Beginning, Previous Section, Section III

"Georgiana, what are you writing?" asked Mrs. Younge as her charge sat after breakfast at the desk in her rooms.

"A letter to my brother," replied Georgiana.

Mrs. Younge smiled mischievously. "And what do you tell your brother of Brighton?"

"I am writing him to ask that he come to retrieve us early," replied Georgiana, not seeing the smile on Mrs. Younge's face fall. "I think he must meet Mr. Wickham again. I think if he does, they will soon become friends again. I think Mr. Wickham must have changed materially, from what my brother knew of him at school."

"You must not ask your brother to come!" declared Mrs. Younge, and she seemed panicked. "You do not understand, Georgiana, dear. Mr. Wickham has not changed a bit since your brother knew him." This, at least, was not a lie.

Georgiana looked at her sideways for a moment, confused. "But it cannot be that my own brother was so mean as to cause such a rift between the two of them after my father died . . . I have known my brother all my life, and never thought him to be disagreeable in the least."

"Of course you would think so, Georgiana, he is your brother, and you are very sweet to always be thinking the best of people. However, if you write to him and ask him to come to Brighton early to meet Mr. Wickham, he will never allow you to marry him. I don't think your brother is quite as amiable as you think."

These comments from her companion gave Georgiana pause again. "How did you know of Mr. Wickham's proposal?"

Mrs. Younge swallowed, and seemed nervous. "Mr. . . . Mr. Wickham and I talk . . . about a lot of things, since we have come here. Since we have met here." Her cheeks were flushed now, and she became defensive. "I am your companion, after all; I should know something about the people you are spending your time with. It is my duty, is it not?"

Georgiana nodded solemnly. "Yes, I suppose it is."

She did not say another word for fully ten minutes, as she turned back to her paper and tried to think. The tension in the room was interrupted, thankfully, by Andrew as he came in to ask his aunt to read a letter from their cousin Richard.

When she was done, Andrew spoke. "You seem upset, Aunt Darcy," he said. "Is anything the matter?"

Georgiana smiled down at him. "Just girl things," she replied, kissing his head. "Perhaps you should run along now; I am in a thinking kind of mood today."

"Well," said Andrew as he hopped off her lap, "I prefer it when you are in a playing kind of mood, but it is okay with me that you are in a thinking kind of mood. Perhaps your mood will change."

Georgiana smiled at her nephew. "Yes, perhaps it will."

"I know, Aunt Darcy. You might see if Miss Bennet is in a thinking kind of mood today, as well. Then you could think together. I am sure she is a good thinker."

"Yes, I'm sure she is," she chuckled. She waved as he trailed out of the room, thinking that he had a rather good idea.

First, though, she thought she would go to see her dear Mr. Wickham; surely he would understand. Once she located him, she explained everything to him. She would write to her brother and ask him to come to Brighton as soon as may be, and the two men would soon see that they could again be as good of friends as ever they were. They could be married from Pemberley, as she had always dreamed of; and perhaps, when the restoration of peace was made, they could live in London. But she was disappointed.

"Mrs. Younge was right, I think," he snapped matter-of-factly, to her great surprise. "You should absolutely not write the letter to your brother. He will never approve; you are day-dreaming. It is all nonsense."

Georgiana was rather taken aback by Mr. Wickham's strong response to her idea, but after a moment, she smiled. "But once he sees you again, and you are given the chance to talk things out, he will approve; I am sure of it."

"Do not be silly," grumbled Mr. Wickham. "Really, Georgiana, I had thought you better knew your own brother."

"But we should be married from Pemberley," she said, wanting for him to understand. "We should give our families the opportunity to see us happily married. I very much wish for you to meet my aunt and uncle from Matlock."

"Georgiana, that is rather selfish, don't you think? I have no family, as you should well know."

Georgiana was even more astonished at his harsh tongue than before, and paused again. "Please forgive me," she said quietly. "I did not mean to offend you."

Mr. Wickham was quiet, and turned to her. "My dear, you must understand that we must be very careful if we are to marry . . . very careful, and very quiet . . . and then, perhaps, when we return from Gretna Green, man and wife, we shall celebrate. Anything else will upset the plan."

Georgiana cocked her head. "The plan?" she queried. "I had not known there was a plan."

She was not entirely sure she liked the look in his eye when he replied, "That is perfectly all right, Georgiana dear. It has all been taken care of for quite some time now."

Mr. Wickham sent a pensive Georgiana off to morning tea, and sat with his friend Mrs. Younge for his own. "You should not worry so, my dear," he told her when she explained that she had narrowly stopped Miss Darcy from writing to her brother. "It is almost over."

"And what a great relief that will be," she said.

He laughed. "And what a great reward, as well! Her thirty thousand pounds shall be quite worth all the trouble."

They both laughed, and she agreed, when a figure at the doorway caught his attention, and he stood. He stuttered for a moment, but finally managed to speak.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet, is it?" he cooed. "I do believe I met you a few months ago; in Meryton."

"Yes," she replied, smilingly. "Mr. Wickham. How very nice to see you here."

Mr. Wickham asked whether she knew Mrs. Younge; Miss Bennet replied that she did. "In fact, I was just looking for Miss Darcy. Do you happen to know where I might find her?"

"I believe she is taking her tea. Do you mind my asking what you need from her?" she asked, the nervousness in her voice not lost on Miss Bennet.

Miss Bennet smiled politely. "Not at all. I wondered if she might take tea with me, since I was not able to dine with her last night. But, if she is already engaged, I will not disturb her. Would you be so kind as to let her know that I was looking for her?"

"Of course, Miss Bennet," replied Mrs. Younge; Miss Bennet departed quickly, and Mr. Wickham and Mrs. Younge we left to wonder on how much she had heard of their conversation.

After pacing the halls for the remainder of the afternoon, Georgiana met with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who invited her to take a quiet tea. She accepted, and after quite a lot of prodding on Miss Bennet's part, she finally opened up, and told her of Mr. Wickham's proposal.

"You see, I have always known Mr. Wickham. He is my late father's steward's son. When I was a child, Mr. Wickham was always very kind to me . . . which is why I never fully understood why my brother would not speak of him, shortly after my father's death. When I saw Mr. Wickham here in Brighton, it was quite a surprise, and dare I say a pleasant one. He is still very kind to me, and shows me every affection . . . and now, he wishes to elope with me."

