invite the Lennox boys as well."

"Oh, my mother-in-law loves the doctor, and I had a feeling we could only get Miss Mary to join us if Mr. Lennox was invited as well," said Diana, winking at the young woman in question, who blushed prettily. "Did you see Mrs. Crawford yet? Someone told me she is here but I cannot seem to find her."

"Go where the young men are gathering and you'll find her in the centre of it, holding court," snorted Timothy. Before Diana could giggle, his wife stepped on his foot. He winced. "Pardon me, my dear."

Diana tried to ignore the way her heart clenched when Cecelia gave her husband a smug smile and slipped a hand through his arm. Mary excused herself, seeing the Lennox brothers in the distance, and Diana followed her. While Mr. Lennox greeted her with all the warmth and familiarity she had expected, Dr. Lennox seemed slightly uncomfortable in his surroundings; he did not meet her eye when she greeted him, barely held her hand when she offered it, and spent more time staring at his shoes than joining in the short conversation she had with the group before she excused herself again. Ordinarily, Diana would have tried harder, but she did not have the time that day; besides, how many more times would she have to reassure Stanley Lennox that she was not the snob he seemed determined to think she was?

Fortunately, Elizabeth Darcy's arrival was a welcome distraction from her inner thoughts.

"It is a wonderful evening," smiled Elizabeth. "You are a success tonight, as always."

"Praise me all you want, dear, you are to be in charge of at least three debutantes once I depart at the end of the week."

"How exciting," said Elizabeth dryly, and Diana laughed. "Of course, we may not finish out the season after all. Circumstances have changed, as you know."

"Surely you do not need to return to Pemberley until your confinement?" asked Diana.

Elizabeth's lips thinned, showing her displeasure. "I do not, but William disagrees with the doctor. Apparently, my husband has a medical license I had no idea about."

"Oh, he is just worrying," said Diana. She linked her arm through Elizabeth's and led her around the room, smiling at a few familiar – not pitying – faces as they strolled the ballroom's edges. "If Georgiana is enjoying herself so far, you ought to take advantage of it. She will only get one first season."

Elizabeth sighed. "You know Georgiana would never disagree with him. He has not said it to her yet, but I would not be surprised if we were to pack up and depart before the month is over."

"What of your sisters?"

"Jane is here, and the Bingleys are more socially inclined than us anyway. They will be fine. It is Georgiana's prospects I worry about. I do not want people to think less of her because of me and my condition. She should have the perfect season, no matter how William and I feel about town."

"Miss Darcy's prospects are hardly to be ruined because her brother is overprotective of both his sister and his wife," laughed Diana. She squeezed Elizabeth's arm reassuringly. "Perhaps I ought to speak to him? One last favour to you before I leave?"

Elizabeth gave her a grateful smile. "Would you?"

"Of course. In fact, I advise bringing it up with Mamma as well, just to have another pushy Fitzwilliam woman on your side."

Elizabeth laughed again. As they neared the end of the ballroom, Diana spotted both Lady Alexandra and Mrs. Crawford standing on opposite sides of the large double-doors, engaged in conversation with two different groups. Just as she was waving over Mrs. Crawford, however, she heard the faint sound of crystal shattering. Wincing, she whirled around to see where the mess was, already scanning the crowd for a footman to sweep up the shards. Across the room, her eyes fell on Emily, who looked horrified, no doubt at the mess. But when she clapped a hand over her mouth and started pushing through the crowd, Diana's eyes followed her gaze to far side of the ballroom where, with glass smashed around his feet, Lord Fitzwilliam was leaning heavily against the wall, the two gentlemen around him calling for help in loud voices.

Her feet moved automatically, and she was barely aware of pushing people aside as she rushed towards her father-in-law. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she could hear the blood rushing through her ears. In front of her eyes, two footman appeared out of nowhere and helped the earl through a side-door, both Henry and Emily following behind them. Before she could catch up to them, however, she felt someone grab her arm, and whirled around to see who it was.

"Madam, I beg of you," said Dr. Lennox, his grip on her arm tight but not uncomfortable. "Please, slow down."

"I was –"

"Your father-in-law requires a physician," he said, his voice so calm and gentle that Diana felt her heart-rate return to normal in response. "I will go to him now. You should find Lady Alexandra and join us. Slowly," he added, letting go of her arm. "We do not need you requiring my services as well."

Despite herself, Diana nodded, and allowed Dr. Lennox to walk swiftly past her, exiting through the same doors the earl had been rushed through. Lady Alexandra, pale as a sheet, was standing next to her friends and conversing in low tones, a reassuring smile on her face that was painfully fake. Diana caught her eye across the room and gestured that she was going to leave; her mother-in-law gave a slight nod, indicating she would follow, and Diana finally allowed herself to sprint through the double doors.

When she burst into the study, Lord Fitzwilliam was lying on the divan in the corner, his eyes closed.

"What happened?" she demanded. From next to his father, Henry looked up at her, and his face was deathly pale. Diana felt sick.

