A/N: Last 4 chapters were pretty heavy going… well, actually really heavy going so hope you all survived it. This one has no instruments of torture except my dialogue, so see what you think. Wade

"Fitzwilliam, I need to talk to you about Elizabeth."

Despite all efforts to make my voice calm and soothing, my nephew startled at the sound. I was not certain he had even heard the carriage arrive, but I could not tell if that was pure devotion or the fact that he had not had more than a few hours' sleep in ages. He answered carefully.

"Yes, Aunt. What is it?"

I knew the rest of conversation was going to be difficult so I sat down in another chair facing him. Mrs. Hewes had moved out of this room for obvious reasons, but it was still crowded as there were frequently three or four people who wanted their share of the company, and several mismatched chairs had been brought in for their comfort. Fitzwilliam was not alarmed at my use of Elizabeth's given name. There was not a single person in our circle that was willing to speak the alternative, and I truly thought Elizabeth would not mind in the least. In fact, I would welcome her censure and the ensuing argument, should she just be able to once again participate in it. I missed her terribly, and I had only had one real conversation with her.

I could see my nephew's attention drifting back to the bed. I would have moved the conversation to the parlor, but that would have only had him staring at the door, rather than Elizabeth. I thought it best to just get it out, and then the real battle could begin in earnest.

"Fitzwilliam, it has been six weeks. Neither your constant care, nor the seventeen physicians you have brought in have changed the fact that Elizabeth's recovery is now entirely in her own hands. We do not know if, or when she will recover, but your constant attendance will not change the outcome, and her condition is stable enough that the physicians say she can be moved. It is time to take her to Rosings."

As expected, his head snapped back to me, and his full attention, or as much of it as I was likely to get was engaged. As obvious as the notion was to me, it was clear it had never even occurred to him.

He said, "That would be inconvenient for her sisters."

I just shook my head, and said, "Do not pretend to obtuseness Fitzwilliam, it does not suit you! Of course, all of her sisters will come as well; and stay as long as they like. Mrs. Hewes will be married to the Sergeant soon enough once we get Elizabeth to Rosings."

He still seemed to not be quite following where I was leading, so I continued my assault.

"Come Fitzwilliam. You cannot remain living in a parsonage with five unmarried girls while you pretend to live at Rosings, and do not forget that you are master of a great estate, which needs your attention. While we are at it, I shall mention that Anne has barely managed to leave her bed. She cannot be expected to visit here, nor should she be denied the right to attend Elizabeth. We have ample room at Rosings. The Bennets will be welcome in the family wing. All shall be well."

He still seemed unconvinced, so I continued.

"Fitzwilliam, you have done all that can be done. The first three weeks we all thought we might lose both girls to the fevers, and I must admit I spent more than one night praying for their recovery. I alternated with every god I have ever heard of. I know not if it was effective, but I gave it my all and I had and consulted my own flock of physicians as well. You did all you could do. You bathed her; I dare say you have dressed her. You brought ice and river water and everything else anyone could think of. You dressed her wounds, and applied the salves, and read her stories and poetry. Oh yes, do not think me ignorant of what goes on here! You did what could be done. No man could have done more."

He looked down at his boots, or at least where his boots normally would be. Now, it was just his stockinged feet, but far be it from me to comment on that.

He said, "You know I failed her. More than once."

I was not liking the direction of this conversation, so I said, "No, Fitzwilliam… I failed her."

This had his head snapping back up to stare me down, but I was not to be intimidated by a slip of a boy, even if he had grown into his size.

I said, "I will not ask what happened in Hertfordshire. Let us just presume you may or may not have failed her there. Since then, you arrived on Friday, and she was struck down by that abomination on the following Friday. You had six days to learn of her danger. I had eleven months! Eleven months shackled to my parson. Eleven months under my protection. Eleven months a half‑mile from my estate. The signs were there! In retrospect, she could have not been clearer if she had shouted it from the rooftops, but I did not even look for them. No, Fitzwilliam, I will allow you to have your share of the censure if you insist, but I will have mine as well. If anyone failed her, we both did."

He seemed ready to protest, but I was not to be denied in this conversation.

"Tell me something nephew! Can you pretend you do not already consider all of the Bennets your sisters, even if you have not discussed it with them? Can you name one service a sister would require that you will not only willingly provide, but will insist on with the stubbornness of a stone? Are you not already talking with your solicitors about dowries and thinking of suitors and how to protect them? Deny all of this if you can, but do not take me for a fool!"

He just nodded calmly, and said, "I can deny none of those."

I continued, "Do you not see, that makes them sisters to Georgiana and cousins to Anne. They are by inclination, honor and duty my family now. Absent taking the whole lot to Pemberley, they should be on my estate, not stuck in a parsonage waiting for who knows what. They have your protection, but will you deny them mine? I know we have not seen eye to eye on all things nephew, and I know you have little reason to trust in my judgment… but I am asking you to do so now. Put aside any differences between us and think of Elizabeth and her sisters. Will you deny me my chance to offer my home and my affection?"