"Do you think you are in love with him?" asked Elizabeth.

Georgiana did not know how to answer her friend's question. "I thought I was," she said quietly, "and I was certain he was in love with me . . . until this morning, just before tea, when I spoke with him. His manner was very different from the other times I have been with him. But . . . perhaps, he was tired, or upset over something else."

"I suppose," conceded Elizabeth, but she wasn't convinced. She had never any real reason to like or dislike Mr. Wickham; apart from what she knew of him in Meryton, she was not quite so acquainted with him as she would have liked to be at the moment Georgiana sought her counsel. But she had always thought it odd that he should take such a liking to Miss Mary King as soon as he knew that she had a sizeable dowry, and she knew what he had said that morning about someone's thirty thousand pounds; whether it was Georgiana's or not was immaterial. Additionally, she could not believe that anyone could be in love with another, in the way wives and husbands were supposed to be, when the relationship had, until a month ago, been as near to a brother and sister as Georgiana described to her.

"I do not know what I will do," said Georgiana. "But I know I must make as good a decision as can be made, without disappointing anyone involved."

"That is very true," replied Elizabeth, "and please remember that your family must be your first consideration. They are as close to you as anyone can be right now, and should you find you have made the wrong decision, they will still care for you. You can not be assured of that in the case of Mr. Wickham."

Georgiana knew Elizabeth was right and told her as much. "I hope you will keep what I have told you in confidence."

Elizabeth smiled. "You may have my assurances that your brother knows nothing of our conversation, Miss Darcy."

"Thank you, Miss Bennet." Georgiana swallowed. "What do you think of it; of all I have told you?"

Elizabeth considered it for a moment, and decided she must be completely honest with the younger girl. "I know this will sound harsh, but I do not believe Mr. Wickham is in love with you. I think he is in love with what a marriage to you would give him, and that is just money. You must admit, it is all very strange, Mr. Wickham and Mrs. Younge both not wanting you to write to your family to hope that they will approve of your choice. And I think you are in love with love," she said gently. "You are a very young woman and you have a long time to decide who your husband should be. There are other more important things for you to accomplish before you marry. You are in a very privileged position, and you can marry where you choose without much trouble from your brother. His loss of Mrs. Darcy affected him very, very deeply, and he would not deny you the man you love, if you truly love him. But you must love him, and not love what pretty things he tells you or what a handsome face he has. You must know yourself before you can know love for another."

Georgiana rose and looked out the window, and was silent for a great while. Miss Bennet patiently waited her response. "Mr. Wickham would take me away from Andrew, would not he?"

"I would suppose he must," replied Elizabeth. "He is a soldier."

"And I do not suppose he would much care, would he?" she continued. "He does not like Andrew. He does not even wish to be seen by Andrew."

Elizabeth couldn't imagine anyone not liking the five-year-old, and was touched at Georgiana's love for him. "This is something you must decide on your own, Miss Darcy. I know you will make the right decision."

Georgiana crossed the room and unexpectedly embraced Elizabeth. "Thank you for your kindness, Miss Bennet," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "I know what I must do."

August 11, 18-

Waterford Inn, Brighton

Express

To Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Pemberley, Derbyshire

My dear brother,

I hope that this letter finds you quite well.

I wish you would come to Brighton to retrieve Andrew and I as soon as may be. Along with the quite agreeable company of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, which I mentioned in an earlier letter, we have also encountered Mr. Wickham.

I know not what passed between you and Mr. Wickham to make you so disagreeable towards him; however, now, due to circumstances I would rather inform you of in person, I believe that he is, at least somewhat, deceitful in nature.

I am not afraid that any physical harm will come to myself or to Andrew; it is only that I would wish to be removed of his company and see my dear brother again, for you are always able to make things seem right. Ordinarily I would be able to trust my companion Mrs. Younge; however, I do not believe that to be the truth in this instance. I promise I shall explain everything when you arrive.

Again I beg you, please come directly, for I shall not be easy until you are here.

I am your loving sister,

Georgiana Darcy.

Mrs. Reynolds' eyebrows were knitted together as she read the missive from Miss Darcy. It was left on the floor of the library Mr. Darcy had been in when she brought the express to him. In no way was it in her habit to read Mr. Darcy's personal correspondence, but the reaction this particular one had left him with was quite astounding and completely without explanation.

It seemed a perfectly normal letter, only one sent express. Lady Catherine was quite in the habit of sending her correspondence express, for no particular reason. She brought the letter to him in the library, he thanked her and tore it open. Before she had reached the door on her way out, Mr. Darcy ran past her, shouting for his steward and his manservant, and had only waited long enough for the stable hands to prepare his coach before he left.

Mrs. Reynolds shuddered at the letter, and sent up a prayer that her master would arrive safely, and return his sister the same.

Since their conversation a few days prior, Miss Darcy had chosen to spend quite a lot of time with Miss Bennet. Miss Bennet would be leaving Brighton soon; Mr. and Mrs. Bingley had arrived that morning to stay only a little more than a fortnight, and bring Elizabeth and Lydia home to Longbourn.

The morning after the Bingleys had arrived, Miss Darcy and Miss Bennet were reading their letters and chatting quietly when Andrew and Mrs. Johnson joined them.

"What are you up to this morning, Master Andrew?" asked Miss Bennet of her young friend, after he had greeted her.

"Mrs. Johnson says she will help me write a letter to my cousin Richard, but I do not have a pen. I am going to ask my aunt if I may borrow one of hers. She has very nice pens."

Miss Bennet smiled at him as he grinned at her and walked over to his aunt. He tugged on the skirt of her gown. "Aunt Darcy?"

Miss Darcy, acting as though she had not seen him walk into the room or talk to Miss Bennet, peeked over the top of her letter. "Hello, Andrew. What may I do for you?"

"I was wondering if I may borrow one of your pens?" he asked. "Mrs. Johnson says she will help me write a letter to my cousin Richard, but I do not have a pen and Mrs. Johnson's needs to be repaired." He looked up at her sheepishly then. "I'm afraid I was trying to write by myself and pressed a little too hard with it."

