Disclaimer: Not mine though how I wish I could just meet Darcy, just this once. It's really not too much to ask is it? (Pout)

A/N: I know, I know. You're all angry at me because my last update was April and it's august now. Yeah, I am a terrible updater, but I'm lazy. Besides, I have to have the right mood and my moods have just been all over the place lately. Want to bug me to update? Add me to your myspace! My URL is: definitionofimagination

Elizabeth's body burned. She shifted as her surroundings moved and altered around her. It didn't concern her that the dark, gloomy day continued on. That the rain was relentless against the carriage windows never touched her. Instead, her mind was focused within, inside the haze of heat that seemed to blur her senses and block all conscious thought.

She wanted to wake up but her body would not obey her. Her eyelids refused to open. A voice interrupted her panic, her mind stilled at the deep resonating warmth that washed over her like heat. Calm followed the warmth and Elizabeth resigned herself to the dark tiring abyss that beckoned her.

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Darcy watched her shift. Despite the grim circumstances of her sickness, she still looked adorable as she frowned in her sleep. Her cheeks were unnaturally flushed as Mrs. Reynolds shushed her. For the hundredth time that minute, Darcy ruffled his hair and sighed in agitation. Elizabeth shifted again, this time her frown was fiercer, her expression showed worry, concern and perhaps…fear. It was the first time he had seen any such expression on her face the sight twisted his insides with unreasonable guilt.

Running her fingers gently across Elizabeth's brow, Mrs. Reynolds watched her master intently. Poor boy, he looks as pale as a ghost. When the girl in her lap shifted again, the expression on his face was a harsh one to behold. He looked as if he were the one sick and not her. Sighing, she shook her head with a barely perceptible movement.

"Why do you not talk to her?"

Darcy started at Mrs. Reynolds' words. He had been so intent on the flush against Elizabeth's pale skin that he barely noticed another presence within the well cushioned carriage. Stuttering as if he was another school boy, Darcy watched the clearly amused expression flash across her features.

Smiling knowingly, Mrs. Reynolds patted his hand in a motherly manner. "She knows your voice, perhaps she shall be comforted by a familiar presence."

Licking his lips in agitation, Darcy's glance flickered back towards her rosy face. Leaning as close to her as propriety allowed, he quietly muttered incoherent words.

His voice was barely above a whisper, the deep tenor seemed all but lost to her ears. Sighing, he addressed her sleeping form with a tone barely a notch louder.

"Miss Bennet…" He hesitated, "Elizabeth…"

On impulse he reached out his hand to touch her. His fingers barely brushed her burning cheek before he retreated as if stung somehow. He shot his housekeeper a guilty look only to find her diligently staring out the window, ignoring him with determination. Chuckling quietly, he smiled sadly at the woman before him before he leaned back and rested his head tiredly against the richly upholstered wall of the carriage. He felt as if he had been awake for five days, not five hours. His eyes drifted to her once more. There was no expression on her face now. She simply slept.

You will be the death of me, Elizabeth.

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Georgiana fretted, paced and fretted more. She wrung his hands in agitation as her footsteps echoed in the large empty foyer. Her magnificent surroundings captured none of her attention as she pulled at the curls in her hair with one hand and gripped a crinkled missive in the other. Pulling the letter to her face once more she scanned it again and again.

Georgie,

Miss Bennet has fallen ill. I have convinced her aunt and uncle to allow her to stay at Pemberley while she recovers. I am afraid they have been called away on urgent family business. I must beg you to act as hostess while Miss Bennet resides with us.

Would you mind terribly? You seemed rather fond of her during her visit yesterday. We will talk when I return.

Your loving brother,

Fitzwilliam.

Emitting an uncharacteristically frustrated sigh, she quickened her pace. She reached the large window overlooking the drive. Pressing her forehead against the cool pane of glass, she watched as the raindrops cascaded around the landscape of her home.

"It was not supposed to work out this way." She whispered to herself. "How are they to fall in love if…if Miss Bennet is to be unconscious most of the time? Ill? How could she have…?"

Throwing her hands up in frustration, Georgiana Darcy resumed her pacing, occasionally muttering a phrase of two. When the sound of a carriage drowned out the steady rhythm of rain, she sprinted to the open front doors to see her brother's carriage pulling slowly to a stop. The servants of Pemberley though curious, still rushed to meet their master with stony, blank expressions. Mrs. Reynolds stepped out first; her façade of calm did not fool those who were familiar with her. When the servants moved towards the carriage to bring out the young lady within, Mrs. Reynolds shook her head sternly and watched as the servants backed away, their expressions betraying both their confusion and bewilderment.

Now Georgiana Darcy was curious. In a most unladylike manner, she pressed her delicately freckled nose to the glass and watched with suppressed wonder as she observed her usually stoic brother step out of the carriage with his tall figure hunched over the young woman in his arms, as if trying to shield her from the icy drops of rain. The air around him denoted one thing: Do not question me.

Pemberley's loyal staff immediately understood. Backing away with caution, they simply bowed and followed behind their grim master. Once inside, Darcy voiced the first concern that had come to his mind.

