Well more time at home has resulted in more time to write and revise. By the way, I am not an expert on autism by any means. I mostly understand what I do from raising my son who is almost 17. In doing so, of course I have done a lot of reading and talked with a lot of other parents. My son is my inspiration for this whole story and if anyone has any questions I can answer understanding the limitations of my experience, you are always welcome to message me. As always, I love to get reviews. If you are logged in, I will respond to your review with a message.

Chapter 20: Trying Again

I awoke the next morning, surprised I remembered no bad dreams. I only remembered a bit of one dream. In it there was a small child with dark curly hair that was in my care. He or she, it could have been either for the child was wearing a white gown and if a boy was too young to be breached though I felt it was a girl child, lifted up her arms to me to indicate she wished to be picked up. I was bending down to do so and noticed that on the child's wrist was a bracelet formed from a yellow ribbon and brown-grey string somehow tied or knit together. In the dream this caused me no surprise. I lifted the child up and she grasped me tightly, leaning her tired head on my shoulder and then there was a slurp, slurp sound as her mouth found her thumb. I swayed with her as she fell asleep.

I awoke slowly, feeling peaceful. It was early and dark outside. Jeffrey had not come to rouse me yet. I considered trying to sleep more and trying to regain the dream. However, instead, I got out my string and her ribbon and tried to recreate the bracelet I had seen on the child. But with each hopeless effort, it was harder to call up the model from my dream and finally I gave up. In the end, I settled for simply twisting them together as I had before and knotting the ends together.

I hesitated then as to what to do with the entwined ribbon and string. I never went anywhere without my string, but things had not gone well the previous time I carried them together. I decided to untie the knot and was already working on it with my fingernails, when I heard Jeffrey knock. That decided me as I quickly jumped up and thrust the band deep in the pocket of the coat I planned to wear. I was still pulling my hand out when Jeffrey entered.

Jeffrey shaved me and helped me to dress. When I was ready, he noticed the handkerchief on my bed and handed it to me. I folded it up and placed it in my pocket.

As arranged, I met Georgiana in the rose gardens just after we had dressed. She was dressed in a pale green gown and wearing a thick coat. She had a basket on her arm.

I told her, "I am uncertain as to what I might do to improve Miss Elizabeth's opinion of me. I do not know how to make her believe me. I have been thinking about the matter and loving you as I do, I would disbelieve anyone who might even hint at you being deficient in some way."

She told me, "Brother, I cannot help but think that having some time to sort the matter out that she might be more willing to listen today."

"But will she even come to meet us?" I sought reassurance, I did not think I could bear approaching that same clearing and finding it empty.

Georgiana moved closer to me and grabbed my arm. She looked up at me and declared, "We cannot know without trying. Perhaps Miss Bennet will be there, perhaps she will not. I have prepared for her to come, today I even thought to bring my basket."

"Your basket?" I was confused.

"Yes," Georgiana explained, "so that I might have a place to gather the flowers. The ones I shall seek out so that the two of you may talk alone."

"I do not see why you need a basket when she may not even meet us today," I told her.

"I need it because I am confident. However, even if Miss Elizabeth is absent, she might be there the next day. And even if she does not appear there again, we will at least see her later today when we take tea with Mrs. Collins. Perhaps you can carry my basket for me, and it will impart the confidence you lack."

I took the basket willingly from my sister after she held it out to me, even though the basket was very feminine in design with a large pink ribbon wrapped around the handle and a bow on either side.

I was impressed by my sister's determination. I was not sure that I could match her fortitude.

Georgiana tilted her head to one side, smiled up at me and said, "You make a pretty picture carrying my basket. Surely even Miss Elizabeth will soften in seeing how well you care for your favorite sister."

I felt my lips turn up and my mood improve. This was a repeated joke between us. I would call her "my favorite sister" and she would object and say, "but I am your only sister." Then I would respond with some variation of the following to prove that my only sister could be my favorite sister: "our mother had but one sister and she was not her favorite" or "Bingley has two sisters and both are his least favorite" or "God but gave me one sister so she would have to be my favorite."

Georgiana also insisted on calling me, "my favorite brother." We had different variations for that joke, too. I enjoyed all the permutations but also hearing the exact same versions as many times as they were offered.

I think this makes me different from other people. They like variety and I crave sameness. I am always happy to tell and hear the same jokes again, read the same books, see the same performances and so on. Familiarity and knowing in advance what to expect grounds me and relieves my anxiety, so by renewing our joke Georgiana was doing her best to comfort and reassure me, like she does when she sees that I am discomforted and turns the conversation to maps.

We were getting close to where we had met Miss Elizabeth before when Georgiana said, "I think I should take the basket now. It occurs to me that it looks a little odd for a man to be carrying an empty basket with a pink bow. Now if it were filled with something heavy it might be gallant, but as it is, it might be too silly for her to see."

"Nonsense," I grinned at her, "I must do my best to care for my favorite sister. The basket may be light, but it is my duty to save you from any exertion if I may."

