He didn't quite recall all that happened in the hours that followed; he only recalled that it had been hectic.

But now that it was getting late, and things had quieted down, he had felt permitted to retreat to the library for some solitude. If his memories from the time of his mother's death were correct, things were bound to remain hectic in the days (or weeks, or more likely months) to come. Even if for him, things didn't even change all that much at the time: a few weeks at home, and then he had gone back to school. Business as usual.

Well, almost usual.

This time however…

His hand clenched around his brandy glass. This time, he was expected to fill his father's shoes. He, Fitzwilliam George Darcy, aged twenty-two and not even graduated from Cambridge yet… He was expected to just take over the management of Pemberley, and with it, the responsibility for the well-being of the more than thousand people who lived and worked on the estate. Just like that!

Morosely, he stared into the fire. Sure, he was aware of the basics. Father had often enough taken him along whenever he was home from school these past years: to visit the tenants, or to oversee the mustering and the likes. The plan had been, that Father would have begun to seriously teach him and involve him for real once he'd have graduated – which was scheduled for the end of this term. Instead, he was now expected to take on the job with a mere rudimentary insight in what was expected of him. How was he ever supposed to do that? How…?

At that moment, the door to the library peeped open. "Fitzwilliam?" came a small voice through the opening.

He looked up. "Georgie? What is it?"

She came around the door and carefully closed it.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

"I can't sleep," was the quiet reply. "Can't I stay with you for a while? Please?"

"Oh, alright." He sighed, put down his glass, and patted next to him on the sofa. "Come sit with me."

Dressed in her nightgown and dressing gown, with soft slippers on her feet and her golden hair in a long braid, Georgiana scurried across the room to sit next to him.

"Are you alright?" he inquired.

She nodded mutely, even though her eyes were still red and puffy from crying.

For several minutes, they just sat there together – silent, stiff, and not sure how to be comfortable around each other.

But at long last, Georgiana whispered, "Fitzwilliam?"

"Hm?"

"Are we… are we orphans now?"

Darcy cast her a quick glance before sighing, "I'm afraid so, Georgie."

She had a sharp intake of breath. "But… what is going to happen to us now?"

"Don't you worry about that." Awkwardly, he patted her knee. "Your nurse and your governess aren't going anywhere, so nothing much is changing for you. You'll be alright. I promise."

She gulped. "And you?"

"I'll be alright, too. Don't you worry about me."

"But…" Another gulp. "Are you going to leave me here alone? Go back to school?" Her voice took on a shrill note. "I don't want to stay here all by myself!"

Again, he patted her knee. "Don't worry, Georgie. I'll be here with you."

"You're not going back to school then?"

He heaved a sigh. "I can't, can I. I have to take over the estate." An icy hand closed around his heart. Saying it out loud made it even more daunting. How was he…?

Once again however, his little sister interrupted the torrent of terrified thoughts before it had a chance to really take off. "Can't Mr…?" But suddenly, she bit her lip and looked away.

"What?"

"Nothing." She wasn't going to point him toward the exit when he had only just promised not to leave her all alone here at Pemberley.

Darcy studied his little sister. Truth be told, he barely knew her. She had still been a baby when he went off to school. And since then, he had only seen her thrice a year: during the school holidays. And their age difference was such, that even when he was home, they led entirely different lives. In practice, they were little more than casual acquaintances. And now, on top of everything else, he was going to have to act as her father from now on! How was he going to manage that?! He was too young to be the father-figure for a ten-year-old! He knew nothing about little girls, and what… how… He couldn't…

Once again, Georgiana's voice cut into his looming panic. "Fitzwilliam?"

He turned back to her. Her big blue eyes seemed to be studying him in return. "What is it?"

She gulped, almost losing her nerve under her brother's gaze. But this was important. "Do you… Are you…" She fell silent again, averting her eyes.

Darcy waited patiently for her to continue, and when she did not, he prompted gently, "It's alright, Georgie. You can ask me anything. What are you worried about?"

Those big blue eyes returned to him, their expression too serious for so young a child.

