This was not normal. Georgiana believed this as Aunt Catherine stormed her humble apartment.

"Aunt Catherine, dear aunt Catherine," Georgiana pleaded with her aunt. "You cannot simply walk into my apartment and deem it unfit. Parents here, in America, simply do not do that when they don't like where their child is living."

Catherine's expression was cold and grew colder as her niece said this. "I? I cannot walk into here and declare that this mouse's hole is unsuitable for my niece, whom I support? You represent this family- its name. One of the greatest families in the whole of England! And I will not let any one of you succumb to ludicrous ideals that stain the name of Darcy! What will people think? Oh no, I am going to put a stop to this preposterous bohemian life that you find so twistingly idyllic, starting with…" Aunt Catherine looked about the pale yellow apartment, and discovered the sofa sitting contently in a corner.

"This! This is going." She seized hold of the of the ratty blue thing's arm and tried to drag it away, but its weight was greater than aunt Catherine could have imagined. She finally straightened herself and regained her composure, "It's going!"

Georgiana let her chest fall. She looked at her apartment, defeated, as Aunt Catherine began delegating orders to the moving men. Georgiana gently tugged at her pink bathrobe, as she had just come out of the shower when Aunt Catherine let herself into the apartment. It was a startling experience for them both.

A tall familiar figure crossed the doorway and disappeared into the next room before Georgiana could make out his face.

But she didn't have to make out the face to know who it was.

"What is he doing here?" She was livid.