"Have you prepared the room?" His tone seemed strained.

"Of course, Mr. Darcy."

Nodding silently, Darcy proceeded up the stairs two steps at a time until he reached the open door of her new chambers. He could hear his servants behind him, following obediently as they always did. Gently, he lay her down on the perfectly made bed, lingering longer than needed. He just craved one more look, one more touch but he knew better than to hesitate for too long. Straightening slowly, his eyes scanned her face for any signs of sickness. Other than seeming slightly warm, her countenance was so normal, she would have seemed serene if not for the slight crease on her brow from the warmth of the fever.

Somewhere behind him, Georgiana watched with growing fascination as the intensity of the moment stretched to an almost strained silence. Her brother was acting as if no one else were in the room. He stared as if lost in the sight and breathed as if in a trance. Her eyes watered, for what reason she did not know, but the feel of the moment gripped her as she felt a deep sense of warmth wrap around her heart. Hating to interrupt the moment, Georgiana could barely register the growing anxiety of the servants. Reluctantly, she cleared her throat.

Darcy's mind snapped to attention. Shaking his head to clear it of the haze which had enveloped his conscious thought for those precarious instants, he turned to face his sister. Though her countenance was still as sweet and innocent as it was that very morning, her eyes belied a glow of wisdom that he had never witnessed in his baby sister before and he wondered briefly how it had come about. Barely allowing time to contemplate his new observation, he breathed in sharply and directed his gaze around the room.

A faint flush raised in his face as he felt the pressure of numerous eyes on him. Gesturing silently for the maids to come forward, he left the room with urgent strides and turned towards the welcoming doors of his library. He could hear Georgiana following behind and slowed his pace to allow her to catch up. Pushing open the door to his sanctuary, he gestured for her to enter before him. Walking in after her, he closed the door silently and gave her a weary smile.

Georgiana gently perched on the edge of a large armchair and watched her brother take the one opposite her. She observed him, simply that. Sat in silence and watched his blank face turned towards the empty fireplace. It was summer, but the cooling rains brought a sort of coolness to the expansive marble walls of her home. This was the first time in a long time she had seen her honest brother hesitate to broach a subject. It hung in the air like a cloud of thunder, the atmosphere pregnant with a cautious tension. Whatever he wanted to speak to her about, she could tell, would not be something she wanted to hear. She cared little now as she was eager to broach a subject of her own. Fixing her serious eyes on his face with more determination than before, it was all she could manage, to reach out and touch his hand to capture his lost attention.

Darcy immediately understood the gesture. His eyes carefully searched hers, once again there was that hint of wisdom that he had not seen before but his mind, so overcome with other thoughts, pushed aside the notion for another time. He leaned forward and gently took her hands in his. With a tentative breath, he revealed to her what he had learned that very morning as well as the story of how Elizabeth had made herself ill. When Wickham was mentioned, Darcy hesitated on his mention and carefully observed his baby sister with caution. What he saw not only alarmed him but also warmed him with pride.

Georgiana had paled at the name but she grit her teeth with determination. She was no longer ashamed, she understood now. Understood that she was not the only one to fall prey to his suave charm and gilded words. With each new revelation of Wickham's deeds Georgiana's shame morphed into a sort of determination, she was still unsure of her judgment, but she had confidence now and also a sense of anger and blame she had only felt for herself before.

When Darcy had finally fully briefed his sister on the afternoon's events, he searched her face carefully for any sign of grief. But he found none, only that same wisdom, now strengthened by her own revelations. She smiled at him, the corners of lips twitching tentatively upwards, a gesture of approval towards Elizabeth's action and also a mild form amusement.

Georgiana Darcy had sensed something different about her brother ever since his return from Kent, he seemed even more withdrawn than his habitual solitude. During the week he had stayed in London, he had thrown himself into social engagements, more than was usual but after seven days of society, something within seemed to have cracked. On that final night they had stayed in London, her brother had appeared, a vision bathed in moonlight and drenched from his impromptu walk through Hyde Park. Standing in the doorway of their townhouse, his curls wet and clinging to the nape of his neck, Georgiana had beheld the sight of his face, moist with, what she knew to be more than raindrops. As he gazed at her, guilt riddled expression unwavering from his stare, he seemed to reach some sort of decision. That very next morning, the Darcys had departed for Derbyshire without so much as a by your leave. Once home, her brother had confined himself to this very study for hours on end, occasionally skipping meals until his face always seemed gaunt and drawn.

She had pleaded with him, trying so hard to ignore the unmistakable smell of spirits which clung to him on every occasion. Despite her fears, Darcy seemed to understand her, he had resumed eating, albeit with reluctance, he had stopped drinking but he still isolated himself, now indulging in seemingly irrelevant novels and long moments of reminiscence and thought. Sometimes, in his most unguarded moments she would witness, in her brother, a heartbreaking sense of sadness mixed with reflection and regret. It was the whole reason she had decided to start this mission. If she could find him a wife, perhaps someone who could comfort him the way she could not, understand him as she could not, then perhaps, just perhaps he would become the happy young man she remembered from before her father's death.

