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It was a sleepless night for several people, for a variety of reasons.
Bridget Sullivan was resting peacefully, which was more than could be said for her parents. They were both awake, listening to each other breathe. Bret held Georgiana in his arms, where she trembled for a while in fear and anger. Bret cursed her brother for being a fool several times over, wishing he'd punched him when he'd had the chance.
Three rooms away from them, Carl was also having trouble sleeping, although he made a good show of sleeping so that Charlotte wouldn't awaken. He sensed that he no longer had anything to fear from Fitz, but that wasn't his main concern anyway. His thoughts were on Bridget, wondering what sort of amicable agreement could be reached with Georgiana and Bret. He didn't want to go through life with a daughter who didn't know him, but at the same time, he didn't want to hurt said daughter by revealing to the world the truth about her paternity. He clutched Charlotte tighter as he finally slid into sleep.
Charlotte sighed as she recognized the signs that Carl had finally dropped off, because it meant she could sleep herself.
There were those who were awake for far more pleasurable reasons. Rich had traded Lizzy his Blackadder DVD set for the key to her luxury suite, where he and Amy spent several hours cavorting about before slipping into a bubble-filled garden tub, where they talked into the wee hours about nothing in particular.
George Knightley had groaned for two hours about the catastrophe that had befallen his tour, until his wife had put his unexpected energy to good use. Emma was tired of hearing his doomsday predictions, so anything that kept his mind occupied for a while was good.
Helena Hampton was on the phone to her husband in Ireland, talking about his plans to come and visit her for a few days when the tour reached Louisiana, where they had a second home. Nick reminded her to give his brother James and sister-in-law Caroline his love when she saw them the next day.
Fitz lay awake, alone in his bed, thinking of his wife who was resting two floors above him. It was funny, he thought miserably, how quickly one could get used to sleeping next to someone else, and how lonely a bed could seem without that person. He'd more or less slept alone until he'd married Lizzy. But since they day they'd gotten married, they'd only been apart for two days, and that had been when Lizzy had attended Lydia's funeral.
He seemed to remember that he'd had trouble sleeping then, too.
But this insomnia was worse than it had been last year because this time, the reason they weren't sleeping together wasn't due to tragedy but rather to his own foolishness. Lizzy was right. She'd forgiven him too many times when she should've told him to go to hell.
God, how did we ever manage to get married in the first place? I'm a complete idiot and Lizzy's a sensible woman.
Fitz turned on the lamp, realizing that there was no way he was going to sleep without Lizzy beside him. He opened the drawer of the night stand and took out the wallet-sized picture frame he carried with him everywhere. On the left was a picture of the two of them taken on their wedding day, just after the minister had pronounced them man and wife. In the picture, they were leaning in for their first kiss as husband and wife. Both of them had wide smiles on their faces. On the right was a picture that Lizzy didn't know he had, the one picture he treasured above all others because it was his favorite.
In it, Lizzy was sitting in the window seat of their library, deeply involved with a book. A half-eaten apple was sitting on a plate next to her, forgotten. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, curls escaping to frame her face. He remembered that every so often she would absently tuck back a lock of hair that fell into her eyes. Fitz had never quite figured out where the urge to take her picture had come from, but once it had taken root, he'd acted. He remembered how she'd jumped when the flash had gone off.
"Dammit, Fitz! You scared the hell out of me! What was that for?""Just because," Fitz told her. "Just because."
"You'd better get rid of that picture because I know I look like death warmed over."
"Forget it. I'm going to have this one framed."
"Not if I find it first!" she exclaimed, standing up and rushing over to him, trying to swipe the camera. He did his best to keep it just out of her reach until she knocked him over. Once on the ground, however, he started kissing her until she forgot what she'd meant to do in the first place.
Fitz smiled at the memory. She never had remembered to get the camera from him, and he'd had the roll of film developed a few days later. The picture had turned out as well as he'd hoped, and had been with him ever since. He always looked on it and thought about how it seemed to capture her perfectly, unposed, unprepared, doing nothing but being her wonderful self.
Well, you've now figured out why you married her. What was your appeal to her?
Fitz tried to stop beating himself up, to no avail. With a heavy sigh, he rolled out of bed and stuck his feet into a pair of house slippers with lions on them----a gag gift from Lizzy last Christmas. He grabbed his room key and wandered aimlessly down the hall, wondering if Rich was still awake.
Lizzy was staring at the pictures she always carried with her, of the two of them on their wedding day. They were smiling out at the camera, radiant and hopeful. She stared at another picture, of the two of them smiling at each other, their smiles private, intimate. Then there was a picture of the two of them on the ice, skating their gold-medal winning performance. Bret had snapped that one, and Fitz had given it to her in a silver frame as an anniversary gift. Lizzy treasured it most of all, because before tonight it had always represented to her how wonderful her life was. In that picture, her personal life and professional life merged. She skated with her lover, partner, and friend. She shared her life with the wonderful man she'd gotten to know over the last four years.
Maybe it was a mistake to marry him. Maybe we shouldn't have gotten as close as we did, because there's one thing that is certain. If we don't work this out, our skating is going to suffer and that will do neither of us any good. If we weren't married and I'd had a fight with my husband, I would at least have someone to talk to when things were tough.
With a sigh, she put the pictures away and got into bed, turning off the light. She let hit the play button on her CD player alarm clock, listening to Matthew Sweet.
Farther down I'm desperate for you
Where you never have to know
Farther down I'm still without a clue
Just something...something takes my pain away.
Twenty minutes later, she was still staring at the ceiling and had the song was replaying for the seventh time. Why was it that she, who had always been able to sleep no matter what the situation or location, was suddenly having trouble doing just that? Why was it that the bed felt cold and lonely without Fitz? They'd only been married----and sharing a bed----for a little over a year.
Only chance can change my fortune
So I'm not sure why I try
As if I could swim the ocean
As if you could start to fly...
She was startled out of her reverie by someone knocking on the door. She frowned. Who could possibly be needing to talk to her at...she checked her alarm clock...one-thirty in the morning? Well, she could think of someone, but she didn't want to talk to him. She turned her back to the door and decided to ignore whoever it was.
Whoever it was, however, was determined not to be ignored, because he or she knocked again. When the third set of knocks came, Lizzy remembered that this wasn't supposed to be her room, but rather Rich's. The person at the door was probably Amy, looking for him. Maybe Rich hadn't told her that he'd relocated to the luxury suite.
Lizzy kicked the covers away and fumbled for the switch to turn on the lamp. She got up and walked to the door just as the person knocked again. When the knocking stopped, she opened the door, expecting to see Amy.
Her eyes widened as she took in Fitz, who looked just as stunned to see her. His eyes went cold soon after.
"What are you doing in Rich's room?" he asked, his voice as cold as his eyes.
Lizzy realized what this must look like. "H-he and I traded. He's in the suite, presumably with Amy, and I'm here. I was afraid that you'd decide you needed to talk to me and come looking. Believe me, it's not what you're thinking."
Fitz relaxed, which surprised her. Lizzy had thought she'd still be defending herself for a good five minutes.
"It's just as well. You're the one I need to talk to. May I come in?"
"No, I don't think so. There's a reason I didn't want to be with you tonight." Lizzy crossed her arms over her chest.
"I know there is, and that's why I want to talk. Please."
"What is there to talk about? You made an ass out of yourself, again, and you thought a simple apology would clear everything up. Again. Only this time, it couldn't."
"I know...look, I really don't think we should hold this discussion out in the hallway where anyone could hear us. We've aired enough dirty laundry for one night. Could I please come in so we can discuss this? You can throw me out at any time and I swear that I'll go."
