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Part 10

Hannah Musgrove was not deaf or blind.

She'd met Frederick Wentworth three and a half years ago through a mutual friend, and even from the start she'd known that although he was going to be a difficult man to know and possibly even to love, he was going to turn out to be worth it. She'd been right. Frederick was never going to be one of those men who could easily talk about their feelings. Hell, she had trouble just getting Frederick to talk about his parents, and they'd been dead for twenty years. But over time, he'd opened up to her and she had felt that she knew him better than anyone.

There was one thing, however, that she had never been able to figure out. Hannah did not know what had happened to make Frederick so guarded with his heart. She'd heard the rumors about a possible relationship with Anne Elliot, just as the rest of the world had, but she'd dismissed them because she'd never seen any evidence of it. She'd told herself that a man like Frederick would safeguard any memento from a relationship that had so clearly impacted his life. If she couldn't find it, she thought, maybe there hadn't been someone else.

Try as she might, however, Hannah couldn't make herself believe that. There was too much evidence to the contrary. Frederick hadn't wanted to go out with her in the beginning. He didn't like talking about past girlfriends. And even though she was certain she knew him better than anyone, even though she knew he loved her very much, deep down inside she knew that there was someone else, someone he would probably always love more.

The one that got away. I always wondered if that cliché held any truth to it.

It wasn't until she'd read his vehement denial in International Figure Skating, followed a month later by Anne's equally passionate one, that she'd realized the truth. For all his protestations to the contrary, Anne Elliot had been the woman he'd loved long ago, the one who'd hurt him so much so that he hated her now.

Or at least, he thought he did. Most women would've assumed that based on the way he talked about her, but Hannah Musgrove was nobody's fool. She knew her boyfriend very well, and she knew that even after all these years, even after whatever Anne had done to break his heart, he still carried a torch for her. Hate and love were two sides of the same coin in Hannah's opinion, because each emotion carried strong baggage with it.

It was the possibility that his hatred might change back into love that had driven Hannah to change her mind about joining him on the tour, at least for a few days. She had thought she might have more time before she'd be forced to fly to America, but one phone call had altered that misconception. Although Frederick hadn't wanted to talk about Anne over the telephone call, what she'd heard in his voice was enough for her. The tour hadn't even started and he was already obsessing with her.

Hannah had never thought herself to be the jealous sort, but when he'd abruptly cut off their telephone call, she'd felt jealousy for the first time in almost four years. It was bad enough that Anne Elliot was the reason Frederick might never completely trust her with everything inside of him. Hannah didn't need the real-life Anne making Frederick fall in love with her all over again. Hannah had worked too hard and loved Frederick too long to lose him now.

"I wish you'd told me you were coming," Frederick was now saying, clearly annoyed but trying not to show it. Hannah had seen him holding Anne's hand when she'd walked up to their table. Looked like I was just in time, she thought cynically.

"That would've ruined the surprise, now wouldn't it?" Hannah smiled, hoping that he wouldn't start thinking she'd come out of jealousy. She sat in the seat recently occupied by Anne.

"I suppose it would have. How long are you here? A couple of days? A week or two?"

"I'm here for the duration." Hannah smiled.

Frederick frowned. "The duration? What about your job? You weren't sacked, were you?"

"No, I wasn't sacked. I quit."

"But I thought you liked your job?"

"Darling, you know how much I complained about it! Aren't you happy to see me? Aren't you glad I decided to come along with you after all?"

"Of course I'm glad...I just wasn't expecting you," Frederick admitted, a sheepish grin on his face. "I guess you're wondering what was going on with Anne."

It was on the tip of Hannah's tongue to demand to know what was going on, but her mind was faster than that, for once. "She looked as though she'd had a bit of a shock," she said instead. "Did a family member die?"

"Not exactly." Frederick sighed. "I know you've figured out that Anne and I were seeing each other while she was in London several years ago."

Seeing each other? Was that how he was going to play this? "I'd heard the rumors," she replied, "and went from there."

"I don't really like talking about it. It's always been my opinion that the past is the past and should be left there."

"But whatever happened with Anne is so much a part of who you are," Hannah was quick to say. "I mean, I understand that you don't want to talk about it, but all the same, I'd like to hear it."

"The problem is, I didn't find out until today exactly what happened. I thought she'd...and then I found out that it was..."

Hannah was grateful she'd put her hands under the table so he couldn't see that she'd balled them up. He was either going to tell her the whole thing or she'd kill him!

"Take your time," she said, somehow refraining from gritting her teeth. "I want to be sure I get the whole story."

"That's just it. I'm not sure I even know the whole story now. Apparently, she was writing me often and I was writing her and her coach was stealing both our letters, so I thought she wasn't writing me and she thought the same about me. Then I thought she was using me because she wrote this horrible Dear Frederick letter that did get sent to me, and...."

From going at snail's pace, he was now talking faster than the speed of sound. And none of it was making sense. "Frederick!" she snapped, her patience at an end.

He blinked as though he'd been hypnotized. "What?"

"What...exactly...happened?" she asked.

"Anne and I were seeing each other," he said. "She had return to her home here in the States, and we promised to write each other. Neither of us received a letter for a year. Then finally I did, from her, and it was horrible. Only she never meant to send it. Her coach sent it. Her coach stole our letters to each other to make us think the other didn't care. And we only figured this out today."

And if that was all that had really happened, Hannah would eat her brand-new three hundred pound shoes. "What are you intending to do about it?" she asked.

"About what?"

"About Anne and whatever it was you found out today."

Frederick hesitated. "I don't know that I intend to do anything," he admitted. "I haven't had much of a chance to let it sink in. I just found out about this two hours ago."

Hannah wasn't religious, but she was getting on her hands and knees at the first church she could find to thank God she'd decided to fly over. "Why didn't you tell me about this before?" she asked. The moment the words were out of her mouth, she wished she could take them back. Those words, more than any others she'd spoken, made her sound jealous. That was the last thing she'd wanted.

Frederick just shrugged, however. "It never seemed worth talking about. It was bad history, and you know how I feel about that."

"The past is the past and should be left there," Hannah mumbled.

Frederick stared at her for a minute. "You're jealous!" he exclaimed, incredulous.

"No. No, I'm not. I'm not jealous in the slightest. Just because there was an absolutely stunning young woman sitting at this table with you not ten minutes ago, holding your hand, doesn't mean I'm jealous."

"She'd just found out that her coach, the person she'd trusted more than anyone since her mother died, had lied to her all this time. She was devastated. That's why we were talking."

"I believe you." Almost.

"You have no reason to be jealous of Anne, Hannah. She and I are both aware that it's too late to go back. There's been too much time passed. We're different people than we were then, and there's too much regret. I don't think we'll ever be comfortable enough with each other to be friends, even."

Hannah seriously doubted this, but didn't say it.

"Please, Hannah. I don't want to lose you over something that happened in the past. Just look at Anne as an ex-girlfriend and nothing more. I'm not going to leave you for her, I promise."

Hannah wished she could believe it, but she knew that Anne Elliot was, in Frederick Wentworth's book, unfinished business.

Despite the fact that Bridget Elena Sullivan was five months old, Georgiana remained in awe of her daughter. The fact that this tiny creature was actually her child, that she'd brought her into this world, that she'd created this life, amazed her. Georgiana loved her daughter with a fierceness she'd never known she had.

This did not mean, however, that Bridget Elena Sullivan didn't, on occasion, drive her mother absolutely batty. Although Bridget was a happy child----something Georgiana had no doubt she'd inherited from her father----she was just as fussy at times as the next baby. And tonight was one of those times when rocking, singing, cooing, and cuddling didn't seem to work.

That left one option open to her, and that was to take Bridget to the one place that was guaranteed to soothe her, and that was outside. Strange as it had been to Georgiana, she'd stumbled onto this solution one night when Bridget had screamed well into the night. Georgiana had thought maybe a car ride would do the trick, but the moment she got Bridget outside, she'd stopped crying. Within twenty minutes, she was asleep and Georgiana had realized that the outdoors, for whatever reason, helped her daughter to sleep.

She didn't act foolishly----Bridget was bundled up so tightly it was a wonder she even knew she was outside----and she only did it as a last resort. And she had to actually go outside. She'd tried opening a window one night, but her daughter wasn't fooled. She knew she was still inside.

The only problem with a tour, she realized, was that there was no "outside" for Bridget to enjoy. Georgiana wasn't about to troll about the streets of New York City until her daughter stopped crying. She wandered downstairs, thinking maybe she could get to the front door and have the protection of the doorman until Bridget calmed down. She'd reached the front door when it suddenly opened. She gasped aloud, which was probably muffled due to Bridget.

"Carl!" she exclaimed.

Carl Denny smiled at her. "Hello, Georgiana," he said.

"Uh, hi. What are you doing still up?"

"Couldn't sleep. It happens sometimes when I'm on the road. I usually just go for a walk and enjoy the air for a bit and then return to bed." Carl looked at her, then at Bridget, then back to her. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing. She just gets this way sometimes. It's usually best if I take her outside for a little bit, so could you get the door for me?"