"Ask," he encouraged her quietly.

Another gulp, another momentary averting of her eyes, but finally, "Is there… you know… a girl?"

He frowned. "What girl?"

"A girl you want to marry?"

With his recent dealings with the fawning Miss Winchester and the saccharine Miss Frobisher instantly coming to mind, he glared at her in dismay, and the little girl immediately shrank away from him. "I'm sorry, Fitzwilliam. I really didn't mean to pry; it's just that…" Her voice tapered off in embarrassment.

He closed his eyes for a second and suppressed the urge to groan. She was right of course: he needed to produce an heir. Soon. Yet another blasted responsibility on his plate…

"No, it's alright, Georgie. You are right in asking." Once again he patted her knee, and she seemed to relax somewhat.

"So… is there?" she ventured hesitantly after a prolonged silence. "A girl, I mean?"

He merely shook his head. "It's just you and me now, pet. But you're right: I will have to get married. And soon. Pemberley needs an heir; it's too precarious with just you and me. If something were to happen to me…"

She gasped in shock. "No! You can't die, too! You just can't! What would happen to me!?" Crying, she grabbed his arm as if to physically hold him back from death, and Darcy cursed his slip of the tongue.

"Sweetie, I have no intention of dying yet. I have you to take care of, and Pemberley, and all the people on the estate… I won't have time anytime soon to die!"

She just kept sobbing into his sleeve, and patting her knee didn't seem to make much difference. How did one go about comforting a ten-year-old girl?!

But at long last, the sobs subsided, and all that remained were two small hands clutching his arm. "You can't die," the little girl muttered. "You just can't."

"I'll do everything in my power not to die before you are married and I have met your children," he promised solemnly. "But still, if it should happen, you know that Richard will take care of you until you find a husband of your own." He closed his eyes. Yet another nightmare: in a few years, Georgie would be coming out in society. And with her beauty and dowry, every rake and fortune-hunter in the empire would be after her. Not to mention the fact that – as long as he didn't produce an heir of his own – she stood to inherit the estate upon his death. Perhaps he could convince Richard to marry her as soon as may be? Even if she was fair young? Make that, 'too young'. Then maybe he could at least betroth her? Just to keep her safe?

He looked up at the feeling of Georgiana lifting her head off his shoulder. "Fitzwilliam?"

Her still teary eyes looking up at him were nearly his undoing – how could he deny his poor orphaned little sister anything? Awkwardly, he brushed the tears off her face.

"I know you cannot really promise not to die. Mama and Papa didn't mean to die either; it just happened. But will you make me another promise?"

He nodded. "Anything in my power."

She took a deep, shaky breath. "Will you… will you please find someone nice to marry? Someone… someone who can be a bit of a mother for me?"

He nodded mutely, and gently squeezed her knee in reassurance. Some time ago, he had already determined to marry only for love. He had seen and heard more than enough of marriage partners who could barely stand each other. Even their own family had more than their fair share of such unfortunate misalliances, and he had no wish to live out his life in that kind of misery. No, there was nothing he wanted more than to recreate the felicity he remembered from his childhood: two parents who not only esteemed and respected, but also loved each other. Cared for each other. And he simply could not imagine a woman fitting those qualities not being nice to Georgiana. He just had to find her…

Awkwardly, he put an arm around his little sister. "I promise, pet. I will only marry someone who cares as much for you as she does for me."

"Soon?"

"I'll do my best."

A watery smile. "Thank you." Hesitantly, she snuggled up to him a little, and when he gave her an equally hesitant smile, she even pulled up her feet on the sofa. "Because when you marry, we will be like a whole family again: you the father, she the mother, and I would be the daughter. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"

It would indeed, only… he couldn't marry as long as he was in mourning. Even opportunities of meeting eligible women would of necessity be scarce the coming year, not to mention the fact that he would be up to his ears into learning how to manage the estate.

But he could do his best to at least find a wife nonetheless.

He would have to.

For Georgiana.

And for Pemberley.