This could be a serious mistake. Don't let him in. He'll only sweet-talk you into forgiving him again and he doesn't deserve to be forgiven so quickly.
With a sigh, she stepped aside and motioned for him to come inside. She shut the door behind him.
Fitz took a seat on the bed. Lizzy preferred to stand, arms crossed, waiting for him begin to sweet-talk her into forgiving him.
"I was..." He sighed. "I couldn't sleep. Before you, I preferred sleeping alone and now I can't do it."
Lizzy would shoot herself in the foot before admitting that she hadn't been able to sleep, either.
"Elizabeth, I realized something tonight. It should've happened a long time ago, I know, but...but it wasn't until you didn't forgive me that I realized it."
"And what's that?"
Fitz sighed. "That I did everything wrong."
Lizzy blinked. This is a first, she thought cynically, not fully buying it.
"I mean that. I did everything wrong when it came to Georgiana, but before I do, please understand something."
"If you're about to tell me that you raised her, I'm well aware of that. It's the first thing you mention every time we fight over her."
"No, that's not what I was going to say." This was clearly a lie, which was one more black mark against him. With another sigh, he said, "Okay, so it was."
Damn. Just when she thought she had him.
"But I didn't know any better. I was barely more than a kid myself, and she was all I had in the world. I wanted the best for her. I wanted her to be happy. Instead, by doing what I thought was protecting her, I made her miserable."
Double damn. Lizzy almost felt sorry for him as he sat there, looking dejected.
"The first mistake I made was in refusing to let her skate with George Wickham."
"But that was a good thing!" Lizzy pointed out. "He nearly ruined her career! He deliberately dropped me four years ago! How can you say that it was wrong to not allow her to skate with him?"
"George only dropped her because he knew I wouldn't budge about letting her skate with him. If I'd told Georgiana that they could skate, he would've been delighted. He wouldn't have hurt her."
"But you knew what he was like. And in case you don't remember, let me remind you. He was late to every practice, he usually spent his nights doing God-knows-what, and if you'd competed against each other, do you think he would've hesitated for a minute before doing something to you?"
"We don't know what might've happened if I had let them skate together. And why don't we know? Because I was so arrogant that I wouldn't let her do it. I knew what was best for her, or so I thought. And that attitude continued from then until now. I've done so many stupid things...the boyfriends I wouldn't let her date, the comments I made to discourage her from having a life before I met you...punching her husband when they came back. Wanting to hurt Carl tonight because I realized that he was the man who had slept with Georgiana. In my mind, he'd done something to hurt her and I wanted revenge."
Lizzy didn't say that it looked as though there was going to be trouble between Georgiana and Carl concerning the baby. The last thing she wanted was to give him a reason to blow up again.
"I didn't let her live her own life, and it came back to haunt me, just like you said it would last year."
Lizzy frowned. "I don't remember saying it, but I'm sure I did at some point."
"It was just before she ran away. And before you say it, you already said 'I told you so.'"
"I think I'm remembering this now."
Fitz smiled weakly. "I made so many mistakes, Lizzy, and I was so stupid and...and I don't know why you married me. Why did you marry me?"
Lizzy was taken aback. When had this become about their marriage? "I...well, I married you because I loved you. Why else would I have married you?"
She was further shocked by the tears in his eyes. "I don't know. I've tried to sleep for two hours, wondering that very question. I haven't changed all that much since the day we first met, you know. I'm arrogant and stubborn and stupid and...and you hated me for all those things. And I'm sorry that I haven't changed so much."
"What on earth are you talking about? You have no idea how much you've changed," Lizzy said. She walked over to stand in front of him. "Before...before we got together, you wouldn't have given me the time of day. You don't need to change all that much. You just need to stop being so overprotective."
Fitz grasped her hands. "Do you forgive me, Lizzy? I'm so sorry that I said you lied to me in front of everyone. I'm sorry for what I did to Georgiana. I know that sorry doesn't mean anything and that I've said it so often that you're sick of hearing it, but...please. I mean it. I don't think I'll be able to sleep at all tonight or any night until you forgive me."
Triple damn. Lizzy didn't want to forgive him so easily. If she did, she'd be furious with herself later.
She looked at his dark eyes, brimming with unshed tears, and sighed. "I must be the biggest sucker on earth," she said.
It was all she got to say, because he threw his arms around her and wept, "Thank you."
Anne gave up on sleep, choosing instead to flip through channels until she found a rerun of Law and Order on television. That occupied her for an hour, although the commercials were hell. Try as she might, she had yet another image of Frederick and Hannah together to torture her mind. And she had the memory of Hannah's words in the elevator, talking about how no woman had ever meant anything to Frederick before her.
But that can't be true. Frederick loved me. He told me so many times that he loved me, that he wanted to marry me.
And if she needed any further proof, well, there was the look in Frederick's eyes when they'd pieced together what had happened to end their relationship. She couldn't forget all that she'd seen in his eyes. He knew they'd missed a major opportunity because of their stubborn pride and the willful manipulation of other people. And there was no way to get it back.
Anne felt a rising sense of rage, with no one around to take it out on. All of her life, it seemed as though she'd been ordered around without thought to what she might want. From the day she'd been old enough to walk, she'd been skating. Both of her parents pushed her into this world without caring about what she might want, and both of them had expected her to do well and carry on the family tradition.
At least her mother had cared enough to allow her to develop her own style and hadn't tried to force her into a mold she was all wrong for. Her father had only wanted her to win...win at all costs...win to make him look good! And when she hadn't, she'd been tossed aside like an unwanted puppy.
And then! Just as she'd thought she'd finally put her life back together after her mother's death, Susan had betrayed her. Oh, maybe she hadn't known it at the time, but looking back on it from a distance of eight years, she could see quite clearly how she'd been manipulated, and by someone who knew her well. All because Susan hadn't liked Frederick, had thought he was like her father.
Anne wished she had something to drink, because she wasn't sure she could get through this night without one. She wasn't ordinarily a drinker because her slight weight made her get drunk too easily, but she could definitely use one now.
Instead, Anne opened up a slip of paper with a message on it. The message had been waiting for her when she'd arrived, and she although the caller hadn't left any indication of his identity, she knew who it was. She suspected that she knew what he wanted. She dialed a number she knew so well, not sure what she was expecting but needing to dial it anyway. It rang several times before a gruff voice answered.
"Hello?"
The rage, pain and hatred welled up so strong that Anne almost couldn't get out the words. "Hello, Father," she said.
"Ally? Is that you? Is something wrong?"
Anne blinked back tears. She'd forgotten how much she and Alyssa alike on the telephone. It had been embarrassing as a teenager to listen to some guy talk about Alyssa, not realizing he'd gotten a hold of her sister.
And of course, her father wouldn't expect her to be calling him. Why should he? They hadn't spoken since the day she'd moved out of his house and into Susan's. But it would've been nice if he would've guessed her name, just this once.
"It's not Ally, Father. It's Anne. I got your message."
"Oh. Anne." Walter Elliot went from worried to annoyed in three seconds. "What the devil are you doing, calling so late?"
"I'm calling now...because I needed to tell you something."
"You needed to tell me something at two-thirty in the morning." Her father sounded utterly disinterested in anything she might have to say.
"Yes. I wanted to tell you..." Anne hesitated. "I wanted to thank you."
That stopped him short, because there was a long pause. "Thank me?" He sounded stunned, but regained his composure. "Well, of course you should thank me. After all, you learned everything about skating from me. You wouldn't have won that medal if I hadn't pushed you as far as I did. 'Bout time you came to your senses and thanked the one person you haven't bothered to mention in all those interviews you've been giving out."