"Where are you planning on taking her?"

"Just outside. Something about the outdoors calms her down. In twenty minutes, she'll be asleep. You wouldn't believe it."

Carl stepped aside so she could go outside, but rather than continue into the hotel, he joined her. He was surprised to find that Georgiana was right, because within minutes Bridget had stopped crying.

"You were right," Carl said. "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it. Would it be all right if I held her or would that wake her up?"

Georgiana smiled. "I think we can risk it." She walked over to him and gently laid Bridget in his arms. The baby stirred slightly but did not start crying again.

Carl held her tightly at first, fearful that he would drop her, but he soon relaxed. "She truly is a miracle."

"I think she is." Georgiana looked out at the street, watching cars passing by. "Carl, I know this may sound horrible, and it's nothing I would ever say if Charlotte were around, but thank you."

He looked startled. "Thanks for what?"

"For that afternoon. For...helping me through a difficult situation. For giving me my first real kiss. And mostly, thank you for Bridget. If I have a hundred regrets about that afternoon, they all go away when I think about her. She's my greatest achievement in life, and I wouldn't have her if not for you. So thank you."

"I...I don't know what to say, Georgiana."

"As long as it isn't 'my pleasure,' you should do fine."

Carl chuckled. "I won't say that. I'll say you're welcome instead."

"That should work."

Carl looked down at Bridget, whose closed eyes and even breathing told him she was sleeping. "I think she's out for the night," he said.

"Good. Mission accomplished."

Carl looked down at Bridget again. "Fitz doesn't know the truth, does he?" he asked.

Georgiana shook her head. "You probably wouldn't be walking if he knew, although to be truthful, I wonder if he suspects something sometimes. He'll look at Bridget with this gleam in his eye, as though something's off and he can't quite figure it out. For everyone's sake, I hope he never does."

"You know, Georgiana, we've never talked about...about..." Carl wasn't sure how to bring this up. It wasn't something he'd mentioned to Charlotte because he hadn't been sure he would ever say anything to Georgiana, but holding Bridget in his arms made him realize just how much he wanted to be a part of this little girl's life. "We've never talked about what we're going to tell her as she gets older."

Georgiana stilled, because she knew where this question was going to lead. She'd been afraid of this question ever since she'd confessed that Bridget was his child and not Bret's. She had to fight to overcome the urge to snatch Bridget out of his arms and inform him that she was her daughter, she had a husband already and she didn't need any more problems than she already had.

Carl is a good friend of yours, remember? He's a friend of your brother's. You're good friends with his wife. And above all else, you liked him enough to sleep with him.

"What do you think she should be told?" she asked hesitantly.

Carl hadn't anticipated that question. "I don't know. That's why I asked you."

"Does she need to be told anything?"

Carl felt something like disappointment...and a growing sense of fear. "Georgiana, I don't want to be shut out of my child's life."

Georgiana turned away from him before he saw her eyes filling with tears. She knew what had happened to his parents when he'd been a child, and she knew how much he wanted a family of his own. "I know," she said brokenly.

"I don't see what's wrong. Do you really have such a problem with Fitz finding out you're human? Or is it that you lied to him that bothers you?"

"I don't know, I don't know, I just..." Georgiana crossed her arms over her chest. "Bret's name is on Bridget's birth certificate."

Carl felt the blow as if she'd delivered it physically. He clutched Bridget a little tighter, which caused her to fuss slightly but not awaken. "Why?"

"He's my husband. If I'd put your name on it, someone would've blabbed and then everyone would've known. The press. Our families. I didn't know at the time that Charlotte already knew. I thought I was protecting her...and you. And I was protecting Bridget at the same time. Something like this would've followed her all through her life. She would be known to everyone as our 'love child.' I didn't want that for her. I still don't."

Carl sighed. "I can understand that," he admitted.

"I guess I just figured she'd grow up thinking that Bret was her father and you'd be her mother's good friend. I didn't even know if you would take much of an interest in her."

"She's my daughter."

"I know that. But...what with Charlotte and all, I didn't know. What do you think should happen? What should we say to her?"

"I think that maybe, when she's old enough to understand, we should tell her the truth."

Georgiana turned back to face him. "And what age would that be? When she's very young and doesn't have enough discretion to keep the news to herself? Or when she's older and she's gotten used to calling Bret 'Daddy' and the news that he's not actually her father could shatter her life?"

"I think we should be up front with her from the beginning. When she gets old enough to ask the questions, tell her that we were together before you met Bret. That's how people deal with these situations. This way, Bridget grows up knowing I'm her real father."

Georgiana knew they were skirting the real issue, so she decided to bring it up. "What about visiting her? How do you plan to do that, seeing as Bret and I live in St. Louis and you live in Seattle?"

Carl started feeling defensive. "Why am I getting the feeling that you'd prefer it if I didn't want anything to do with Bridget?"

"It would make things easier for everyone in the long run." Georgiana gasped as soon as the words were out, regretting them. But even though she hadn't wanted to say them, she meant them just the same.

Carl once again looked at Bridget, sleeping peacefully in his arms. He'd only known about her for a couple of months, and this was only the second time he'd seen her, but he already he loved her a great deal. He couldn't turn his back on her, no matter how much it might make things easier for them both.

"I can't do that, and you know it."

"I know." Georgiana sniffled. "I just don't see any other way. I don't want to fight you, Carl. You're a wonderful friend and maybe if I hadn't married Bret, I'd have no problem with telling Bridget you're her father and letting you see her. But I did marry him. He's been there for me and he's her father."

"Having his name on the birth certificate doesn't make Bret Sullivan her father," Carl said heatedly.

"Half an hour of drunken passion doesn't exactly make you her father, either," Georgiana snapped, tears falling. A moment later, she continued. "I'm sorry, Carl. I don't want this to happen to us. I want us to stay friends, as best we can."

He walked over to Georgiana and gently placed Bridget in her arms. "I don't want this to come between our friendship, either."

"Does Charlotte know you're wanting this? To be part of Bridget's life?"

Carl didn't want to tell her the truth, but he knew he had to. "No, she doesn't," he said. "And before you say anything, I am aware of the fact that she would probably be a little hurt if she knew. I was hoping to reach some sort of agreement with you before I talked to her about it. What about Bret? What's his opinion?"

"He thinks it would be good for Bridget to have you in her life."

"Your husband's a smart man. Why aren't you listening to him?"

Georgiana gave him a dirty look. "Because there are too many uncertainties about the whole thing. If the press gets wind of it..." He looked so dejected that Georgiana didn't finish. "Look. We've got the entire summer to figure out what would be the best solution to this. We don't have to decide anything tonight, right?"

"Right."

"Okay, then. You talk it over with Charlotte, ask her what she thinks. I want you to know that I am listening to Bret, despite the fact that I think it would be best if you did fade to the background and be a special uncle or something. I'm not being stubborn just out of contrariness."

"I know. We're two civilized adults. Surely we can come to some sort of agreement that will make everyone happy."

"I hope you're right," Georgiana said quietly, fearing that he might not be.

Part 11

The skaters performed their second show the following afternoon, and by early evening, everything and everyone was loaded onto the tour bus and heading for Boston. A minivan being driven by Bret Sullivan followed close behind, the other occupants of the vehicle being his daughter, Amy Lucas, and a disappointed, reluctant Hannah Musgrove. Hannah had tried to get a seat on the bus, but with equipment, personal belongings, and skaters packed in like sardines, there wasn't enough room for her. She had to settle for riding along with the others, eyeing the bus they were following with ill-disguised longing. She tried to keep from wondering what Frederick was doing, and if Anne was with him. She told herself that he'd promised he wouldn't leave her for Anne. It was the only thing that kept her sane.

Hannah wished she could join in the conversation that was taking place between Amy and Bret, but they were talking about Bret's book and Hannah had little interest in that subject. The last book she'd read was Pride and Prejudice, and that was only for a college course. The book had bored her, quite frankly. All that sitting around, drinking tea and not doing anything! If she'd been Elizabeth, she would've been all over that handsome Mr. Darcy regardless of what he'd said. Men like him didn't come around often. Women could go to war for men like him. It had never seemed to fair to Hannah that Elizabeth did nothing and won the man in the end while poor Caroline Bingley, who had done everything she could short of throwing herself at the man to win his affections, ended up alone.

Still, as the conversation continued, Hannah started to feel left out. She found herself to be pathetically grateful that they finally changed the subject to something she could talk with them about.

"Georgiana looked pretty good out there today," Bret was saying. "She's been so nervous about joining this tour. She wasn't sure if she was ready to start skating again after almost a year away and worried that she was coming back too soon from the birth. It's good that she's doing well and getting over her fears."

"Rich said he's thinking of changing the music of his program. He doesn't think it's appropriate anymore," Amy replied. "I told him he was being silly, that the song was good and the program was terrific. I think I've convinced him not to change."

"Why would he change his program if it's that good?" Hannah asked.

