I had a good vacation and nice time with my dad and sister's family. I also did a lot of revising of VMC I, marking up the whole second draft that is posted here and greatly revising the beginning chapter and placing some stuff that appeared later in there for better flow. I am hoping to self publish it this summer and if I can figure out how to offer a digital copy of it for free initially I will do that, so you can all have a chance at it.

My son is set to graduate high school a week from Sunday. The thought of it is bittersweet. Of course I am proud of him, but there are so many questions about his future. I declined going to a graduation party for a child who used to play with him when he was little (when it was more about the moms arranging things). While I have stayed acquaintances with the mom, she withdrew from having her child have play dates with mine when we were first getting initial diagnoses and she also pretty much dropped me as a friend around that time. It may just have been that our kids were getting older and perhaps she thought her daughter was not having as much fun with my son anymore and that she didn't have as much in common with me after that, but at the time it felt very hurtful and I still have some strong emotions about the whole thing. I didn't think I could go to that party and hear all about her daughter's successes and college plans while I am awaiting our court date on getting guardianship of our son without feeling sorry for the fact that those sorts of dreams that I once had for my son can never be fulfilled. I'll admit to having a good cry about it earlier. While I still think that my child can have a good life, it will be a very different life from what society in general deems a successful life.

This is all new material which has at least partially changed the trajectory of the story from the original. I hope you enjoy it and would welcome suggestions on what you think should happen with these children from here. I have some plans, but as I haven't written it yet, those plans are still flexible. While I will try to keep up with a weekly posting schedule, I ask for your understanding if I am not able to do that.

Chapter 32: Charity Begins at Home

Friday morning found me once again waiting for my sister. Although I did not write it in truth, I mentally began composing a letter to Miss Elizabeth, telling her all that had transpired including retrieving the children. When it was nine o'clock, I determined to wait for Georgiana no further and made my way to the nursery to see the children. I had felt a prick of my conscience when I first awoke, that I had left the responsibility over them solely to my sister and my servants.

I recalled my father telling me, "Naturally, I have chosen good and competent staff. A master should do no less. However, the master still bears ultimate moral responsibility for anything transpires within his properties. Many a master has allowed much evil to take place within his domain, simply because he could not be bothered in observing, listening and acting. He cannot assume someone else will prevent or correct others' misdeeds."

Of course, I trusted Georgiana and Mrs. Grotburn, but Georgiana was still a child and Mrs. Grotburn was still a servant. As I walked to the nursery (which was composed of two attached rooms, one being for play and study and another which was a bedroom), I reviewed in my mind what I should be certain they received. While they had clothing, my sister had not mentioned whether this included stockings and shoes. They would need two beds, set meals and a regular schedule which should include time outside and a firm bedtime. While Mrs. Grotburn might be arranging various lessons for them, I worried how Sam would do seeing so many new people. For him, at least, it might be best to have one person that was assigned just to him, or to the nursery in general.

By then I had reached the nursery. I knocked upon the door, announced "This is Mr. Darcy." When I heard no response, I felt a certain alarm and said, "I am coming in."

I was not sure what I was expecting, but the sight that greeted me was certainly not it. The shelves were bare, everything was upon the floor and in the center of it all stood Sam dressed in breaches and nothing else. I noted that his hands still looked grimy, and his face, neck and hands were several shades darker than the rest of him. Clean but ragged blond wavy hair fell around his shoulders and looked like it needed a thorough combing and haircut.

Sam's chest reminded me of a white xylophone I had seen one time, for his ribs were prominent and his skin pale. He had several scars. A tell-tale wet mark was upon his breaches along his right thigh, but this fresh stain although pungent, was the only odor about him that I smelled.

Sam glanced over at me and I said, "Good morning Sam," but before I had gotten even the first syllable out, he resumed what he was doing. What I had first taken as being random mounds, I now observed were purposeful stacks, for he was working on one then, placing a tin soldier atop a cup. He then tried to put a marble upon the soldier's shoulder, but naturally it rolled off. He grunted, an annoyed sound in my estimation.

I glanced around and asked him, "Have you broken your fast yet?"

He showed no sign of attending to my words.

"Food? Eat?" I tried again.

He turned his head slightly toward me, darting his eyes to me and then back to his stack, but I was not sure if he recognized either of the words or not.