"I wasn't thanking you for that." A lump formed in Anne's throat. "I wanted to thank you for nearly ruining my life. For planning on turning me away when I got back from London because Alyssa asked you to. For being so horrible that Susan...Susan...." Anne couldn't speak. "Susan drove away the one man I loved more than anything because she didn't want my career to end up like my mother's. And I've been miserable ever since, and I have you to thank for it."
"Don't be ridiculous. Susan's always been a card short of fifty-two when it comes to men. I told Patricia that when I first met the woman, but she refused to listen and so did you. So if your life is unhappy and Susan Russell is the cause, you have no one but yourself to blame. I did try to warn you not to let that woman coach you after...after we parted ways."
"After you dropped me? Isn't that how you should've finished that sentence?"
"I made a decision based on the abilities you both had at the time. I could only coach one of you. Alyssa had the talent, you didn't. It was as simple as that. If you'd taken my suggestion and quit skating altogether, you'd no doubt be much happier for it."
"Really? Funny how you didn't have this sort of trouble when it came to Maralys. Alyssa had no trouble sharing you with her. It was only me she didn't want around. I wonder if you agreed to it because you knew then that Alyssa wasn't going to have the drive to make it and it killed you to know that I would."
"Does it kill you to know that you won because the judges voted on their old lines? You were a European-trained skater, Helena trained in America. She was more athletic, you were more artistic. It broke down that way, or didn't you see the scores?"
Anne blinked back tears. Her father hadn't changed, not that she had expected him to. Attack him, and he came back ten times stronger. And he knew her weak spots, every one of them.
"Even if I'd only skated to a silver medal," she said, her voice shaky, "I still would've felt as though I won. You told me I would amount to nothing, and I proved you wrong. And the last reason I wanted to thank you is that you made me prove that to myself, because for a very long time I believed you. You ruined Alyssa's medal hopes by letting her get away with murder, and you pushed Maralys too far and she ran away, but I managed to get away. And I succeeded where you failed. That's what I wanted to tell you. I don't care why you wanted me to call you, because this will be the last time I do so." Anne hung up the phone, tears spilling over.
Over eight years later, and he can still get to me, she thought bleakly. Good thing she'd given up on sleep for the night.
Frederick and Hannah had taken advantage of the privacy the luxury suite afforded, although whether or not Frederick was as appreciative of this as Hannah was remained uncertain. Hannah, long attuned to Frederick's behavior, hadn't been able to help but notice that he'd seemed distracted, which wasn't good. She lay next to him, listening to him breathe, but not touching him in any way. Another first for them.
"Is something wrong, Frederick?" she asked softly.
"No. Why would there be?"
"I don't know. It just seems that you were distracted. As though your mind went somewhere else...with someone else."
Frederick went still. "Is that why you're here?" he asked. "Because you thought I would be getting back together with Anne?"
"How could I possibly have foreseen that since until the day I arrived, you swore you wanted nothing to do with her? I told you why I was here. I missed you so much that I felt I had to come." Hannah sighed. "But I'm beginning to wonder if that was such a good idea. I'm bored senseless in that car, Frederick. All Amy and Bret talked about were books and movies and skating. Then when Georgiana traded places with Amy, she and Bret didn't talk at all. What am I supposed to do? Hold a conversation with the baby? And by the way, did you tell them that I would be able to help out with the driving? Because you know quite well that I have trouble enough driving in England."
Frederick frowned at her. "Why do I feel like I'm on trial here? I didn't ask you to come. You decided this on your own, for whatever reason. If you don't like what you have to do in order to stay, you're more than welcome to go home."
"No, Freddie, that's not what I meant. Please don't be angry with me," she said, throwing her arms around him. She sighed. "You're right. I'm very jealous of Anne, because I know that you loved her a great deal and what you thought of as her betrayal altered your life. I know that the reason you were so cautious when you fell in love with me is because of her. She has a piece of your heart that I don't, and that bothers me." She looked into his eyes and smiled. "You know me, Frederick. I'm possessive. I want your whole heart, including that piece that you keep for her. But I'm trying to be reasonable about it, because I know that things don't work that way."
"You're right," he agreed gruffly. He kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry about tonight, Hannah. I'm just distracted with this tour and everything else. I just..."
"It's okay. I understand," she said. "You need to sleep."
"Yes, I do," he agreed. He closed his eyes. "Good night."
Hannah closed her eyes as well, but sleep would not come easily to her.
It was another hour before it did. Frederick waited until he knew Hannah was sound asleep before slipping out of the bed. He darted into the bathroom and into the shower. He didn't fear waking her up. Once she was out, she was out for a full eight hours.
As the hot water streamed out, he closed his eyes and tried to keep out the overwhelming thought he'd been thinking since the moment Hannah had arrived.
I don't love her. I never loved her.
A wave of hot shame made him hang his head. It was a traitorous thought to have of the woman who had invested more than three years of her life on you, but it was the only thing he could think at the moment. Did this thought stem from the realization that he and Anne had been tricked eight years ago? Or had it always been there, playing on the corners of his mind, waiting for the day he would see Anne again?
But it was a thought that wouldn't go away. When the night manager had informed him that Hannah was trapped in the elevator, he'd been concerned but he knew Hannah could deal with it well. When he'd found out Anne was with her, he panicked for her safety.
Was that when it was? Was that when I knew for certain I never loved her?
Frederick dumped far more shampoo than he needed into his hand. Cursing under his breath, he ran it through his hair anyway, lathering it until suds got into his eyes. He ducked back under the spray of water, rinsing off.
He wasn't a fool. He knew that Hannah had been concerned about this tour from the beginning, and she'd obviously heard something in his voice when they'd talked that first night that scared her enough that she decided to get on a plane and join him. She was more jealous of Anne than she let on. Frederick supposed, given the situation as he saw it, that she had good reason to be.
He was in a no-win situation and he knew it. He couldn't break up with Hannah just to be with Anne, because Anne would consider that wrong. She would feel so guilty about hurting another woman that she would consider it dishonorable to take up with him again. Frederick had no idea how he might possibly make her believe that she wasn't to blame.
Plus, there was the fact that Hannah wasn't the sort of person you wrote a "Dear Hannah" letter to. She wasn't going to boil bunnies on his stove or anything, but she was a great girl and he really hated to hurt her.
Better to hurt her than to stay in a relationship that's a total lie.
Frederick was running conditioner in his hair when he heard the bathroom door open. He froze. He hadn't been talking to himself----thank God he'd given up that practice long ago----but he'd been hoping to be alone. The only woman he'd ever showered with was Anne. For some reason, the thought of another woman joining him in a shower had palled after their relationship had ended.
"Don't worry. I'm not going to join you," Hannah said quietly. "I know that sharing showers isn't your thing."
"I thought you were sleeping. I'm sorry," he told her, ducking under the shower again to get rid of the conditioner.
"I've been having trouble sleeping of late." Her excuse didn't sound believable to him, but he let it go. "Freddie, I didn't just come because I missed you or because I was a bit jealous of Anne Elliot. I had another reason, a very good reason, for coming."
"And what was that?"
Hannah hesitated. "I hardly know how to tell you this, but I didn't want to leave it to a phone call. It's hardly the sort of news one gives to a person over the telephone."
"What is it?" Frederick turned off his shower.
There was another pause. "I'm going to have a baby."
Frederick's reaction was immediate----he ripped away the shower curtain and gaped at her in shock. Hannah looked nervous, as though she was afraid of what he'd say. For his part, he wasn't sure what to say.
A baby. Hannah's having a baby. She's having MY baby.
"Frederick, say something." Even Hannah's smile was nervous.