Amy turned to look at her. "Well, because the song's about a man who doesn't have anyone, and Rich...has someone now."

"Oh, I see." Hannah wasn't quite sure she did, since as far as she knew Amy and Rich were a couple. She didn't know how recently they'd gotten together. "Frederick looked wonderful out there."

"Yes, he did," Amy agreed. "The music suits him well. I could almost see him as Rick Blaine when he skated."

"It's too bad not everyone could've done as well as he did," Hannah said, hoping she didn't sound too catty. "I mean, I know how much pressure there is on them to do well since they're getting paid so much."

"I don't know what was up with Carl tonight," Amy replied. "He just looked a bit off. I thought it might've been a late night with Charlotte, but she skated well."

"Marc Gercourt's going through a hard time," Bret said. "According to Georgiana, being around his former lover, the man he still loves, isn't easy. Especially when said lover is doing his best to make him jealous by flirting with everyone. You know, three years ago, I interviewed Marc. At first I thought he was an arrogant jerk, but once he got more comfortable, he turned out to be a pretty nice guy. Arthur's the real jerk."

"What do you suppose is wrong with Anne Elliot?" Hannah mused, as though she were just thinking of others who hadn't done as well as their significant others. "If, as you suppose, the problem is personal and not mechanical."

"I don't know," Amy said. "Charlotte says that Anne's the sort of girl that everyone likes when they see her, but the moment she's gone no one remembers her. She's very shy and unassuming."

"With a family like hers, it'd be no wonder if she did have problems," Bret added. "When I was first starting out at the Tribune, I had the misfortune of having to interview her older sister, who was a top skater at the time. Mr. Elliot was hovering over Alyssa's shoulder the whole time, allowing her to answer only certain questions and yelling at me when I asked others. I was surprised that I didn't get a literal boot in the butt on my way out the door."

"What questions didn't they want you to ask?" Amy asked.

"The big no-no was about the rumors I'd heard, the ones where she was behind..." Bret looked into the rear view mirror before turning his attention back to the road. "Well, I'd heard that she made her father drop Anne. I didn't even get Anne's name out before the father...what's his name? Wallace, Wallingford...Walter, that's it. Walter said that I wasn't doing an article about Anne, I was doing an article about Alyssa and there would be no mention of 'that girl' in the article. Later on, I asked about Alyssa's work ethic, because she didn't have one, and that was the question that ended the interview. My editor was thrilled when I turned in my story, because I didn't hesitate to put in the things she didn't want mentioned."

"Served her right, I would say." Amy opened up a bottle of Sprite and took a drink.

Bret looked into the rear view mirror again. "How's my baby doing back there?" he asked.

Hannah, uncertain if he was talking to her or to Amy, looked at the baby sleeping peacefully beside her. "She's doing fine," she told him.

"Good. I was afraid that she wouldn't sleep tonight. She slept most of the afternoon. If she gets to fussing too much, we're going to have to stop so one of you can take over the driving while I handle her."

Hannah looked horrified. "I can't drive this vehicle."

Amy turned around to look at her, frowning. "Why not? That was part of the agreement, that each of us takes a turn driving so one person didn't have to do it all."

"But didn't Frederick tell you? I can't. I don't have a license to drive here in America. I don't even know if I could drive on the other side of the road and I would be forever trying to climb into the passenger side to drive. Frederick didn't tell me that was part of the deal." And she intended to wring his neck for not telling her as soon as they reached the first stop. She thought quickly. "But I could take care of the baby when you're driving, Bret. And if you would prefer, I could pay for dinner for the both of you every couple of days. I'm so sorry, but I don't know what Frederick told you I could do."

"It's okay," Bret said. "Don't worry about it. Watching over my rugrat will be good enough. Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Oh, sure. My sister Lucinda's got three children and I used to baby-sit for them all the time."

"And the occasional dinner will work for me," Amy agreed. "Not all the time, because that would get expensive."

Hannah felt a sense of relief. She'd been afraid she was about to get kicked off the minivan, and then what would she do?

"You're looking far too relieved at that," Bret said. "Don't worry. We weren't going to kick you to the curb while we're going sixty-five miles an hour."

"Oh, I know, but...I confess, I was worried."

Hannah sensed that the conversation was starting to die out, and she wasn't ready to do that. She had been hoping to get to know these two better, because like her, they were outsiders on this tour.

"So, why did the two of you decide to come along?" she asked. "If you don't mind my asking."

"Here to support Rich, that sort of thing," Amy said. "The same reason you've come along, I suspect."

"Frederick told us you'd always wanted to visit America but had never had an excuse to go," Bret said.

Frederick Wentworth, you're a dead man. "Yes, I did," she replied. "I thought I would be all right without him for four months, but after a couple of days I realized that I couldn't do it. Always before, when he'd go on a trip, I knew he would be back shortly. This time, it was going to be four months. This might sound silly, but it got to be the only thought I had. I feared beautiful American girls turning his head and making him love them...silly, isn't it?"

"Not necessarily," Amy said cryptically, but she didn't elaborate.

"What about you, Bret? Why are you here?"

"I came in part to help take care of Bridget, and in part to give Georgiana moral support, and in big part so that I could see America and make some notes for a book I'm thinking of writing. That would make part of the trip deductible."

Amy laughed. "You actually have to write the book, though."

"Yeah, I know."

A silence fell over the car, a silence that Hannah found oddly comforting. She decided she'd had enough talking for the moment, and a thought occurred to her. Even though she was an outsider to the skating world, she was an outsider among the outsiders. Bret and Amy were telling the truth----they had come to give support to their respective mates. Hannah was there out of jealousy, but it wasn't jealousy of American girls in general but rather one in particular.

Without conversation to distract her, Hannah's eyes soon started keeping watch on the back of the bus they were following. She wondered what was going on inside of it, wishing she could be there instead of where she was.

Hannah would've been relieved to know that nothing of great importance was going on at the moment. Frederick was seated near the back, talking to Rich. Anne was at the front, sitting in a group that included Lizzy and Charlotte and their husbands, not paying much attention to what was going on.

Anne watched as the towns sped by, trying not to think of the few feet that separated her from Frederick. As far as she was concerned, the distance might as well have been the ocean that had separated them for the last eight years.

Had she had the opportunity, Anne would've reassured Hannah Musgrove that she had no interest in stealing her boyfriend away from her. That sort of thing had never been her style and never would be. She'd suffered a heartbreak of her own, a heartbreak bad enough to know that she could never willingly do it to someone else.

But when she thought of what had been stolen from her, and from Frederick, it made her want to weep. She had wept for a while in her room after Hannah had made her unexpected appearance in the hotel bar. Anne wanted to get on the phone to Susan again so she could continue to vent her frustration, but it wouldn't do any good. Susan would continue to think she did the right thing. What scared Anne was that she might try to talk her into forgiving her, and that was something Anne didn't want to do----not for a long time, anyway.

Anne closed her eyes, hoping to get a short nap in. She knew she hadn't skated well today, knew it was due to the fact that she'd been unable to sleep last night, and feared that if she continued to skate poorly, she would be asked to leave the tour altogether. That would be embarrassing.

But the same images that had chased her in the night followed her now, tormenting her with dreams of what might have been, if only...

If only Susan hadn't lied to her. If only Susan had trusted her judgment. If only she had gotten up enough courage to fly to England and find out why he'd never written her. If only Alyssa hadn't shown up. If only...

Anne mentally shook herself. There's no point in going over the past. There's nothing that can be done now.

If thoughts about Susan's betrayal hadn't kept her up, the image of Hannah Musgrove with her arms around Frederick would have done just as well. Anne had taken one last look at them before she'd left the bar, long enough to see Frederick help Hannah to a seat and then to see her take his hand.

I used to be the one he would hold a seat out for. I used to be the one whose hand he held.

Frederick had said that they might be able to start over again. At least, he had tried to say it before Hannah had shown up. Anne had forgotten that he had a girlfriend----not just a girlfriend, but a long-term girlfriend. He'd been with Hannah for quite a while.

Anne didn't know Hannah. She didn't know why the young woman had decided to come along, why she'd been so upset at not getting a seat on the bus. Anne had been tempted to offer hers, just so she would have a little quiet. But in the end, Lizzy and Charlotte had refused to let that happen, dragging Anne onto the bus just as she was on the verge of making the suggestion. Hannah was now with Bret Sullivan and Amy Lucas, in the minivan following them.

Anne got the feeling, however, that Hannah would not like the idea of Anne and Frederick renewing their friendship. Again, not that she knew her at all, but if their roles were reversed, Anne knew she wouldn't like it.

Anne squeezed her eyes shut, thinking maybe that would work. And at long last, she fell into something resembling sleep.

The bus made a stop so everyone could stretch their feet and take care of personal business. Fitz took the opportunity to catch up with Georgiana, who had been looking behind her for most of the trip with worried eyes.

Georgiana was buying herself a bottle of water in the gift shop.

"Georgie...I wanted to talk to you," he said.

Georgiana flinched. "Yes?"

