Copyright 2021 Elizabeth Frerichs

Darcy stared at his sister, entirely nonplussed by her enthusiastic declaration that he should pursue Miss Elizabeth. He and Georgiana were holed up in the library at Darcy House. She was still staying at the Matlocks for now, but they had returned home to discuss the events of the past weeks in private.

Darcy had recounted Wickham's capture and shared his reasons for returning to London. Georgiana had been determinedly cheerful that their former companion was now hobbled for the foreseeable future. But when talk had turned to Hertfordshire and Darcy's return, she had lit up, asking about Miss Elizabeth and her family and suggesting that he should pursue her.

"I—why are you so interested in her, Georgie?"

Georgiana studied the rug. "When you returned before the holidays, you were—there was a heaviness about you. But once you went back to Hertfordshire, your letters sounded more cheerful, and I do not see the same lines of burden on your face that were there before." She peeped up at him. "Actually, I have seen you smile more in the past two days than you have in a week or two in years past."

"And you attribute this difference to Miss Elizabeth?"

Georgiana nodded.

"I have been made aware of how unfriendly my customary manner can appear and have been trying to change, to seem more approachable." He suppressed a grimace, recalling just how approachable Mrs. Long's nieces had found him the last time he had seen them. Reserve had become his armour for a reason. But he was determined to change, to care about others regardless of his first impression of them, to express interest in those around him, even though he would never be the warm, hearty sort like Bingley.

Georgiana studied him. "Why?"

"Because I am learning that isolation from the world does not actually protect me, and it stifles any potential of forming true friendships."

"Not because of Miss Elizabeth?"

Darcy hesitated. "Miss Elizabeth did help me to see the reality of my manners, but I am not changing for her." He took his sister's hands in his. "Georgie, we have spoken of me finding a wife, and I do not wish to court a woman with whom you would deal poorly—"

"I do not think I would deal poorly with Miss Elizabeth, Brother," Georgiana hastened to interject.

"I do not think so either, but before I pursue her, I would like you two to become acquainted."

Georgiana sat up straight. "Me?"

"If I were to marry her, she would be your sister."

"Yes, but—" She frowned. "Aunt Margaret says that younger sisters must not squelch their older brothers' romances by being underfoot or by giving too much advice on the matter of whom they prefer." She looked down at their joined hands. "She said you will make a decision that you believe to be best for both of us, and I—" She looked up into his eyes. "I trust you, William. You will not marry someone like Miss Mathers or Miss Bingley."

"Still, I would prefer your approval—and even if that were not so, Fitzwilliam requires your approval as your other guardian."

Georgiana wilted. "I am certain that Cousin Richard would not force the issue. You do not have to introduce me if you do not wish to do so."

"I am saying that I do wish for you to meet Miss Elizabeth."

"Not just because of Cousin Richard?"

"Of course not! Fitzwilliam will not have to live with her," he said with an attempt at levity.

Georgiana smiled faintly. "But are you certain that you wish me underfoot when you are wooing her? Do you not wish to sweep her off her feet?"

"I am afraid, my dear, that you have an exaggerated view of my competence. I believe I shall be fortunate to gain her approval at all, let alone sweep her off her feet," he said, trying to keep the discouragement in his heart from infusing his tone.

Georgiana looked at him, wide-eyed. "I am certain you can help her see that she would be happiest with you."

"Perhaps." He hesitated. "I am also hopeful that you may be able to speak to Miss Lydia."

"About Mr. Wickham?"

Darcy nodded. "She appeared to be truly heartbroken when Wickham refused to stay and obtain her father's blessing. I believe it was a shock of great magnitude. You are familiar with how convincing he can be; she truly believed that he loved her enough to stay. She is grieving."

"As I did," Georgiana said with a hint of bitterness. "I am glad that you were able to shackle him; such people do not deserve the freedom to continue hurting others," she said fiercely.

"So you will assist Miss Lydia?"

"You believe it is safe to tell her of my—situation?"

Darcy considered before finally deciding to allow her to choose. "I would not disclose the details, perhaps, but I trust you to be wise in what you tell her after you have gotten her measure. It is your story, Georgiana; you may share with her whatever portions of it you wish. Or share none of it, if it is your preference."

"No," Georgiana said resolutely. "If my experiences can help her, they will not be entirely useless."

"You are a brave young woman, and I am proud of you."

Georgiana fixed her eyes on her lap. "Thank you, Brother." She looked up, meeting his gaze. "I think it is admirable that you are trying to fix a flaw in your character."

