5/8

"Are you sure your brother won't be there?"

Georgiana makes an aggravated noise over the phone. "I already told you, no. He's travelling to the State on business. And even if he wasn't, he doesn't really spend a lot of time at Pemberley. But why are you so dead set against him being there, anyway?"

Mary hesitates. What can she say that won't sound stupid?

"He's just – intimidating."

Georgiana laughs. "But he said you had a lovely lunch when he visited."

Mary quails inwardly. "Yes, but it felt like having lunch with my father."

"Ouch. Shall I tell him you said that?"

"No! And you know what I mean –"

"I do, but this whole conversation is moot," Georgiana argues, "because he won't be there. Now, are you going to join me for a week of countryside relaxation or not? You promised we would hang out."

Mary feels guilty for having compared Darcy to her father. The comparison is fair to neither of them. And lunch was nice. She doesn't know why she's so terrified of running into him again. Maybe it's Pemberley and all the messy, complicated baggage that comes with it.

But anyway, he won't be there. Georgiana said so.

"Meet me at the train station," she tells her friend resolutely.

The last time she'd visited the small town of Lambton and its bucolic whereabouts, she'd been in Lizzy's company. She'd stayed for a weekend at Pemberley to celebrate Lizzy's birthday with Jane and Bingley and Darcy. That was years ago.

Now, she sits in the passenger seat of Georgiana's car and looks at the quaint shop fronts they pass with a strange sort of ache, a desire to return to something that had not been exactly personal to her, but had been personal to others.

Georgiana tells her they've installed an indoor pool in place of the ancient hothouse where the Darcys used to grow fragile-looking flowers and the occasional tomato or batch of strawberries.

Mary feels inexplicably sad at the news. "Those strawberries were pretty good."

"We can buy some from the local market here in Lambton if you're feeling nostalgic. We can eat them by the pool with champagne."

"Sounds extravagant."

Georgiana winks. "That's the idea."

They do, in fact, eat strawberries by the pool. Mary must admit that it's an improvement on the dusty hothouse. The delicate glass roof which shelters the swimming pool reveals hazy glimpses of the large pond and forests beyond the estate. Georgiana throws open the French windows. The effect is stunning. It feels like swimming outside, but with the added comfort and warmth of the indoors.

Mary lounges on the deckchair and stares into the distance, mesmerized.

"If you listen closely, you can hear the crowds marching on the Bastille. And you're next."

Georgiana gives a laugh. "I'm not that rich."

"Mm, you are. But that's okay. I still like you."

Georgiana splashes her with a few droplets that land on her book. "When are you getting in the pool?"

"I just want to finish this chapter."

"Boring. I have exciting news."

Mary lowers her book. "More exciting than my murder mystery?"

"I've been seeing an older woman."

Mary nearly drops her book.

"You…? Oh, that's – I didn't know."

"How could you? We've been keeping it a secret. But I was bursting to tell someone! She's so brilliant and mature. She's taught me lots of things. She also happens to be my professor, but that's not very important."

Mary sputters. "Not very important? Isn't that a pretty big conflict of interest?"

Georgiana dismisses the thought. "She's only given me average marks so far. No, I meant she's taught me things about myself, what I like, what I need. I used to think I was bi, but I don't know, I might be a huge lesbian, after all."

Mary raises her champagne glass. "Congratulations?"

Georgiana grins. "Thanks."

"Although I still think dating your professor is a little wrong."

"Come off it, have you never done anything morally questionable, Mary?"

Mary looks down at the golden bubbles frothing on the surface of her glass. If she thinks too hard about it, she might stumble upon something she doesn't like. "I'm sure I have, though teachers didn't make the list."

"Well, you missed out. What about you? Are you seeing anyone?"

"No, obviously."

"Why obviously?"

"Because it's me we're talking about."

"And? Are you a separate species from all of us?"

"Yes. Now why don't you tell me more about this fascinating older woman?"

Georgiana rolls her eyes. "Fine, but the topic isn't closed, mind you."

