"Stephen is so tall," declared the proud mamma; "and the governess can hardly keep up with him. He is reading, and learning to write --"
Anne and Stephen were overflowing with excitement from the moment they caught sight of one another, and had run madly through the halls for apparently hours. Darcy looked around Aincourt curiously; it was quite different from what he recalled, even during his last visit. Much of the more ornate ornamentation was gone, and many of the rooms were lighter and more cheerful. Only so much could be done -- family legend had it that the original proprietor had been determined that all the world should know of his affluence, and Aincourt had always been more splendid than elegant. Nevertheless it was a fine old place, and Georgiana had done a great deal for it.
She looked well; less like a beautiful marble statue and more like the lovely châtelaine of a large estate. Westhampton appeared prodigiously proud of wife and son, and all but Stephen seemed perfectly contented with their life. Once the children's energy exhausted itself, Anne retreating to the nursery to play with the toys left expressly for her purpose, Stephen attached himself to his uncle, clinging to rather than imitating him. Neither of his parents knew what was the matter; Georgiana acknowledged that he had been rather sulky as of late, and Westhampton said that he tended to be moody.
"He has been a great deal better since you came," Georgiana confessed. "I worry about him, a little. He says he misses home."
Darcy thought of his nephew's delight in every nook and cranny of Pemberley, and sighed. "He shall adjust, in time," he said. "Visits, of course, are always welcome; he is as much Darcy as Deincourt."
"More so," Westhampton said ruefully, "going by his looks and behaviour."
"We are not temperamental," said Georgiana pointedly, with an arch smile for her husband. "The Darcys have always been the very picture of sweet-tempered respectability; have we not, Fitzwilliam?"
"We have always been respectable, in any case." He cleared his throat. "Speaking of respectability, I have not yet seen your grandmother, Westhampton."
The other man laughed. "Ah, grandmamma has been in a foul temper the last half-year at least. I never met a more resentful woman, or man, for that matter. I cannot imagine what you must have said to her."
"My aunt, Lady Catherine, did most of the talking," said Darcy. "We did exchange a few words, however."
"Whatever you said, life has been much more pleasant here ever since," said Georgiana, with a fond look at him.
"I daresay it owes more to you two than me," he said, smiling.
"I doubt it," said Georgiana, and pressed a kiss against his cheek.
---
Darcy woke to a pounding on his door. Somewhat groggily, he opened it, and peered down at an anxious-looking servant. "Mr Darcy, sir," she gasped, "his lordship sent me -- "
"What is it, Sally?" he inquired tiredly. She flushing, appearing to have gone briefly mute as she nervously eyed him, and Darcy self-consciously tightened his robe. "Sally?"
She burst into tears. "It's Miss Darcy, sir. She's gone."
---
Georgiana was awake and pale, pacing back and forth. There was no sign of Westhampton.
"Where is your husband?" Darcy demanded curtly.
"He's looking for them, with the servants," she said meekly, pushing her dark hair out of her eyes.
"Them?"
She raised her swollen, tear-filled eyes. "Stephen and Anne and Lady Westhampton."
Darcy caught his breath, staring at her. Distinctly unsteady, he briefly clung to the doorjamb before straightening himself. "She took them," he said tonelessly. "Both of them."
Georgiana nodded. "If I had not woken up and decided to look in on him — everyone says I am too overprotective, but if I had not — it would have been far, far too late. Oh Fitzwilliam!" She bent her head and began sobbing brokenly. "They are so small, and she has no head for details. Stephen doesn't — " she struggled for breath — "have his coat." At this she began crying anew. Darcy briefly put her arms around her, allowing her to cling to him, before both separated and stood separate and upright.
"I shall join Westhampton and the others. As soon as there is any — news — I will send someone. Goodbye, dearest."
As soon as he found his brother-in-law, he tersely asked for news, of which there was none. Although a part of his brain was clamouring for his attention, the larger portion was clear, lucid, and dispassionate. He joined the search for the two children and their erstwhile grandparent, eyes darting back and forth as they searched through the snow falling thickly about them. Any tracks that might have been made were quickly washed away, and it was only luck that sent Darcy underneath a thick grove of trees, an edge of desperation aiding his efforts.
"Papa — " He could hear the low, gasping whisper, and at first thought it only his imagination. The voice grew more insistent, although not louder. "Papa, papa — "
It was joined by another, "Uncle Fitzwilliam — please, help, please — "
Darcy looked up, and to his amazement met the white faces of two shivering children. A hard tightness about his heart relaxed slightly, and he called up, "Stephen, Anne, you must come down. Your mother and I will take care of you now." His conscience jabbed, And you did so well before, didn't you? He ignored it and waited for the children.
"I — I'm afraid, papa," said Anne. "I can't! I'll slip and break my neck, grandmamma said so!" Stephen nodded shivering agreement. Darcy only hesitated a fraction of a moment before springing up into the tree, taking both daughter and nephew up into his arms, and climbing back down. He wrapped the two slightly-built children in his own coat, and returned to the others.