He shook his head, thinking maybe it would help the news sink in. "I hardly know what to say," he said.
Hannah's smile faltered. "But aren't you happy about it? I mean, I am. I could hardly believe it when the test showed I was pregnant, but..." She shrugged. "There you have it. We're having a baby."
"Yes, you said that already." Frederick's legs were starting to feel unsteady. He decided that the best thing would be to get out of the shower. He grabbed a towel from the rack and wrapped it around his waist as he stepped onto the rug. He nearly tripped getting out. Hannah took hold of him until he managed to regain his balance. "Sorry," he mumbled.
He walked back into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. He put his face in his hands and tried to make sense of the situation. Had it just been five minutes ago that he'd been thinking of ways he could break things off with Hannah without offending Anne's sense of fairness? Had he just realized that he'd never loved Hannah? How could she be having a baby?
Well, the how was pretty obvious. Why might be the correct question to ask.
"Frederick? Are you all right?"
"I think so, yes." He took his face out of his hands and looked at her. She was still looking nervous. "Are you absolutely certain?"
Hannah recoiled as if he'd slapped her. "Of course I'm certain! Would you like for me to take another test? I can run out and get one and...."
"No, Hannah, I'm not...I'm sorry. That didn't come out right. You've stunned me, as I'm sure you know."
Hannah sat next to him and put an arm around his waist. "I know. I probably shouldn't have told you in the bathroom, but we were discussing why I came and I realized I had to tell you the whole truth."
"Well, now you have." Frederick tried to make that sound jovial.
Hannah rested her head on his shoulder. "Freddie, I know we never talked about the future. At least, we didn't talk about it with any serious intentions, but...you know I love you. You're the only man I have ever loved, and I knew early on that I wanted to be with you for the rest of my life. I know that you were reluctant to let yourself fall in love with me, but I didn't let that bother me because I knew it would happen over time. It did."
Frederick didn't correct her.
"I know that the news of the baby is a shock. One minute, you're thinking that things are going great and nothing can complicate our life together, and then something like this happens."
You have no idea.
"But instead of thinking about how this is going to complicate our lives, I'm looking at this baby as a positive thing. If nothing else, it'll bring us closer together. Perhaps we should even get married."
"Married?" Frederick was dumbfounded. He couldn't marry her! He didn't love her. He loved Anne.
Anne. Oh, God, how am I going to explain this to Anne?
"Well1/4yes. I did rather think getting married would be a good idea. Not necessarily for the baby's sake, because I don't want you to think I trapped you into marriage, but that would be part of the reason."
"Of course it would be," Frederick mumbled. "It would be the main reason."
Hannah pulled away from him. "Frederick, you're scaring me," she said. "Why are you acting this way?"
"Why am I acting in what way, Hannah? How am I supposed to act when you casually announce, while I'm in the shower, that you're pregnant?"
"I'm sorry about the way I told you. I told you I realized it wasn't the best place or time to do it, but I couldn't keep it a secret any longer." Hannah looked at the floor. "But you're acting as if you're not happy about it, and I don't understand why."
"I...I...I'm not ready." Frederick knew even before he said it that it was a lame reason.
"Do you think I was? Quite honestly, I would prefer to be married to you for a few years before getting pregnant, but it's happened now. And you and I have to take this blessing, this miracle, and..."
"I don't think I want to get married."
Hannah turned pale. "W-what?" she stammered.
"I don't think I want to get married," he repeated. "I'm not ready to be a father. To be quite honest, Hannah, although we never did discuss children, I thought it would be obvious to you that until I retire from the sport, I'm not going to be a good parent. I've always been amazed that you haven't gone off me, the way I get sometimes."
"I told you, I don't care about that. I love you in spite of your faults. And you're wrong, Freddie. You are going to make a wonderful father. I know it...almost instinctively."
"I wish I could be as sure of that as you seem to be. But Hannah, you're not really hearing me."
"What am I supposed to be hearing?"
Frederick sighed. He knew he had no right to expect this to be easy, but she was forcing him to be a bigger bastard than he already was. "I don't want to marry you."
Hannah swallowed audibly. "Okay...that's fine. We don't have to get married. Our...our relationship is fine the way it is. I just thought that you would prefer that our child be legitimately born, but now that I think on it, perhaps marriage isn't such a good idea. We're as good as married anyway, and..."
Frederick closed his eyes. She was either deliberately missing his point or she was doing a very good impersonation of someone who was a bit thick. "Hannah, can we discuss this later? I'm exhausted."
"Of course, that's fine," she said quickly. "I understand that you need some sleep. I probably should've waited for the tour to end, but I might've been showing by then and that would be a lousy way to find out, right?"
"I don't know that I'll have time to talk to you in the morning," he warned her as he got off the bed and went looking for a pair of boxer shorts to slip into. His sleepless night continued.
George Knightley watched as his assembled group of skaters went through the motions, warming up while saving most of their energy for the performances to come. He could tell just by looking who had had a good night and who had not. The first name that came to mind in the "not" part was Anne Elliot, who had obviously not slept again. Her timing was off and she was nearly run over by Arthur Hurst, who apologized profusely.
Then there was Frederick Wentworth, who seemed to be in a total daze. George was confused by that, because Frederick had seemed to be the person with the fewest problems yesterday. As recently as last night, Frederick had seemed to be in a good mood. He'd taken his girlfriend's elevator predicament as well as could be expected, and if the kiss that Hannah had given him once she was free was any indication, the two of them should've spent a pleasant evening in the luxury suite together. But just as George was thinking this, Frederick fell on his third straight triple toe loop, a jump that should've been child's play for someone who routinely landed quads.
Georgiana Sullivan seemed to have a little trouble getting around the ice, although she was holding up better than could be expected. She was prone to giving her brother scathing looks whenever possible, and also prone to going out of her way to avoid Carl Denny and Charlotte Lucas. They were another couple that, as far as George could tell, seemed to be doing okay under stress.
As Lizzy and Fitz completed a death spiral, George beamed. Although they weren't their usual cheerful selves, they were at least speaking to each other courteously and he'd noticed that they'd been holding hands when they arrived. Things weren't perfect between the Darcys, but at least they weren't at each other's throats as they had been last night.
Which brought him to Rich, who was cheerful, energetic, and had just reeled off his fifth quad lutz of the morning. At least someone's happy today, George thought sourly as he wondered where Emma had hidden the Maalox.
"I don't care that he apologized, Lizzy. He's done it so many times that I'm sick of forgiving him. He's my brother, not my jailor, and until I have absolute proof that he's come to his senses about that fact, I'm not speaking to him." Georgiana crossed her arms over her chest and tried not to glare at her sister-in-law, knowing this wasn't Lizzy's fault. "Look, it's okay for you to forgive him. You're his wife as well as his skating partner. You had a choice when it comes to loving him and you made it."
"But he's always going to be your brother," Lizzy said quietly.
"A fact that doesn't always make me happy." Georgiana looked down at her skates. "Tell him that it's probably not a good idea for me to forgive him right now. Maybe later, if I can get this situation worked out with Carl and Charlotte, maybe then I'll get around to forgiving him. You know what's so funny? Last night, right before he exploded, I told him that I didn't deserve him as a brother. He said everyone deserved him." She forced a laugh.
"Have you talked with Carl since last night?" Lizzy asked.
Georgiana shook her head. "It wasn't exactly the best situation, was it? I really managed to screw things up when I went to talk to Charlotte."
"Why didn't you come to me? I wouldn't have told Fitz."
"He would've demanded that you tell him. If you hadn't, you would've fought."
"We fought anyway," Lizzy pointed out. "Still, I understand your reasons. And I know why you don't want to forgive him. To be honest, I'm still not sure why I did."