Fitz frowned. "What's wrong? Why have you been on edge all day today?"

"I skated well, didn't I? That's all that really matters." Georgiana paid for the water and walked out of the store. The night air was a little cooler than she had dressed for, and she shivered.

"I'm not talking about your skating. Dammit, I'm your brother. I'm worried about you, and you've been looking over your shoulder for the whole trip up to this point. If something's going on between you and Bret, then..."

"Then that would be between us."

"I care about you," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I love you. Before Lizzy, you were the only thing other than skating that meant anything to me. If something is bothering you...don't shut me out. Please. Tell me what's wrong."

Georgiana blinked back tears. "I can't. Just believe me when I tell you that it's not a problem with Bret. My marriage is fine. It's...something else altogether."

"Does Bret know about this, at least?"

Georgiana shook her head. "Not yet, but he will."

"Is something wrong with you physically? Are you sick? Is it..."

"No. It's not me, either. It's..." She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, he could see the regret written there. Whatever it was, it was practically torturing her.

"Would you tell Lizzy?" he asked.

Georgiana looked at him, as if to say that she knew better. "If I did, I would swear her to secrecy and she wouldn't be able to tell you. Since I don't want my problems to create problems in your marriage, I think it would be just as well if I don't tell Lizzy."

Fitz was starting to panic. It used to be that she would tell Lizzy everything, up until the time she got married. Now she didn't want to tell Lizzy something? It had to be about her marriage, because she wouldn't hesitate otherwise.

He thought quickly and came up with another name. "What about Charlotte?" he asked. "Could you talk to her? I swear, I wouldn't ask her what you two talked about. Word of honor."

Georgiana was thoughtful. "That's an idea," she said slowly. "I can talk to Charlotte."

"There you go, then. Talk to Charlotte."

Georgiana looked at him. "Why are you encouraging me to talk to someone who isn't going to talk to you?"

"Because if you can't confide in me and you won't confide in Lizzy, I'm content knowing that you're going to tell someone your troubles. As long as you've got someone to talk to, I'll be okay because I know you'll be getting good advice."

Georgiana reached up and kissed him on the cheek. "I don't deserve you as a brother," she said quietly.

"Yes, you do. Everyone deserves me as a brother." Fitz winked at her, and a ghost of a smile appeared on Georgiana's face. He looked around to see where Charlotte had disappeared to, and found her talking with Lizzy beside the bus. "I think, if you ask her, she might have a free minute. Carl's with Rich and Frederick, talking baseball."

"Okay." Georgiana made a beeline for Charlotte. Fitz breathed a small sigh of relief.

Georgiana's request for a private talk took Charlotte by surprise, but she could see that something was bothering the younger woman. The bus driver warned them that the bus was pulling out in fifteen minutes. Georgiana reassured him that they would be back before then.

"Talk to me, my child," Charlotte quipped. "I will absolve all of your sins."

Georgiana almost smiled. "You already did that back in January," she said. "I hope."

"I did."

Georgiana took a deep breath. "I needed to talk to you about Bridget."

Charlotte stilled. Of all the topics she'd expected to listen to, Bridget was the last one she expected. "Okay," she said slowly. "What about Bridget?"

"Look, I know that my being here is probably not what you really wanted, and that Bridget is...an uncomfortable topic for you. But Carl..."

Charlotte went cold. "What about Carl?"

"He told me...that he wants to see her sometimes."

Charlotte was silent for a bit. She wasn't sure she'd heard correctly, but obviously she had. "He does?" she whispered.

Georgiana nodded. "He told me last night."

"Wait a minute...when did you two see each other last night?"

Georgiana paled. She looked down at the ground almost guiltily. "It wasn't an assignation or anything like that," she said. "I was at the front door of the hotel trying to get Bridget to sleep when Carl showed up. We were talking and then he asked me what we were going to tell her when she got older and started to ask questions."

"What questions?"

"I don't really know. I figured that as long as Bridget thought Bret was her father, there wouldn't need to be any questions asked. But I didn't think about Carl. He's her father, and he wants to see her. Only I don't know how to acknowledge him as her father without the world finding out about it."

"So the questions he's referring to would only arise if he were to pursue visitation rights."

"It's not so much about the questions, Charlotte. It's that I don't know what to do about this. Part of me says that it isn't fair to keep him away from Bridget, but another part of me thinks the best thing to do would be to have him remain a good friend or a godfather-type figure in her life, and nothing more."

A tight band formed around Charlotte's chest. She was trying to breathe deep but was finding it difficult. This shouldn't hurt, really it shouldn't, but it did. Her worst fears were coming to the surface, the worries she hadn't been able to admit to Lizzy in the bathroom the other day. She'd known, deep in her heart, that Carl wasn't about to abandon a child he'd fathered. He'd lost his family at a young age and had looked forward to having a large family of his own.

Despite that, Charlotte had hoped that he would be content to let Bret and Georgiana raise Bridget. Perhaps he could be a benevolent godfather, as Georgiana had suggested, giving the girl gifts and a shoulder to lean on when she needed it. Spoiling her where her parents wouldn't. It would just have been easier that way, to let things stay as they were.

She should've known Carl wasn't going to take the easy way. He never had.

"I take it he didn't tell you about this before he talked to me," Georgiana said quietly. "I'm sorry that I had to be the one to say it. I probably shouldn't have, but it's been troubling me and Fitz suggested I talk to someone. You were the only one I knew he wouldn't badger about it once I was done."

Charlotte bit her lip, trying not to allow tears to form in her eyes. "I don't have any standing here," she said. "I can't tell him he can't do this."

"I'm not asking you to do that," Georgiana gasped. "All I wanted was to talk to you. I didn't come over here to ask you to convince him to give her up. I just needed...I made a big mistake bringing it up. And I think I know why."

"You have no idea why."

"Yes, I do. My being here is a constant reminder of what happened."

"No. Bridget's presence is what reminds me of what happened. You don't understand anything, Georgiana." Charlotte started to walk away. She turned back. "I know you didn't ask me to do this, but I'm going to talk to Carl. I don't know what I'm going to say to him, or what he'll say to me, but maybe we can get this situation worked out to everyone's satisfaction."

"But Charlotte...."

Charlotte didn't turn back, the tears she'd refused to let Georgiana see starting to trickle down her cheeks.

"You told her to talk to whom?" Lizzy gasped when Fitz updated her on the situation.

"To Charlotte. Why? What's the problem?"

Lizzy groaned. "Of all the people you could've sent her to, why did you have her tell Charlotte? That's the last person she needed to talk to."

Fitz was confused. "Georgiana didn't seem to think so. Why do you?"

Lizzy looked at the ground, and Fitz's confusion started to be tempered with suspicion. "You already know what's bothering her, don't you? I told Georgiana to talk to you, but she didn't want to cause problems between us by forcing you to keep a secret. But you know already."

"I don't know, but a problem that Georgiana won't discuss with me and hasn't discussed with Bret can only mean it's about one person."

"Yeah----Bret. I should've beat the hell out of him when I had the chance. He's done nothing but make her miserable."

"What?" Lizzy frowned. "He has not. He's been wonderful for her. She's much more mature than she was a year ago. She's been happy and hasn't complained."

"Maybe she's saving it up. Maybe that's why everything's happening now. They've been married about a year."

"We've been married over a year. Does that mean we're supposed to start being miserable, too?"

"We knew each other longer than two months before we got married," Fitz pointed out. "Georgiana barely knew Bret when they got married. Hell, they probably wouldn't be married if he hadn't taken advantage of her and gotten her pregnant."

"Oh, sure. I'm sure that was the objective when Georgiana got pregnant, to force her to get married and give up competitive skating. It was all a plot," Lizzy scoffed.

"How do we know it's not? How much do we know about this man, anyway? He might've been hired by George Wickham for all we know to----"

"Fitzwilliam Darcy, listen to yourself! You're being foolish. There's no plot. If there were, something would've happened to us before the Olympics. Nothing happened, so there's obviously no plot."

Fitz was about to open his mouth to say something when he heard two heated yet hushed voices talking around the corner of the gift shop from them. They'd been arguing for a couple of moments without him taking notice, but he heard a few words that made him stop and listen.

"I can't believe she asked you to talk to me," the man hissed. "That's very low of her."

"Georgiana didn't ask me, I volunteered. I can't believe you'd start making plans like this without asking me for my opinion," the woman replied.

"I thought...hell, I don't know what I thought. I knew you weren't going to be pleased. That's why I hoped to have everything in place before I told you."

"Have what in place? Were you planning a custody suit?"

"No! I wanted to come to an agreement with Georgiana about visitation. I could see Bridget once a month or something like that. I could fly to St. Louis. You wouldn't have to come along if you didn't want to. I can understand why you wouldn't. But she's my daughter. I can't walk away from her."

"I'm sure Georgiana wouldn't ask you to do that. Bridget has a father who loves her very much, but..."