"It is all right, Andrew," said Mrs. Johnson. "Let's not worry about it. But now we must learn to do it correctly."

"Andrew, your aunt is still reading her letters," said Miss Bennet. "I am sure I can find a pen from the innkeeper, if that would be all right with you."

"You would not mind, Miss Bennet?" asked Miss Darcy.

"Not at all. I shall be right back." She smiled at Andrew, set down her own letters, and headed for her room. When she stepped out into the hallway, she quite literally ran into Mr. Darcy.

After she had excused herself and they had greeted one another, she smiled at him, but noted that he looked rather tired and agitated. "Are you quite all right, Mr. Darcy?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," he said, his voice dry. "I apologize, Miss Bennet, but do you know where I may find my sister? It's rather urgent that I find her."

"Yes," replied Miss Bennet. She stepped aside and gestured to the room she had just exited. "She and Andrew, and Mrs. Johnson are there."

He tossed a curt thank you over his shoulder and all but ran into the room. She heard Andrew's excited squeal upon seeing his father, and then alternately Mr. Darcy's deep voice and Georgiana's soft one. Knowing what his arrival must have been about, considering his agitated nature, and considering that it was she who had taken his sister's express to the post, she turned to retrieve the pen she had promised Andrew, but when she got back to the room, it was empty. Even her own letters were gone.

She thought she must have looked quite silly, standing in an empty sitting room holding a pen that seemed to serve no particular purpose, and mumbling to herself. Since she was sure Mr. Darcy and Georgiana were engaged privately, she thought she might find Mrs. Johnson and Andrew outside.

She searched, but to no avail. However, Miss Darcy was engaged to dine with Elizabeth and the Bingley party that evening. She hoped she would be able to keep the appointment.

Assuming that if Georgiana were unable to come, she would have sent a note in ample time, Elizabeth proceeded with preparations herself for her guests. She was thankful that Mrs. Forster had a sensible housekeeper who was able to take care of the dinner preparations very well. Lydia and the Forsters had a dinner engagement of their own with Lord and Lady Annesley, who Elizabeth liked very much. She was comfortable enough with Lydia's companions for the evening that she was able to focus on her own.

Georgiana, she knew, would be happy to spend an evening with her, and the feeling was quite mutual. Mrs. Johnson was quite an entertaining lady, very good with Andrew. Stern enough to be an excellent governess, and lively enough to spurn Andrew's imagination. And Andrew himself was a delight in many ways; Elizabeth had never met such a wonderful young man.

And then, of course, there would be the dinner guest she had not counted on - Mr. Darcy. Sometime mid-day, Elizabeth received a short note from Georgiana explaining that her brother would be joining her. Every time she thought about him she stopped fussing and brushing and pinching, and stared into the looking-glass, imagining he was looking back at her. She dreamt of his soft brown eyes and the steady gaze they always had, the masculine curve that his cheek made down to the cleft in his chin, and right above it, his chubby lips forming her name. She knew she was foolish to be daydreaming like this, but she could not help it. His devotion to his son had long ago secured her good opinion of him, no matter what Mr. Wickham might have said. That he was very tall and very handsome only added to his qualities, and his rich, deep voice . . .

But Mr. Darcy did not need a wife, she told herself, nor did he appear to want one. He had an heir, after all, and clearly did not need to make his fortune through marriage. And even though he had been very benevolent and thoughtful toward her, she had no reason to believe that any of his attentions, though she thought they were particular, were meant as anything but a kindness.

"And so you should take care to control where your eyes and thoughts wander tonight, Miss Lizzy," she told herself. Perhaps, then, it was a good thing that Mr. Bingley's sisters had accompanied him.

Having anxiously inquired of the cook whether she had received and attended to all of her instructions with care, Elizabeth had nothing further to do but wait for her guests.

The Bingleys arrived first, and Elizabeth received as civil a greeting from his sisters as she ever would have expected. Mr. Bingley's, of course, was in every way superior to theirs, and Jane was nothing if not delighted to see her sister.

"Pray, Miss Eliza," cooed Miss Bingley when they were settled in Mrs. Forster's drawing room, "are you quite certain that Miss Darcy will join us this evening? Her brother has lately arrived, you know, and he might not wish society after his journey . . . even such limited society." Her thin lips then pulled into what Elizabeth thought was a rather miserly kind of smile.

She comprehended Miss Bingley's meaning entirely, and wished heartily for the nerve to tell her what she thought of it. "In fact," she said instead, "I saw Mr. Darcy this morning on his arrival. Miss Darcy sent a note that he would escort her."

Caroline nodded, another grimace spreading across her features. "Excellent," she declared. "I shall be delighted to see them both."

"I am glad," said Elizabeth, noting that she had not mentioned, and probably did not remember the existence of, Andrew. She was surprised to note also that this fact quite perturbed her.

"Lizzy," said Jane, quite obviously trying to ease the tension between her sister and her sister-in-law, "did I tell you that Mr. Bingley and I shall travel to London in October, and spend some time with our aunt and uncle Gardiner?"

"No, you did not," replied Lizzy, smiling. "Did the Gardiners issue the invitation? You must be well pleased." She snuck a look at Mr. Bingley, noticing his gaze on Jane, who blushed and nodded. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst only ignored them, having scoffed at the visit to such low relations, and looked around the room for something to insult.

"Miss Eliza," cooed Miss Bingley again, "where have the good colonel and his wife run off to this evening?"

"They are dining with Lord and Lady Ashford," replied Elizabeth.

"How kind of them," smirked Miss Bingley, and her sister agreed.

"And to have accepted your youngest sister, too," said Mrs. Hurst.

Elizabeth looked at Mrs. Hurst a long moment, just long enough to make her uncomfortable. Now, she found herself wishing for, rather than nervous for, the arrival of Mr. Darcy. She was quite certain that he would bring his son, and Andrew did have a remarkable talent for making her quite at ease.

She did not find herself wanting very long, for in just a few moments Miss Darcy was announced; her brother and nephew followed her.

Master Darcy was quite well dressed for the occasion, and Elizabeth wondered where on earth Mrs. Johnson had found such a small coat and cravat, which Andrew constantly yanked at.