"We both of us have had to grow quite a bit this year, haven't we?" he said with a sigh.

Georgiana nodded solemnly. "But perhaps—perhaps it will be for the best." She took a deep breath. "I believe I am better for the lessons I have learned, hard as they have been."

"I believe I shall be as well."

Georgiana shifted as though uncomfortable. "William, I wish to ask about Miss Elizabeth and your decision to seek to marry her, if I may."

"Of course, Georgie. Whatever you would like to ask."

"I—you told me last year that you would not marry unless the woman was wealthy and possessed connections . . . in fact, you said that you

could not

marry Miss Elizabeth because she was unqualified, but . . . ."

Darcy winced internally. What a fool he had been! He had espoused the values of the ton even as he had been unable to justify them—his attempts to justify those values to Georgiana had proven how little he actually regarded them, yet he had stubbornly clung to them like a drowning man to his gold. "Why would I pursue her now?"

Georgiana nodded.

"I was a fool. I thought that following the rules of the ton would bring honour to our family. However, over the course of several conversations, I realised that I was seeking the approval of people whose opinion I hardly respect. I would rather marry someone whose strength of character will make for a good marriage than marry someone from our society."

"But will you not suffer the ton's disapproval? And how do you know that Miss Elizabeth does not seek your wealth or position?"

"Miss Elizabeth is unique," he said with a small smile. "When I accused her of trying to entrap me in marriage, she informed me that I was the last man in the world whom she would marry."

Georgiana's eyes grew round.

"She had good reason. I did not believe anyone of interest to be in Hertfordshire, and I was insufferably rude to her when we first met," he admitted with shame.

"She has not forgiven you?"

"Actually, I have not apologised to her," Darcy said thoughtfully. Perhaps he ought to apologize. It had been a grave mistake—would have been a grave mistake, regardless of who he had been referring to. After all, Bingley (and other young men of the ton) succeeded in remaining single without being so rude. For the first time, he wondered if the reason he had so many wretched people pursuing him was because they were the only ones willing to overlook his bad behaviour. Had he surrounded himself with opportunists simply by driving away everyone of worth?

"Oh."

Darcy shook himself. His musings would have to wait. "I should apologize, though. My point, however, was that Miss Elizabeth has proven her disinterest in marrying solely for wealth. In fact, she turned down an offer from the gentleman who will inherit her family's estate." And hadn't that been a shock? Both that Mr. Collins had proposed to Miss Elizabeth and that she had been allowed to reject his offer, despite the detriment to her family.

"So you are not concerned that she will be like Mr. Wickham?"

"Not at all." Even when faced with the opportunity to further her standing by befriending Miss Bingley, Elizabeth had resolutely seemed uninterested.

"Are you worried about Aunt Margaret's response?"

Darcy hesitated, unsure how much of their uncle's conversation to share. "Uncle Stephen believes that Aunt Margaret will come around even if she is not thrilled about the idea initially."

"And you are no longer concerned with her relatives' behaviour?"

Darcy grimaced. "I am not elated by their behaviour, but I have come to realise that nearly everyone has embarrassing relations of one sort or another. I am not thrilled by Aunt Catherine's behaviour either."

"You said before that you did not wish me exposed to them. Will it be—will it be difficult for me to relate to them?" she asked anxiously.

"I am confident Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bennet will ensure your comfort. Mrs. Bennet is—excitable and terrified of being left penniless when her husband dies. Mr. Bennet is currently away, so you will not encounter him at this time. I have often been discontented by their family's lack of propriety, but perhaps it is their closeness to tradesmen that makes their behaviour different from that of the ton? I shall be interested to hear what you make of them."

"I—I will strive to present you in the best light."

Darcy held her gaze. "Georgie, I want to hear what you think, not for you to worry about my relationship with them. If you are opposed to gaining them as relations, I would like to discuss the matter."

"I—thank you." She straightened. "I am certain I will find them perfectly acceptable," she said determinedly.

"Well, I would like to leave the day after tomorrow, if that is acceptable to you, and then you will no longer be kept in suspense."

"I can be ready to leave tomorrow if you prefer."

Darcy considered. He wished to return to Elizabeth immediately, but he did not desire to excite his aunt's suspicion and he really ought to send an express to Bingley, ensuring that he was still willing to house Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley. "No, let us leave on Thursday."

"Very well."