When Elizabeth had turned up on their doorstep with all her sparkling wit and fine eyes, Georgiana had jumped for joy. All those letters from Darcy while he resided at Netherfield had been full of references to this elusive Miss Bennet. Despite her young age, Georgiana Darcy could read between the lines, she understood that even a vague mention of a young lady in any one of Darcy's letters denoted a new depth of emotion. Sure, Caroline Bingley always seemed to be mentioned somehow, but the words always seemed to drip with sarcasm and contempt. The tone that colored the words of Elizabeth almost seemed to glow and the instant Georgiana Darcy had laid her eyes on her name written almost lovingly in her brother's flowing handwriting, her heart had warmed to the charm of possibility.

Now, her own demons were conquered, she was determined to know his.

"Fitzwilliam?"

"Yes my dear?"

"What happened at Kent?"

Silence reigned for what seemed like hours. The former Georgiana Darcy would have backed down, blushed and stuttered an apology then fled for her room. This girl however, did not. She met her brother's weary eyes with her own steady gaze and implored him soulfully to trust and confide in her.

Darcy registered the change in her and was thoroughly proud of her. Breathing deeply to calm his agitated thoughts, he related the entire history to her. When the words of his proposal left his lips, self loathing and disgust created a bitter taste in his mouth. Her gaze once fixed on the floor by her feet, rose to meet his. They urged him to go forward. When finally, she had heard the full tale, her eyes belied a sort of shock at both his actions and his words. She found it difficult to believe her loving brother was capable of such incivility, but she knew he would not lie about such things.

"Good God Fitzwilliam. Have you…have you apologized?"

Darcy looked down and shook his head. "I have not…had the chance."

Georgiana nodded sadly. "Then I suggest you do so."

Patting his hand with sympathy, Georgiana stood and left her brother to the agony of his own thoughts.

Darcy stared as his sister left and the door clicked silently shut behind her. In that moment, she had sounded so like…so like their mother. That same tone, that same conviction. He knew, he just knew that both Georgiana as well as his mother wanted him to, no, needed him to apologize to this woman who had touched his life, his heart and his soul.

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Walking through the very hallways her light steps had graced that very morning, Georgiana Darcy simply could not help but rejoice in her victory. True, her brother had confessed to her something of a serious nature, she simply could not help but appreciate the sensation of being trusted with such a secret. In those moments of confession, he had ceased to treat her like a child, and for that reason, she was grateful to Elizabeth.

That very morning, this corridor had seemed so empty and lonely, but now, though unconscious, Elizabeth's presence seemed to exert a sort of force on Pemberley. It felt warmer, more like home, and Georgiana reveled in it.

Pausing outside Elizabeth's room, Georgiana raised a hand to knock. When she received no answer, she entered quietly and peeked into the dimly lit room. Though it was summer, the fire in the room was lit and roaring. The maids had obviously changed Miss Elizabeth's wet clothing and tucked her into bed with care, but her hair still stayed in a formal arrangement. Georgiana frowned at this but realized why the maids had left it so. Miss Bennet's hair had obviously been wet, letting it down would have caused her a chill. Venturing near her now, Georgiana reached out to touch her chocolate curls. Dry.

Withdrawing slightly, an idea instantly came to mind. She knew her brother could not stay away from Elizabeth for long; he would be here soon to visit this sleeping beauty.

A Cheshire grin lit her face. A sense of glee instantly filled her and made her giddy. Reaching forward eagerly, Georgiana carefully lifted Elizabeth from her pillows as not to wake her and fumbled to hold her steady. Carefully, Georgiana pulled the pins from Elizabeth's hair and allowed the free curls to cascade gently down her back and onto the pristine pillows. Laying her sleeping form gently back down, Georgiana stepped back to admire her handiwork. She now knew why her brother was so smitten. Elizabeth's curls lay against the dark background of her covers. With her skin so pale, she stood in sharp contrast from the deep blue covers, her hair fanning out in curls around her face, framed her sleeping form and drew attention to her wonderfully long lashes which curled and fluttered slightly against her cheek. Utterly ravishing, Georgiana thought, perfect.

Spinning on her heels, she immediately retreated to the door, with one last fleeting glance at the sleeping Elizabeth; she slipped out the door and into the corridor. Rushing to a dark alcove further along the same hallway, Georgiana lay in wait. When finally she heard footsteps resounding on the marble floor, she meekly poked her head out and spotted her brother venturing hesitantly toward Elizabeth's room. She watched as he knocked tentatively and as expected, he received no answer. This however did not seem to deter him, his hand rested only momentarily on the door handle, before he pushed it and slipped into the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

For the first time in her life, Georgiana Darcy smirked.

Watch out, dear brother, watch out.

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Ok, all done! A little fluff, a little backtracking, a little evil Georgie…lol…I love her, I just wanted her to have more of a personality than what she's given in the book. Ok, you know what to do! Want more chapters? Well then review. By the way, my dear devoted readers, I now have a myspace account so if you also have one too just add me.

That's all! Add me and REVIEW!

Love C.