Richard frightened Georgiana, even though she trusted him.

He had saved her life. He was a great war hero, one of Wellington's chief men in Spain. He had always counseled her against the infatuation she felt towards Wickham.

Georgiana trusted him.

But he frightened her.

She had no choice. She was scared for Fitzwilliam, and she needed to help him.

Fitzwilliam had retreated to his chambers the previous afternoon, following his consultation with Mr. Roberts. Now morning had come. And Fitzwilliam had not left his rooms.

It was a mistake. Fitzwilliam's plan was a mistake. Georgiana knew it. She had asked Mr. Roberts about the Bennet family, especially Miss Bennet — the girl Fitzwilliam referred to as Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was no evil sorceress who used dark magic from a story to entrap her brother. She was a good woman who had helped her brother when he was alone, and who Georgiana was sure had a sincere and deep affection for him. Georgiana had barely come to know Fitzwilliam again, but she was sure that anyone connected to Fitzwilliam would come to have a sincere and deep affection for him.

Whatever had happened when Elizabeth touched her brother had made Fitzwilliam happier.

Georgiana wanted him to be happy — and to be a good ruler of the house. She had been trained well enough to know that was of the greatest importance also. But happiness would help him rule more than a highborn wife.

The Darcys stood tall, princes in their own land. They did not need to grow their power through marriages with lesser houses, and they did not wish deeper alliance with the few houses who could stand in equality.

Fitzwilliam did not choose right when he sought to remove his natural attachment to this girl. Georgiana needed to stop him.

But he had not listened to her. Fitzwilliam was so proud. He would listen to very few persons once his mind was established.

The only person she could think of who Fitzwilliam might listen to was Richard.

Georgiana lightly stepped through the warm hallways of Pemberley to the public section where the offices of the steward and the other officials who needed to daily deal with the public were.

No one else was with Richard when she entered the room.

He sat in his chair and breathed in pained wheezes. He'd grown thin and grim over the past six months. It scared Georgiana. She wondered if he had a serious illness that was wasting him, but he had replied in such a forbidding manner the time she asked him if he was ill that she could not broach the subject again.

Always grim, always hard.

There had never been that haunted gauntness to his face. The coldness in his eyes was greater. The black working that lingered in his scar radiated danger. Georgiana pulled her chair to the opposite side of him, so his jaw and cheeks would be between her and his scar.

Richard's spare office was bare of books, paintings, decorations. Only his sword functionally hung on the wall where he could reach it in an instant. Richard snarled out the window as she entered.

But when he saw her, his face softened, and he smiled with that charm she had always loved in her cousin. "My dear Georgie, in what manner can I aid you today? I have been in an ill mood. A problem gnaws at me whose solution I cannot see."

"Perhaps I could help?"

Richard blinked at her saying that. Then a smile, friendly with an edge of something strange, grew. "By Jove! You could! By Jove you can." He laughed. "But what do you wish me to help you with."

"I am worried. So worried for Fitzwilliam."

Georgiana babbled out everything she had heard from Fitzwilliam, and all her worries, and how frightened she was because Fitzwilliam had stayed in his room for so long, doing whatever Mr. Roberts told him to.

At first it seemed as if Richard barely listened to her. Then suddenly he placed his hands upon the table, and attended to her with a pale-faced complete attention. Georgiana's heart skipped a staccato beat from the intensity with which he looked at her.

"You are right." He said with a dread voice, "Fitzwilliam is in great danger. Greater by far than you realize. And time runs short. I wish you had approached me sooner. We must speak with him now."

"But how?"

"We must interrupt these meditations Mr. Roberts gave him. Before they are finished and time is too late. You must help me to enter his chambers. As one of the blood you can pass the wards and bring me with you."

"But…" Georgiana knew that was something strange to be asked.

"Immediately. Your brother's very life is at stake."

Georgiana swallowed and nodded. She would do anything for Fitzwilliam.