I made a decision. I exited the nursery and called out to a servant I half spied down the hall, directed her "Tell the cook that Mr. Darcy wants breakfast for four in the nursery. Make sure there is milk for the children." Then I stepped back in.

I told Sam, likely more for my benefit than his, "Breakfast will be here soon." He showed no sign of hearing me.

I gingerly crossed between the stacks to the adjoining bedroom and knocked on that door. Instead of silence or hearing a child's voice, I heard my sister say, "You may come in, but quietly."

I opened the door and spied another unexpected sight. Georgiana lay awake in her night clothes, on the far side of a bed. Abby was asleep on her side, facing Georgiana, her face tucked against Georgiana's shoulder. Through the light of the closed curtains, Abby was illuminated by a rhombus of light while, but for her shoulder, my sister was in shadow. Abby looked so young with her dark hair pulled back in a braid, her face though unnaturally thin still had a bit of the roundness of her youth. She looked even younger than before, and I was yet again amazed at her tenacity in tending to her brother, how she had made her way in the world with him as her responsibility.

I did not come in, only lingered in the doorway, and Georgiana addressed me from there. "I need to get up soon, to visit the necessary, but I fear moving at all and disturbing her, for Abby was awake most of the night. A maid that was left to watch them came and fetched me, as Abby became frantic once Sam slumbered. She does not trust the situation, expects you to have some nefarious purpose, or that if, perchance you do not, that you will change your mind about letting them both remain here. But she seems to trust me, at least in part, and I was able to calm her, though only by agreeing to remain. I awoke to hearing Sam making some noise in the nursery, so I hope all is well there."

"Well enough," I responded, recalling Sam's stain. "He is building stacks of things, learning what will balance and what will not."

Although I understood why Georgiana had done as she had, it was improper for my sister to sleep there, especially as Sam had likely slept on the other side of his sister. In the narrow bed they would have been pressed tight as sardines. I had an urge to remove her from that bed immediately and prevent any repetition. It would not have been so bad if Sam were staying in another room, but I doubted that Abby while conscious would willingly let her brother out of her sight.

"Can you, perchance, slide out without waking her?" I both asked and urged. Certainly, I wanted Abby to sleep longer. From what my sister had told me before, it might have been a year since Abby and Sam had last slept in a bed, perhaps more, perhaps never as when with their mother they might have been consigned to pallets on the floor.

"I shall try." She wiggled and shimmed and managed to gain the floor without Abby stirring. Once she was standing on the ground, she retrieved her wrapper.

"I shall be back as soon as I am dressed," she assured me. Once she had left the chambers, I gingerly closed the door behind her and concentrated on Sam. The stack he was working on was apparently frustrating him as he shoved it all over, making quite a clatter. I was worried the sound would have woken Abby, but when she did not appear in the next couple of minutes, relaxed again.

"You are making a mess, Sam." I was not particularly worried; that was what servants were for.

A few minutes later, a kitchen servant came with a tray of food, including plates, cups and cutlery. She set it on the table and asked, "Mr. Darcy, need you anything else?"

"What I need is a nursery maid. Can summon whatever upstairs maid you find about?"

"Yes, sir."

I turned back to Sam to see him standing beside the table. He was clearly interested in the food, his eyes looking at the tray. He had one hand outstretched, palm up, but had grabbed nothing. I pulled out a chair, patted it and said, "Sit here." He ignored me.

I arranged the plates, cups, silverware and napkins. I pulled out a chair and sat down myself. "What should you like to eat?" I asked, not expecting any response. With tongs I lifted a slice of bacon. "Bacon?" I set one piece on his plate, one on his sister's plate, one on Georgiana's plate and another on my plate. I repeated this action with each item, eggs, toast, slices of apple. He watched as I did this, although his eyes were focused on the food and not me. But still, he neither reached for the food nor seated himself. However, he did grunt, as if to remind me that he was still there.

I recalled that Abby had fed him bite by bite from her hand. At the time I had wondered why she did this. I wanted him to sit down and eat himself, but perhaps he did not know how, or perhaps he had been taught to eat only what Abby handed to him. As I thought about what to do, I poured the milk. "Milk."

