Author's Notes

Today's episode of Sesame Street is brought to you by the letter V, sleep deprivation, and the number 18.

Where the Past Years Are

"Mr Carrington to see you, Mr Darcy."

Darcy turned from his place by the study window, looking grim. "Yes, send him in."

When the footman disappeared again, he eyed the remainder of his drink before downing it, steeling himself for what he was all too certain was coming.

The second knock at his door in as many minutes announced the arrival of his guest.

The acquaintance between the Darcy and Carrington families went back decades, if not longer, but it was not until these last few years that the man standing before Darcy had garnered his particular attention. For his part, Anthony Carrington was an amiable sort of gentleman, soft-spoken in a manner that gave the impression of neither feebleness nor conceit. At four and twenty, he was master of a property in southern Derbyshire. His father had unexpectedly succumbed to apoplexy just the year before, leaving his eldest son and heir responsible for the management of a not inconsiderable estate and the care of his mother and two younger brothers far sooner than was meant to be.

Carrington's lot in life reminded Darcy very much of his own, but all the respect and warmth he was disposed to feel towards the young man was mitigated by the motive Carrington had in requesting this private meeting with him.

Darcy had been dreading this moment for some time.

"Good afternoon, Mr Darcy," greeted Carrington, stepping into the study and closing the door behind himself. Belatedly, he noticed the room's other occupant. "And to you, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I had not expected to see you here."

"No, I would wager you hadn't," Richard replied with a smile that was somehow both convivial and menacing at once. Darcy would have to ask him how to manage that some time.

"I hope you do not mind that I asked the Colonel to join us," Darcy said. It was not in fact a question.

If he had not been watching for it, he might have dismissed the flare of panic across Carrington's countenance as a trick of the light.

"Not at all."

He gestured for Carrington to take the seat in front of his desk while he sank into his own behind it. Richard was already elegantly sprawled in the armchair at his right, facing their guest.

"What brings you to Pemberley, Mr Carrington?"

The confusion that sprang into Carrington's eyes, the way he glanced at Richard as if in supplication, was nearly enough to make Darcy sorry. Nearly.

"Surely…surely you must know why?"

With a perverse sort of pleasure he made no attempt to disguise, Richard told him, "I am afraid my cousin and I haven't the faintest idea. We are all suspense."

Only the crackle of the logs in the fire kept the room from being plunged into total silence for almost a minute.

"I am in love with Miss Darcy," Carrington said at last in a tone that was low but firm. "I have asked her to marry me, and she has accepted. I have come here to-day to request your consent and your blessing."

It was Darcy's turn to quietly regard the man in front of him. Carrington's cheeks were a little flushed, and the wariness in his expression had cleared. There was no place for it with the passion and steadfastness that suffused his features. If Darcy had doubted the sincerity of his feelings, there could be no question of them now. Yet he had not doubted that there was true affection between them, not for some time now. No, his difficulties lay somewhere else entirely, but the answers Darcy needed were not Carrington's to give.

There were, however, other things to be asked. "You do not think it too soon for you to marry? You are young, Mr Carrington, and though you shoulder duties heavier than many a man has at your age and carried them well, you still know very little of the world. How can you be sure in your decision?"

"Mr Darcy," he began carefully, "I have come to know Miss Darcy these five years, and in that time, my respect and admiration for her has only increased. My feelings are so far beyond anything I have known either before or since, there is no mistaking them for any passing infatuation."

Carrington swallowed. "You ask me how I can be sure in my decision? I tell you freely that I have considered it for the last two years. When my father died, it was not for me to put myself ahead of my family and act on my own desires, but there was not a day that passed when I did not think of her and our future. After all this time, I know my mind and my heart, and there is nothing I can claim to have ever wanted so much as to be able to call myself her husband. I shall do everything in my power to make her as happy as I know she will make me. I know less of the world than some, that is true, but I have seen enough to know that even if I were to search this entire earth, I could never find her equal."

Darcy would not have been able to put words to what he was feeling then if he tried. There was a tightness in his chest, as though his heart was both bursting and breaking, and he wondered if this was what he was meant to feel.

"Well," Richard cleared his throat suspiciously before continuing, "he's persuaded me to grant my half of the consent."

"And mine," said Darcy, finding his voice, "You have my consent, and my blessing with it." There was more he wanted to say, but he trusted himself to articulate only a very little of it without making a fool of himself just then. Instead, he extended a hand to Carrington, a smile curling his lips as he did. "Come again to-morrow. We can talk about particulars then. She will be waiting for you and I will not keep you longer."

"Thank you." His smile growing wider by the second, Carrington seemed dazed, repeating, "Thank you. I promise to take care of her as long as I live."

Darcy only nodded when Carrington released his hold to shake Richard's hand as well. He strode quickly from the room, leaving the door wide open in his haste.

Darcy sagged into his chair the moment he was away, tipping his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. That had been nearly as nerve-wracking as when he was on the opposing end of this ordeal. Then again, his memories of trying to convince Mr Bennet that he loved his daughter had always been a blur at best, but he was quite certain the man had believed him to be in jest the first few minutes of that interview.

The clink of ice against glass reminded him of Richard's presence, and he opened his eyes to find his tumbler refilled and waiting for him on the desk.

His cousin raised his own glass in his direction before putting it to his lips. "I thought that went rather well," and Darcy was so far gone, he snorted. "He is an excellent match for Georgiana," Richard went on, "and you know as well as I that her heart has been his for some time now."

"I do." Darcy's smile was a soft, melancholy thing.

Since their introduction, he had watched Georgiana come to trust, then befriend, and slowly fall in love with Carrington over the years. He was happier for his sister than he would ever be capable of expressing; he had always hoped she might find what he had with Elizabeth. Still, there was an ache inside him that, while blunted by joy, was an ache just the same. For so long there had been just the two of them relying on only each other that to let her go to make her own way in the world and build a life with another felt keenly like loss.

"Come now, Darcy, chin up. If nothing else, this was good practice, and I am more than happy to offer my services again once the young men start snooping about your Elena."

Darcy blanched.

End Author's Notes

I don't sleep, I write.