A/N: You guys have no idea how nervous I am about posting this chapter... I'm doing it quickly so I don't lose my nerve. XD

Chapter 10:

Early one morning, while Darcy was still at Matlock, Georgiana left Pemberley house and headed towards the woods. It was a cold day, and there was frost on the ground and clouds in the sky which spoke of snow soon to follow.

On the drive she met Lizzy, returning from her own morning walk.

"Good morning Georgiana. You are out early this morning."

"Not as early as you," Georgiana returned, giving her an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

"The cold air is invigorating to me," Lizzy said. Then, her motherly instincts roused, "Have you eaten yet?"

"No, but I shall not be out too long I daresay," Georgiana replied, flushing a little in spite of herself.

"You say that and then are gone a good two hours some days. I am the first to claim that time can feel irrelevant when one is out of doors, but I don't want you catching cold dear."

"I will be careful," Georgiana promised. "But it is you who should take care. You are the one carrying a child."

"I am going inside to a warm fire now and I shall expect to see you near one before the hour is out."

"I will try my best to oblige you," the younger lady replied, doing her best to sound playful.

"I shall see you soon then," Lizzy bade her goodbye with a smile.

Elizabeth's eyes followed Georgiana down the path and an anxious line formed between her eyes, replacing the bright smile she had shown her companion.

"Miss Georgiana has been taking many solitary walks lately."

Elizabeth turned to see Mrs. Reynold's standing beside her, a shawl drawn about her shoulders.

"I know," Elizabeth said. "I worry about her a little. But she seems happy enough. She smiles and sings, but somehow, I feel she is avoiding me. That thought or feeling, I hardly know which it is, has troubled me for some weeks now."

"Well, girls have their phases Mrs. Darcy. I hope I'm not speaking out of place…"

"No indeed, you know how much I value your opinion."

"Well, I think she will be more inclined to confide in you if you don't force her Ma'am. If she thinks you trust her, she will trust you."

"I do trust her. I only wish I could be sure she trusts me in return."

"She does Ma'am. I'm sure of it," comfortingly. "Now, come into the house before you and the babe catch cold."

"Very well," Elizabeth relented.

She sent one last anxious glance in the direction in which Georgiana had disappeared, and then followed the housekeeper inside.

Nathaniel had more time to spare now that the harvest was in and he was waiting by the rocks when Georgiana appeared at the far end of the clearing. Her heart leaped at sight of him as it always did, and from afar off she could see his smile.

He came to meet her, rubbing his hands together against the cold. "I don't think you should be sitting still today," he told her. "You'll catch cold for sure."

"May we walk then? I don't wish to go back. Why, I have barely seen you in six days. The few minutes we had the day before yesterday, before I had to return home to bid my brother goodbye, can hardly be counted."

"We can walk to the road and back," he responded. "It will be slightly warmer under the trees and away from the river. But I am afraid the temperature will likely only keep dropping as the day goes on."

They walked for a quarter of an hour and spoke lightly for a time on the weather and the harvest, but Georgiana was quiet and pensive.

Finally, Nathaniel paused and, bending down to look into her eyes, asked gently, "What's troubling you, Georgiana?"

"Nathaniel… I…" She stopped.

"Yes? What is it?" he urged.

"I… I do not know how much longer I can continue to meet you here. Lizzy suspects something. I'm sure of it. What shall we do?"

"I have been thinking on this as well," he said, knitting his brows together in concern. "Winter is coming on fast and I cannot let you freeze out here." He paused and Georgiana could sense that he was struggling with himself.

At last he said slowly, "I was hoping to put it off a little longer… but perhaps…"

There was another pause, another struggle, shorter and fiercer. "Perhaps it is time to say goodbye, at least until the spring."

"The spring?" she repeated, almost dazedly. She thought of what this would mean. For five long, dreary months she would not see him.

She was suddenly reminded of how she and her family would surely go to London in January and remain in Town for the remainder of the season. She would not even have the chance to pass him on the village street and catch his smile and nod out of the corner of her eye.

The endless rounds of balls and parties which she was escorted to by Elizabeth, Jane, or Kitty and even sometimes Lady Catherine, rose before her mind's eye. The endless round of suitors rose too, some full of themselves, some humble and supplicating, all self-interested, none of them wishing to know her soul. She saw herself, walking among the crowds, surrounded by people, yet completely alone since Nathaniel was not by her side.

The full force of what he meant to her suddenly hit her in the chest like a sharp blow and she froze in the path and could not move.

She loved him. As God was her witness, she loved him, Nathaniel Wakefield, who somehow managed to make her happier than she had ever been before. And she knew that she brought him happiness as well. She alone had the power to entirely dispel the grief and loneliness in his heart. Her brother and Elizabeth loved her, but Nathaniel needed her, and to be needed was joy.

Yes, she loved him, and there was nothing anyone could do to alter the fact.

"Georgiana?" she heard Nathaniel calling her from far away. "Georgiana," he called again, moving in front of her and taking hold of her shoulders and shaking them slightly.