I stood up, brought a cup to Sam, and placed his unresisting hands around it until he grasped it and then released my own. Sam held the cup and was looking at it, but yet did nothing. I placed my large hand about his own and brought the cup up to his lips. "Drink, Sam. Drink milk." I tilted the cup slightly until a line of milk hit his lip. He opened his mouth and began to drink. I slowly released my hand until it was only him holding the cup. He tilted it farther, drinking faster now and a bit ran out the corner of his lips and down his chin. I watched the drips and the bobbing of his throat as he swallowed. He drank the whole cup and even as it was empty, continued to tip it to get whatever small drops might remain.

When Sam was apparently satisfied that there was no more to be had, he lowered the cup and walked off with it. I saw him place it a top a stack of careening objects, the top item of which was at an angle. The cup remained for a moment or two and then slid down and thumped (fortunately not breaking). He retrieved it and made as if to do it again. Scared that it might break, I took it from him and returned it to the table.

Sam followed me and stared very hard at the food. I was still debating whether to try to make him sit, or whether to feed him from a fork while he stood, when Abby appeared. She was in a dress, apparently having dressed herself.

She hurried over to Sam, to his far side away from me. I was determined that she see me as friendly and kind, so I greeted her "Good morning Abby. Here is breakfast for you both."

Abby gave a little nod and stared at me with her prominent dark eyes. Although the shape of her eyes in her face was far different from Miss Elizabeth's the shape was similar and I wondered once again what Miss Elizabeth might think about my sudden responsibility for these two children. I wished for her to be proud of me in this endeavor, but would she be? I determined that I should certainly try my best by them, both for their own sake, and for the sake of my sister and my beloved.

I told Abby. "Sam already had milk, but I do not know how to get him to sit down and eat."

Abby grabbed her brother's arm and walked him over to the chair. While he remained standing, she arranged the chair right behind him and then reached up to his shoulders, pulling down. Then Sam sat. Abby retrieved a napkin and wiped the sides of his mouth, his chin. With her bare hands, she grabbed a chunk of egg off Sam's plate and placed it in his hand. He ate the bite. I watched as she fed him each bite in this manner, similarly feeding him chunks of bacon and then toast. I was silent but for saying the name of each thing he was being fed.

When she finished feeding him, she wiped his face with the napkin again. Then she brought her chair closer beside his and sat down herself. She was as far from me as she could be at the round table, sheltered by her brother's larger form. I had as yet eaten nothing; I had a vague idea that I should wait for my sister to return. I also had a sort of itch to leave and attend to my duties as I did every morning (although I was not sure what I needed to do at the moment as I had done everything I could in preparation of leaving and was unsure what needed to be done if we were not leaving for Kent and it was becoming clear to me that we should not leave yet).

When Abby reached her greasy finger back toward her own eggs, I requested, "Please use a fork."

She remained silent and grabbed the fork in her whole fist. I corrected, "No, like this" and lifted my own fork. I then used the edge of it to cut off a bit of egg and then speared it on the tines and ate it.

I heard a sound from Sam. I fancied he had watched me eat the bite of egg and wanted more egg for himself. I scooped some eggs from the serving container and as I tipped the serving spoon and deposited them on his plate, said "egg." I grabbed his fork (reaching across the table near Abby as she shied away) and speared a bit of loose egg on his fork. Then I held the bite toward him. He bent his head down, opened his mouth and carefully pulled the bite of egg off the tines with his lips.

"I will do that," Abby insisted. She had eaten nothing herself yet.

I wanted to object, but I also wanted to earn her trust and not insist that everything be done my way, or at least not insist upon it yet.

I handed Abby the fork and watched as she awkwardly fed him bites of eggs off the fork until his plate was empty once again.

"You should eat something now," I tried to suggest rather than order.

Sam interrupted by making another sound. "Want more?" I asked him. "Toast." I buttered a piece of toast while saying "butter," spooned some strained raspberry jam upon it (I had never liked the seeds and my cook always strained it now before it was placed in jars) while saying "jam" and placed the prepared toast upon his plate, "toast, eat." I prepared my own piece of toast, lifted it up and took a bite.

Sam watched me eat. I hoped he might take up his own piece of toast even if he made a mess of it, but instead Abby picked up his piece of toast and fed him again, this time holding up the whole piece of toast.

I was not sure if it was an improvement for her to feed Sam bites, or place chunks of food in his hands for him to eat himself. Ideally, I wished for him to feed himself off his own plate. Sam ate several bites from the piece of toast held in Abby's hand and then closed his lips and shook his head "no." Abby set down the toast and wiped his mouth once again.