After another round of chatting, Georgiana returns to her leisurely laps and Mary to her book. The coziness of the chair and the pool and the scenery makes her sink into her reading with such total engrossment that she does not hear or notice anyone in her vicinity, even someone standing right in front of her.

Georgiana's head emerges from the water.

"Will! Fancy seeing you here! I thought you were supposed to be in Chicago."

Mary's breath does a funny little somersault and then halts completely.

She shuts her eyes for a moment. When she opens them again, she finds that William Darcy really is standing in front of her deckchair in an office suit.

Her blue one-piece bathing suit had seemed quite modest to her, but now she feels as if she were displaying her absolute nakedness to him. Cheeks aflame, Mary grabs one of the towels on the table and wraps it around her anxiously.

"The meeting with the branch got postponed, I'm afraid, so I thought I'd drop by Pemberley, since I had nothing else to do," Darcy explains, watching Mary's poor attempts at covering herself.

He doesn't smile, but his mouth is making an effort to stay still.

"I'm sorry, I did not know you would be here," Mary mumbles, cocooning herself. "I'm not even a pool person, really."

"Oh my God, stop apologizing!" Georgiana calls out from the water. "She's my guest, Will. Anyway, this is as much my place as it is yours."

"Well done, Georgie. I'm very glad you've decided to come, Mary. I told you I wouldn't mind."

Georgie. It's very odd to hear him use affectionate names in that dry tone of voice. Yes, he used to call Lizzy Lizzy, but everyone else did too.

"I hope you won't think of leaving on my account," Darcy adds, reading the turmoil on her face. "I'm sorry to have intruded. I can leave you two alone, if you're more comfortable –"

"No, this is your home, you should stay, of course. I'm – err- very comfortable."

Darcy's lips finally quirk up. "Are you, really?"

"She will be, once she gets in the pool!" Georgiana chimes in, unhelpfully. "How about you, Will? Care to race me? Or are you afraid I'd actually beat you this time?"

Darcy smiles. "Far be it from me to refuse a challenge."

And that is how Mary finds herself sitting by the edge of the pool, legs dangling to her knees in lukewarm water, as she watches Darcy and Georgiana swim competitive laps across the pool.

She doesn't want to stare at Darcy's bare back too much. It feels – well, impolite.

Suppose she always knew he was an attractive man, but to have a first account of the physique underneath those suits is a bit weird. A part of her that she must have inherited from her mother notes that he is not the sort of man to spend all his free time at the gym. His muscles don't bulge aggressively. He is well-built but not ridiculously fit. His abs are not chiseled, thankfully. She would rather hate that.

Not that her opinion matters, or should matter.

"I win! I win, you big numpty!" Georgiana screams, hugging the tiles happily.

"I let you win," he corrects, wiping water from his face.

"No, you did not!"

"Of course I did. It's bad form to beat your sister at anything. Isn't that right, Mary?" he asks, darting a look at her.

"Oh, um, honestly, I think you both won," she offers with a smile. "You're both excellent swimmers."

"Boo! That's not what this is about!" Georgiana complains. "It's about winners and losers. Get in here, Mary! Let's see how you do!"

"Oh, I would rather watch you two. You're a lot of fun together."

And she does mean that. She has never seen Darcy behave in such a light-hearted way, even around Lizzy. But to her great and utmost terror, he is swimming towards her.

Mary tries to raise her feet out of the water, but Darcy is in front of her before she can fully extricate herself.

He wades in the water for a few moments, as if suspecting that any sudden moment might scare her off. He reaches out with one hand.

"Come on, I'll help you in."

"I don't think that'd be wise."

"It's all right if you can't swim. I'll hold you."

Mary is blushing. She knows she's blushing. Her cheeks feel like a furnace. Why on Earth is she blushing? This is so very stupid. He is only offering to give her support in the water.

"I can swim, but not very well."

"Then I will make sure you're safe," he repeats, holding out both hands now and wading closer. "Bend down a little and put your hands on my shoulders."