"Ah, well, it is a very becoming basket and I can admire it much better when my brother is carrying it," she joked.

Our levity evaporated when we saw Miss Elizabeth. It was gone, as quick as a candle is blown out, and we fell silent. I handed the basket back to my sister, who quickly set it on the ground before walking toward Miss Elizabeth.

Miss Elizabeth's face was stained with drying tears and she was twisting a sodden handkerchief with her hands (whether in distress, whether just to have something to do, or whether in the hope that she might wring some of the tears out, I did not know). When she saw us, she looked at Georgiana and pulled the edges of her lips up but showed no teeth. I had never seen her smile thusly before and judged it to not be a genuine smile.

Miss Elizabeth said, "Good morning Miss Darcy," paused a moment and then her eyes flickered in my direction and she quickly added, "and to you, Mr. Darcy" before her eyes alighted once again on my sister.

Before I could even respond Miss Elizabeth began directing her words at Georgiana as if I were not present, saying "Miss Darcy, I have been reflecting on my conversations with Jane and reviewing the letters she sent. I believe it is my fault that things ended the way they did between her and Mr. Bingley."

While I had no particular expectation about what Miss Elizabeth would say, and had only hoped that her tears were a good sign, I did not expect her to shift the blame for the ending of Miss Bennet's and Bingley's relationship from me to herself. I found myself very much a bystander as I stayed back and Miss Elizabeth continued to address my sister and not me.

She continued, "Miss Darcy, I understand now that I was too quick to believe Mr. Wickham and what he said about Mr. Darcy. I do not doubt now, that he told me a great many falsities which I was only to eager to believe. Mr. Wickham's words to me about you have already been proven false. He claimed you were et up with pride, but I see no excessive pride with you. He must have been speaking falsely when he declared that your brother was simple and relied on him to complete his schoolwork and likewise when he stated Mr. Darcy was jealous of the love your father bore for Mr. Wickham and out of spite and revenge took away Mr. Wickham's inheritance."

Miss Elizabeth looked down, a slight blush upon her face. "I knew better, having been in company with Mr. Darcy at Netherfield, as Mr. Bingley's guest when my sister took ill there. But I relied on Mr. Wickham's opinion when I touted the dangers too close an association with Mr. Darcy would cause Mr. Bingley. I should have listened to my sister, that is the irony in all of this."

Georgiana drew closer to her and said gently, "All of us make mistakes, sometimes." I wondered if she was recalling almost eloping with George Wickham.

Miss Elizabeth shook her head back in forth, as if saying, "No" and then began recounting her discussion with her sister. As she spoke, I could imagine the conversation between the sisters.

"You see, Miss Darcy, Jane said to me, repeatedly things like, 'I am certain that Mr. Wickham, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy are all good men.'

"But I did not believe her. I was resolved that of the three of them, Mr. Darcy was not to be trusted. I justified my opinion by saying things like, 'I am not so certain about Mr. Darcy as he made clear his distain for the people of Meryton.'

"Jane as always tried to correct me. She replied, 'Lizzy, how can you say such a thing. Why we barely know Mr. Darcy at all, but Mr. Bingley and his sisters clearly value him.'

"I discounted her reasoning, telling Jane, 'Mr. Bingley is too amiable to see Mr. Darcy clearly; perhaps by him returning alone he is showing that he has realized he, too, was mistaken about Mr. Darcy's character.' I am responsible for what has come to pass. She reaped what I sowed."

Miss Elizabeth said, "I should not have maligned your brother, Miss Darcy. I was resentful and bore a grudge against him. I wished to pay Mr. Darcy back ten-fold for a comment he made about me at an assembly. It suited my purposes to think that he was unworthy of me, but one incident alone cannot justify my poor opinion of him and why I was ready to believe Mr. Wickham."

I felt my face flush remembering my comment to Bingley at the assembly, but I said nothing as I felt a mere observer to an intimate conversation between my sister and Miss Elizabeth. It was as if they had forgotten I was even there.

Georgiana moved closer to Miss Elizabeth and told her, "Miss Elizabeth, I will forgive you for any past offense against my brother if you will only attempt to set aside any resentments now and learn who he really is. As for Mr. Wickham, he is a practiced deceiver and has taken in many. My brother always saw him as he was because Mr. Wickham treated him with cruelty from their childhood, but I never knew of that as Brother sought to protect me. I was myself deceived when Mr. Wickham renewed our acquaintance and persuaded me that we were in love and should marry."

Georgiana then related the entirety of what occurred at Ramsgate to Miss Elizabeth. She told her about how she accepted George's proposal with Mrs. Younge's encouragement. She told her about the planned elopement, my unexpected visit and the revelation about George's true character. She told her, "George told me a similar lie about my brother cheating him out of his inheritance, when the truth was that Brother paid him for the living; George bartered away his inheritance and spent his bequest and the value of the living by becoming a spendthrift." This was the version I had given Georgiana rather than tell her about all George's exploits with paid women, gambling and dissipate living.