He, good man that he was, could finally start to see where I was leading, and as I expected, he closed his eyes and thought long and hard about it. He would not deny my words simply out of rote. He would not disagree just because he could. He would do what was right, even when it was completely wrong. It had never occurred to him that I might have any affection for such as the Bennet sisters, and it was entirely likely that before this event, I would not have. But that was the past, and there was no point in litigating it. Now, we needed to do what was necessary for the family.

He at length came back and said, "What about the parsonage? When she wakes up, will she be happy that we have denied her a choice? She has had too many of what by all rights should be her choices dictated by others. I am not inclined to add my own burdens to her."

So, now he was on much weaker ground, but not defeated. I asked, "You seem to know much about her private matters."

He looked at me with a clouded expression, and said, "I do, but I will not explain how I came to be in her confidence. Simply accept that I am."

I was not about to delve into the particulars of that, so I simply decided to chop off the legs off his argument at the knees.

"I propose this. Bring her to Rosings. She will go in the family wing in the blue room, across the hall from Anne. Georgiana has already ensconced herself in the room next to Anne's, and will not be moved anytime soon while the Bennets are in Kent. Put Jane and Lydia in the pink room, and Mary and Kitty on the other side, or allow them to each have a room. Elizabeth will be surrounded by sisters on all sides at all times. When you are in attendance, you will be right down the hall."

He seemed ready to argue again, but I was not about to let him have his share of the conversation until I had my say.

"I suggest we put the curate in the parsonage, and I will offer him a salary sufficient to take a wife. I will charge them to keep the parsonage exactly as it is for one year. Should Collins die, I will have to give the living, and he would be suitable."

He took a breath to speak, and I said, "I am not finished. I will set up an annuity for the same amount as the living, and assign it to Elizabeth. She will lose no choices, except for being forced to Rosings, and if she finds that distasteful, you will find her another home that suits her."

He had clearly not expected any of this from me. He had expected nothing of the sort, and I could clearly try to see him reconciling this behavior with his accepted view of the world.

I leaned forward and said, "I wish to do this Fitzwilliam, will you deny me? You have your own reasons, and I have mine."

He finally nodded in agreement, and I thought then about taking my victory and moving about my business, but I was not finished yet.

I gently said, "There is another thing we must discuss, Fitzwilliam… your duty!"

I could see some anger starting to build almost immediately, and I sought to slow it by saying, "I do not mean my previous desire for you to marry Anne! That is clearly preposterous now, but I feel you are neglecting your other duties."

To his credit, I could see his anger nearly ready to overflow his admittedly weak control, but he brought it under control and asked, "What do you mean?"

I thought there was no use in prevaricating, so I said, "Your duty to your estate. Your duty to your family. Your duty to your future generations. All are being materially hurt by your inability to leave this room and focus on you duties, or even to get a full night's sleep."

He chuckled, but it was a grim sort of chuckle with not the slightest bit of humor in it.

He said, "Aunt, you and Elizabeth could be sisters. She chided me on my duty with almost the same words, although hers were primarily aimed at my failure to produce an heir."

This surprised me, and I asked, "Was she proposing herself as the answer to this problem?"

He just shook his head, and said, "Now you sound like me! Please make up your mind."

That brought up a small smile. I could not remember the last teasing remark between us, and doubted there had ever been even one.

He continued, "She and I have a… complicated… er… unusual… history. She could not stand me a week before that supper. I was just about the last man in the world she would have wanted for a husband."

I prompted, "And later, when she reminded you about your duty?"

He looked at me, and said, "I will not violate her confidence, but suffice it to say, she was not advocating for the position. She was more like a mama bear running her cub off into the woods. She was telling me that she would not be the mother of my heirs, but that someone would, and sooner rather than later. She is not a woman for mincing words, once you get her started. She chided me for not starting five or more years ago… at some length… and with some vigor."

I liked Elizabeth more and more, and opined, "It seems she has more sense than you do. She was right, you know!"

He looked pained, and said, "I know that, but I cannot. Not while she is… not while… not while there is hope."

I asked, "Should she recover fully, and Collins meet his maker, would she accept you?"

He looked pained, and said, "Probably not. Not yet, at least. She swore to never marry again, and she was deadly serious about it, and you have no idea how implacable and brave she can be."

I was not anywhere foolhardy enough to wade into a discussion of how he knew all of this, so I simply said, "I will not ask you to break any more of her confidence, but do you believe you might change her mind."

"I do not know, but I must try."

I sensed he was close to a breaking point, and said, "Let us delay the talk of an heir for a few moments. What about Pemberley? Do you intend to take care of your estate? Do you intend to oversee the spring planting, or simply leave it to your steward and hope for the best? Do you intend to resolve your tenant disputes, fix the rest of the damage from this very terrible year? Make your estate what it was? Do your duty to the hundreds that look to you for their very life?"

He looked more pained with every reminder of what he was not doing, but seemed like he was hardening himself against my arguments, instead of really listening.

I finally decided that I must get through to him. His estate, and I believed, ultimately his self-respect and pride would not recover should he continue in this vein.