Fitzwilliam Darcy had once been known for his coolness and even temper. Before he'd fallen in love with Elizabeth Bennet, he'd been a pupil of Catherine de Bourgh's, and if anyone was the master of maintaining control, it was she. She'd passed on what she could to Fitz.

Only one other time in his life had Fitz felt like he was losing control as badly as he was now, and that was when he'd feared losing Lizzy to Rich Fitzwilliam. Hearing Georgiana's husband talking about leaving her with another woman...not having the decency to tell Georgiana first...

Fitz spun around and hustled to where the other conversation was taking place. He expected to find Bret talking with a strange woman, but instead he found Charlotte and Carl.

He could feel Lizzy step in front of him, as though she had known who he was about to see. Fitz felt as though his brain had just made a wrong connection, because surely there was no reason for Carl Denny to have said he wanted to talk to Georgiana about visiting Bridget. Bridget wasn't...she wasn't...

But was she? The connection was starting to form.

Fitz closed his eyes. Something in him had known, had always known, that despite what he thought and what he told people, Bridget didn't look very much like Georgiana. He'd figured that she looked like some unknown member of Bret's family, but given the new information, a brand new picture was becoming clear.

Bridget looked like Carl. She had his hair, his eyes, his facial features.

Carl was Bridget's father.

Carl was the man Georgiana had slept with the afternoon of the plane crash that had killed Lydia Bennet.

With an outraged yell, Fitz charged at Carl.

Part 12

Before Fitz could reach Carl, four sets of hands grabbed at him. Lizzy had hold of his waist from behind him, Charlotte had grabbed an arm, Georgiana another, and Rich had come out of nowhere to push against his chest. It appeared as though everyone had either been listening to Carl and Charlotte's conversation or there had been some sort of delay from when he'd yelled to when he'd started after Carl.

Carl had done the prudent thing by taking a few steps back. He wasn't scared to fight Fitz. He just didn't want to fight him if he didn't have to, and the look in the other man's eyes told him that he might have to do just that.

"Get over it, Fitz!" Georgiana shouted.

"He was the one, wasn't he? You were with him that afternoon! You lied to me!"

"What good would it have done to tell you the truth? You'd just act the way you are now. You're being barbaric!" Lizzy snapped.

That stopped Fitz for a second. "You knew, didn't you? You've known all along who she was with that day and you didn't bother to tell me."

"I didn't know then. I only found out after she was gone with Bret, when I was talking to Charlotte on the phone one day."

"Whether she knew or not isn't the point. When she found out isn't the point, either," said Georgiana.

"Then what is your damn point?" Fitz snapped.

"My point is that you need to get over this...this urge you have to pound everyone I get involved with! I'm not a little girl anymore, Fitz. I don't need you to fight my battles for me. I'm a woman and I can fight my own battles. I thought you'd come to realize this."

Fitz had stopped struggling against the people holding him back. "I do realize that you're an adult, Georgiana. But he----"

"If you're about to say he took advantage of me or seduced me or anything like that, I'll have you know I pretty much seduced him, not that it's any of your business."

"You're my sister."

"A fact I'm well aware of, because it seems like every six months you're doing something like this because you're my brother. It ends here, Fitz, because if it doesn't, so help me God, I'll never speak to you again."

"You're being melodramatic, Georgie. You wouldn't do that."

"I'm being melodramatic? It's taking four of us to keep you from separating Carl's head from the rest of his body, but I'm the one being melodramatic? That's a bit hypocritical, isn't it? At what point are you going to stop trying to protect me and realize that I can take care of myself?"

"She's right, Fitz," Rich said. "And you know it. Do you remember what you said to me last year when I came back from Europe, the same day she took off with Bret? You agreed that she would resent it if you interfered with her life by chasing after her. Then, when she did come back, you aggravated the situation by throwing punches at Bret and what happened then? Georgiana took off and you didn't see her until Charlotte's wedding. Now, here we are again. The situation you're getting mad about took place over a year ago."

"And the guilty parties are now married to other people," Charlotte added. "Neither of whom has had this reaction to the news when both of them could have. Especially because of Bridget."

Fitz groaned, but he knew everyone was speaking sense to him. For the first time in his life, he actually listened. "How the hell are you going to tell your daughter about this, Georgiana?" he asked. "What are you going to tell her?"

Georgiana let go of his right arm. "That's what I'm trying to figure out. But you don't have to worry about that, because I'll do it, and I'll do it without your help. All I want from you is an occasional shoulder to lean on, not a thug who'll beat up the people he perceives as bullies."

Fitz wrenched his other arm free of Charlotte's grip. Lizzy stepped away from him, leaving only Rich between him and Carl, who had stepped forward again, though he didn't speak. Fitz turned away from him to glare at his wife.

"You lied to me. You kept this from me."

"Yes," she repeated calmly. "Because I knew how you'd react, and I was right."

"How could you lie to me about something important like this?"

"I didn't lie to you. I just didn't tell you what was bothering Georgiana."

"You're splitting hairs, Lizzy, and I don't like it. Not telling me is tantamount to lying to me, because you knew I was concerned about her."

"So in the future, if someone comes to me with a secret they don't want you knowing, and you want to know it, I'm supposed to betray their trust so your curiosity can be satisfied? I'm glad to know that, Fitz. It'll make me a wonderful confidante."

"This was more than mere curiosity, Elizabeth, and you know it."

Fitz didn't notice when the crowd started drifting away, giving them whatever privacy they could. It wasn't much since their conversation could be heard from the bus.

"If you're looking for me to apologize for this, Fitz, you're going to have a long wait. I'm not apologizing for keeping Georgiana's secret. You wouldn't like it if I went around telling people everything about you, would you?"

Fitz glared at her and snapped, "Since today seems to be the day for divulging secrets, perhaps I should be asking if you're keeping anything else from me!"

He didn't stick around to hear her reply or see her reaction, which was fortunate for Lizzy because her face lost all color. Fitz would've known in an instant that there was something else she was keeping from him.

"I knew it. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it," George Knightley groaned as he reached into his wife's duffel bag for a bottle of Maalox. Everyone was filing back into the bus.

"You knew what, darling?" Emma asked. Her attention was more focused on her Cosmopolitan than on her husband, but she half-listened.

"I knew there was something about that baby, and I was right. My stomach warned me that she was going to be trouble, and now she has been."

Emma put the magazine down. "You're not seriously blaming the baby for this situation, are you? I'm thinking she's the only truly innocent creature in the whole mess."

"Not so much the baby herself, but what she represents. When we left New York today, we were a happy bunch. A little tense in places, but overall, we were happy. Now we're going to be at each other's throats."

"Darling, don't you think you're overreacting just a little?" Emma grabbed the bottle of Maalox out of his hand before he swigged the whole thing.

"I do not. Oh, Emma..." he sighed. "Why did I agree to get back into this business?"

"Something to do with always having a love of skating and a greater love for your wife, who is always right and knows what's best for you?"

George gave her a dirty look. "I'm going through a taxing situation and what do I get? Attitude and more attitude."

"I was under the impression that my attitude is why you married me."

"Only in part. You have one or two attributes that I rather liked."

Emma preened. "Such as?"

"You are quite beautiful. And you definitely knew your mind. Unfortunately, you had a tendency to speak it too much."

Emma stopped preening and frowned. "What? What's wrong with voicing my opinions?"

"Absolutely nothing, dearest. You just tend to voice them at the wrong time...such as in public."

Emma grabbed her magazine and put it to her nose, doing her best to ignore him. "At least I don't go around like Chicken Little, convinced the sky is going to fall every five seconds."

"Now, Em, don't be mad at me. Please? I don't need you mad at me on top of everything else that's going wrong today." Silence. He bit back a curse and said, "I'm sorry, Em. I didn't mean it. You know that. I'm just...frustrated. I was hoping we could avoid trouble at least until we got to Chicago, and here it is Boston and it's arrived. And we're not even in Boston."

Emma put down her magazine and decided he looked properly penitent. She kissed him gently and said, "It's going to be okay, you know. Everything always manages to work out in the end."

Georgiana gave her seat on the bus to Amy, who took it gratefully. There was only one thing Georgiana wanted at that moment, and that was to be with her husband and child. She'd forgotten that Hannah was also to come along for the ride, which disappointed her because she'd needed to talk to Bret desperately about private matters. About thirty miles away from where they'd stopped, Hannah started snoring slightly so she judged it safe to talk to him.

"Do you ever get the feeling that the only reason you were put on earth was to screw up other people's lives?" she asked softly.

Bret took his eyes off the road long enough to gauge her mood. Not good. "That's not why you're here, Georgie," he said.

"Really? Right now, Fitz and Lizzy aren't talking to each other because of me. Carl's mad at me. Charlotte resents me, although she'll never admit to it. Rich's life was impacted because of what I did last year, and I might as well have killed Lydia. So tell me----what good have I done anyone?"

"Take a look in the back seat," Bret said. "You gave her life. If that's not doing something good for someone, I don't know what is. Half the people on this planet can't do it."

"Yeah, but even that had a price."

"Would you not do it again if you knew what would happen?"