Mary sucks in a breath. The instructions are simple enough, but her limbs have decided to freeze in place. Darcy doesn't rush her. He waits, seemingly impassive.

It is with great difficulty that she finds the courage to plant her hands on his bare shoulders. She hopes she's not showing her extreme nerves, but that hope jumps right out the window when, in the next moment, Darcy grabs her waist and she emits an embarrassing squeak. The kind of squeak no one should make, under any circumstances.

Darcy gently pulls her away from the edge and into the water, holding her waist with both hands. The loss of something solid underneath her bottom makes Mary cling to him harder, snaking her arms around his neck almost unconsciously as she stares, wide-eyed, at the water. The sensation is overwhelming; bare skin against bare skin, his breath in her ear, the solidity of his chest, her wandering feet colliding with his thighs, his hands on her back.

"I'm going to lift your hip a bit so I can hold you better," he says in her ear. "Is that okay?"

Mary nods wordlessly. She's not sure she understood the question. But at least she doesn't squeak again when Darcy's hand reaches down to her thigh and pulls her hip up against his waist, making her stand a little higher.

Mary is still clinging to his neck. She looks down at him. His face is quite close.

"I'm – I'm sorry I'm strangling you."

"That's perfectly fine," he says, staring at her with a serious, yet friendly look. She would almost call it warmth.

Now that she has been in the water for more than a few moments, Mary remembers she is not a child. She should let go of him. His face is far too close; doesn't he find that weird?

Darcy seems to understand her discomfort, because he allows her to push off him a little, though he still keeps one hand on her waist and another on her hip. In this position, she's almost straddling him. It's – it's so terribly inappropriate. The boy she had gone out with at university – her only boyfriend to date, sadly – had never held her like this, not even during those unmemorable times they'd had sex. God, why is she thinking of that right now? How awful.

"Do you want to try swimming?" Darcy asks quietly.

"Yes!" she says, with a little more enthusiasm than intended. Anything to get that picture out of her head. "Let's see if I still remember how."

"Try to push your feet against my knees to launch yourself," he instructs.

Mary looks down between them. "Uhh, let me find your knees first."

She didn't mean to say something funny, but Darcy's chest rumbles with a snort.

"Any luck?"

Mary awkwardly plants her feet on his knees. Once again, she thinks of being a child and winces. "I think that's right."

"I think so too. Now, kick back against my knees and push yourself in the opposite direction. Hold your hands out."

His fatherly commands do the trick. It's a small miracle, but Mary manages to take off towards the other side of the pool without any incident. Of course, his hands also help propel her. She can still feel his fingers, sliding away from her bare skin.

"Yay! Go Mary, go!"

Mary lifts her head, distracted. Georgiana is cheering her on. For a moment there – and Mary is not proud of it – she'd nearly forgotten her friend was also in the pool.

"Well done, you!" Georgiana greets when she reaches her side.

Mary grabs the handlebar and heaves a sigh. "I'm pretty rusty, actually."

"Well, you've got time to practice. Will is a good teacher," she says, looking over her shoulder at her brother. "I'm glad he managed to persuade you. He can be patient, when he wants to be."

Mary coughs, wiping water from her face. "Yes, he was very kind, but I think I'll just stick to the chair –"

"Nonsense. While you're staying here you could give it a go. You're willing to help out Mary, aren't you, Will?" Georgiana calls out.

Darcy is too far away for her to figure out his expression, but his voice carries that strange warmth she thought she noticed earlier.

"I am at her disposal, of course."

A/N: yes, I may have used the same gimmick of "Darcy showing up unexpectedly at Pemberley" and that's because it's a GREAT gimmick and Austen won't mind me borrowing her genius here (and yeah, it is supposed to echo the Lizzy/Darcy episode, but with a different take on it, like a slanted mirror). Anyway, expect more Pemberley shenanigans next chapter! And thank you for reviewing and supporting this really weird story.