They were congregated around a prone figure, and Darcy immediately turned the children away before they caught a glimpse of whatever it was. He himself could make out the blue-tinged cheeks, and knew beyond a doubt that she was dead. As the assembled searchers caught sight of him, general relief was voiced through the crowd, and several approached Stephen and Anne, including Westhampton. Both flinched back, staring with wide, frightened eyes. Darcy sighed, and accepted the offer of a horse, riding back to Aincourt as fast as he was able. He could feel how cold both were, particularly Anne, who had inherited his light build and even nestled closely against him did not seem to grow appreciably warmer.
Georgiana was directing the efforts of the house capably and efficiently. There was a man of about fifty next to her. "This is Mr Davis, from Lambton," she said quietly, eyes fixed on the children. They raised their own, and whispered,
"Aunt Georgiana?"
"Mamma?"
The children were quickly stripped of their sodden clothes, cleaned, and put in bed. The anxious parents turned to Mr Davis, who vaguely reminded Darcy of his 'sister' Mrs Gardiner. "You must keep them warm," he instructed, "and well-fed. They will need all the strength they can get." Correctly interpreting the siblings' suddenly frozen expressions, he smiled kindly. "They are young, and strong. It could have been a great deal worse."
The next days were spent at the children's sides. Darcy and Georgiana scarcely left the room, and never together. For several hours, their condition worsened. Neither seemed to recognise anyone, including both parents, but still cringed back from unfamiliar contact. Anne's situation was the most precarious, and she tossed and turned for days in a high fever. Darcy lived in a grey haze, where one day was hardly distinguishable from the next, catching odd hours of sleep that did little good. The only constant was Anne's small, clammy hand resting against his own, the pulse fluttering against his fingers. It was late one evening that her fever turned, her lifeless grip tightening weakly in recognition.
"Papa," she whispered through parched lips, and Darcy stared blankly for a moment, before crying for the doctor. After several minutes of checking who knew what, Mr Davis smilingly assured him that her recovery was now assured, and went to the other patient. Darcy wearily leaned his forehead against his daughter's hand, oblivious to the tears running down his cheeks.
"Don't cry, papa," Anne said peremptorily.
After she drifted back to sleep, Darcy carefully released her hand, and turned to his sister. "He's going to be fine," she said, smiling through her own tears. "They both are."
"Thank God," said Darcy fervently, glancing out of the window. The stars, which had seemed to him dim and hardly worth looking at, sparkled radiantly overhead. Georgiana expelled a little breath and leaned her head against his shoulder.
---
"Before you came, you said something about a wedding," whispered Westhampton, staring at his sleeping son and niece. He only dared enter when they were fast asleep, unwilling to alarm the pair. Darcy sat upright, rubbing his eyes.
"Oh, that," he said wearily. "Would you mind writing Bingley and explaining that I shan't be able to attend?"
"Write Bingley," Westhampton repeated, blinking a little.
"Yes, please," Darcy returned distractedly, almost fully occupied with the slow rise and fall of the children's respective chests. Regardless of Mr Davis, he could not rid himself of the fear that either or both might die at any moment, irrevocably lost to both himself and Georgiana. He remained with them until the day that he collapsed onto the floor, terrifying Georgiana, who after days of unfalteringly constant attention, was often at the edge of hysteria. Darcy did not wake for three days.
"Anne?" he said groggily. Firm hands pushed him back down, and he blinked in confusion.
"Fitzwilliam James," Georgiana said fiercely, "if you ever think of doing such a thing again, I swear — I shall — I shall — oh, I don't know what I shall do! But it will be very unpleasant."
"Oh?" He struggled to make sense of this, and failed. "I don't recall exactly . . ."
"Do not worry," came Mr Davis' jovial tones, "you only fainted, Mr Darcy."
"I . . . fainted?" Darcy shook his head, and with a wary look at his sister — who would have been an excellent model for an avenging Fury as she stood there glaring down at him — sat up once more. "My daughter, my nephew, are they —"
Mr Davis chuckled. "They are recovering nicely, sir. But you should take better care."
"If only out of concern for my nerves," Georgiana interjected acerbically. Darcy, rather unnervingly reminded of Mrs Bennet, smiled. "Not to mention Anne. If this is how you normally go on, I am of half a mind to keep you here!"
"Georgiana, really —"
"Lady Westhampton," Mr Davis said softly, lowering his voice discreetly, "your brother should sleep until he has recovered his strength." Darcy threw the doctor a grateful look.
"Take care of yourself," she said fondly, leaning down to press a kiss against his brow. "I shall watch over the children."
Darcy did not doubt it, and his fingers, which did not appear wholly under his command, weakly curled around hers. "Georgiana — " he said faintly, before falling asleep once more.