"Because you love him," Georgiana said. "I usually forgive Bret when he's being stupider than stupid, so why shouldn't you do the same with Fitz?"
"Good point." Lizzy smiled. "Have you and Bret talked about what to do as far as this situation goes?"
Georgiana nodded. "He thinks I should bite the bullet with the press and admit that Carl is Bridget's father. You'd think that he'd remember how bad they can be when a nice, juicy scandal lands in their lap, being a former reporter."
Lizzy understood completely, having been in the center of a scandal herself a time or two. "You know that there's a good chance they already know, don't you? Someone probably heard the entire argument last night. I wouldn't be surprised if we're besieged by tabloid reporters soon."
"I thought of that, but there were no messages waiting for me this morning when I left. They would've been all over me this morning if someone had. We may have lucked out."
"How long do you think it can stay a secret, though?" Lizzy asked. "Whether you like it or not, Carl is Bridget's father. He has a legal right to see her. I think that if he has to, he'll pursue it into court. Then everyone will know and it won't look good."
"You think I haven't thought about that?" Georgiana breathed, anguished. "I wish there were some way that things would work out the way they should, but I don't see how."
"Take Bret's advice," Lizzy told her. "Work out an agreement with Carl before the press does get wind of it. And try to look at it this way----if you're open with the press, they won't hound you so much. If you come out and tell the truth, they'll have no reason to make up whatever they can think of."
With a reassuring touch on the shoulder, Lizzy skated back to Fitz to tell him that Georgiana had no intention of forgiving him until he could prove he'd grown up. She left behind a confused but thoughtful Georgiana.
"You're still mad at me, aren't you?" Carl mumbled as he slowed down to keep in glide with his wife. "For not telling you I'd spoken to Georgiana, I mean."
Charlotte struggled with her answer. "I'm hurt," she admitted. "I wish you'd come to me to tell me that you were planning to pursue some sort of visitation with the baby. But I'm not mad."
Carl sighed, knowing what was really bothering her. They hadn't discussed it much. "If I had that day to do over again, Charlotte, I wouldn't have slept with her. You know that. If things had worked out the way I wanted, it would've been you with me, and you would've had my baby."
Charlotte shook her head. "If we'd been together that day, one of us would probably be dead because we both would've been on the plane. Both of the people I was sitting next to died. Or we would've been on a different flight but we still would've been flying home. I've never thought the idea of sex on a plane was appealing, so we wouldn't have done anything that would've resulted in me getting pregnant." She came to a stop. He stopped a second later and turned to face her. She put a hand on his cheek. "I know that while you wished it hadn't happened, you're happy that Bridget is here."
Carl placed a hand on the hand she'd extended and brought it down, keeping it clasped in his own. "I know that it hurts you to know that, if that makes any sense."
Charlotte nodded. "It does, oddly enough."
"I didn't know I would be talking to Georgiana two nights ago. It was one of those situations that just sort of happens and you have to stumble your way through it. If I'd been sensible, I would've just asked to hold the baby for a minute and left her alone. But I had to drudge the whole problem up and...well, here we are."
"I know that." Charlotte put her arms around him. "And I probably shouldn't be so hurt. It's not like I really have any idea of what you ought to do."
"I was thinking about that last night," Carl said. "And I still don't have a solution that will appeal to Georgiana. Maybe I should do what she asks and just be some sort of honorary uncle or a godfather or something."
"Godfather isn't bad," Charlotte said. "At least you'd get to see her regularly and she'd grow to love you. She'd know who you were."
"But she wouldn't know the whole truth. I'd be willing to let Bret's name remain on her birth certificate and let her keep his surname as long as I was allowed to be acknowledged privately as her father and allowed to see her whenever I was in town."
"I don't see Georgiana going for that."
"Neither do I. Georgiana fears that she'd be too young to understand discretion and would tell someone. And at the same time, I'm not sure I want to be considered anyone's dirty little secret, least of all Bridget's."
Charlotte hugged him tighter. "We'll figure something out, Carl. We have to...for your sake as well as Georgiana and Bridget's."
"Jimmy!" Helena Hampton called, skating over to the tall man who had walked up to the ice. She came to a stop and threw her arms around him. "Nick sends his love to you and Caroline. Is she here, too?"
"Of course she is. She's over there, talking to some friends." James Hampton pointed to the other side of the rink, where his heavily-pregnant, dark-haired wife stood, talking to an animated Georgiana Sullivan, who gave James a hearty wave. He was glad to see it, because as he'd been walking to the ice, he'd noticed her looking glum. Caroline turned as well and gave them a small wave. James waved back as Fitz and Lizzy skated over to him.
"It's good to see you, James," Lizzy said, hugging him as well as Helena's music started, causing her to give a quick wave before leaving.
"You look lovely, Lizzy," he replied. "Hey, Darcy." He extended his hand to the man who bore a striking resemblance to him.
James Hampton and Fitz Darcy happened to be first cousins, hence the resemblance. Fitz's father George and James' mother Melissa had been brother and sister. While a family rift had, for a good long while, kept George and Melissa from speaking to each other, the cousins had bonded early and had never allowed their parents' disagreements to interfere with their friendship. Although they had taken different paths of success---Fitz as a skater and James as a renowned sports commentator for the Network---the two of them were in close contact, calling each other at least once a week.
"I see you and Caroline are still together," Fitz said with a teasing grin.
"And as happy as ever."
"When's the baby due?"
"June fifth, and I think Caroline will be relieved when it's all over. She despises being so fat, or so she says."
"So she says?" Lizzy asked.
James nodded. "Personally, I think she adores being pregnant, she just doesn't want to admit it. If she didn't, she wouldn't have started buying maternity clothes the minute she found out about the baby."
"Why would that make you think she's happy to be pregnant?" Fitz asked.
"She started wearing the shirts the same day. Caroline claimed she was just getting used to the way she'd be looking for seven months, but I know she was just trying to fool me."
"I heard that," Caroline objected, making slow progress in getting over to them. "Hello, Fitz1/4Lizzy."
If their welcome to her was less than warm, it was to be understood. Fitz had never quite been able to forgive Caroline for not telling him of George Wickham's plan to hurt Georgiana four years ago, and the bitter rivalry that had been between the two women was difficult to overcome. For their husbands' sakes, Lizzy and Caroline were polite to each other, but that was as far as it went. Every so often, Lizzy would find herself experiencing an almost-friendly feeling toward Caroline, but it didn't last long.
"I'll have you know, Mr. Hampton, that I am not only tired of being fat. I'm also tired of sore feet, frequent trips to the ladies' room, looking like a penguin when I walk, and the fact that my fingers are swollen to the point where I can't wear my wedding ring." Caroline pulled a chain out from underneath her peach maternity gown. Her engagement ring hung from it was well as her wedding band.
"These are the things you want to look forward to?" Fitz asked Lizzy.
"Of course," she replied, not revealing her annoyance at the casual way he had asked that question. "Do you know what you're having?" she asked Caroline.
"A girl." Caroline beamed.
"No, dear, we're having a boy," James corrected. "Any daughter of ours is going to need a big brother to watch over her if she turns out like you."
Caroline swatted him playfully. "Actually, we don't have a clue. We decided to be surprised, although we did go ahead and pick out names."
"And what names did you choose?" Lizzy asked.
"If it's a girl, we're naming her Mariah Grace and Christopher James if it's a boy."
"We only agree on Christopher," James said. "If we have a girl, I want to name her after my paternal grandmother."
Fitz winced. "Jimmy, you wouldn't seriously name your child Phyllida, would you?"
"What's wrong with the name? It suited my grandmother well."
