Honesty for breakfast, with a side of revelations, all washed down with the Amazing Adventurers

Lizzie had agreed to an early morning walk from the holiday cottage up to the great house in all innocence but only an hour after leaving the cottage, and several miles into thick, cool woods, Georgiana Darcy shows her hand.

"Look," she says, stopping abruptly as they cross an old wooden bridge. "There was another reason I wanted to talk to you alone, before you came…later." She frowns at her own confusion.

"You mean other than my innate charm and wit?"

George grins at Lizzie, bends down and picks up the stick that Bertie has hopefully dragged to her. "Yes," she says. "Other than that."

Lizzie leans back against the hand rail of the bridge and eyes the younger girl. Georgiana looks nervous, passing the stick back and forth between her hands, driving Bertie to distraction. "Look," George finally manages. "It's Will."

"He's all right?"

The nervous look disappears, replaced by a strangely smug smile. "Yes, of course. It's just, he likes you."

"Oh I'm not sure…"

"I am," she says definitely, "and he deserves to have someone like him back."

Lizzie looks at her hard. Like him back? She swallows nervously. "Well, I'm sure he does, but…"

George swings the stick through the air in an arc, very nearly causing Bertie to hurl himself into the tiny stream. She grins. "I'm not meaning to warn you off or anything. I just thought you should know that if he does, you know, do anything about it, then it will be a cataclysmic event. The planets will have had to align and you know…"

"Hell freeze over?"

George grins again at Lizzie's tone. "I'm not really being very encouraging. I meant to…well, what I was trying to say was that it takes a lot for him to trust anyone, and the last thing that he needs is someone slamming it back in his face."

"I wouldn't do that," says Lizzie, her hands twisting together as she silently adds 'again'.

George leans forward, and rests a hand on Lizzie's arm. "I didn't think you would. Please don't think I'm trying to dissuade you. I really do think he likes you, and despite a strange love of Elvis, Will has excellent taste."

"I love Elvis," Lizzie murmurs, more to herself than anything else. She sighs. "Look, I'm not saying that I'm looking to be with Will, but really, how can I trust him if he won't tell me anything?"

George nods, turns, and finally hurls the stick down stream. Above the noise of a small dog crashing through the undergrowth, she says, "come on. Let's carry on."

Lizzie sighs and follows, her hands falling dejectedly by her sides. If George won't tell her then Will certainly won't. A cold, wet nose pushes itself into her limp palm as George's other dog ambles up behind her. Having flinched for a second, she rests her hand on the Lurcher's head, and follows George into the sunlight in a small, tree edged meadow. Bertie bursts into the long grass and buttercups, his stick triumphant in his mouth, and ears streaming behind as he skids to a halt in front of George. She laughs, wrestles the stick away from him, and then throws it ahead of them, then straightens up, brushes her hands off on her jeans and turns to Lizzie. "He ever tell you that both our parents are dead?"

Startled, and already resigned to a halting walk to the house, Lizzie shakes her head, desperately trying to find words. Finally she manages, "not in as many words. I knew, but he never really said it…"

George nods.

"I'm sorry," Lizzie adds, feeling that it probably does nothing.

George smiles. "Thanks. I never really knew my Mum. I was pretty small when she died. Will was away at school too."

"He wasn't there?"

"They thought he was too young to cope, knowing that she was dying, so they didn't tell him until the end, and then it was too late."

Lizzie sighs, filled with sudden empathy for Will. "That's when you moved to Washington?"

George smiles wryly. "Pretty soon after that. No one told Will. Again. He was just picked up from boarding school and taken to the new house. He never got to go back home."

Lizzie gasps, involuntarily. "Why?"

"I don't really know," says George softly, fondling Horatio's silky, grey ears as he stops to examine a rabbit hole. "I think Dad just wanted to get away, but Will never got to say goodbye to Mum, and then didn't see the house again, where all his memories of her had been, you know?"

"Yeah," breathes Lizzie, pausing in the golden sunshine before they open the kissing gate and head back into more woods.

Helping a struggling Bertie through the gate with a massive stick, George is preoccupied for a minute, but then as Bertie shoots ahead, dragging his stick, she falls back in step with Lizzie. "Anyway," she continues, "I guess we moved because Dad wanted us all to be together, even while Will was at college, but a few years later Dad moved us again, back here. I guess, for him, Mum was just everywhere in America."

"She never came here?"

"No, we all did, every summer I think, but this was where he grew up. This wasn't just Mum to him. I guess he barely spent anytime in the US without her, until, you know, after she died."