Georgiana sighed. "You know the answer to that. I just wish I knew what to do."

"You can't solve everyone's problems, hon. You can only do your best to solve your own. Fitz needs to get a life or a baby, whichever one is easiest. I know that he practically raised you, but at some point, he needs to learn to let go. Until he can do that, he's going to continue to create scenes such as the one we had tonight."

"Bret...you're not mad at me for not telling you about talking to Carl last night, are you? I meant to tell you tonight, but..."

"No, it's okay. I know you would've told me if everything else hadn't come out first. But...Georgie?"

"What?"

"Don't think you have to go through this alone. I'm going to be standing right by your side, okay? Don't be afraid to talk to me."

Through tears, Georgiana nodded. "I love you," she said softly. "I really love you."

Bret smiled. "Ditto."

An unnatural silence had fallen on the bus as it pulled back onto the Interstate. Before the stop, people had been full of laughter, gossip and skating talk. After, everyone was afraid to break the silence, because the only thing they would've wanted to talk about was the one thing no one could bring up.

Rich was glad that Georgiana had asked Amy if she wanted to take her place on the bus tonight. When he realized what she meant to do, he'd feared she would ask Hannah instead, but she hadn't. So he got to sit with Amy, even if they couldn't speak. He was content to have his arm around her, her head leaning on his shoulder, occasionally running his hand through the silkiness of her blonde hair.

He was a little surprised to find out that Carl had slept with Georgiana, although now that he looked back on it, maybe it shouldn't have been such a surprise. Carl had been lonely and dejected over Charlotte. Georgiana had been upset because her plan to discredit Lydia and win his affections had backfired. Two lonely hearts, alone together in a hotel room with a fully-stocked bar...well, if he'd been in Carl's place, he might've given in to temptation too.

Well, maybe not. He'd known Georgiana better than Carl had.

Amy sat up straight, a slight frown on her face. Rich wanted to ask her what was the matter but he had a feeling that the first time anyone made a sound, Fitz would come back and start cracking skulls. He appeared to be just in the mood for such an undertaking. Amy grabbed her purse and undid the clasp. She rooted around for something and came up with a pen and a pocket notebook. She reached over his head to turn on the light, illuminating their seats.

Rich grinned. His Amy was a resourceful young woman.

Your Amy? Have things really progressed to the point where you can start thinking of her in such terms? Weren't you planning to take things slowly this time? Taking things too quickly only hurt you the last time around.

Rich reminded himself that there were several serious differences between Amy Lucas, Helena Hampton, and Lydia Bennet. First and foremost, Amy wasn't a skater.

Before he could continue to make a mental list of the ways Amy was different than all of his past girlfriends, she jabbed him in the ribs with the notebook. He saw that she was holding out the pen. He took both from her and read her note.

Did you know?

He wrote: No. You?

Not a clue, but it does explain some things. The other day, at the lunch, they were giving that baby some strange looks. I wondered why at the time. Guess now I know.

Guess so.

I wonder if this makes me a step-aunt.

Rich grinned at that. I don't think so. Did Charlotte know?

She had to have known. I don't think Carl would've kept something that important from her. I mean, fathering a child with another woman...that's pretty heavy. What I can't figure out is why he did it in the first place. He was in love with Charlotte the whole time.

How do you know that?

Because it was obvious!!

Not unless you knew him well. Seriously, how did you know?

He went out on a date with Mariah once. She came home and told us that he was in love with Charlotte. Sammie didn't want to believe her, of course, but it made sense. That was before he went to England last year, which was the time that Georgiana got pregnant. Which brings me back to my question----why did he sleep with her?

JOHN THORPE!!!!

Ack! I forgot about him.

More like, you wanted to forget.

True.

The two of them shared a silent laugh.

I'm glad Georgiana decided she wanted to ride with Bret tonight.

He didn't wait for her to hand him the pen. He kissed her. After a minute, the two of them pulled away from each other. Amy gave him a devilish look and scribbled something on the notepad, which she handed back to him.

Yowza!

Is that a word?

If it isn't, it should be. It describes that kiss perfectly.

What do you think Charlotte and Carl are going to do?

Amy caught her lower lip with her teeth as she thought before answering. I don't know. I think it's going to be very hard to decide what's the best thing to do. I know Carl, though. He'll want to be part of that baby's life. What do you think?

I think I'm staying out of this debate. It's probably best that I do so because any opinion I offer is going to offend someone. They'll work things out.

Amy's gaze was drawn to something in front of them before she bent her head down and wrote.

Do you think Fitz and Lizzy will patch things up?

Rich sighed. It was a good question, and one he hoped he had the right answer for. They usually do.

But he sounded really angry at her.

They've been through worse, trust me, and they've survived.

A flicker of something like sympathy touched Amy's features. Rich knew she had to be thinking of last year's crash, but perhaps for the first time she was realizing that while her family had been affected, Lizzy's had been even more so. In fact, it would be safe to say that Lizzy's family had been torn apart altogether, although Rich would've said that the family portrait was cracked well before Lydia had died.

I suppose they have, Amy wrote.

Fitz has always had a protective streak about Georgiana. From what Lizzy told me, their parents divorced long ago, neither one of them ever really gave a damn about their children, and they were pretty much raised by Catherine de Bourgh.

Now there's a terrifying thought. As much as my parents mortify me----which they've done on a number of occasions----I can't imagine not having them. I can't imagine parents who wouldn't care about their children. That must hurt a great deal.

I suppose it does.

You should consider yourself lucky that your mother cares so much about you, even if your father is another story.

I do, but not necessarily because of that.

Then why?

Rich read Amy's words, then kissed her again. If possible, this kiss lasted even longer than their last one, and Amy got the message she was intended to get. She smiled.

The clearing of a throat brought Amy out of her daze. She turned to see Frederick Wentworth, who was sitting in the seat across from them, holding out a little notebook of his own. Amy took it, read the message, and nearly choked on her laughter. She handed it to Rich, who read it and had the same problem.

Frederick had written, "Stop that, please. You're making me extremely jealous."

Part 13

When the bus finally pulled into Boston after the emotionally exhausting trip from New York, everyone breathed a silent sigh of relief. The silence lasted as everyone shuffled off the bus and the only words exchanged involved baggage claims and room checks.

Lizzy fumed as she picked up her enormous duffel bag, slinging it over her shoulder as Fitz rounded up their luggage. She didn't bother waiting for him, wandering into the hotel room and wondering what her chances were of getting a separate room.

While she loved Fitz with all her heart, there were still things about him that drove her mad. She had hoped that being with her for the past four years would've influenced these things, but it hadn't. Fitz still had a streak of arrogance in him. He still had a firm sense of always being in the right. The one thing that was always certain to frustrate her was his overprotectiveness, especially where Georgiana was concerned.

That overprotective streak of his had been the greatest obstacle she'd had to mentally overcome when she'd made the decision to have a baby. She feared that Fitz would stifle their child as he had Georgiana. She'd managed to set aside that obstacle by telling herself that she hadn't had a hand in raising Georgiana. This baby would have her as a mother from the day of its' birth, which would lessen the effects an overprotective father would bring about.

Only now, having seen Fitz's rage yet again over something that had happened to Georgiana, she had to wonder if she would be enough.

"Mrs. Darcy!"

Lizzy craned her neck to see who was talking to her. Fitz was the only one who called her Mrs. Darcy on a regular basis, because he was fond of it. That was another thing that occasionally irritated her, that possessiveness when he called her Mrs. Darcy.

Why don't you just make a list, kiddo?

But it hadn't been Fitz who had called her that name. Lizzy turned just in time to see a young gentleman scurrying from the front desk to approach her. Without warning, he took the duffel bag from her hands and exclaimed, "It's such a thrill to meet you at last!"

Oh, God! Where is the real Fitz Darcy when I need him?

"It's...always nice to meet a fan," Lizzy replied feebly as she saw her chances of getting a separate room disappear. The last thing she wanted was the world knowing she was having trouble with her husband, which was what asking for a separate room would indicate.

The man continued prattling on. Lizzy listened to him half-heartedly before almost begging for her room key. Siting exhaustion from the long trip as the cause, she managed to stir up enough sympathy from him to get her key and leave before he suggested they start hanging out or something.

Lizzy was disappointed at not getting that extra room, but there were other means of settling the sleeping arrangements. She made her way to the elevator. Anne Elliot was already standing there, dark circles under her violet eyes.

"Hello," Lizzy murmured, hoping Anne wouldn't want to strike up a conversation because she wasn't in a talkative mood.

"Hi." The doors opened, and the two young women stepped inside.

Lizzy was staring into the lobby, where stragglers from the bus were continuing to walk in. Her eyes involuntarily sought out Fitz's familiar shape. Her heart, which had been ignoring her head since the day she'd discovered he was Ice King, skipped a couple of beats.

Traitor, she told it crabbily.

But I love him! her heart replied.

Lizzy shook her head. The same young man who had waylaid her at the front desk was now giving Fitz the same treatment, although Fitz didn't look to be tolerating it as well as she had. Lizzy shifted into a corner, hopefully out of his range of vision, as the elevator doors started to close.