"That's the problem," Caroline pointed out. "It's what grandmothers are named, not newborn babies. We're going with Mariah."
"Phyllida."
"We'll just see about this," Caroline said in a tone of voice which indicated that she would hear no arguments.
Lizzy chuckled. She knew without asking who would win.
"I need to get through, please." Hannah Musgrove pushed her way past the four of them abruptly. She was wearing a pair of skates and a determined look on her face. "Frederick, I need to talk to you!" she shouted as she pushed off from the boards.
"Who the hell is she?" Caroline asked. "I don't remember seeing her before."
"She's Hannah Musgrove. Frederick Wentworth's girlfriend," Lizzy said. "And if you'd ever been trapped in an elevator with her for three hours, you'd never forget her."
"Trapped in an elevator?" James asked.
Lizzy nodded as she stepped off the ice, slipping on her skate guards. "Last night, I was stuck in an elevator with her and Anne Elliot. Anne wasn't bad company---in fact, she slept most of the time. But Hannah was so annoying that I finally had to give her the book I intended to read to pass the time."
"Why did you give her your book?" Caroline asked.
"To shut her up."
"That hardly seems fair. It was your book, after all. Why give it up to her?" Caroline clicked her tongue. "That was always your problem, Lizzy. You gave in to people too easily."
Lizzy bristled slightly, as she always did when Caroline made a thoughtless remark. She noticed that James murmured something in Caroline's ear which made her blush. When Caroline apologized for her comment, Lizzy raised her eyebrows in surprise.
Perhaps their daughter would be named Phyllida after all.
"Hannah, what the hell are you doing out here?" Frederick hissed, just managing to get her out of Helena's way before the blonde skater whizzed past.
"How could you leave me this morning? You said we'd continue our conversation after you'd had a chance to sleep on it."
"I told you I probably wouldn't have time to talk before I had to leave," he shot back. "I told you we would discuss it further, and we shall. Tonight. Not right now."
"No, I think we should discuss it now, because you obviously plan to duck the question. Here, on the ice, you'll answer it or I'll start shouting to everyone---especially your precious Anne---that you're a lousy rat who won't do the right thing by the woman carrying his child."
"I never said I wouldn't do the right thing. I only said that I didn't want to marry you," Frederick shot back. "And behavior such as this isn't convincing me to change my mind, Hannah. For another thing, Anne Elliot is no longer my precious anything. As I have said on numerous occasions, including last night, the past is over and finished."
"No, it is not. It took me a bit of time after you left this morning to realize that the reason you don't want to marry me is because you're still in love with her."
Frederick almost shouted, "Is that what you want me to tell you, Hannah? Is it? You want me to say to you, to everyone, that I still love Anne Elliot? Fine, then I still love Anne Elliot. I always have, maybe I always shall."
Hannah looked stricken. She obviously hadn't expected him to say that. She took a slippery step back, righted herself, and then stumbled off in the direction she'd come from, not saying another word to him.
Frederick didn't look at anyone, fearing if he did he would see Anne. "Hannah," he said with a sigh, knowing he had to smooth things over with her.
Hannah had picked up speed as she headed for the way off the ice while Frederick had to weave around other skaters. He didn't realize the danger until it was too late. Hannah, blinded by tears, didn't slow down fast enough and didn't notice that the foursome she'd pushed her way through to get on the ice was still standing there. It wasn't until she was practically where she needed to be that she saw her error.
With a piercing scream, Hannah crashed into the young woman with her back turned to the ice, whose husband had been unable to react fast enough. Hannah's last thought was of Frederick as she lost consciousness.
"LIZZY!" Fitz shouted as the tall figure hurtled into his wife. Lizzy fell forward and almost onto Caroline. Fortunately, James grabbed her just before Lizzy could collide with her and pulled her aside. Lizzy and Hannah fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs. A sickening crack was heard and neither woman moved. "Oh, my God! Elizabeth!"
Under normal circumstances, Fitz would've known better than to pick Lizzy up, knowing there was a good chance she had some sort of head or neck injury. But all that mattered to him right then was holding Lizzy, so he picked her up. Her head lolled as he grasped her shoulders. He moaned when she didn't respond to his touch.
What Fitz didn't notice, but James did, was the other prone body. Hannah hadn't moved at all since the accident. He shouted, "We need an ambulance right away!"
"Hannah!" Frederick cried, barely managing to bring himself to a stop. He paid no heed to the blades of his skates as he rushed over to where Hannah was laying. He went to pick her up.
"You can't move her!" James exclaimed. "It looks like she's got a head injury, possibly a serious one. You can't move her or you might do her more harm than good." He looked over at Fitz. "Dammit, Fitz, why did you move Lizzy?"
"You didn't honestly expect me to let her lie there, did you?" Fitz snapped. "Lizzy, darling, wake up."
"Oh, God, I feel faint," Caroline moaned. Georgiana, who had darted over the minute she heard Hannah scream, took a hold of her and led her to the seats. She called to Bret to get Caroline a glass of water.
"Oh, Hannah...I'm so sorry," Frederick whispered as he did the only thing he could and took her hand in his. "This is all my fault. I'm such a fool."
"Has anyone called an ambulance?" James snapped as he took Hannah's other wrist and felt for a pulse.
"I did," Anne said quietly behind him.
Frederick stared at her. Her violet eyes were wide with shock, either from Hannah's accident or what he'd shouted just before it or both. He looked away in guilt.
"They said they would be here as soon as possible," she added.
"Good. Do you happen to know any first aid?"
Anne nodded. "I'm certified to give CPR. I get it renewed every year."
"CPR?" Frederick's own head felt light. "Is she...? Oh, God! What will her parents say?"
"No, but I needed to know just in case." James frowned at the blood that was seeping from Hannah's head. He looked over at his cousin, who was still cradling Lizzy in his lap. "How is she?"
"I can feel a knot on her forehead," Fitz murmured. "She's breathing."
A startled yelp came out of nowhere. Fitz looked down, hoping it had been Lizzy, but her eyes were still closed. He turned around and saw Caroline holding her stomach, looking like she'd just been kicked hard.
"Caroline! Are you all right?" James stood up to attend to his wife.
"I'm not sure. I've been having pains all morning, some not so bad and some not so good. This one was different."
"Different how?"
"Different as in it bloody hurt!" Caroline hissed as another pain shot through her body. "I think this is it."
"You mean to tell me you've been in labor all morning long and you didn't tell me?"
"How the hell was I supposed to know I was in labor? Have I ever been in labor before? I don't think so!"
"But it's too soon," James protested.
"I'd appreciate it if you would explain that to your impatient child! He seems bent on being born today."
"After one pain?"
Georgiana cleared her throat. "Excuse me, Jimmy, but I get the feeling she's a little farther along than that." She pointed at the ground. Caroline's water had broken.
"Oh, God," James murmured. "Okay, we're going to call the doctor and have him meet us at the hospital."
"I don't think we're going to make it," Caroline wailed.
"Don't you guys have some sort of trainer or medical personnel?" James asked.
"And here he is," George Knightley called as he and a short man of about fifty-five walked over to the scene. "I went to get Dr. Northam the minute I heard the girl scream. How many are hurt?"
"Both Lizzy and Hannah are unconscious. Caroline's in labor. Frederick looks like he's in shock," Anne informed him. "I hope they bring enough stretchers in that ambulance."
Dr. Northam examined Hannah first, moving her as little as necessary. The look on his face was of grave concern. "Her pulse seems to be slipping quite a bit," he said, frowning. "That's not good. How soon before the ambulance gets here?"
"It shouldn't be long. I called five minutes ago," Anne said.