"So Will was alone again."

George smiles slightly. "I don't think he minded that. It gave him time to breathe, but I think he worried for me, with Dad getting quieter and quieter, and disappearing on us and…well, anyway, Will elected to do his Masters at Oxford so that he could at least keep at closer eye on us for a bit, but then he got offered work on the Santos campaign and so went back to America."

"He didn't finish it out though, did he? I thought I heard he left at quite a critical stage."

George bites her lip for a second. "He came back for me," she says, "because Dad killed himself."

I've never been slugged in the stomach with a baseball bat, but I can imagine how it feels. Will Darcy, who now I think about it, I only truly hated for two days before he told me about Wickham and his sister, but about whom I have grumbled and groaned, rolled my eyes at his silence, shrugged at his impassive nature, and decided he might be a psycho, especially after the Pelloux fundraiser debacle. That Will Darcy, it turns out, was told too late that his mother was dying, never again got to see the house where she raised him, would have given up any job for his little sister, and now, it turns out, did in fact give up working on a ground breaking campaign, because his father committed suicide. The hits just keep on coming.

I turn to Georgiana, with what certainly feels on the inside, like an expression of slack horror. "He killed himself?"

She nods slightly, a sad smile on her lips. "Yeah. Thank God it was while Will was at home, but, yeah, all the same."

I cringe. "He found…?" I can't quite finish the question. The reality seems to hideous to bear.

"He guessed," she says looking down into Horatio's soulful eyes as she strokes his ears, comfortingly. "The dogs were howling at the locked study door. He sent me to the kitchen, and then went outside to look through the window."

Part of me, a ghoulish, horrified part, wants to know how he did it. I don't know why. I just feel like I need to know.

"It was pills," she says, without my needing to ask. "I'm so grateful that it wasn't something worse, but still…" She shrugs, and lets out a deep breath. She looks up at me. "He had cancer and never told us," she says, tears rimming her eyes. "He couldn't bare the thought of going through it, just like Mum had done."

"But it was, what, ten years after your Mom? Surely there were new ways to treat it and…I don't know…" I trail off, sighing.

"I don't know why. All I know now is that Will never got to say goodbye to either of our parents, and shouldered all his grief, and carried on."

I slip an arm round her shoulders. "So have you," I say, feeling like it's the most pathetic excuse for comfort next to all that tragedy.

She smiles. "He looked after me, he listened to me. I think he shut off every one and every thing but me for a bit." She sighs. "He has been extraordinary, and I can't believe that I almost screwed even that up for him."

"Wickham?"

She nods. "I thought you probably knew," she says, and smiles wryly. "He wasn't a monster, and he might have changed, but he would have split up our family and left Will without anyone." She swallows, and shakes her head slowly. "I couldn't do that. Not again, and not for anything."

Somehow, I find myself silently agreeing.

George sniffs, smiles at me, then with a hand still on Horatio's noble head, we continue walking. "So," she says as she picks up another stick which Bertie has just dragged towards us. "What's your Caroline Formisano coping technique? I personally favour derision."

I have rarely seen a sight more funny than Caroline's present facial expression. They arrived about twenty minutes ago, put massive suitcases and clothing bags in their rooms, and emerged down on the terrace looking, in Mitch's case, still incredibly jet lagged, stubbly and not at all 'freshened' and in Louisa and Caroline's cases, as if they just finished a day at the spa. I guess George is right. If you pay enough, you can buy just about anything to slap on your face and make it look like just about anything. Charles still looks tired and a bit crumpled round the edges, but there's a relaxed look about him which has been missing. I guess the lack of harassment in his face mirrors mine. Anyway, we were sitting out here, Charles exclaiming at the view in all sincerity, Louisa and Caroline exclaiming with little sincerity, and Mitch slowly falling asleep, only to be awakened by his own stomach rumbling.

"We don't have to wait for George," I said, but Louisa slapped my hand, albeit lightly and said that of course Mitch could wait, and she was dyingto meet George. She had heard so much about her. Allegedly. I can't imagine how that lasted the whole transatlantic flight, as she has been saying, given that Caroline has only met George twice, giving them a cumulative relationship of three hours. Anyway, Louisa's fawning aside, a minute later, Bertie burst out through the rhododendrons, spotted new victims, and bounded up, closely followed by George. Caroline mewled in delight, but stopped short when Lizzie followed out onto the lawn. Caroline's face went from perfectly composed delight at seeing what I can only presume she believes to be her future sister-in-law, to fabulously unrestrained horror. Slack jaw, bug eyes, the works. George, revelling in it, bounded up behind Bertie and lavishly kissed Caroline on each cheek.