Elizabeth spread her Aunt Gardiner's letter out upon her desk. It was the fourth such missive she had received since her aunt and uncle's Christmas visit. She had yet to reply, but her aunt continued to send letters commenting on news she had heard from Jane and offering support. Elizabeth knew the rift between her and her father was not really the Gardiners' fault, but it had been easier to blame them than to accept her father's culpability.

With the benefit of distance, she was able to see that her father could have chosen to change his behaviour rather than allowing hurt and betrayal to govern his actions. Like Mr. Bennet, Mr. Darcy had been thrust into a difficult situation, both when he took over his family's estate and this past year. However, Mr. Darcy had returned to fix his mistakes and had admitted them. Adversity had proven the true worth of each; her father was not nearly the man that Mr. Darcy was.

But that realisation did not stop the grief and betrayal that welled up whenever her father's desertion came to mind, and so she had continued to avoid writing her aunt because she knew she would have to speak of it.

In her first letter, Mrs. Gardiner had expressed great concern about Mr. Bennet's actions. In the second, she had apologised for not warning Elizabeth of Mr. Gardiner's intentions in speaking to Mr. Bennet, but had explained that the conversation had long been coming and Elizabeth's concerns had only hastened it. In her third letter, she had continued to express steadfast concern for Elizabeth and asked how her campaign to improve Longbourn was going as well as how she was handling the loss of her father's favouritism. She had also told Elizabeth she was incredibly proud of her based upon what Jane had shared.

Today's letter had come enclosed in a letter to Jane with a request that Elizabeth at least send a short note back, and so Elizabeth had locked herself in her room and moved all the stifling evidences of her current situation onto the bed where the mass of books and papers was no longer visible from the desk.

Elizabeth sighed. Her aunt had always had a knack for forcing her to see things from a different perspective, and the questions Aunt Madeleine had asked were the very ones she had no answer for:

How did she feel about her father's desertion?

Was Jane correct that Mr. Darcy had a tendre for her?

How did she feel about Mr. Darcy at this point?

Did she enjoy running Longbourn or was it merely a burden?

How went her endeavours to build better bridges between her and her sisters?

Was Lydia recovering from her brush with Mr. Wickham?

Squaring her shoulders, Elizabeth took up a pen, deciding to tackle each question one at a time.

Dear Aunt Madeleine,

I apologise for being such a wretched correspondent these past months. Recent events have left me preoccupied, and Longbourn often requires much of my attention.

Elizabeth returned her pen to the ink before it could drip onto the page, her thoughts unable to settle as she tried to decide how to answer her aunt's first question.

She had naively assumed that her father would return before too long and that he would have relented by the time he returned. Now, she was not even certain that she wished for his forgiveness. Why should she apologise for trying to assist him? She had not gossipped about his poor choices to everyone, but had only spoken to one of their family's most trusted relations.

Rage and grief pulsed through her in equal measure. Her father's consistent choice to wallow in his own unhappiness and to detach himself from his family, rather than allowing his situation to make him into a better person, left her aggravated beyond measure. The closer she grew to her sisters, the more evident the wounds left by his neglect and mocking disparagements became. He had great power over his children and rather than using his influence to uplift his daughters, he had abdicated his opportunity, squandering it in a vain attempt to make his own life less miserable.

I am still pained by Papa's cut. I know that he was lashing out due to his own deep hurt and feelings of betrayal, but I would have expected a man so intelligent to be willing to discuss the matter, to consider that his favourite daughter might have had his best interests at heart.

I do not blame you for his desertion. Papa is responsible for his own actions, just as we all are. Perhaps it could have been better accomplished, but perhaps his own character ensured that no intervention would have succeeded.

So few words for such deep anguish, but Elizabeth could not bring herself to speak of it further, so she moved on to the matter of Mr. Darcy. Leaning back in her chair, she considered her aunt's questions about the man. After the events of this week, Elizabeth could no longer deny that Mr. Darcy seemed interested in her. She still did not understand why he would be, considering he had withstood her "beauty" from the first. Perhaps it was merely flirtation?

Surprisingly, the thought filled her with dismay.

Nor could she deny that she had missed his steady presence the past two days. She even missed verbally sparring with him . . . the way that he had never needed her statements explained, had even seemed to enjoy her wit at times. She missed his understanding regarding Lydia and how difficult it was to see a sister walk such a foolish path. She missed his readiness to assist, despite all the reasons he had for mistrusting her.