Her eyes focused on his face. His deep blue eyes were fixed on her, their gaze frightened. "You are too cold," Nathaniel said firmly. His palms slid down from her shoulders to her hands which he lifted and began rubbing with his own.

"No…" She paused. "It is not the cold."

"What is it then?"

She looked up into his face, so close to hers. What better moment was there to tell him what her heart was screaming. She had revealed her deepest secrets to him before. She would do it again.

His hands had stopped their motions, as he waited for her reply, but they still covered hers. Now, in a moment, she pulled them towards her and pressed them to her cold lips. She held them there for a moment and then lowered them with her own.

"Nathaniel," still looking down at their joined hands. Then raising her head and looking into his eyes, "I love you."

"No, Georgiana," he said in a frightened voice, pulling his hands away quickly. "You must not think that way."

"Nathaniel… You must know what I feel for you. Tell me that you feel the same."

"I can't," he said, his voice harsh and shaking.

Moving off a few steps he said, almost to the grey trees and sky rather than to her, "I never meant for it to come to this."

Then, turning back to her and speaking calmly, "You know that's impossible, Georgiana, so let's forget it was ever mentioned." He gave her his usual warm and friendly smile, but she would not be dissuaded.

"I cannot forget it any more than I can forget you," she said in a low, earnest tone. "You occupy my mind and heart constantly and the idea of leaving you, even only for the winter, is agony to me. I cannot do without you. I wish to spend every moment of every day in your company. What is love if not this?"

"Look Georgiana," and his blue eyes were very troubled. "These walks and conversations are one thing. You are speaking of something quite different. Here, in these woods, you have made us equals. Out there, in the world, I am still a simple farmer and you are still a gentleman's daughter with a brother who would tear me up in little pieces if he knew I'd come near you."

"The world can think what it likes, Nathaniel," pushing the thought of her brother away, "if only you will love me as I do you. I thought… I was so very sure that there was something in your eyes sometimes… Would it be so very hard to love me back?" She knew she sounded desperate now, but she was desperate and did not care.

"I…" he paused. "I can't Georgiana. Don't you see you are asking the impossible of me? We can't get married!" he said, his voice suddenly frantic. "How can you think that is possible? Georgiana, I have nothing. And your brother… he is a good man. I could never take you from him to live a life of poverty and toil. No, you will go on to marry someone else, from your own sphere, whom your brother will approve of."

"But I do not want to marry anyone else. I do not want someone from my own sphere. I just want you." Tears were running down her face now. She saw the hopelessness of the situation; the hole which she had dug for herself gaped wide before her. "We could run away."

"No," he said again, shaking his head and lifting a hand as if to ward off some blow. Then, in his earlier, reasonable tone, "I think you tried that once before and didn't get far. You loved your brother more as I recall."

"But this is different, Nathaniel. You know it is!"

"Yes, it is different, Georgiana… but no less hopeless."

"And this is all you have to say to me after all these months? Nathaniel?"

"What else do you want me to say?" he cried suddenly. "Why do you insist on hearing me tell you that I don't love you and never will!"

There was silence, broken only by the sound of the river's sluggish murmuring and the fast breathing of the two humans.

Georgiana had a shred of the Darcy pride in her and it would not allow her to plead any further. She knew that it was entirely her own fault, and her heart broke to think of it, but she knew they could never return to what they were for so long. "I think… I think I must go," she said painfully.

At the edge of the clearing she paused. "I won't be coming back in the spring Nathaniel." Her voice shook as she spoke, and the last word, his name, was a broken whisper.

The light in his eyes had been flickering violently and now it went out altogether. "So be it then," he said quietly.

For a moment Georgiana was sure he was going to say something further, but the moment passed, and he did not.

She nodded shakily and turned away again. She did not look back. If she had she would have seen him standing perfectly still, exactly where she had left him.

She was gone and still he stood there. At last, when she was far away, he knelt down on the cold ground and buried his head in his hands. He stayed there, bent over, until the snow began to fall around him. Bitter, bitter cold. Then he rose, turned, and walked slowly back towards the village. But now his eyes were those of a dying man. He had wounded her heart, but he had fairly killed his own as he withdrew the blade.

The weather grew steadily colder over the next two weeks, and the light coverlet of snow did not melt. Still, the world was bare and bleak enough, with the brown, dead grasses poking through the snow and the trees stretching their grey, twisted branches to the cloud covered sky or drooping them dejectedly to the ground.

Through this bleakness, a lone figure made his way towards Pemberley House.

On the steps, he stopped and stood still. He was pale, despite the cold which should have brought the red into his cheeks, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he knocked firmly. After a moment, a manservant opened the door and led him down the corridor to Mr. Darcy's office. The servant opened the door and announced Mr. Wakefield, and then Nathaniel was alone with Fitzwilliam Darcy.

He bowed and then stood, firmly. He had done nothing truly wrong and he would not cower before this man.

Darcy had given no reason for his summons in the note he had sent, but Nathaniel had no doubts about the matter. He did not suspect Georgiana of falsely condemning him to Darcy; he knew her too well to entertain such an idea for more than a moment. But Darcy must have found out about their meetings nonetheless.