"Caroline," she said. "How lovely to see you again." With that, she turned and gestured to Lizzie. "You know Lizzie, right?" She turned back, and smiled, smugly. "You worked together, right Will?"

And here we are. The funniest sight I have seen in ages: Caroline Formisano trying to process that Lizzie is here, that I have allegedly been talking about a) Lizzie and b) Caroline to George. Clearly she's fighting with herself over whether it's good news or bad news. The hilarity of the moment is compounded by Louisa going: "Oh Lizzie! Caroline has told me all about you!" We need not imagine what she has been told. Oh, and then Charles gets up and hugs Lizzie. In front of Caroline.

"We missed you these last few months," he says, and she smiles at him, genuinely.

Caroline finally regains control over her face. "Of course," she murmurs, with a little too much sincerity. "What have you been doing with your time?"

Lizzie winces ever so slightly. "Helping out at home, mainly."

"Of course," she simpers again. "Work on a farm is never done!" She laughs, and there is a knock on effect of both Lizzie and George looking like knives have gouged their brains.

"Well," says George. "I think breakfast is in order. I haven't dragged Lizzie all this way, just to not feed her!"

With that, she stands up and drags Lizzie back toward the house. Before they make it to the side door, they are both laughing, hard. For once, I doubt that I am the subject.

I like Lizzie Bennet. And not like that. My heart belongs to the guy who was William Buxton in Cranford, AKA, the future Mr Georgiana Darcy. I mean, it's not like Will would ever have given me vetting privileges on any girl he met, and would probably try and keep them away from me, largely to stop us from ganging up on him, but honestly, it's too late. He may be smitten with her, but she's already officially the treasurer of the newly resurrected Amazing Adventurers. I founded it when I was seven. Will was the treasurer, but he dared to tell my that the caves down on the beach don't lead to gold mines or a smugglers cove, and so, naturally, he was stricken from the ledger. Lizzie, however was all for prising off the wood panelling in the hall to find secret passages, and so while she has taken over the heating of croissants and making coffee, I'm making her a badge. It turns out my glitter skills left me a few years ago. Also, I suspect Mrs R thinks that I've finally snapped.

"What on earth are you doing?"

"Making a badge."

Will raises an eyebrow and leans over to see the intricate fluorescent yellow marker, red wax crayon, black biro design that I have carefully drawn. He groans.

"Not the Amazing Adventurers again George. I'm telling you now, if you so much as ask for chisels from Mr R, I'm cutting your allowance."

Lizzie snorts, facing away from us, but we hear.

"Solidarity Lizzie!"

She glances over her shoulder, and grins. "Sorry. No bagging on the Amazing Adventurers Will. Just because you were summarily stripped of your sash and crown."

He grins, and walks over to her, leaning against the worktop. "You're not much of an adventurer if you think it can be done with a sash and crown. Not very practical."

She laughs. "Well that just shows how much of an amateur you are. You try doing it in heels and with a Martini in you. Now that is hard."

He laughs right back, and continues bantering, all the while finding jam and butter. In short, they look like a young married couple in their kitchen, making breakfast. Will hasn't looked this happy in ages. Well, except for about twenty minutes ago when Caroline saw Lizzie. He was practically giggling and clapping then. I suspect that the old 'you're not losing a brother but gaining a sister' adage has never been so (potentially) true. Now if he can only get on with it and make this work. Maybe it will take some work from Captain George M. Darcy, chief adventurer explordinaire.

Mithurzt: What the hell? I thought we were here for Caroline to get it off with Darcy.

Lou: And that'll happen. I guess he's trying to make her jealous.

Mithurzt: A douche like Darcy wouldn't notice a stone fox like Caroline if she landed naked in his bed. Fact.

Lou: Honey, you aren't a toilet cleaner commercial. For pity sake, don't do that FACT thing out loud. It's bad enough on the Blackberry.

Mithurzt: Fine, but it's true. I say leave him to girls like Liz, and you can find someone else for Caroline.

Lou: Yeah, maybe. She would look good with TJ. Or Todd. Though it would be fun to visit her here.

Mithurzt: It's not as good as your parent's place. What about Chuck?

Lou: What about him? And why are you still calling him that?

Mithurzt: She could marry him.

Lou: :-)

"So, Lizzie. I hear that you've taken a fancy to Russell's new boy."

Lizzie glances across at Caroline, simultaneously holding out her mug for more coffee from George. "Sorry?" she asks.