The doctor's frown deepened when he saw Lizzy in her husband's arms. "She's the other girl with a possible head injury? Why did you move her?"
"She's my wife, dammit. Don't tell me----"
"Fitz, please don't go starting any fights here," Georgiana said coolly. "He's just concerned about Lizzy."
Fitz glared at his sister but didn't continue his discussion with the doctor. While Dr. Northam examined Lizzy, Caroline let out another yell of pain.
"Do you think you could get over here and help me out?!" she snapped.
"Darling, your problem is obvious to everyone here. We don't know what could be wrong with Lizzy and Hannah," James explained.
"But I'm in labor!!"
The doctor turned back to Lizzy, whose eyelids fluttered and then opened. She looked up at Fitz, whose attention was momentarily diverted by Caroline's hysterics. She murmured something that he almost missed.
"Lizzy? Lizzy, sweetheart, are you awake? What did you say?" Fitz bent his head so he could hear her better. Lizzy repeated what she'd said, causing him to smile with relief.
"What did she say?" the doctor asked.
"She said, 'Trust Caroline.'"
Dr. Northam nodded absently. "It looks like she may just have a concussion. She should go to the hospital anyway, just so they can be sure." He stood up and went over to Caroline, leading her away from the scene of the accident so that they could have privacy. James put an arm around Caroline and helped her.
Three minutes later, Caroline screamed, "I don't care what you see! I'm not having this baby in a skating rink! I'm going to a hospital where I can have a proper birth and heavy drugs!"
Fitz would've laughed, but he refocused on Lizzy, whose was drifting in and out of consciousness. Her eyes opened and stared at him for a minute. He squeezed her hand reassuringly.
"Fitz..."
"Yes, darling?"
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"You have nothing to be sorry about. You didn't cause this accident. Frederick knows that, and I'm sure Hannah will when she regains consciousness."
"No...not about that."
"Then about what? Yesterday? Again, you have nothing to be forgiven for."
"No...I...I stopped taking...the Pill."
"What pill?"
"The..." Lizzy's eyes started to close. "But it didn't matter. I didn't have a baby. Maybe I never will." And then she was out again.
I stopped taking the pill. Fitz's brain wasn't quite up to the usual level of thinking clearly. Why would Lizzy be sorry about not taking a pill?
Not A pill. THE pill. Birth control pills.
Fitz didn't have time to think about it because just then, a loud voice boomed, "Coming through, people! Step aside!" Four paramedics pushed their way through the throng that had gathered. "Here they are, guys!"
"Is your wife allergic to anything?" the paramedic, whose name tag identified him as Con, asked as the ambulance sped toward the hospital. The other paramedic, Demitrius, was watching Lizzy's vital signs. Every so often, Fitz heard him murmur to Lizzy that she was doing fine, which was something of a comfort.
"Nothing medicinal. Just spider bites and licorice," Fitz said.
"Is she on any medication at the moment?"
"Uh...she was on birth control pills, but she said she'd stopped taking them." Fitz was still trying to get over that bit of news.
"Do you know when that was?"
Fitz had a pretty good idea. "She probably stopped taking them around the end of January."
"Anything else?"
"The occasional pain reliever. She has an old ankle injury that gives her a bit of pain once in a while. She takes ibuprofen for it, I think."
"Is there a chance your wife could be pregnant?"
Fitz almost said no until he remembered Lizzy's half-conscious confession. "She might be, although she said she wasn't," he told Con.
"Has she ever suffered an injury like this before?"
"No. The only serious injuries she's had were a separated shoulder from a fall when she was thirteen and a sprained ankle four years ago. She occasionally twists a knee or something, but nothing else that has required hospitalization."
The ambulance slowed down to turn a corner. When it didn't speed up, Fitz realized they were at the hospital. Con and Demitrius opened the doors and got out, then reached in for Lizzy. Fitz followed them into the hospital and as far as the front desk before he was stopped by a nurse and asked to give Lizzy's vitals again.
"They will get someone in to see her immediately, won't they?" Fitz asked.
"As soon as possible," the nurse told him a bored voice as she handed him a clipboard.
"You miserable excuse for a human being! I hate you! You rotten, evil, sadistic, lustful, self-serving son of a----" The cursing ended abruptly in a loud shriek.
"If I were Jimmy, I'd be running for my life right about now," Georgiana said as she finished dressing in the area set aside for the men's dressing room. The women's dressing room had been appropriated by Dr. Northam, Caroline, and occasionally James. There hadn't been room in the ambulances for Caroline, who was too close to the delivering her baby anyway according to the doctor, and so against her wishes she was giving birth at the rink.
"You'd think she was the only woman to ever give birth, the way she's carrying on," Emma muttered, conveniently forgetting all the shouting and cursing she'd made her husband endure during the births of their two children. "Although I will admit, when you're going through it, you do feel like you're the only one who's ever gone through it."
"I know. But at least I managed not to threaten to burn Bret alive."
Emma finished shrugging into a black, sequined skating dress. She chose to err on the side of caution and not bug Georgiana for details about whom she might've been threatening to burn alive during childbirth.
"Although I did yell a lot," Georgiana admitted.
"I swear to God, you'd better hope this is a boy because there is NO WAY you're ever going to put me in this position again. Never! Again!"
"I think I remember making that threat," Emma said with a frown.
Georgiana smoothed down any possible wrinkles in her blue skating dress and went to look at herself in the mirror. She looked fine, but she couldn't help but notice that she looked worried.
"Do you think Lizzy's going to be all right?" she asked softly.
"Oh, of course she is." Emma reached into her duffel bag for a hair brush and started working on her luxurious blonde hair. "It didn't look like Lizzy got the worst of that accident. I think I heard her say something about children to Fitz before the ambulance arrived, so she should be fine. That other poor girl, though..."
"I know. It seems sort of strange, how she joins us on the road one day and winds up in a hospital the next." Georgiana sighed. "It seems like she had nothing but bad luck. First she gets stuck in the elevator with Lizzy and Anne, then she has a fight with Frederick, who was obviously the only reason she was here, and then she loses control of her momentum and hits her head."
"This is TOO all your fault! I wasn't ready to have children but you thought it was such a WONDERFUL idea! If it was such a great idea, why don't YOU have this baby instead of me!"
"I think I said that," Georgiana admitted.
The door to the dressing room opened and a shaken Charlotte walked in. She was still dressed in her practice gear.
"Charlotte! Are you all right?" Georgiana asked, taking the other woman by the arm and leading her to a bench.
"I...I should be okay," Charlotte murmured, putting her head down. "I just feel a little faint. I think it was seeing that girl lying on the ground, not moving....I don't know."
"Oh, no," Georgiana murmured. It would've been impossible not to realize that Charlotte was bothered by the sight of a head injury, having barely survived one of her own. "Do you want me to get Carl for you?"
"Would you please? He was out there convincing Rich that there would be no point in him going along with Fitz and not performing this afternoon."
"Sure." Georgiana stood and made to leave, but Charlotte grabbed her arm.
"Georgie...about yesterday."
"I don't want to talk about yesterday," she said quickly.
"But we need to, and you know it. Carl has an idea for how things can work out to everyone's satisfaction. I know this is hardly the time or place to talk about it, but please listen to him. Think about it when he tells you."
"I already have a solution," Georgiana said quietly. "And I'm not backing away from it." She extricated herself from Charlotte's grasp and went to find Carl.
Georgiana was wandering the halls when Caroline let out one final, piercing scream, and then fell silent. Moments later, a thin, indignant wail was heard.
"Thank God," Georgiana murmured as she continued to look for Carl. She was stopped in the hallway by a red-faced James, who hugged her and proclaimed, "It's a boy!"
