I decided not to make you guys wait - as the LSAC people are making me wait for my LSAT score! So here is a short chapter indirectly about Dodo-birds! I am so glad you guys are reading and reviewing - I always appreciate and take into consideration your feedback.

Dodos

Darcy went immediately into his father's room. Mr. Darcy had kept to his bed for several weeks, too weak to venture far from the confines of his chamber. Lizzy and Georgiana were constant attendants, and the traces of their presence – ear-marked books and chessboards, bits of embroidery work (Georgiana's – Lizzy was still adamantly set against anything involving needles) and scraps of scribbled paper – were scattered about the room. Lizzy had been reading to him from Robinson Crusoe, one of their favourite novels. The book lay open upon the bedside table. Georgiana's piano-forte had been carried into a corner of the room. It gave her father immense pleasure to hear her play, and the three spent hours in concert, Lizzy turning the pages of sheet music whilst Georgiana played her father's favourites.

Upon seeing his son enter the room, Mr. Darcy visibly brightened. Disguising his shock at seeing his father so wasted – so chalklike and emaciated – Darcy crossed the room in three strides and was at his side in an instant, taking his hand. "Father!" he said, chaffing the cold hand. "I am so glad to see you."

"Of course you are!" Mr. Darcy said, chuckling, "how could you not be glad to see such a skeleton!" Despite his condition, Mr. Darcy remained as cheerful and sardonic as always. "How am I looking? You needn't lie. I am well aware how composedly corpse-like I am becoming. Good practice, I say."

"Father," Darcy said, looking pained.

"No need to be so deadly earnest, Fitzwilliam!" his father said, "With that expression, everyone will think you are looking more the dead man. Do not look so sad. I am old, and I am dying. There is nothing so extremely out of the usual about that. I have lived a good life. I have been happy. There is no tragedy in this. It is simply what must happen."

"Father, it does not have to happen now…If you allow yourself to think this way, you will give into it."

"On the contrary, my son. I am ready. I have resisted these three years, and I am tired. Yes, I am very, very tired." Mr. Darcy closed his eyelids for a moment. "Did you see, Lizzy, then?" his father asked slyly.

"Yes, Father."

"And was she looking well?"

"As well as she usually looks," was his son's clipped retort.

"I think she has been too much confined of late – she and Georgiana both are so insistent upon being closeted up with me. I try to tempt them outdoors, but, selfishly, I am glad they choose to stay with me."

"I am glad you have the company. I am only sorry that my duties in Cambridge prevent me from being here always…"

"No need, Fitzwilliam. I would not have you taken from your books." Mr. Darcy said, with only the faintest trace of irony. "Darcy, I do hate to jump immediately into business matters, especially with you just arrived. Nevertheless, I do have some things I would like to chew over with you – pardon the term."

"Anything, Father," Darcy said, straightening and plumping his father's pillows. "I am entirely at your disposal."

"I have thought much of late about my will. You will, of course, inherit everything Darcy, saving Georgiana's dowry. This is only right and natural. Everything has been put into order."

"Father, please…It pains me…It truly pains me…"

"We must be practical, Fitzwilliam. What concerns me is Lizzy."

Darcy's face stiffened. He could not help the expression.

"I know all of your falling out, of course. It is silliness, Fitzwilliam! I am surprised that you can so indefinitely harbor a grudge against that girl. If you only knew how much it hurts her – this continued coldness on your own part! She wants only to be your friend…Are you so determined to throw away all of those happy, happy years? But no…" Mr. Darcy shook his head, "It is not right of me to admonish you on that score."

"I am afraid that nothing you say can induce me to forgive her," Darcy said, "I cannot tell you how she has wronged me. It is not my place."

"I will say no more, only that you are very good at grudges, Fitzwilliam…Do you remember how you swore to chop off your poor Uncle Matlock's head that one time he forgot your birthday?"

"I was in a rather revolutionary mood that summer," Darcy said, laughing. "Poor Uncle Matlock, indeed!"

"You did not speak to him the entirety of his visit!" Mr. Darcy smiled, remembering. "And you were only five at the time. Children are not supposed to have such long memories. But I will say no more…no more…" He paused, looking over to the window. Darcy was pained to see the lost expression that momentarily crossed his face. But it was gone soon enough; Mr. Darcy turned again to face his son.

"I would like to entrust Georgiana's guardianship to Elizabeth. You will, of course, be Georgiana's guardian in every legal sense – and you will do all that is right by her, I know. But I do not think you understand Georgiana's attachment to Lizzy. The two are almost inseparable, and I cannot imagine the pain of a separation, especially after…" He did not finish the sentence. "I am asking that you do not allow your personal feelings to interfere."

"I can assure you, Father, that I will do all that is right."

"I know you will," Mr. Darcy said, "and that it what pains me." He smiled wanly, squeezing his son's hand. "We have had our squabbles, Fitzwilliam, but we have loved each other always. I could not have asked for a better son."