Suspecting that Sam might be thirsty after his breakfast, I poured more milk into Sam's cup, saying "milk" and set the cup before him. As Abby reached out, Sam made a hooting sound at her (it was different from the hooting sound he had made the day before). He wrapped his hands around the cup, brought it to his lips and drank. He drank the milk more slowly this time, I fancy because he was rather full.

I hoped I had not made a mistake in feeding him overly much as I understood if he was unaccustomed to it, it might make him sick. However, I supposed it was too late to worry about that now. Then Sam set down the empty cup of milk and had his mouth wiped by his sister once again. A moment later he got up and resumed working on making his stacks. Abby and I ate in silence.

Perhaps a minute later, my sister opened the door. I was very glad to see her and immediately said, "Georgiana, join us for breakfast." I stood up and helped her with her chair. The rest of breakfast felt less awkward with my sister there. Somehow, she was able to make conversation. As soon as I was finished eating, I excused myself, explaining to Georgiana, "I must write Lady Catherine and see if she might be willing to travel to London to see us, rather than the other way around.

I applied myself diligently to the letter, explaining about the children and why I did not think we could leave them yet. I asked if she could visit, telling her that I wished to learn more about how her brother might be worked upon and noted that I also sought her advice as to how to help the boy who was like Anne and me, but rather worse off as he could not talk and did not seem to know how to use the necessary. I noted, however, "While Sam does not speak, I do not think he utterly lacks the means to communicate, for he does seem to mean 'no' when he shakes his head from side to side and other vocalizations seem to have meaning, although I am as of yet unskilled in knowing what they mean." I also noted that I wished I could have had the opportunity to speak with Nurse Storey about him and if she might have advice from dealing with me during my childhood.

As Nurse Storey was now on my mind, I also wrote to her requesting advice about how to help Sam at the direction that Mrs. Reynolds had supplied when I had yet been at Pemberley. I dearly wished I could simply hire her away from the admiral, but it seemed that she was happy there, so while I offered her a position at double whatever renumeration she was receiving presently, I also explained that I did not expect her to accept. Still, I certainly would have no chance at engaging her services if I did not ask.

Then, I wrote a letter to my former tutor, Mr. Stowbaugh. While certainly Sam was not ready for academics, I thought he might be a most helpful person to hire as well, or at least one from which I might seek advice.

Finally, I wrote a letter to Miss Elizabeth to be send care of Mr. Hill. This, of all of the letters was the most difficult letter to write for I thought we had trouble aplenty before I had taken on additional responsibility. I hoped that if she had seen these children and had the means I had at my disposal that she would have done the same, but I was also mindful that while this had been my choice to make, I had not consulted her at all.

While I knew that great men were entitled to use the resources at their disposal in any way they saw fit, I also thought my father ought to have listened to my mother further as to how I was to be raised and probably other matters besides that. I did not want to be the sort of man who dictated matters to his wife and required her to follow them as if she was far beneath him, as the Earl did to my aunt, making her act essentially as his servant rather than his partner in life. I had long seen how capable women could be in the example of my mother, my sister, Lady Catherine, Nurse Storey and even (though I did not like how wielded the power she sought to usurp from my mother and me) Mrs. Skeffington. I worried as to what Miss Elizabeth would think of my decision to invite these children into what would one day be our home, and to house them in the nursery which I had intended would someday be used by our own children. I also was frustrated that as of yet I had no information on how to eliminate the threat to her family posed by the Earl and no idea when I would be free to come and see her again. I believe I waxed rather eloquently about all the potential costs to us of my decision, but concluded:

My love, I know it was hardly the time to assume responsibility for two wards. But if you could have seen them, dirty, half-starved, with no hope but that they might get their next meal on someone's charity. Yes, I know the poor will always be among us, but these particular children have haunted me since when last I saw them, and then to stumble on them again and have it confirmed to me how Sam's young sister was doing her best to trying to protect him, doing what she could for him without any resources, it put me to mind what might have become of me and Georgiana had we been born into a different family. It simply was not in my power to leave them there, if they were willing to come with us, which ultimately, they were. Georgiana seems to have made them her particular project at least for the time being, but within a few years she might be married and gone. It is me who bears the full responsibility for the decision to bring them home and my care of them will extend my whole life if need be. I hope you may understand why I acted as I did.