"I'll ask her," he decided. "Just in case she is secretly hoping for one and not saying anything." It wouldn't surprise him if she did, but perhaps it would just make her miss all her friends from home.
"Oh. Yes, I'm a Darcy, too," he nodded. Hard to forget when Bridget so often called him by his full name, and not just Mark. He took a drink, and then nodded when she asked about the middle name. She always tended to refer to her husband either as 'my husband' or Mr Darcy, so he didn't really think about why she was asking beyond it being a bit of an odd middle name.
"Mmm, yes. Mark Fitzwilliam Darcy," he nodded. God, it was so bloody Etonian, Bridget was right. "Old family name that should've died a death a long time ago, but my father was excessively proud that he could trace the line all the way back to a Edgar Fitzwilliam who was the Duke of Matlock way back in the late 1700s," he explained casually. "It's somewhere in the Peak District," he added. Probably way more information that she really was interested in.