I said, "Fitzwilliam, I am going to share something with you that I overheard, which was neither for your ears nor mine. I will chastise myself to the grave for it, but I will do it nonetheless."

I had his full and undivided attention now, so I asked, "Do you have any idea what Georgiana thinks about your father? I overheard her telling Anne in confidence."

He just shook his head, and said, "Like many things, I never really thought about it."

I said, "Perhaps you should. She believes he was a coward!"

His head snapped forward as he sat up in his chair in alarm and said, "Repeat that!"

I said, "A coward. Do you care to know why?"

He clearly did not but would not shirk, so he nodded without a word.

I said, "Because his wife died, as happens from time to time, and your father gave up. He gave up on his son, he gave up on his estate, he gave up on his duty, and he gave up on his daughter. She truly believes he was a coward, and I doubt you could remove the idea from her mind, even should you have the poor sense to try, or even mention this conversation."

He was clearly thinking through all I had said, and seemed to be just filling time while he thought by saying, "I am not the brightest man in the world aunt, but even I know better than that."

I left him a moment to think about it, and thought it might be some time before he could either accept her viewpoint or argue persuasively against it. Such pondering was best done alone, so I thought to fire my last shot, as I was exhausted and I wanted Elizabeth in Rosings before supper.

"Think on this Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth may live or she may not. Should she live, she may come back whole in mind or spirit or she may not. Should she come back whole, she may accept your addresses or she may not. None of these are under your control, and sitting here staring at her will not change the outcome. Will you at least agree to that?"

He nodded unhappily, so I continued.

"Georgiana on the other hand is half a mile from here, in a place she is not to be moved from by you or anybody; watching her brother repeat her father's mistakes. Is this what you want for your sister?"

He looked shocked at the idea, so I continued, "Should Elizabeth recover fully, do you really want to spend the first fortnight of your courtship having her criticize your devotion to your duty? Do you want her to have to shepherd your sister through her introduction to society carrying your defects on her shoulders? Do you want to deliver her as mistress to a Pemberley that is whole, or one as neglected as her father's estate?"

Now he was very near to either an explosion of anger or a bout of silent sulking, but I was not finished.

"With this one exception, you have been a wonderful and diligent master since your father died Fitzwilliam. Never doubt that, but you cannot relent now. I have thought of this for many days, and I have a suggestion."

He calmed down enough to listen, and I judged him ready for the rest.

"It is clear that if Elizabeth recovers, you will try to make her yours. Nobody will dissuade your from that course until there is no hope, is that not so?"

He simply nodded, so I continued.

"I will offer this bargain. I know I have no true bargaining power or standing, but I will offer anyway. I will refrain from hounding you about marrying for one year, and I will also restrain your uncle and the rest of your relatives. They listen to me when I am reasonable. Not a word of censure shall pass my lips if you attend to all your other duties with diligence. Leave Elizabeth in my care, and I will have each of her six sisters write you a few lines every single day, and I will keep an express rider at the ready to alert you within the hour if she awakes. I want you in Kent no more than half of your time."

He looked ready to argue, so I forestalled him.

"You must also see to your future and the security of the estate that has been in Darcy hands for centuries, and you cannot wait a year for that. Make Richard either your heir, or the guardian for a future child Georgiana may have. Take him out of that madness on the continent, take him to Pemberley and teach him to run an estate. Should Elizabeth recover, and should you wed and do as is proper, then I will buy Richard an estate, or possibly convince him to marry Anne and take Rosings, or I may split off a piece of Rosings. Should you meet your demise, Richard will have a start and his education can be continued by his brother and father, and Pemberley will not be damaged."

My nephew was looking shaken, but I thought I should have all the terms of the bargain down before he agreed or disagreed.

"There is one more thing, nephew. If in one year, Elizabeth is not back and willing to take your addresses, you will find a wife and you will be happy. You may take one of her sisters if they will have you, as seems likely, or find another, but you will not spend your life pining away for something you cannot have. I will take care of your lady love for the rest of my life and insure her care on my demise. I will take care of your sister and her sisters whenever you are not in attendance. You must do this nephew, and you must tell Georgina what you will do if you wish her to come into society whole and ready for the ton."

I saw him starting to think deeply, and I doubted he could give me an answer for at least a day. I strongly suspect that given the opportunity, he would simply lay down on the bed with Elizabeth and go to sleep, and when I left that was well within the realm of possibility.

I said, "I will send my footmen with a wagon for Elizabeth. You will bring her and her sisters to Rosings by supper? I will dispatch a footman and a maid to see to the parsonage while we work out the particulars with the curate."

He nodded in agreement, and I was satisfied.

"You will also sleep in your own room, after you have your valet make you look like a gentleman instead of a barbarian. All night, if you please. I will be with Elizabeth, armed with a club."

I managed to force a small grin out of him, and I left the parsonage well satisfied. I left it to Fitzwilliam to tell the Bennet sisters. Soon enough they would be under my roof, and soon after that they would no longer fear me. Perhaps one day they would esteem me.

For the moment, I had things to do, and two girls of my own to tell the good news to. I was already expecting to tolerate a nearly fatal bout of girlish giggling.