On greeting him, Elizabeth could not help but smile and remark on his attire. "You must have gone to a lot of trouble, and I think this is perhaps the first time you have ever worn one of these." She tugged lightly on his cravat.

"Mrs. Johnson said that it was loose," he complained, "but it does not feel loose to me. I am glad I am still a child and do not have to wear one every day, like my Papa does."

Elizabeth smiled at him again, happy to see him. He seemed to be able to lift her spirits, and though she knew Mr. Darcy was looking at her, she did not mind.

"You look very beautiful this evening, Miss Bennet." Andrew smiled up at her.

She felt her cheeks flush as she thanked him. "You're very kind."

"He is very correct," said a deep voice behind her, and she turned to see Mr. Darcy. They greeted one another, Elizabeth sure that her cheeks were bright crimson, and Darcy quite pleased at the sight.

She noted that there was something relaxed in his eyes; something happy and content, and she told herself most sternly that it was because he knew his sister was safe, and for no other reason. And, if her pulse hadn't quickened each time he looked at her in such a way, she might have believed it.

Elizabeth excused herself for a moment to make some minor adjustments in the seating arrangements for dinner. By the time she returned to her guests, dinner was announced.

Elizabeth sat at the head of the table. Mr. Darcy and Jane were seated to her left and right, across from one another. Andrew was next to his father; Miss Darcy was next to him, and Mr. Bingley was next to his wife. As to the others, Elizabeth neither noticed nor cared. She was too busy watching Andrew copy every move of his father's, from the way he spread his napkin on his lap to the way he held his fork.

"What business takes you to London this October, Mr. Bingley?" she asked, trying not to watch Andrew too much.

"Some small estate business," he replied. "I will be meeting with my solicitors. I think it very likely that I will soon purchase an estate."

"Do you know where it will be?" asked Elizabeth.

"Not in Hertfordshire," volunteered Miss Bingley, whose brother shot her a disapproving look.

"Pity," replied Andrew, quite seriously. "I rather like Hertfordshire."

"You know you and your father are welcome to Netherfield any time you would like to visit," said Jane, smiling at Andrew.

"Thank you, Mrs. Bingley," said Andrew, taking a sip of water from his glass. "Miss Bennet, do you really have to return to Hertfordshire? Perhaps you could come visit my Aunt Darcy in London."

Elizabeth smiled at Andrew, but before she could reply, Miss Bingley piped up. "I am sure Miss Bennet's mother needs her at home. Miss Darcy, how long do you intend to stay in London? For you know Mrs. Hurst and I shall be there as well."

The look that Elizabeth observed Mr. Bingley give his sister led her to believe that she had made no previous mention of accompanying he and his wife to London, and it almost made her laugh. Miss Darcy replied, quietly, that she would only be there as long as her brother's business required him to be there, and when he returned to Pemberley, so would she.

"Miss Bennet," said Mr. Darcy, surprising her a little, "I understand you shall be leaving Brighton soon. Mr. Bingley mentioned that your party would be leaving the day after tomorrow, I believe."

"Yes," she said. "I am very anxious to go home; I miss my father very dearly."

"And so he must miss you."

She smiled at him quite warmly, and he smiled back. She would have preferred to stay that way, receiving that tender gaze from the deep, chocolate eyes of Mr. Darcy, but other guests at the table fortunately reminded her that they were not alone. "Indeed, he has written that he misses both Jane and I," she managed to squeak.

"Jane he may not have back," quipped Mr. Bingley, which earned him a smile from his wife.

"I understand, Miss Bennet," said Andrew, and when Elizabeth looked down the table at him, she had to stifle a chuckle

"I am sorry to hear that your father misses you so much," said Georgiana, smiling at her nephew. "I would love for you to see Pemberley, and would invite you there as soon as we are settled, but that should only be another fortnight."

Elizabeth smiled. "That is very kind of you, Miss Darcy," she said. "But I promise to be a diligent correspondent."

Georgiana expressed her delight in this, and conversation flowed along rather to Elizabeth's liking during the remainder of the meal. The party moved to a large drawing room, fitted with a pianoforte, and Elizabeth and Georgiana were both induced to play.

Their visit did not continue long after Elizabeth and Georgiana had each played, and the Bingley party returned to the inn, with the Darcys. While Mr. Darcy was assisting Mr. Bingley with some minor piece of business, Miss Bingley was venting her feelings in criticisms on Elizabeth's person, behavior, and dress. But Georgiana would not join her. Her brother's recommendation long ago was enough to ensure her favor; his judgement could not err, and he had spoken in such terms of Elizabeth as to leave Georgiana without the power of finding her otherwise than lovely and amiable, long before she became more intimately acquainted with her. When Bingley and Darcy returned to the saloon to join the others for coffee, Miss Bingley could not help repeating to him some part of what she had been saying to his sister.

"How very ill Eliza Bennet looks this evening, Mr. Darcy," she cried; "I never in my life saw any one so much altered as she is since the winter. She is grown so brown and coarse! Louisa and I were agreeing that we should not have known her again."

However little Mr. Darcy might have liked such an address, he contented himself with coolly replying, that he perceived no other alteration than her being rather tanned, no miraculous consequence of travelling in the summer.

"For my own part, I must confess that I never could see any beauty in her. Her face is too thin; her complexion has no brilliancy, and her features are not at all handsome. Her nose wants character, there is nothing marked in its lines. Her teeth are tolerable, but not out of the common way, and as for her eyes, which have sometimes been called so fine, I never could perceive any thing extraordinary in them. They have a sharp, shrewish look, which I do not like at all, and in her air altogether, there is a self-sufficiency without fashion, which is intolerable."

Andrew rumpled his brow and cocked his head at Mr. Bingley's sister, who he was quite sure was a gypsy. "Miss Bingley, you do not think Miss Bennet is very pretty?"

Miss Bingley gave a snort. "Ah, little child - so innocent, so simple! Of course I do not think she is very pretty. I can scarce see how anybody can."

"Well, if Miss Bennet is not very pretty, then you are a toad face!"

Miss Bingley could only gasp at this comment from the five-year-old, and was equally as shocked when he narrowed his eyes and stuck his tongue out at her. Mrs. Johnson did not know what to do except apologize to Miss Bingley and turn the child away. Unable to stop the smirk from spreading across his face, Mr. Darcy mumbled an inaudible comment and followed them out of the room.

