Fitzwilliam Darcy, Master of Pemberley in Derbyshire, sat at his large oak desk in his study glancing about in boredom.

He had finished his correspondence and had dealt with estate business and it was only half past one in the afternoon.

He glanced out the window, it was a beautiful day.

The sun was out, the birds were chirping mearily in the trees, the leaves on the trees were a deep green and the pond had a sparkling ripple across it's surface. Everything seemed so happy and perfect.

If only his life could be as happy and perfect.

It had been almost 2 years since he forced Elizabeth Bennet to be his wife.

Upon reflection, he realized perhaps the forced marriage wasn't such a great idea, but at the time he had felt the only way to have her was to use Bennet family's potential for ruin.

He continued to gaze outside at the beautiful, perfect day reflecting on his life.

He recalled the first few months of their marriage, the days he still had had hope.

He had offered her everything, and anything he thought a woman desired, new clothing, a horse, a new carriage, an exotic vacation.

But she had declined. He knew that she couldn't be bought, but he had offered anyways.

So he had let her lead.

She would go read, he would go read, although she had done the actual reading. He had remained awestruck with her being his wife.

She went for a stroll in the gardens, he accompanied her, well, he followed, watching intently each time she stopped to look at a flower or gaze into the depths of the ponds.

At night a simple kiss on the cheak before retiring had become their routine.

And then she would walk down the hall to her room, and he would watch her until she disappeared for the night.

She never said anything to him. Mostly nod's or shakes of the head.

Darcy was very sure his servants had had more conversations with her than he.

She came into view of his study window.

His breath still caught, just like the day he had married her.

She was wearing a white spring dress perfectly fit to her.

He watched as she floated across the grass navigating the calm green seas heading to her favorite place to sit, under the smallest oak tree in the garden.

It was his favorite place too because she had asked him for the tree.

"William" she had asked looking up from the book she had been reading.

It must have been a week since she had spoken to him.

"Yes my love" he had answered quickly but calmer than he had expected to sound

" May we plant an oak tree beside the garden?"

"Anything for you" he had answered hoping not to sound desperate

And then she smiled at him, one of her rare stunning smiles that lit up his world.

Anything for her.

Anything.

He watched as she sat down under the growing tree.

She held a little bundle in her arms, rocking it gently side to side.

His son.

He remembers the heart shattering night she had asked for a child.

"Please Fitzwilliam" she never used his full name "I'm so lonely"

As he gazed into her eyes he saw the emptyness, and he hated how it was is doing.

Elizabeth then was just a hollow shell of the woman he had fallen in love with.

It still brought tears to his eyes thinking about it.

He couldn't go back on the deal, even if he wanted to.

He just couldn't.

He had forced her to sever all ties with her family.

He had broken her for he knew family was everything to her.

He remembers the night. The one night she had let him hold her in his arms. The one night they were truly man and wife.

He would remember most, waking up with his wife in his arms. That memory would keep him going till the end of his days.

And he remembers the months after that night, watching as she grew swolen with his child.

He remembers those months fondly. She had allowed him to read to her, and their child.

She allowed him to carry her in his arms when she couldn't walk anylonger.

He was selfish when he once hoped she wouldn't recover, so he could always hold her in his arms.

He remembers the day his son was born.

It was an unseasonably cold afternoon in June.

The first time he held his son, he swore to himself he would fix his marriage.

His son was made of love, at least his part was. And her part, he feard, was lonliness.

He never wanted his child to feel lonely.

The first few weeks after their son's birth they had spent nearly every moment together.

He watched his tiny son grow fast.

He was very much Elizabeths child. He had deep green eyes that could pierce deep into your sou, and a laugh that could fill up an entire room. But he had the Darcy nose and his dark hair.

His son was now four months old.

And he, Fitzwilliam Darcy, still had yet to fix things.

He knew how much she wished to share their child with her family.

He knew how Mr. Bennet would sit the child on his knee and tell wise old tales of Cowboys, Witches and Explorers.

And he knew how Mrs. Bennet would insist on feeding the child all sorts of sweets.

And he knew how Jane would dote on the child as her own.

And that is what he wished for his son, happiness and family.

For he and Elizabeth could only provide a fraction of what a child needs.

He sighed.

He didn't want to see the man who nearly destroyed everything.

He didn't want his son to grow up near the bastard.

And he especially didn't want his son becoming friends with his children.

And yet,

As he wearly watched his wife sit under the tree softly reading to their son

He knew family was the way to start to mend everything.

He knew it would take a lot of effort, and months, perhaps, years to sort out all the baggage he and Elizabeth had between them.

But giving Elizabeth and their son family would be a start.