Finally, Georgiana told Miss Elizabeth, "I wish I could just forget him, but losing George Wickham, even knowing that he would not make a good husband, has not been enough to keep me from still feeling a lasting sadness that is all tied up in my mother's death, for I was still suffering (and suffer still) when he came back into my life and offered me hope for the future."

I had understood something of why my sister had accepted George, but to have her lay it all out before a woman who she had only met twice, who had no association with her except for an acquaintance with me (and the Bingleys), well it showed a kind of bravery that astounded me. I knew it was all done as a service to me, with trust that I had chosen well in selecting Miss Elizabeth for my affection.

I felt then that I could not have loved my sister more. Miss Elizabeth might think her sister to be everything good and kind, but my sister truly was that.

Miss Elizabeth could have condemned my sister's actions then, but if she had she would not be the woman I hoped she was. Instead, Miss Elizabeth said, "Miss Darcy, you are so young to have already suffered the loss of both of your parents. I am sure your actions were very out of character; you cannot be to blame. I cannot imagine that kind of grief, but yet there are many possibilities for a happier future."

Georgiana owned, "Perhaps you are right, but I do not know quite how to go about changing how I feel. Perhaps I could benefit from having someone like you as a friend."

"You have my friendship if you want it, Miss Darcy." Miss Elizabeth held her eyes. "I would be honored if you would accept it, knowing all the ugliness within me."

"I would, if you could accept the same in me." Georgiana responded.

"Of course," Miss Elizabeth nodded.

Georgiana reached out toward Miss Elizabeth and then they held each other's gloved hands. Georgiana clasped her right hand over Miss Elizabeth's mostly closed left hand, which still held her wet handkerchief, while Georgiana's left hand pressed into the cradle formed by Miss Elizabeth's upturned right hand.

In response, Miss Elizabeth gave a tight smile which was almost immediately matched by my sister. Then Miss Elizabeth added, "But if you are my friend, Miss Darcy, perhaps you might offer me some advice and be more clear-headed than me. Have you any ideas as to what I can now do for my sister Jane? I have not been the sister that she needed."

I saw Georgiana squeeze Miss Elizabeth's hands tighter, her kid gloves straining with how much she was bending them, but she said nothing. As she might have with me, she simply offered tangible reassurance and waited.

Miss Elizabeth looked anguished as she elaborated on her fault, "It is I who persuaded Jane, the kindest woman who ever lived, against her better instincts that Mr. Darcy must be the man who Mr. Wickham said he was. It was I who told her that Mr. Bingley must be blinded by his generous nature."

Georgiana released Miss Elizabeth's left hand, turned half toward me and with her now free right hand beckoned me closer. Naturally I obeyed my sister's motion.

When I was perhaps a yard away, Georgiana asked me, "Brother, can you write to Mr. Bingley and tell him that Miss Elizabeth believes she unduly influenced her sister to think badly of you and that Miss Bennet is not to blame?"

Suddenly two sets of eyes were focused on me, waiting. I responded, "I can and will, but it may not alter anything."

I let my eyes drift upward, to not be distracted, but I could still half see Georgiana's familiar blue eyes and Miss Elizabeth's lovely dark eyes still staring at me. I told them both, "I have often seen Bingley in love before and it has not lasted. I think he is too quick to fancy himself in love based on a pretty face and amiable manners without knowing a young miss well."

I considered a few moments before adding, more to Miss Elizabeth, "I suspect from how Bingley spoke of her that he felt something deeper for Miss Bennet. His sisters tried to persuade him to stay in London since by then it was very close to Christmas, but he was adamant that he did not wish to lose a chance at love. But the man who returned did not feel the same and it has now been some months since then." I wondered if I, too, was too quick to fall in love without knowing Miss Elizabeth well.

Miss Elizabeth's eyes grew wetter and then a single tear forced its way out from her left eye, soon joined by one from the right, until she was crying in earnest. "What if it is too late?" she seemed to ask no one in particular.

Although Miss Elizabeth still clutched her wet, crumpled handkerchief in her left hand, I could not imagine that it would be good for anything now. Finally, there was something I could do for her whose success would not depend on others.

I pulled out my handkerchief to offer it to her, stretching out my arm rather than coming too close. As she reached out to take it, I saw a flash of something falling. Before I could even react, she sniffed and bent down, her right gloved hand reaching toward something.

I saw a bit of yellow and suddenly I knew what it was that had ended up on the ground, half concealed by some rotting fall leaves a top a bed of moss. I saw Miss Elizabeth's gloved fingers pinch together around something. Then her back straightened as she lifted up, bringing the object back with her. She twisted and cast her wet hanky upon a log behind her and then dropped the object in her now empty outstretched left gloved hand.

At the same time as her, I got a good look at what she had retrieved. It was the entwined loop of my twine and her ribbon, which I should have left in my room rather than taken with me. I felt my face flush. Her tears were temporarily stilled. Her head was tilted slightly down and to the side as she examined the symbol of all my hopes that might never come to be.