Andrew was promptly sent away to his rooms, and Mrs. Johnson and Mr. Darcy were left to confer on what his behavior had been for the past several weeks.

"This is quite unusual, Mr. Darcy," she explained to him. "He has been a perfect child all evening. And the entire time you have been away, he has been behaving as if you were watching over him, just the same, good way that he behaves when in London and at Pemberley."

Darcy sighed and shook his head at his son's governess. "I do not wish to keep him locked in his chamber," replied Darcy. "I can not see what it would do, other than making Andrew resent me."

"Mr. Darcy," replied Mrs. Johnson gently, "I do not see how you can not punish him. Even though he was only trying to defend the honor of a lady he is quite fond of, he must be taught that he can not go round sticking his tongue out when someone says or does something he does not like."

"Mrs. Johnson, I do understand, but I beg you must indulge me this one time. To be perfectly honest, Miss Bennet is someone who we both admire very much, and even you admit that this episode is rather unusual. If nothing else, consider that he well knows how wrong it is to judge others and make sport of them."

"I understand, Mr. Darcy . . . but perhaps I would feel a little more at ease if you go and speak with him on this."

Darcy nodded. "Yes, of course I will. Though I still do not want to set down any very severe punishment on him."

"If that is what you wish, Mr. Darcy," said she, a little more easy now that her young charge's father was present.

"It is. I thank you, Mrs. Johnson."

Darcy allowed his son to stew for a few moments, then went up to his rooms. Andrew was ready to defend himself as soon as his father walked in the door.

"Papa, I know you are very upset with me," he exclaimed before Darcy had the chance to speak, "but if you scold me, then you must also scold Miss Bingley. It is only fair." Then he crossed his five-year-old arms across his chest in a pout.

Darcy raised his eyebrow. "I see," he said quietly. "And why is that?"

"Because she is mean, and she is mean all the time," continued Andrew. "I was only mean once."

"So you admit that you were mean to Miss Bingley?"

"Yes, sir," he replied, quietly. "I would not want to be called a toad face."

"Two wrongs do not make a right, Andrew."

"Yes, sir."

Darcy sighed and sat down next to his son, pulling him onto his lap. "I was hoping you could tell me," he said, "if something were the matter?"

"No, Papa."

"You do not always act this way around Miss Bingley," said Darcy. "Mrs. Johnson says you have been behaving like a gentleman, when I have been away. Is she making up stories? Should we go and ask her?"

"No, Papa. I have been good."

"Then perhaps you have something you would like to tell me? This is not like you, Andrew."

For a moment, Andrew was quiet, and Darcy pulled him into his lap. "I am sorry, Papa."

"I think you are so upset with Miss Bingley because you like Miss Bennet very much. It upsets you when Miss Bingley says mean things about her."

"Yes, Papa," he admitted quietly. "And I do not understand why Miss Bingley is so very mean to Miss Bennet, either."

"Andrew, sometimes two people simply don't get along. They are too different. That doesn't mean that they should be unkind to one another, but sometimes that just happens."

"Well, it does not make any sense to me, Papa," declared Andrew. "Miss Bennet is very kind, and very pretty, and I like her very much."

"Can I tell you something, my son?"

Andrew looked up at him and nodded, his dark curls bouncing against his forehead, watching his father as he smiled. "I like her, too."

Andrew now smiled as well. "Yes?"

Mr. Darcy nodded. "Yes. I like her very, very much, and I promise very sincerely that when we return to Hertfordshire, we shall call upon Miss Bennet. Our friend Mr. Bingley is married to her sister; perhaps we shall even be so fortunate as to dine with her."

"Papa, I knew you liked her!" declared Andrew, throwing his arms around his father's neck.

"Yes, I do," smiled the older Darcy as he hugged his little boy. After a moment, he set Andrew back down on his lap. "I have a secret," he said mischievously.

Andrew's eyes shone. "What is it, Papa?"

"Do you know what Mr. Reynolds calls Miss Bingley?" he asked. His son shook his head; he leaned in and whispered. "Hatchet Face."

Darcy was rewarded by a healthy giggle from his son, which induced him to begin tickling, until they were reminded that it was far past the boy's bed time by Mrs. Johnson, who was trying very hard not to laugh at them.

Three weeks after her return to Longbourn House, Miss Elizabeth Bennet was not very surprised to have a letter from Miss Georgiana Darcy, who had lately arrived at Netherfield Hall with her brother and nephew. Miss Darcy wrote that apparently, Mr. Bingley required some great assistance from Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Darcy had welcomed his sister to travel with him. She also wrote that she hoped that Mrs. Bingley would invite her to dine with them soon, not knowing that Elizabeth walked in the direction of Netherfield every few days, even if she was able to visit only a moment or two with Jane.

Miss Darcy was surprised to see Elizabeth in the sitting room a few mornings after she sent the letter, patiently waiting on Jane. She smiled very widely and the two greeted each other warmly. "Miss Bennet," she said, "I did not know anyone had come to call. I shall fetch Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst."

Elizabeth laughed. "Please, do not," she said. "I come to call on Jane far too often for their taste; they do not enjoy being bothered by me this early in the morning. But Jane has been expecting me. She will come as soon as she is ready."

"Would you mind if I sat with you?" asked Miss Darcy. "It is so lovely to see you again."

"Thank you, Miss Darcy," blushed Elizabeth, "I would like it very much indeed." She asked after Miss Darcy's brother and his son.

"Oh, I believe they are still reading their letters in the breakfast room. They will be along directly."

"I have heard through Jane that Andrew is learning quite well to read, and spends every moment that he can in Mr. Bingley's library."

"Yes," laughed Miss Darcy, "he will soon drive William mad, I am sure of it. But he does not mind."

"I am a little more than inclined to believe you, Miss Darcy," replied Elizabeth with sparkling eyes.

Miss Darcy blushed. "My brother is so good to me; you can not imagine, Miss Bennet. No one can boast a more kind or generous brother than he."

Elizabeth smiled again. "I cannot boast a brother at all, for as you know, I have none, only four sisters," she commented.

Miss Darcy returned the smile. "I should have liked to have a sister."

