"Aunt Elizabeth sent some money for your wedding clothes." John handed the letter and enclosure to his sister.

Elizabeth Wickham smiled. "I told mamma I would need wedding clothes, and she told me that she hadn't had any and her wedding had been perfectly fine."

Seventeen-year-old Frances snorted. "Her wedding? She was married at St Clement's with nobody but the Gardiners and my uncle Darcy. No clothes, no attendants, no anything. It was hardly a proper wedding at all, and they had been living in sin for weeks before!"

"Fanny, please!" John looked up from his book and fervently wished for his brother's return. Betsey was the eldest but no good at all, and so the burden of responsibility fell to him. He would much rather read his beloved books and practise sermon-making, but his ordination was still some years away. If only he could go somewhere, as George had; but he hadn't George's active temperament. He only wished to be left in peace, away from the chaos that was his family. Someday . . .

Fanny subsided, and John turned to the next letter, this one from George himself. His brow furrowed as he read. "Betsey," he said, "have you heard from George lately?"

Betsey reluctantly turned away from the mirror and stared wide-eyed at him for a moment. "I didn't read very much," she said. "It was all Anne-this, and Anne-that, really very dull. I can't imagine what he sees in her."

John uneasily repressed his first thoughts as unworthy of a future clergyman. He could perfectly imagine what George saw in Anne — beauty, wealth, spirit, and above all, the lure of the forbidden fruit. Yet their tempers were so dissimilar. She was not at all the sort of woman George was usually attracted to — she was elegant, aloof, haughty, every inch a Miss Darcy; even her striking beauty was of a distant, remote sort. Besides, even were he to win their austere cousin over — highly unlikely, in John's opinion — no attachment between them would be tolerated. John looked again at his letter.

"What is he thinking?"

"Probably s'not," slurred Thomas, sprawled across a chair and, per the usual, shamefully intoxicated. At least he was home. John had never been drunk in his life and had no intentions of ever being so. George he had admired as a child but once able to see past his brother's civilised veneer, he'd been determined to go his own way. Into the Church. "Good old George," mumbled Tom. "Always knows what he wants."

Yes, thought John, he knows what he wants. And he does anything to get it. Father'd be proud of him if he could even remember that he had a son.

"Fanny, put him to bed, will you?"

"But John," whined Fanny, "it's Susan's turn this evening!"

"Susan's asleep. She's been helping Betsey. Do as I say, Fanny."

"I don't want to!"

John set both letter and Bible down. "I don't really care, Fanny. Shall I have to tell mother not to give you any allowance for bonnets this month?"

Fanny sulked but obeyed, and John went to his desk — really his father's, but he was the only one who used it. He knew his brother, and Anne, she was a nice girl, she deserved better than this. And John himself would never have been able to pursue his dreams and leave this place behind, someday not too far away, were it not for Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy. He bit his lip.

. . . If I may be so bold, sir, I do not believe George's continued presence at Pemberley is beneficial to anyone concerned, particularly Miss Darcy. My sister, it seems, is in desperate need of her brother's support as her wedding approaches.

John made a mental note to inform Betsey of her great misery at George's absence. She hummed a little as she admired her reflection.

I remain your respectful nephew,

John Wickham

A/N: Flashing forward into 1835 for another young Wickham vignette. He's really the cream of this particular crop — well, and perhaps Susan, but her growth is a little — stunted. She's fifteen but more like twelve or thirteen. Betsey is as unlike her namesake as can be conceivably imagined.

June W: Well, she'll need it. The only people in the family who aren't painfully reserved are Richard and Cecily, and perhaps Henry (but not really), so aside from their aversion to her, it's a lot to deal with. You're welcome.

Kyra3: She is there! If the chart you're using is the one under "George Wickham", Cecily is the very last person there. If you're using the complex numeric list, she's Character #14, Miss Cecilia Fitzwilliam. But I'm glad it was easy to follow. It's a good sign that I'm improving, when you don't need charts (so much)! I'm also glad you liked the interaction between Cecily and Elizabeth.

Teresa: You're welcome. Elizabeth is a difficult one for me, to be honest. I've written a few things from her perspective, but I don't consider them quite up to my usual standard, so they live a secluded existence at the back of a metaphorical drawer. Cecily, with her cousin the colonel, is probably the most friendly, outgoing person in the family — like her father in that respect, although she would cringe at the comparison. I'm glad you like her, so do I. So you're getting the Fitzwilliams? I'm glad. Yes, an enormous portion of their aversion to Elizabeth is fear — lots of it. There is fear for him, because of his parents' disastrous marriage and the parallel with that they see in his attachment to Elizabeth, and then fear that she will not be able to take proper care of him (although she can and does; in P&P we see her shielding and protecting him during their engagement), and less unselfishly, fear on their own behalf, that by marrying not only outside the "immediate" family but out of their sphere of influence, they will not be able to rely upon him as they always have — his presence of mind, composure, and even temper make him the best sort of person to look to in any crisis, and they have gotten into the habbit of doing so even when there isn't one. There is snobbery as well, but it's a snobbery based on loyalty and solidarity. We see elements of this with Ella, who is terrified of being lost to her family and subsumed in her husband's, and finds an unlikely comfort in the married life of her aunt. I'm glad you can access the stories once again. I might put these elsewhere if I ever bother to learn HTML. You're welcome for the author notes. I just start rambling and go on from there. I'm very grateful for your input, I know the characters but often that rather blinds me to what might be obvious to someone else. I'm also glad you like Anne, who as I said is my first OC (and favourite, I must confess). Yes, her brothers and sister will enter into the story at some time, particularly her eldest brother Edward.