Chapter Three

Anne and Stephen painstakingly built a tower of blocks, which Darcy thought a remarkable facsimile of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. With an effort of concentration, he looked away from his daughter and nephew, and back to the exceedingly dull (and illiterate) letter he was reading. Georgiana sat at the pianoforte, softly singing to her own accompaniment. She looked more peaceful than he had seen her for a great many months, and he sighed, returning to the letter.

Once his business was completed, he watched the wildly careening tower and the two children carefully. Georgiana had come over to stand behind him, and smiled serenely. "They seem very fond of each other, don't they?" she asked.

Darcy winced as the tower fell with a crash. Anne stared, then with a stormy, resolute expression, began building it up again. "Yes," he replied. It was a moment before the faintly speculative tone in his sister's voice caught up with him, and he straightened. "Georgiana," he said warningly.

"Oh, I wasn't really thinking that," she said. He had only to raise an eyebrow before she blushed and laughed. "I can see the temptation! I always thought Lady Catherine was nonsensical before."

Perhaps if she'd been the one planned for, she still would. He tactfully kept this thought to himself. "They are three years old, dear," Darcy said sternly. "Any man who lays a finger on my Anne before she's eighteen is — "

Georgiana laughed gaily. "Fitzwilliam, you shall be the most terrifying father imaginable — at least to the hapless young men who will flock after this Miss Darcy."

Darcy's shrug said more eloquently than words that such pusillanimous men were not worthy of his own time, let alone Anne's. "That is a long while away," he said mildly, determined not to think of such horrors until there was no other choice.

"It will come more quickly than you think," Georgiana threatened, and walked over to the window.

This was her room — she had loved it even as a child, as her father before her, and even once she left home, Darcy could not convince himself that it could ever belong to anyone but her. Rosemary had never liked it — the bright sunlight hurt her eyes, she said — and so it was saved for Georgiana. He had walked into it a few times when she was not present, and it only seemed dull and dark and empty without her, despite the fact that it had the finest view of probably any room in the house.

"I wish I could stay forever," she said, leaning her forehead against the window. "I shall not impose much longer, however."

"You know, you are always welcome. Pemberley is your home," he objected instantly, and she smiled.

"Yes, I know. I do not like to think of Lady Westhampton all alone, though — you know, Fitzwilliam, everything is clearer here. It's almost like we're in another world, isn't it?"

"Yes." He hesitated, then decided that mere advice did not precisely constitute interference — at least not with his own sister — and went on, "Georgiana, I agree, you should go back to Aincourt. And I think, when Westhampton returns, that you ought to — talk."

Georgiana turned away and stared at him. Anne carefully placed another block on their steadily building tower; this one was rather straighter than the last. Stephen mischievously reached out to knock it down; she slapped his hand away with a fierce scowl.

"Talk," Georgiana repeated blankly. "What do you mean? Of course we talk."

"Not about the child you lost — nor about your difficulties with my aunt — nor your concerns for Stephen — nor anything of consequence, I daresay. Georgiana, even Rosemary and I talked more than you two — you who love each other! I hope you still do?"

"Yes, yes," she said hastily, looking down. He walked over and wiped the tears off her cheeks.

"Did he even know about the baby, Georgiana?" he asked softly. Her dark eyes darted up and met his.

"I — I thought he did," she stammered.

"Did you tell him?"

"No, of course not." She frowned. "He ought to have known. You would have known!"

Darcy felt the beginnings of a headache, and briefly pressed the tips of his fingers against his right temple. "You did not marry me, Georgiana. Perhaps you should sit down."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I think I need to impart some brotherly words of wisdom before you return to Aincourt. Sit." Georgiana obeyed instantly. Possibly another reason the dowager dislikes me, he thought wryly.

"Westhampton is not me, Georgiana, and you cannot expect him to be. It is completely unfair to both him and yourself."

As the tower wobbled, Stephen began taking the top blocks off, pointing at one part of it. Anne, who had opened her mouth to scream, stopped and looked at it pensively before assisting him.

"Westhampton is not an especially . . . sensitive person, Georgiana. You knew what he was like before you married him."

"Yes, sir." He gave her a sharp look, but her expression was perfectly serious.

"Perhaps our closeness has made this more difficult. Neither you nor I are especially communicative people, because we expect to be understood without taking much trouble to see that it comes about. For whatever reasons, you and I have often been able to understand each other without very many words. You cannot expect that from Westhampton. In some ways he is greatly my superior — he will never embarrass you in a ballroom, for instance — "

"Neither did you," Georgiana protested. Darcy smiled.

"You were only out a few months before you became engaged to Westhampton. With adequate time I am certain I would have achieved it. As I was saying, there are some ways, such as his social abilities, in which Westhampton is my superior." He paused, then added, "And yours." Georgiana's brows knit together. "You shall have to explain yourself to him — preferably in small words — or he simply will not understand. Men are in some ways very unlike women, but even women cannot know for certain if they are not told, especially if there have been misunderstandings between you before, as I suspect there have been."

There were several minutes while she considered this. "Even you?"

He smiled. "Even I. I have made this same error, more times than I can say." His expression turned very grave, almost sombre, and his eyes settled on the small curving bridge that led into the woods. Georgiana's breath caught — she could not have said why — and she pressed her fingers against her brother's.

"I think, I think you are right."

A smile lit up for his face for a bare moment. "Am I not always?" She slapped his wrist lightly, and they laughed together before turning to their children.

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Three weeks after Georgiana departed, leaving Pemberley very large and quiet and empty, a servant announced, "Lord Westhampton, sir."

Darcy sighed and set his pen down. "Bring him in, please."

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A/N: Another chapter -- I realised it had been three whole days (gasp!) since I'd posted, so I wrote this. Enjoy!

Teresa: The parallels between Georgiana's situation and Lady A's did not escape Darcy. His issues with interference might have kept him from doing anything were it not for his nephew, to be honest. Stephen, a lonely little boy who except for the eyes is the spitting image of his mother, rather frail, with all those lost siblings -- we can only imagine what Darcy felt with the possibility of his nephew facing the same childhood that he did. He's suffering which is why he went away. You needn't like him; I do, but I have my reasons! He's good pretty much outside and inside; but then, he isn't Darcy and Georgiana didn't really get that. Glad you liked it.