"Wait! Please, hold the lift!" a voice cried out. Lizzy almost groaned when she saw who was coming their way with two huge suitcases.

She couldn't say exactly what it was about this girlfriend of Frederick Wentworth's which put her off. She seemed like a nice enough young woman. She obviously cared about Frederick a great deal to come all this way just because she missed him. But there was something off about her, something Lizzy couldn't quite put her finger on.

Lizzy glanced at Anne, who looked tempted to continue to let the doors shut. At the last second, Anne pushed the button to open the elevator doors, and Hannah stepped inside.

"Thank you," Hannah said. "Hello, I don't believe we've met. Hannah Musgrove." She extended her hand to Lizzy, who shook it.

"Elizabeth Darcy," Lizzy replied, then wondered why she'd introduced herself by her married name. "This is Anne Elliot."

"Yes, I know. I know of her, a friend of Frederick's. He's had wonderful things to say about you. Lovely to meet you." Hannah extended her hand to Anne as well. Anne gave her a limp handshake, letting go of the button in order to do so. The doors shut and the elevator started to move.

Hannah gave a heaving sigh. "I have now remembered why I despise road trips," she said. "They're very boring. I wish I could've been on the bus as the two of you were."

"No, you don't," Lizzy said shortly. "It's just as boring there."

"Very quiet," Anne added in a soft voice.

"Was it? I suppose everyone must have been asleep." Hannah smiled. "I would've figured that at least Frederick would've kept things interesting. He always has a knack for that."

Lizzy wanted to scream at her to shut up. The only thing she wanted was to figure out how she was going to handle Fitz once they were alone in the room. She didn't want to have to make small talk with some girl she barely knew.

"I suppose you know that, though, right?" Hannah dug through her purse until she found a compact. She checked her reflection.

"I don't know Frederick very well," Lizzy muttered. "And it was very quiet, as Anne said."

Hannah turned to Anne. "Was everyone asleep then?"

"I suppose. I was."

This bit of information seemed to cheer Hannah up immensely, because her smile widened. Lizzy glanced up to see where the elevator was...fourth floor. Three to go before they got to hers, and she could out of this elevator and away from Hannah.

"I understand that you knew Frederick, a long time ago," Hannah said. "Frederick mentioned it to me in passing. He said that you and your coach came over one summer. You taught him to improve his artistic side, he helped you with your jumping. It was obvious that you were both successful in your attempts to help each other, because----"

The elevator gave a sickening lurch. Lizzy let out a yelp as something clanked, the elevator jerked, and then stopped altogether.

"Oh, no," she moaned. "No, no, no. This can't be happening."

"What happened?" Hannah shrieked.

"The elevator's stuck," Anne said, before calmly sitting down.

Fitz waited impatiently for an elevator, arms crossed, the luggage cart standing next to him. She could've at least helped me load this, he thought.

Fitz was still fuming about what he felt was Lizzy's deception. It was one thing if she hadn't wanted to tell him a secret about Charlotte, or if she kept something from him because it would be a pleasant surprise, but not to tell him the truth about Georgiana's baby...

" I knew how you'd react, and I was right."

Fitz brushed the annoying thought aside, telling himself that if he'd known at the time, he wouldn't have had the same reaction. For starters, if Lizzy----or Georgiana, for that matter----had told him at the time Georgiana announced her pregnancy, there would've been nothing he could've done. Carl Denny had been at Charlotte's bedside, waiting for her to make a full recovery. He might've been furious----okay, so he would've been beyond furious----but there would've been no reason to beat a man when he was down, and at the time, Carl would've been the poster child for "a man when he was down."

If you wouldn't have done it then, why did you try to do it tonight? Georgiana didn't appreciate it. In fact, you only embarrassed her. You're now fighting with Lizzy. Charlotte and Carl would cheerfully see you hung for airing everyone's dirty laundry. Are you happy now?

Fitz again brushed it aside, telling himself that he had every right to be angry with Lizzy, and Georgiana and Carl and Charlotte, for conspiring to keep something vitally important from him. While he was at it, he might as well throw in Bret for lying and saying the child was his, and Rich for...well, just because.

You certainly wouldn't be able to tell that you recently celebrated your thirty-second birthday from your thoughts.

The elevator to his right opened up at last. Fitz made his way inside, followed by Frederick and, at the last minute, Carl. Fitz's hands curled into fists but he said nothing as the doors slid shut and the elevator started moving upward. Carl kept his gaze averted until, with a ding, the doors opened on the seventh floor. All three of them walked out. Fitz was in room 722 with Lizzy, which was on the left. Carl and Frederick headed to the right, leaving Fitz alone. He used his key to open his room, expecting to find his wife unpacking the essentials she would need for the next couple of days.

Instead, he walked into an empty room.

Hadn't that idiot of a bellboy of whatever he'd been tell me he'd already given Lizzy her room key?

Fitz frowned. He knew she'd entered the hotel before he had. He knew she had a key. And if she'd asked for a separate room, the guy downstairs would've told him so. He doubted the man knew what a secret was.

So where was Lizzy?

"I say we jump. Maybe that'll vibrate the lift enough that it'll start moving on its' own," Hannah suggested. She saw sitting across from Lizzy and Anne, who had staked out the two corners across from the door. Hannah took the third corner, away from the buttons.

"Oh, sure. Straight to the basement, plunging us to our deaths," Lizzy snapped sarcastically.

"There is no need to be rude. I only thought it might work." Hannah sat down at the other end of the elevator from Anne, huffing. "What is your idea?"

"I've already carried it out. We called the front desk and told them what happened. It's not my fault that they have to call a company to fix the elevator and it's going to take a long time." Lizzy opened up her duffel bag, grateful that she had it, at least. She had two bottles of water and some granola bars somewhere in there, along with a thick Jilly Cooper novel she'd picked up in England last year and never got around to reading. She dug out the book and turned to the first page.

Anne leaned her head against the wall and wondered what she'd done to make God so mad at her. Obviously He was mad, otherwise why would He have stuck her in a broken elevator with Hannah Musgrove?

Hannah stared with envy at Lizzy's book. She was a rabid reader, and her collection of Jilly Cooper novels had been replaced twice from excessive reading. "I don't suppose you have another of those?" she asked.

Lizzy shook her head. "I try not to buy more than one book by an author until I know I'm going to like the writing."

Anne wished she had something to distract her as Lizzy did. She closed her eyes and hoped she'd be able to get a little more sleep. If it was going to be a long wait, she might as well take advantage of it.

Hannah cleared her throat. "So...what shall we do while we're stuck in here?"

"I'm obviously going to try to read this book," Lizzy muttered, turning the page despite the fact she hadn't read a word on it.

"Well, that's hardly fair. Neither Anne nor myself have a book. If we did, then I would have no problem with you reading. But to have something to do when Anne and I do not..."

"I thought I'd try to sleep," Anne murmured. "I've been having trouble sleeping lately. I don't sleep well in strange beds."

Hannah raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Anne flushed, Hannah's meaning more than clear to her. But she didn't say anything. She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes.

"What do you see as a fair solution to this problem?" Lizzy snapped. "You don't have a book. You don't think it's fair that I do. I think I have a Chicago Cubs media guide in here somewhere. You can read all about Sammy Sosa. Would that suit you?"

"I was thinking that maybe you could read to us, or I would read, or...we could have a nice girl talk. Something to alleviate the boredom for all of us."

"My husband and I just had a major fight in front of about a hundred people. When we get out of this elevator, I have to figure out a way to skate with him tomorrow and every day until this tour is over. My sister-in-law is going through a rough time and my life isn't exactly easy at the moment, either. Is that enough girl talk, or do I have to go on?"

"Er..." Hannah was taken aback by Lizzy's anger. "What about you, Anne? Lizzy has laid out all her troubles."

Anne really wished she could do what Lizzy had just done----which had seemed to her to be the equivalent of telling Hannah to back off. "Nothing much to tell," she said with a shrug.

"Oh, come on. Surely there's something interesting going on in your life."

"Doesn't this tour qualify?" Lizzy muttered. "I'd say there's more than enough going on without the need for any more drama." She turned another page without reading.

"Maybe you're right," Hannah said. "As for me, my life hasn't been easy lately."

Lizzy stifled a groan and lowered her book for a second. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, to begin with, I'm on a road trip that I didn't want to be on."

"Why are you here? I don't remember Frederick inviting you or even saying anything about you." Lizzy gave up all pretense of reading the book and set it aside.

Hannah frowned at Lizzy's words. Frederick hadn't said anything about her? "I'm here to lend Frederick moral support," she said. "That's what a good girlfriend does, isn't it? She supports her boyfriend, no matter what?"

Anne cringed slightly. So Hannah knew all about her, then. She'd wondered, given Frederick's past denials that anything had happened between them.

"I suppose so," Lizzy replied slowly.