"He is well, Mrs. Fitzwilliam," said a voice from next to her. It belonged to Dr. Lennox, who was calmly repacking his medical bag, and gave her a reassuring smile when she turned to face him. "Just some trouble with his heart. He is tired, but will be quite alright in the morning. I will return then, to check on him," he added to Henry, over Diana's shoulder. "For now, I believe he should rest."

"Rest? For what?" Lady Alexandra strode in through the open door behind Diana, her eyes wide and her face pale. "Henry, what is it?" Ignoring everyone else, she rushed to her husband's side and knelt by his head, stroking his hair gently. His eyes opened and he gave her a slightly wan smile, causing her to grasp his hand and kiss his fingers in response. Feeling like she was intruding, Diana looked away and gave Dr. Lennox a small smile. He did not smile back, but squeezed her hand as he left the room, and the strange look in his eye momentarily distracted her, and she watched him leave in slight confusion.

It was because of her distraction that she did not notice Emily slip a letter out of the earl's hand and shove it into her pocket.

{ – }

Lord Fitzwilliam reclined in the chair behind his desk, having gotten off the sofa as soon as the doctor had left the room. His wife and Diana had reluctantly returned to the guests, but Henry had refused to leave his father, and Emily had refused to leave her husband. The earl had barely argued. He was staring into the fire silently, while Henry paced the length of the study.

"What do we do?" he asked finally, turning to face his father. The earl did not move. Henry made a sound of annoyance in the back of his throat. "Father. Please."

Lord Fitzwilliam still did not answer.

Emily took a deep breath. "We do nothing," she said, and both men's gazes snapped to her face immediately. She did not falter. "Diana returns to Matlock at the end of the month. Pappa should go with her, for his health. Dr. Lennox can be persuaded to accompany them for the right price, I am sure. It will be good to have him alongside Dr. Davidson to attend to any necessary emergencies. I will stay here with Mamma until Lady Catherine and Anne return to Rosings. Henry should stay as well, in case there is more news from the war office. You can only write letters now," she added, addressing her father-in-law. "Better to do it from the country. But Diana cannot know. Not until we are sure."

"You want us to lie to her?" asked the earl finally.

"Yes," said Emily. "She is carrying a child, Pappa. Richard's child. Do you know what this news would do to her?"

"She is right," said Henry quietly. "We are not sure. If we tell her now, and we are wrong, but something happens to the baby –"

"He'd never forgive us," said Emily. "It is better this way. After everything that happened with her mother, she has nowhere else to go. She should be home."

"They could be wrong," repeated Henry, and the words were more of a prayer than a suggestion, they all knew it. Emily swallowed thickly, but nodded anyway.

"And what of this?" asked the earl suddenly. His hands, which had been clenched into fists in his lap, finally unfurled, and he tossed something onto his desk. It landed with a clatter that made the other two occupants of the room wince, neither of them making a move to retrieve it. They all knew what it was. Even in the dull, hastily lit candles scattered about the study, the ring glittered fiercely, shadows licking at the Fitzwilliam family crest engraved into it.

An engraving Richard had had done himself, before he had left.

"Hide it," said Emily. When neither man moved, she reached out and picked up the ring, hastily opening a drawer and shoving it in with the rest of the earl's papers. "We tell no one," she said, and her voice was so steady, so calm, that even she believed it was a reflection of how she really felt. "Until we are certain. Not Diana. Not Mamma. Not Darcy. No one."

Henry stared into the fire for what felt like hours, although it could not have been more than mere minutes; the ballroom rang out with music and laughter, and his head jerked when the music suddenly changed, indicating the end of a song. He looked up and caught Emily's eye, nodding silently.

The earl still said nothing.

Emily cleared her throat.

And then there was a knock on the door.

"Is everything alright?" It was Darcy. Emily flinched, but he was not looking at her. He was looking at the earl, brow furrowed in concern. "I apologise, I was not paying attention. Diana only just told me you had been taken ill."

There was silence for a beat, and then the earl stood up, wiping his hands on his trousers and giving Darcy a crooked smile that gave no indication that anything was wrong. "Not as young as I once was," he said, patting his chest. "The doctor advised rest, but I think I can make it to the ballroom for supper."

"Father, I think –" began Henry, but the earl was already leading Darcy out, his voice loud and firm, giving no indication that he had just suffered from an episode that, according to the doctor, would have put a lesser man on bed-rest for the foreseeable future.

The door clicked shut behind them, and then it was just Henry and Emily. She looked up and caught her husband's eye, registering his stoic face and bloodshot eyes. She blinked and held her hand out, and then Henry was grasping it with a fierceness he never had, resting his forehead against her shoulder as his own shook with sobs. Emily did not say a word. She rested her free hand against the back of her husband's head, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck soothingly. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to calm herself and him, but it was hard. When Henry finally looked at her, the haunted look was back in his eyes, and she knew nothing else she could say would make it go away. Not with the letter burning a hole in her pocket, containing the very words they had been dreading reading for months.

Major General Richard Anthony Fitzwilliam: missing in action.