Elizabeth chuckled a little. "Perhaps you might be careful what you wish for," she said. "Sisters are not always good things to have. Except, when they are as Jane is."

Georgiana blushed. "I wish Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst knew what good fortune they have with such a sister," she said. "I could only hope to be so fortunate myself."

Elizabeth was quiet for a moment. "You suppose your brother to marry again, then?" she asked, not really looking at Miss Darcy.

Her averted eyes made it quite possible then for Georgiana to smile and say, "Yes, and I hope he will not wait much longer, for I am growing rather impatient."

Elizabeth turned to look at Georgiana, cautiously, wondering on what she meant. She felt that it was unmistakable that Mr. Darcy was attracted to her. When she had last seen him in Brighton, she felt his burning gaze every time he turned his head to look at her; far more than just a simple, friendly glance. She knew he really liked her, but that was not why she was made nervous at Georgiana's comment. She knew she really liked him. She loved him.

A small voice coming from the hallway saved her from having to reply. "Papa, I hear someone in the sitting room. Mr. Bingley must have a visitor; that is where he is hiding."

The gentleman who followed the little voice could only grin at his innocence, for he knew exactly where the recently married Mr. Bingley was hiding and how he was spending his time. The sitting room voices were probably just Georgiana and Miss Bingley. He turned the corner and entered the room, surprised to find Miss Elizabeth Bennet curtseying quite formally to his son. His heart skipped a beat.

"And of course you remember my papa, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy." Andrew walked over to his father and took his hand, leading him forward a bit.

"How could I forget?" was Miss Bennet's reply, and she acknowledged his bow with a curtsey of her own. Her flushed cheeks did not go unnoticed by Mr. Darcy, and Miss Darcy was not entirely surprised to find her brother smiling - a real, true, unmistakable smile - at Miss Bennet.

Mr. Darcy and Miss Bennet spoke happily for a moment while Miss Darcy and Andrew looked on. They soon were joined by Mr. Bingley.

"Good morning, everyone," he said in a worried tone. "Miss Bennet, I am sorry to rush you, but Mrs. Bingley finds herself rather unwell this morning, and asked for you to come to her."

"Oh, um . . . of course, Mr. Bingley," said Elizabeth, a little flustered, for she did not know if he had noticed that she was staring at Mr. Darcy. "Show me the way, if you would be so kind."

"Of course," replied Bingley.

"Miss Bennet, may I be of some assistance?" asked Miss Darcy.

"Yes, do come along," said Miss Bennet. She and Miss Darcy were shown to Mrs. Bingley's rooms, where they found a very pale-faced Jane. Miss Darcy watched as Miss Bennet asked a lot of questions in a hushed voice, and they comforted her as well as they could.

"What do you suppose is the matter?" asked the younger woman when they quitted the room. "Has she a fever?"

"No, she has not," replied Miss Bennet with a smile. "She shall be well."

"But what makes you so certain?" asked Miss Darcy. "Have you seen her this way before?"

"No," replied Miss Bennet with a laugh, "but I do believe it will pass soon enough."

They continued back to the sitting room where Darcy and Bingley stood. "Is she all right, Miss Bennet?" asked Bingley.

"Oh, she is fine," replied Elizabeth. "But I wish, just as a precautionary measure, that you would summon her doctor to come as soon as may be. Just in case."

"Very well, I will do that," replied Mr. Bingley. "I must go and comfort her."

Elizabeth agreed with him and smiled widely after he left the room. Miss Darcy looked very concerned about her hostess, so much so that Miss Bennet soon pulled her aside and once again tried to assure her that Mrs. Bingley would be quite all right.

"How can you be sure?" she asked again.

"I have known Mrs. Bingley all my life, Miss Darcy," she said, very quietly, smiling. "She will be all right, I assure you."

Miss Darcy smiled back, comforted a little. Elizabeth was glad of that, for if Miss Darcy had been more curious she might have had to give in to at least a little falsehood. If Elizabeth told her that she thought her sister was with child, how many more questions would there be that Elizabeth should not or could not answer? She proposed a walk outside so that the Bingleys could share some quiet.

Georgiana was more than happy to give her brother some privacy, and skipped along with Andrew, leaving Elizabeth and Darcy were left to walk alone. They walked slowly behind the aunt and nephew, so that Darcy could keep his protective eye on both of his charges. Very little was said by either; Darcy was secretly forming a desperate resolution; and perhaps she might be doing the same.

Soon Andrew tired of their walk and wished to return to the manor house for a refreshment. Georgiana volunteered to take him inside and play with him. Darcy stopped walking to watch his son try to induce Georgiana to race him to the house, and then he followed, just as slowly as before, with Elizabeth on his arm. Now was the moment for his resolution to be executed, and, while his courage was still high, he immediately said,

"You and I were never presented with an opportunity to speak privately in Brighton." His tone was low and soft.

"No, we were not," replied Elizabeth, stopping, more than a little nervous.

Darcy paused a minute before he continued. "The day that I arrived at Brighton, Georgiana and I had a rather lengthy discussion. She informed me of Mr. Wickham's proposal. She told me that she owed her good decision on the matter to counsel from you. She . . . said that you had spoken to her in such a way as to not make her feel ashamed of herself, and that you brought her letter to me to the post."

"Georgiana found herself quite alone," said Elizabeth, "a unique situation to be in when one is traveling with two others. I assure you, my purpose in the matter was to help her make a good decision. The decision made was her own."

Darcy nodded. "Georgiana never fully understood my misgivings about George Wickham, and I would not take enough care of her to explain. In a way, I suppose, it is a good thing that it happened . . . but I shudder to think what might have been had you not helped her."

Elizabeth could only blush and turn her face away uneasily as Darcy continued.

"You must not blame my sister . . . she is young, and I am afraid I have not paid as much attention to her as I should have. Let me thank you, again and again, in the name of all my family and on behalf of my dearest sister; she can not know at her age what she might have gotten herself into. She is so young; if I were to lose her, and to such a man . . . I . . . I do not know what I would do."