"And I could not have asked for a better father," Darcy replied.

"So you will understand me when I insist that Lizzy be provided for. I cannot legally arrange this matter, Fitzwilliam. There is nothing I can do, however I wish it. If I could, I would leave her property, but I am prevented. Nevertheless, I must make you promise that you will ensure she be taken care of."

"I swear it, Father."

"Good," Mr. Darcy fell back against his pillows, looking visibly relieved. "Go down to dinner now, my boy. "You have greatly eased my mind. I can rest now, I think. Yes…"

Darcy squeezed his hand one final time before padding across the darkening room. He closed the door as quietly as possible, and then fell against it, dragging a hand through his hair. A tumult of terror and confusion raged in his breast. Long had he known his father's attachment to Elizabeth but never had he guessed how deeply his own coldness toward the imp had hurt Mr. Darcy. He had thought it an issue between two when, really, his father's own hopes and dreams had long been bound up in the pair. Something would have to be done.

"There!" Georgiana exclaimed, having arranged the last of Lizzy's stubborn curls to her own satisfaction. "Your toilette, mademoiselle, is complete."

"And high time, too!" Lizzy said, making a face at herself in the mirror. "As it has taken you the better part of an hour."

"You look ravishing, Liz!"

"I would snort derisively, George, but that derisive snorting is decidedly unladylike," Lizzy remarked, standing. "Besides, I hardly see why it matters. We are not entertaining any ferociously handsome dukes."

"But we are dining with my brother…" Georgiana remarked with a rather arch expression.

"He is not a duke, although I cannot honestly say he is not ferociously handsome," Lizzy said, avoiding Georgiana's gaze, "much as I wish to. Anyway, why all this fuss over dinner? I should prefer to have had it on a tray in your father's room as we usually do."

"Oh, I think we shall have great fun!" Georgiana said, taking Lizzy's arm and propelling her out into the hallway. "Do not pretend that you do not like dressing up and acting grand."

"That is true," Lizzy said, "although the fun is in the acting more or less. But I am not exactly happy that we must dine with your brother…I am sure I shan't be able to digest anything, he will glare at me so. Indeed, I'm afraid we shan't be able to so much as smirk with Darcy lurking about," Lizzy said, "I daresay dons don't approve of exuberance…and certainly never of staircase sliding. Besides, George, we are mature young ladies now, and mature young ladies never do anything …"

"Race you to the head of the stairs?" Georgiana asked suddenly.

"Of course not! Fie upon you for the suggestion, Georgiana Darcy!" Elizabeth said, before picking up her skirts and darting ahead.

"Lizzy!" Georgiana squealed, "you absolute charlatan!" The two ran pell-mell down the long corridor, their dresses billowing out in their wake. Lizzy had gained the definite advantage and was several feet ahead of Georgiana when, all at once, she collided into a particularly large and unexpected figure. It had materialized from behind one of the doors leading off the hall and was none other than…

"Darcy!" she exclaimed, running square into his chest. She fell backwards from the impact, and there was a rather sickening ripping sound. The skirt of her dress had gotten twisted about his pocket-watch chain and tore as she fell away from him. He reached out to catch her and steady her, his arms closing around her. As soon as they had both regained equilibrium, he thrust her away. She looked down at her torn dress, flushing scarlet. Georgiana caught at her arm, still laughing.

"Might I inquire what exactly you and Miss. Bennet were running from, Georgiana?" Darcy asked his sister in stentorian tones. Her smile immediately faltered.

"There was a ghost, you see," Lizzy said, managing to compose herself and look up… "and we were running in terror."

"A ghost?"

"What else could give us such a fright?" Lizzy demanded. "A dodo-bird?"

Darcy shook his head. "I see some of us are unchanged," he snapped. "Georgiana?" he offered his sister his arm but she danced away from him.

"You had better take Lizzy's arm," she said, the rougish twinkle returning to her eye, "she is injured, after all…"

"A torn dress hardly qualifies as an injury, Georgiana," Lizzy remarked.

"Yes, but you are the guest of honour," Georgiana insisted.

"Miss. Bennet?" Darcy offered his arm without looking down upon her. She had little choice but to take it, though she barely touched her fingertips to the coat-sleeve. They proceeded down the hallway in silence, their footsteps ringing out.

This was turning out disastrously, Elizabeth thought to herself as they glided along. She had fully intended to appear sophisticated and self-possessed in all of her encounters with Darcy. How typical of him to catch her in a weak moment! Confound him for it! She simply could not control herself around him. Old patterns were impossible to defy, and he expected this of her. No, there was no getting around it. She would always be a child around him. No amount of effort on her part would ever change that. He was as inexorable as death – as unalterable as stone.

With as much dignity as she could muster, however, she stood tall as an empress – never minding the ripped dress. Thus, they proceeded to dinner.