His willingness to sacrifice for others still surprised her. She supposed, given his decision to stay with a tradesman's son for months and to help his friend learn to manage an estate, it ought not to.

And the contrast between his character and that of her father had only raised her view of Mr. Darcy.

Nor could she deny that he was handsome.

Most of all, Mr. Darcy had not remained proud and rude to others. Instead, he had recognised his faults and worked to correct them; something that only provided an even greater reason for admiration.

Mr. Darcy seems much less proud and rude than he appeared last autumn. I doubt he would be willing to overlook our family's situation to such a degree that an offer would be made, but I have enjoyed his company, and his assistance has been invaluable.

With an effort, she dragged her thoughts from Mr. Darcy and considered her aunt's next question. Was she enjoying Longbourn? She had discovered how wonderful it was to be able to effect real change in her family's circumstances. Researching the improvements and devising something that would work well on their land had also been gratifying.

For a moment, Elizabeth considered what it would be like to return to her previous occupations—visiting the tenants (able to do precious little to help them other than to pass their issues along to an inattentive landlord), taking long rambles through the countryside, visiting the neighbours with her mother . . . . Though now that Charlotte had moved away, she did not have any particular friends in Hertfordshire with whom she desired regular conversation.

Elizabeth sighed. Charlotte was another conundrum that weighed upon her mind. She had written to her friend a few times since Charlotte's departure, telling her the neighbourhood's news, and had even told her that Mr. Bennet was visiting a friend and had left her in charge, but she had not explained about the improvements or the loss of her father's favouritism. Charlotte had written, asking her to visit in April. In fact, Maria Lucas was leaving in less than a week to visit her sister and had offered for Elizabeth to accompany her.

As much as Elizabeth wished to see her friend, she could not leave Longbourn just now. Charlotte had been resigned and had requested she visit as soon as Mr. Bennet returned.

At least she had her sisters' support. Once she had stopped trying to change them, had learned to appreciate them for who they were, and they had all begun to work together towards a common goal, things had gone better than she could have dreamt. Six months ago, even three months ago, she could not have imagined Mary's wisdom and dedication unfettered by her moralising, nor Kitty's kindness and creativity unobscured by silliness, or even Lydia's current remorse and uncertainty. Her youngest sister had finally begun to grasp that her own behaviour had gotten her into this painful situation.

Mrs. Bennet alternated between painful obliviousness to her youngest child's sorrow and stifling concern that Lydia was coming down with some illness. Fortunately, Jane was able to act as mediator and managed their mother better than Elizabeth ever could have, particularly now. Between her rejection of Mr. Collins and her unwillingness to increase her mother's pin money, Elizabeth's presence only exacerbated Mrs. Bennet's nerves.

With a sigh, Elizabeth hurried to finish her letter before her ink dried out.

I am glad for the opportunity to better Longbourn and have enjoyed the challenge. I am hopeful that I will be able to complete the improvements before Papa returns.

I do thank you very much for all your assistance with my sisters. Things are indeed better than I had hoped for when I wrote to you from Netherfield last autumn, and quite frankly, I do not know what I would do now without their steadfast help and comfort. Lydia is recovering, though she feels the loss of Mr. W. greatly. She does appear to recognise the part her own behaviour played in the matter, which I find hopeful.

Thank you for your steadfast support as well. I have appreciated your letters even though I have not known how to reply.

Elizabeth then made some few comments about the news her aunt had shared about the Gardiner children and then closed the letter. Hopefully, these brief few sentences would fulfil her aunt's wish satisfactorily because she did not feel capable of expounding further, even to a willing listener.

Her thoughts returned to Mr. Darcy as she glanced out the window. Today was Thursday, and he had promised to return by Monday. Writing to her aunt had forced her to confront her feelings for him. She did miss him, and though it was nothing but a ridiculous fairy tale, she could not help but wish that it might be possible for him to pursue her beyond simply enjoying each other's company.

A man of his wealth and status would never offer for a penniless country maid without even claims to extraordinary beauty such as Jane's, but she could not help but acknowledge that her unruly heart had gone ahead and attached itself to him anyway.

Thanks for all your reviews and engagement this week, y'all! I really appreciated the critiques and encouragement :) It's so fun to have you guys enjoy this story as much as I am!

And thanks to my betas, Arendelle, Dawn, Roberta, and Roxey, for all their hard work on this chapter!

I really do appreciate it when y'all point out errors we have missed. Please do continue to do that :)