"Oh you know," says Caroline. "George Wickham."

"I…OW, crap."

"Oh Lizzie, I'm so…"

Will stands up and gently pushes Georgiana towards the kitchen. "Kitchen roll, G," he says, before hunkering down in front of Lizzie, who is shaking a smarting hand. "Are you all right?"

She smiles, distracted. "Yeah, fine, other than looking like I wet myself." She grins and makes a futile attempt to brush the slop of coffee off her jeans. "I'll go and sort myself out."

"Run your hand under cold water," Will says to her retreating back.

She glances back over her shoulder and smiles. "All right Mom."

Will stands, watching her walk away for a second, before refilling his own coffee cup.

"I heard that he dumped Mary King for her."

Silence falls for a few seconds. Will turns to Caroline, wearily. "Sorry?" he asks, realising that the statement was directed at him.

"Wickham. Somehow he bagged Mary King…"

At Will's blank look, Lou takes patronising pity on him. "She's a big thing in Hollywood," she says, a hand on his arm.

"Yes," continues Caroline, "and allegedly, though frankly, I'm not sure why, he dumped her and pursued Elizabeth."

"Really?" says Charlie, feigning interest.

Mitch and Louisa exchange conspiratorial glances, and lean forward.

"Oh…"says Caroline, temporarily giving up on Will, and turning back to Charlie. "Yes. That's what Juliet Donally says."

"Wow," says Charlie, taking the heat for Will, who suddenly stands and walks off down the lawns, accompanied by the dogs.

Lou: She'd be a good first lady.

Mithurzt: So would you, if it wasn't like, incest and gross. And that you're taken.

Lou: My hero.

"I'm so sorry," comes the disembodied voice of Georgiana Darcy for what must be the fiftieth time from the depths of her wardrobe.

Lizzie readjusts the cold flannel on her hand and sighs. "It's fine George, really. I should have warned you."

George appears in the doorway. "You didn't need to." She smiles, a little sheepish. "After all, I am so clearly fine with it." She rolls her eyes and disappears back inside.

"How long ago was it?"

"Two years," comes the muffled reply.

"George, are you trying to suffocate yourself in Gap basics?"

George appears in the doorway, smiling. "Not quite. Here. Try this." She throws a dark blue jersey skirt at Lizzie.

"Yeah, like we're the same size. This is very sweet of you, but you're clearly about five sizes smaller than me."

George scoffs and disappears back in the wardrobe. "Nonsense," she calls. "I have hips and an ass and…you know."

"What, the composite parts of the body?" asks Lizzie, her jeans pooled on the floor as she pulls on the skirt. "Yeah, I have a pretty good handle on them."

George reappears holding something else, pulling a face, which clears as she sees Lizzie. "Hey, that looks good on you. Don't need this then." She hurls the linen back inside the wardrobe, clicks off the light, and steps out.

"You sure?" asks Lizzie, smoothing down the soft fabric.

George plumps down on the bed. "Yes. You look lovely."

Lizzie grins. "Well, thank you. I'll take good care of it."

George waves a dismissive hand. "It looks weird on me. Keep it."

"George!"

She grins. "Come on. Let's go and apple pie Caroline's bed."

"Wait, can I ask something?" says Lizzie, a stilling hand on George's arm.

"Sure, as long as we can go and cause some chaos" says George, gesturing towards Caroline's room.

"Are you really over him?"

She turns and her smile drops. With one hand she pushes her thick golden hair off her face, the other on a hip. "I guess," she says, and bites her lip. "No, I am," she says suddenly, with more certainty. "I am. It's just weird hearing about him again."

Lizzie nods slowly. "We never had anything going on. Really. And when I heard about you, I stopped everything else."

George smiles slowly. "Thank you. I don't have much against him now, and you never know. It might have all worked out perfectly well given time. It just wasn't right then."

"Very philosophical of you."

She grins and links arms with Lizzie. "Enough of this. Let's go apple pie something."

I think this might be three of my original chapters, jammed together. Individually, they were a bit short. So, enjoy the longer chapter. The next few will be shorter, and I'm not sticking them together, so don't ask. I work hard to find a good last line. I feel cheated if it's suddenly in the middle of a chapter.

Anyway, thank you, yet again, for all your fabulous support. It has buoyed my up through the first two chapters of Mystery New Project X (which looked like it was going to become Mystery New Project Never to See the Light of Fanfiction X) and now it's getting somewhere. I've also mentally written the epilogue of Mystery New Project Y. So. If you want to ever see them come to light, continue being so great. Otherwise, I'll take the hint.