"Thank you for coming so quickly Wakefield," Darcy began pleasantly, gesturing him to take a chair.

"Of course, sir," Nathaniel replied as he sat down, wondering all the while at his companion's friendly tone.

Darcy continued, "You must be wondering why I requested that you walk here in such unpleasant weather to meet with me. Rest assured that you have been called upon to do so with good cause."

"I do not doubt it sir," Nathaniel responded, his brow furrowed a little in confusion.

Darcy picked up a pen and began toying with it.

"How did the crops fare in the East Section this summer, Wakefield?" he asked after a moment.

Nathaniel's eyes flickered in surprise. "They grew well, sir. Your design for improving the irrigation did wonders for them."

"Good. You do realize that your suggestions regarding the improvements were very useful to Mr. Rutledge and myself, and most of all to the crops."

Nathaniel could not think of anything to say so he remained silent.

Darcy seemed about to speak again, yet he hesitated. He seemed suddenly to take in Nathaniel's haggard look, the pain in his blue eyes and the weariness etched into every line of his face. The lad looked far older than his twenty-four years.

"Are you well, Wakefield?" asked Darcy.

"Quite well sir, thank you," returned Nathaniel quietly.

"I lost my mother too. I know the shock."

"Mine was ill for a long time sir. It must indeed always be a shock. But I did have time to prepare myself for it."

There was a moment of silence. Then Darcy roused himself and said more cheerfully, "Well then, if you are not unwell, I have a proposition for you."

Nathaniel nodded, his mind a confused jumble of thoughts.

Darcy continued, "My cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam, Lord Matlock, needs a trustworthy steward for his estate in Yorkshire. He has asked me for a recommendation and I, with your permission, would like to recommend you."

Nathaniel started visibly. He had been so sure the conversation would turn to Georgiana that Darcy's words had barely registered at first. Now, a way to escape the pain he was living in was seemingly opened to him. A way to remove himself from sights and sounds which reminded him of those living and dead whom he had lost.

Darcy was continuing. "You are full young for the position. But I have faith in young men. I have to," with a slightly wry smile. "You have had a better education than many are privileged to receive. And, more importantly, you love the land. Mr. Rutledge has spoken to me more than once of you and your desire to learn still more about the work you do. He has even gone so far as to say that he would like to train you someday to take his place as steward here in twenty years or so. I have also meant for some time to offer you one of the farms here, but the tenants who hold them are all worthy men and they cannot be displaced. Now, I am ready to recommend you, with every confidence in your knowledgeability, good sense, and willingness to learn, to my cousin. He will of course, need to meet with you in person before you are assured of the position. But I am offering you my recommendation. Do you accept it?"

Nathaniel sat perfectly still. Time marched on, recorded by a little clock on the desk, which ticked away the seconds, headless of their importance in the life of one young man.

"You may have a week to think it over if you wish," Darcy added. "I am going again to Matlock at the end of that time and must have an answer for my cousin by then.

"That week will not be necessary Mr. Darcy," said Nathaniel suddenly. "I thank you for your very generous offer, and my gratitude extends to Lord Matlock as well. I will do my best to live up to your trust."

"Fine. I shall write to my cousin at once." Darcy smiled as he held out his hand. Nathaniel took it, as if in a dream.

When Darcy smiled, his eyes were like his sister's.

"I would be happy to offer you a seat in my carriage when I go to Matlock if that is agreeable to you." Darcy added. "Then you can meet Lord Matlock in person."

"Thank you, sir. I will be ready."

Nathaniel bowed and left the room.

Georgiana, standing on the staircase above, saw him exit the house. She remained frozen, until he was gone, and then continued slowly down the stairs.

She went into Darcy's office.

"What did Mr. Wakefield come for?" she asked, moving across a bookshelf and running her fingers over the titles before pulling out a book at random.

"I asked him if he would take the job of steward at Matlock if Richard offered it to him," Fitzwilliam replied.

There was a loud thud, as the book Georgiana was holding slipped from her hands and crashed to the ground. Darcy looked up from his writing, momentarily startled.

Georgiana bent to retrieve the book and then returned it to its place.

She waited, but Darcy was writing again.

"And he accepted?" she asked, her voice almost too calm.

"Yes."

"What a fine thing for him," she said slowly.

"It will be a fine thing for Richard too. Mr. Wakefield shows promise of great things."

"Indeed."

Darcy bent his head over his paper again and Georgiana fled.

When she was upstairs and locked in her own room, she sat down on her bed and began to cry quietly, tears rolling down her face and dropping on her hands.

She should be glad he was going. She should be happy for him. It was what he had always wanted and more. And she should be glad too for herself that the painful prospect of seeing him frequently should be so suddenly removed. It was not often that she visited Matlock. She might not see him for years.

It did not stop the pain.

She bitterly regretted telling him she loved him now. But it was too late even for regrets. He was leaving Pemberley. He would go, and he would forget her.

He did not love her.

A/N: To be continued...