"I do not blame your sister," said Elizabeth in a rush of courage, "and there is really no need to thank me. My only action was to share an opinion of my own, and at times, even I am not sure what that is worth." She paused a moment, looking around at the landscape, and then boldly at Mr. Darcy. "Although, I must admit, that knowing the irreplaceable relationship I have with my aunt and uncle, and my own sister Jane, I was a bit jaded on your side. The thought of a separation of Andrew and Georgiana quite broke my heart . . . I knew it would not be much different for your own."

He forced her to hold his stare. They had long since stopped walking. "Everything I do," he began, quietly, "I must do for Andrew. I fear I have been remiss in my duty to my son."

Elizabeth was silent, her heart pounding.

"I have loved you from almost the beginning," he continued in a whisper, "and I have denied myself my true feelings. I have wasted precious time . . . I have even reproached Andrew on the subject, all because I allowed myself to be persuaded that Andrew required more a mother of a certain station than one which truly cared for him, and which he truly loved. Andrew does truly love you, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth found herself in the quite unfamiliar position of being near speechless. "I adore Andrew, Mr. Darcy," was all she could manage, while choking back emotion.

"And his father?" Darcy grasped her hands, and his handsome face showed the true affection and love he felt for her.

"I love you," she whispered quickly, quietly, before she lost the nerve his words had given her. She looked up into his eyes, but soon had to look away, not knowing how to react to the mixture of emotions she saw there; some identifiable and some not. "I don't know what more to say . . . my heart is so full, yet no words come to me."

"Can you answer a question?" asked Darcy, feeling a little playful. "'Tis a yes or no question, which I hope you will not need much time to think about."

Elizabeth was sure her heart would burst; not trusting her voice, she nodded and closed her eyes.

"My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth . . ." She opened her eyes again to find him gazing at her, his expression soft and the hint of a smile on his lips. "Will you marry me?"

She let out the breath it had not occurred to her that she was holding, and she smiled. "Yes," she said, taking another breath, "I will marry you." Their eyes locked, and she placed her hand on his face, a single move which brought comfort to his heart and excited his imagination at once.

He took her chin in his hand and tilted her fine eyes upwards. He swallowed as he ran his thumb over her soft lips. Her cheeks reddened and she looked earnestly into his eyes. Darcy bent his head and allowed himself the first of many tastes of her delectable lips, and inside he tingled with excitement, gratitude, and contentment. She sighed as he broke their kiss, and her eyes were full of wonder. "My darling Elizabeth," he whispered huskily, "I believe there may be one pair of short blue eyes and one pair of tall green eyes upon us."

"Perhaps we should return to the house?"

He nodded, tucked her arm into his, and led her to the house.

As assumed by the newly-engaged couple on the front lawn at Netherfield Hall, that gentleman's son was peering out a window which faced the lawn with his aunt's hands resting upon his shoulders.

"Is he kissing her, Aunt Darcy?" asked Andrew with a wrinkled nose.

Georgiana nodded quietly, excited. "We must not watch now, Andrew," she said, turning him away reluctantly.

"I suppose it is all right for my papa to kiss Miss Bennet," he said, "but I would not kiss a girl for any thing. They have germs!"

"Have they?" asked Georgiana, amused. "But I am a girl, and you kiss me goodnight every evening. Do you not get germs from me?"

"That is different," he declared. "You are my aunt. Aunts do not have germs."

"Ah, now I see," smiled Georgiana.

Suddenly a thought seemed to come to Andrew, and he paused, turned, and looked out the window again. "But if Papa is kissing Miss Bennet," he said, "do you suppose that means he will marry her?"

Georgiana was happy to assume as much, but only turned him away from the window once more. "Please, Andrew, come to the library with me."

Andrew seemed to pay little attention to what she said, though he followed her to the stairs. "But it would be wonderful, don't you agree? Just think - Papa will marry Miss Bennet, and she will come and live with us, and since my grandmother is very grouchy about Miss Bennet, we will not have to go to Rosings any more!"

"Andrew, that is not a very nice thing to say about your grandmother."

"Yes, I know," he mumbled under his breath. "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. Mrs. Johnson tells me that all the time."

Georgiana smirked. "Perhaps you should listen to Mrs. Johnson."

Andrew ignored her and raced down the stairs to meet his father as he walked into the front hall. He stopped when he saw the stern expression on his face. "Papa?" he asked timidly.

"I would speak with you, Andrew." Andrew nodded and straightened, his own expression turning somber, and looked up at him. He wanted to look at Miss Bennet, but couldn't take his eyes off his father. Darcy knelt in front of his son. "This is a very serious matter. I have a task for you."

"Yes, Papa," acknowledged Andrew.

Darcy took Andrew's small hands. "It is a very important task; one which I would ordinarily ask of my papa and mama. I cannot ask my mama, as she died when I was a young man, and as my papa died before you were born, I can not ask him, either. I can not accomplish this task myself, so it must fall to you."

"What is it you wish me to do, Papa?"

"I would like you to approve . . . of my marriage to Miss Bennet."

Andrew looked up at his father with a wide smile. "I would not mind at all if you marry Miss Bennet!" he exclaimed. "You should marry her as soon as you are able."

Darcy smiled at Andrew now, knowing he would not have objected. "You do know what this means, don't you, Andrew? When Miss Bennet and I marry, we . . . we will want time alone. And you may find yourself with brothers and sisters. Miss Bennet has family which will become your family."

"Would I become family with Mr. and Mrs. Bingley?" Andrew seemed more excited by this prospect.

Darcy rose and turned to Miss Bennet, smiling and gesturing for her to make the reply. "Yes," she confirmed. "They will be your aunt and uncle."

"Miss Bennet, you do want to marry my papa, do not you?" asked Andrew. "He has quite a lot to recommend him."

Elizabeth could not help but laugh at Andrew's rather mature comment. "Andrew, you are quite right about your papa," she smiled. "And I do want to marry him - to marry you both."

Andrew whooped and danced around his father and Miss Bennet, asking such questions as when the wedding would be, how much time, exactly, they would wish for alone, and when he might start calling her Mama.

Andrew Darcy, a man of five and twenty, paused as he passed by a certain doorway on his way to the library at Pemberley. His eye caught the corner of a blanket which was poking out of a closet in the nursery. He entered the room with a melancholy smile.