"That's why I'm here. It's for the best, anyway. Who knows what sort of girls might've thrown themselves at him without me around? The wrong sort."

"Is there a 'right sort of girl' to have throwing herself at your boyfriend?" Lizzy asked.

"You know what I mean. Some beautiful woman."

"So the ugly ones can make all the passes they want at him, but the beautiful girls should leave him alone."

Anne would've laughed if she hadn't been pretending to sleep. Go, Lizzy! she thought with a private smile, which she hid by turning her head more to the wall.

"That's not what I'm saying at all. I don't want any woman making a pass, as you call it, at Frederick."

"In other words, you're here because you're jealous." Lizzy knew she had Hannah dead to rights. "You were afraid that Frederick would meet someone over here when you weren't around to stop him. That's why you're here."

"I am confident in Frederick's love for me," Hannah asserted, furious that the conversation she'd intended to help distract her from the fact that she was stuck in an elevator had gone wrong. "I know that nothing, and no one, could come between us."

"I'm glad for that," Lizzy said.

"Frederick has never loved anyone the way he loves me now."

Lizzy frowned when she noticed Hannah giving Anne a smug look. What's going on here? she wondered.

"Really?" It was then Lizzy's turn to raise an eyebrow. "No one? You're absolutely certain of that?"

Anne's smile faded fast. Oh, Lizzy, please don't bring me into this. It's bad enough that she knows without having to dredge it up when I can't get away from her.

"Yes." Hannah gave Anne another look, but it appeared to be wasted because Anne was dozing off.

"You're lying. No woman is ever that secure about her man. And there's no man in the world who doesn't have a woman he wished he could've been with."

Hannah's hands curled into fists. Did Lizzy know about Anne and Frederick? Did she know that the main reason she'd come was to prevent them from getting together again? It certainly seemed as though she did. "Including your husband?" she asked archly.

"Including my husband, although he would deny to his dying day that he wasn't in love with Emma Woodhouse."

Anne almost opened her eyes. Fitz had been in love with Emma?

"Well, Frederick doesn't have a woman like that in his life. If he did, he would've told me long ago. We've shared everything about ourselves, and there's been no one like that in his past."

After the fourth look Hannah sent Anne's way, Lizzy suddenly remembered the old rumors about Anne and Frederick. She didn't know if the rumors were true or not----Anne and Frederick didn't spend much time together that she saw, but they didn't seem to go out of their way to avoid each other, either. But obviously Hannah believed them and was more than happy to goad Anne with what may or may not be the truth.

Lizzy tossed her book into a startled Hannah's lap. "There, you can read the book as long as you promise to shut up." She hunted through her duffel bag again until she came up with the Cubs' media guide, flipping it open to a random page. She didn't read anything on the page, of course, her mind taken up with her current troubles. But at least it was quiet in the elevator.

"She's where?" Fitz shouted.

"I'm afraid that your wife, along with Miss Elliot and the other young lady, are trapped in the elevator. The elevator service we use is due here any minute to get them out." The annoying young man who had greeted them was now white in the face from his fear. "I must apologize once again for this atrocious error. I have no idea how it could have happened, but nothing in life is perfect."

"That's certainly the truth," Rich muttered, who had reluctantly come along to stop Fitz from doing something stupid. It had taken Amy five minutes to convince him to do this, as Rich was of the opinion that Fitz could use a bit of humbling.

Fitz whirled on him. "I really don't think you want to start in on me, Rich, or have you forgotten what happened the last time?"

"I seem to remember that you wound up in the hospital overnight with a concussion and I won a gold medal." Rich was getting frustrated with his friend's attitude. Bad enough that Fitz had burst in at a most inopportune moment he'd been trying to spend with Amy, but now he was being treated to yet another Fitz Darcy tantrum. "So anytime you're ready to take me on again, I'm ready for you."

Fitz turned red but didn't attack as Rich expected him to. "Is everything being done to see to their safety and comfort?" he asked instead.

"I...I don't know about comfort, but I have been assured that they are safe. They've made no sudden movements and we haven't heard anything that might indicate the elevator might...er, have more trouble. As for their comfort, there's little we can do at the moment. As soon as they are out of the elevator, I'll be more than happy to give each of the ladies and the gentleman she is with one of our luxury suites."

"Damn," Rich said. "Too bad Amy's not in that elevator."

"You think this is funny?" Fitz hissed.

"I wasn't laughing. I was ruefully wishing my girlfriend was in that elevator so we could have some privacy. What's wrong with that?"

Fitz decided it would be best to ignore him. Rich was deliberately bating him. "Where are they stuck?" he asked.

"We believe they're between floors six and seven. They were almost at their destination, sir."

"Just a little bit more and you could be yelling at Lizzy instead of this poor guy," Rich commented. "That is why you're so upset that she's in the elevator, isn't it?"

The fist that came flying at Rich came without warning. Rich fell to the ground as the hotel's night manager stepped between the two of them to prevent further fighting.

"No need for that," Rich told him, getting up. "Fitz has been dying to hit someone all evening. Better me than----"

"I would never hit my wife!" Fitz shouted. "I love her!"

"Strange way you have of showing her. She can't keep a secret about Georgiana without you yelling that she's betrayed you. And what was the big deal about who fathered that baby, anyway? She's an adult. She was upset----"

"Over you, let's not forget that."

"So? I never did anything. In fact, the reason she was so upset was because I was with another woman. But you're focusing on the wrong thing I said. I said, she's an adult. And she's an imperfect one. She made a mistake and as a result, she had a baby. Who cares if the person she was with that afternoon was Bret Sullivan or Carl Denny? It was her choice, and while you may not like the fact that she's grown up, you have to accept it or you're going to drive everyone you love away."

Fitz wished Rich had hit him instead. He didn't need the lecture.

"You know what I'm saying is true," Rich said in a tired voice. "You wear us all out, Fitz. Lizzy, Georgiana, me...everyone who gives a damn about you gets frustrated because of the way you act about Georgiana. And she's not even your daughter. What happens one day in the future when you and Lizzy have a daughter of your own? Are you going to lock her in a tower to keep the world away from her?"

"I might do just that."

"Sure. And a day later, Lizzy will leave you and take the girl with her."

"I don't know why we're even having this conversation. It's pointless, because Lizzy isn't pregnant."

"You don't think she wants to have a baby?"

Fitz stilled, remembering their talk earlier this week. Lizzy wanted a baby, and he'd agreed that when the tour was over, they'd give it a try. He thought about the idea of becoming a father and was beginning to get used to it.

But was Rich right? Would a child----in particular, a daughter----eventually drive Lizzy away?

"You don't understand," Fitz said. "You don't have a brother or sister. You don't know what it's like to be such an integral part of her life since she was a child. Our parents were always fighting until they finally decided to divorce. My father didn't approve of what I chose to do and my mother could care less. Georgiana and I were alone, except for each other. I was so much older than she was that I felt more like her father than her brother."

"I would hope that, if I had a younger sister, I would love her and watch out for her without smothering her. You have to let her lead her own life, Fitz. She has to make her own mistakes and learn from them. If she doesn't, one day down the road you'll find yourself resenting her because she will be the reason you have no one."

Fitz wished he had a chair to sit in, because the weight of Rich's words was making him tired.

"You know I'm right. You need to let her go, Fitz. She'll be all right on her own. She's a parent herself now, and I don't think you'll see her doing this when Bridget gets older. And when you and Lizzy do have a baby, you need to remember what I'm telling you now or else you'll head down this same path. Only the next time, I won't be around to reason with you."

Rich decided that Fitz had enough to occupy his mind until the elevator was fixed, which would prevent him from trying to rip a hole through the poor night manager. Rich wanted to get back to Amy.

At last, the elevator started to move. Lizzy breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that even Fitz would look good after being stuck in an elevator with Hannah Musgrove for the past three hours. Anne may have been standing on steady legs, but she felt shaky. As for Hannah, she had learned more than she had wished and was not happy with what she'd learned. When the elevator doors opened to reveal a worried Frederick, her first act was to kiss him possessively.

With unshed tears shimmering in her eyes, Anne took the key she was offered by the night manager and headed for the stairs to her room----no more elevators for her tonight. She tried to banish the image of Hannah kissing Frederick from her mind, with no success.

Fitz was waiting for Lizzy with a worried look in his eyes. But upon seeing him, Lizzy realized that three hours in the elevator hadn't been nearly enough.

"I'm sorry," he said, making a move to put his arms around her. Lizzy shrugged away.

"You're always sorry, Fitz. You were sorry you went after Rich four years ago. You were sorry you drove Georgiana to run away to get married, then you were sorry you punched out Bret and made them leave again. You're always sorry about things and quite honestly, I'm tired of forgiving you. You humiliated her tonight. You humiliated everyone tonight, and that's unforgivable." Lizzy picked up her duffel bag. "I understand that I'm getting a suite of my own tonight. I think that's for the best...don't you?"

Fitz could offer no argument as Lizzy walked into the working elevator, pushing the button for the top floor and disappearing as the doors slid shut.

Continued In Next Section