Fitz paced the hallway outside the emergency room, wondering what could possibly be taking so long. Why weren't they wheeling Lizzy somewhere to have a CAT scan? Why had it been necessary to draw blood when all she'd done was hit her head? And why hadn't that doctor let him see her?
"Fitz!"
Fitz turned at the sound of a familiar voice. James was strolling into the emergency room, a smug smile on his face. Two paramedics practically ran over him with a wheelchair. Caroline was sitting in the wheelchair cradling what looked to be a bundle of towels. Fitz was stunned at how pleased Caroline looked. It wasn't her old expression of triumphant, malicious happiness, but rather a wondrous, amazed type of look.
"Congratulations are in order, I take it?" Fitz said, making his way over to James.
"It is indeed."
"Am I congratulating you on little Christopher or little Mariah Phyllida?"
"Little Christopher, and that would've been Mariah Grace," Caroline replied as she came to a stop just in front of an examining room. "And as he didn't do a damn thing, your congratulations should be sent my way."
Fitz laughed at the indignant look on James' face. "Now hold on a minute," James objected. "I was the one whose ears were burning and whose life was in dire jeopardy every time you had a contraction. You should've heard the things she screamed at me, Fitz. Bikers don't use that kind of language."
"Congratulations, Caroline." Fitz peered down at the bundle of towels. Now he could see the little wrinkled face frowning up at him. "He looks just like you."
"Of course he doesn't. He looks just like his daddy."
"Excuse me, gentlemen, but we need to get the lady and the baby upstairs to be checked over," the paramedic holding onto Caroline's chair said.
"Hang on a second," Caroline ordered. "Fitz, how's Lizzy?"
"I think she's okay," Fitz replied. "She woke up just as you went into labor and said something before passing out again. The doctors are looking her over now. They drew blood but they haven't taken her for a CAT scan or anything like that."
"That's probably a good thing. What about the other girl...Hannah?"
Fitz shook his head. "I don't know. I haven't seen Frederick or heard anything from him."
"I hope they're both okay."
"Me, too. Now, please, to an examining room?" The paramedic said, pushing Caroline away.
"I'll stop back by as soon as they're done with Caroline," James promised before disappearing after his wife and son.
"Mr. Darcy?"
Fitz turned to see the doctor who had gone into Lizzy's room coming out. He was a tall man with a friendly smile, a crooked nose, and unruly dark hair. When Fitz approached, he said, "I'm Dr. Morris. Your wife is going to be fine."
Fitz didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until Dr. Morris had said that. "Are you certain?" he asked.
"Yes. She's resting right now, but she suffered a concussion. She'll probably have a headache for a couple of days, possibly some blurred vision and disorientation. Much as it pains me to say this, she shouldn't skate for a few days." Dr. Morris smiled. "My girlfriend and I had tickets to see the show tomorrow afternoon. You and your wife are her favorite skaters."
Fitz couldn't help but smile at that. "But you're sure she's okay?" he repeated.
"Yes. I want to keep her overnight, just for observation and to make sure she'll be fine, but if she's okay tomorrow morning she can go."
Fitz extended his hand, which the doctor shook. "Thank you," he said. "I appreciate everything you've done."
"You're quite welcome. By the way, congratulations."
"Congratulations?" Fitz's brow furrowed with confusion. "For what?"
Now it was Dr. Morris' turn to look confused. "I figured you already knew. Didn't Elizabeth tell you about the baby?"
Three floors above Fitz, Frederick paced the halls as well, although he feared the prognosis wouldn't be as good for Hannah. After running some tests, she'd been rushed upstairs to surgery. No one would tell him anything, but the thought of Hannah dying sent chills down his spine.
"You should sit down."
Frederick spun around to see Anne walking toward him. She looked as though she'd just stepped from a shower, her hair slicked back into a damp ponytail, her face scrubbed clean of cosmetics. She looked like she was eighteen again.
Life was a lot simpler back then, he thought sadly.
"I can't sit down," he replied. "I brought her to this. She would have been watching where she was going if I'd done what she asked me to do."
Anne shook her head. "You can't blame yourself for this. We used to fight, on the ice even, and yet I always had the sense to watch where I was going."
"But Hannah's not you," he said. "You're a skater. She's not. I should've known...."
"Frederick, how could you possibly have known? Come on, sit down."
"Shouldn't you be at the arena? The show is going on, isn't it?"
"It's already over." Anne pointed at the clock over their heads. Frederick thought quickly and realized that the show would've ended ninety minutes ago. "You're going to wear yourself out if you don't sit, and that won't do Hannah any good. Please."
Frederick allowed her to bully him into a chair. "I don't deserve anyone's sympathy," he said dully. "You can say that I'm not to blame for Hannah's accident, but I am. She wanted to talk to me about something important and I wouldn't listen. God forgive me, I didn't want to listen, because if I did, I would have to acknowledge that..." He looked at Anne. He remembered his last words to Hannah, about loving Anne, and wondered if she'd heard what he'd said.
"Tell me. It might do you some good to get it out," Anne said.
Frederick poured the story out to her, leaving nothing out. Not Hannah's jealousy, not his conflicted feelings about Anne, not even the shock Hannah had given him last night when she'd announced she was pregnant.
"I handled the news so horribly," he confessed. "I never handle difficult situations well. Look what happened with Alyssa. Look what happened with the end of our relationship. I treated you badly when I saw you again last week. Then we find out the truth and Hannah shows up on the same day and now...now this. You'd think I would've learned how to handle problems with good grace by the time I reached this age, but I obviously haven't. But she threw me so off-guard!" He exhaled sharply. "This isn't her fault, though. Being shocked is no excuse for what happened to her at the rink."
"Frederick, you make it sound like you pushed her into Lizzy."
"I may as well have! Don't you see? She was so hurt by what I said that...that she didn't look where she was going. What if...what if she dies? How will I ever be able to live with myself in that happens?"
"You don't know what's going to happen. Maybe Hannah will be just fine and...and the two of you..." Anne swallowed heavily. "The two of you can work this out, and things will be fine."
Frederick gasped. "Her parents! Dear God, I haven't called them! They don't know what happened to her!"
"Let me call them," Anne suggested. "What's the number?"
"I should call them. It's my fault, and they don't know you."
"You're not looking at this objectively. Now give me the number and I'll call them."
Frederick babbled the number to her. Anne had just left to make the phone call when the door to the operating room opened. A tall, red-haired doctor emerged. With a sigh, he removed his surgical mask and said, "Frederick Wentworth?"
"Yes!" Frederick hurried over. "I'm Frederick."
"Dr. Janaway."
"Wonderful to meet you...how is she?"
"She made it through the surgery, but...things are touch-and-go at the moment. We're doing everything we can for her, but there's no way to tell with this type of injury. She might wake up in three hours or three years." Dr. Janaway hesitated a moment too long before continuing.
"Or she might never wake up at all." Frederick felt a fresh wave of guilt. This is all my fault. If only I'd agreed to speak to her. If only I hadn't deliberately left the hotel before she awoke. If only...
"That's a possibility, but for now let's call that a remote one. Hannah's young and strong. She should awaken. When she does, then we'll be able to determine the amount of damage she sustained."
Frederick nodded. "And...and the baby? Will it be okay?"
Again, there was that hesitation, and Frederick knew that what he'd feared had happened.
"Yes...about that." Dr. Janaway looked at the mask, crushed between his hands. "There's no easy way to tell you this, but..."
"It's all right. I knew when you didn't say anything. She's lost the baby."
Dr. Janaway shook his head. "No. Hannah wasn't pregnant. There was no baby to begin with."