This was the place he had first seen his young brother Will and sisters Noelle and Annabelle; the room which held a lot of memories of those siblings thereafter. Soon, he thought, the nursery at Rosings Park would be filled with his own children, and perhaps one day, he might have to holler at his own son for trying to wrestle with his sisters or for chasing them with the fire poker.

He laughed at what hell he must have put his father through when other children came along. He could only pray that he would have the patience and that his soon-to-be wife, Lady Sarah Whitfield, would continue to have the same patience, kindness, and understanding of the woman who had been his mama. His Lizzy.

Andrew knew Elizabeth Bennet Darcy was not his mother. He knew his true mother, Anne de Bourgh Darcy, had loved his father and that they had been happy together, until she died. For that reason, he never really got used to calling her Mother, and in later years, when his other siblings understood, he took to calling her Elizabeth again. Elizabeth would always be his Mama or his Lizzy, but Anne would forever live in his heart as his mother. He loved them both, but his love for each was of a different kind.

He breathed in the fresh spring air coming through the windows of the nursery as he tucked the blanket back in its place and left, resuming his course to the library, where his father waited. He had told him he had something important to talk with him about before the small gathering Elizabeth had arranged for them to meet his fiancée.

He knocked softly on the door and let himself in, stepping a few paces but not seeing his father. Then he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Andrew, sit down, please." The deep voice of his father always shook him to the core, whether it was a kind tone or not. This time it was, and it served to comfort his nerves.

His heart thumping in his chest, Darcy decided to get right down to business. "Andrew, there are not many times I reflect on the memory of your mother, but I'm afraid tonight is one of those times. She left behind a few things for you to have, and I want to give them to you now."

Andrew nodded and watched his father walk over to his desk, where a neat pile lay. The first thing Darcy handed him was a bible. It was a beautiful leather-bound volume in a rich brown. "This was Anne's. She had it since childhood; it was the only bible she ever read from. After you were born, she asked me to make sure you were given it."

Andrew took the heavy book from his father's hand in awe. "Thank you, Father." He felt a real connection to his mother then, holding something she had always held, reading over its words the way she had.

"The next thing I would like to give you is something you will wish to give to Lady Sarah." Darcy ran a hand through his pepper-colored curls and let out a sigh. "I gave this to Anne three weeks after we married, on Christmas Day." Darcy handed him a velvet-covered box.

Andrew opened it and eyed the necklace nestled inside appreciatively. "I am sure Lady Sarah will be honored to be presented with it," he said after a moment. A tear glistened in his eye. "Thank you, Father."

"One more thing," said Darcy, emotion cracking his voice. "Your mother gave me these the same Christmas I gave her that necklace. I kept one tucked away and the other safely in my pocket. When she died I never let go of it. It seemed all I had left, except for you. I kept one of them in my pocket always; it was comforting, like the way Will held onto that tattered old blanket. When I met Elizabeth and decided that I wasn't too good for her," he smirked, "I didn't need them any more. The day I asked your permission to marry her, I put them away. I think you should have them." He presented his eldest son with two crisp white linen handkerchiefs.

"Handkerchiefs, Father?"

"Your mother had her maid teach her to embroider so that she could give me these for Christmas. She tucked them into the covers of the books."

Andrew ran his fingers along the initials delicately stitched into the corner. "The books," he smiled, another tear slipping down his cheek. "You told me the story about the books she gave you. I still have those in my chambers. Why did not you tell me about these?"

"It wasn't time." Darcy closed his eyes, bringing a memory to the surface he had long since pushed away. "When she came down to breakfast that morning, her cheeks were flushed and she wore a very happy smile. She had some holly leaves braided in with her hair, and she wore a gown that was cream and ruby colored. I don't often pay much attention to what women wear, but I remember that gown.

"Your mother was ill as a child, and your grandmother nearly nursed her to death. You see, she wasn't always ill, as Lady Catherine would have you believe. She had Anne under the treatment of a doctor who kept her on blood-lettings and herbal medications that quite literally drained the life out of her. Soon after my father died, I visited Rosings, and I took her with me to London. Without those treatments, she became well, for the first time in her life. She came alive. We became engaged on that trip to London. I took her back to Rosings, and her mother put her back under the treatment of the doctor, regardless of the fact that she was obviously remarkably better. She was a stubborn woman, your grandmother.

"The day we married she was tired and gray, like she always had been when I visited her at Rosings. Her nervousness didn't make things any better, and the trip back in to London wore her out. We did not--" Darcy's heart thumped in his chest in nervousness. "We did not spend that night together, Andrew, if you catch my meaning?"

"Yes, Father," he smirked.

Darcy cleared his throat and continued. "That Christmas Day was the first time we . . . we did." His cheeks had turned crimson and he was staring down at his boots. "I believe you were conceived that day."

Andrew looked down at the handkerchiefs again. "I remember that you . . . were upset when you told me about the books, and gave them to me," he whispered.

"It has been so long, Andrew," continued Darcy. "It has been twenty-five years since your mother died. I would not give up my life with Elizabeth for anything, but part of me wishes Anne could still be alive, to see what a fine young man you've grown into."

Andrew gazed at his father. "Thank you, Papa," was all he could manage.

"Come now, dry up your face," said Darcy after an appropriate pause.

Not having the heart to mess the delicate linens in his hand, Andrew pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and patted the tears away.

"Before I meet this fine young lady of yours," continued Darcy, "will you promise me one thing?"

"Yes, Father," replied Andrew. "You know there is nothing I would not promise you."

"Promise me that you love her. Promise me you will never take her for granted. She can be taken away from you so easily, Andrew. Please do nothing you will regret."

"I have never seen any such behavior from my father and mama. I have only ever seen love and kindness, respect, and trust. I do promise, for I know no other way."

Darcy hugged his son for the first time in quite a while, tears glistening in his eyes, to express an unspeakable but heartfelt thank-you. He pulled back after a moment and managed a grin. "Now take me to her," he instructed.

Andrew nodded, reflecting with a grin for a moment on his fiancée, the raven-haired Sarah. "Forgive me for such language," he said, "but she . . . she is . . ." He knew what he wanted to say, but was too embarrassed to express the emotions she stirred in him in front of his father. "She is wonderful," he finally decided on.

Darcy grinned, knowing what Andrew had been thinking. After all, he had been thinking the same thing for the past twenty years of his Elizabeth.

The End.