Later that day, Stephanie found herself in the drawing room with Georgiana for yet another etiquette lesson. The topic for the day was propriety—specifically, the rules governing interactions between men and women. Mrs. Reynolds sat with them, her patient expression hiding a steely determination to instill proper manners in the modern young woman.

Richard entered midway through the session, his steps quiet as he took a seat in the corner with a book. He wasn't reading, though; his gaze flicked over the scene with mild curiosity, clearly more interested in the lesson than he let on.

Mrs. Reynolds, ever composed, explained, "It is not considered proper for an unmarried woman to be alone with a gentleman, particularly if they are unchaperoned."

Stephanie frowned, tilting her head. "Why not? What's the big deal?"

Georgiana, seated primly beside her, gave her an apologetic smile. "It's about appearances, Stephanie. People might… assume things."

Stephanie blinked, clearly baffled. "Assume what?

Mrs. Reynolds pursed her lips. "That there might be an… impropriety."

"Impropriety?" Stephanie repeated, her brow furrowing. "You mean like people thinking … you know…." Moving her eye brows up and down suggestively. That ridiculous even if there wouldn't be enough time to plausibly…accomplish that task? That's so dumb"

"Stephanie!" Georgiana gasped softly, her cheeks reddening at the bluntness of the remark.

"Well, it is!" Stephanie said, holding her hands up defensively. "I mean, where I come from, men and women hang out all the time—alone, in groups, whatever. We're just friends, and no one thinks twice about it."

Mrs. Reynolds gave a pointed look. "Your world, perhaps, operates differently. Here, it is the lady's reputation that must be protected at all costs."

Stephanie sat back, clearly trying to process this. "So, let me get this straight. If I'm alone with a guy—even if nothing happens—people might think something did, and that ruins… me?"

"Precisely," Mrs. Reynolds said.

"That's so messed up," Stephanie muttered under her breath.

Mrs. Reynolds gave a polite but firm nod. "Fairness has little to do with it, Miss Williams. It is simply the way of things."

Richard, who had been listening quietly, cleared his throat. "It is not entirely one-sided, Miss Williams. Men, too, are expected to maintain propriety."

Stephanie exhaled, trying to wrap her mind around the idea. "Okay, but then… why is it okay for the Colonel and I to talk privately? I mean, we've had plenty of conversations, just the two of us."

As Stephanie posed her question, the room stilled. Richard, seated in the corner with his book, looked up, caught off guard by her genuine confusion. Georgiana froze mid-sip of her tea, her brows raising slightly. Even Mrs. Reynolds, ever composed, paused for a moment before turning her sharp gaze to the Colonel.

Stephanie, oblivious to the tension she'd caused, leaned forward, her curiosity genuine. "So, Colonel, why is it okay for us to talk privately? If the rule is no men and women alone together, shouldn't that include us? Or does it not count because of the whole guardian thing?"

Richard cleared his throat, visibly flustered. "Well, Miss Williams, as your guardian in Darcy's absence, I am entrusted with your welfare. Our interactions are entirely proper under such circumstances."

Mrs. Reynolds, who had been listening intently, arched a brow. "Colonel Fitzwilliam, while your reasoning is technically correct, you might consider that even in such arrangements, appearances still matter."

Richard shifted slightly, clearly uncomfortable. "Mrs. Reynolds, I assure you, there has been no impropriety—"

"Of that I have no doubt," she interrupted smoothly, her tone firm but not unkind. "However, it is my duty to remind even you, sir, that propriety must always be observed, particularly in a household like this one. The staff and visitors alike may draw conclusions, however unfounded they may be."

Richard inclined his head, his ears faintly pink. "Your point is well taken, Mrs. Reynolds."

Stephanie, sensing the shift in tone, frowned slightly. "Wait, are you saying even we could cause a scandal? I thought this was fine because he's, you know, 'official.'"

Georgiana set down her teacup carefully, offering Stephanie a small smile. "It's not so much about what actually happens, Stephanie, but what people might think. Even with Richard's position, some might raise an eyebrow."

Stephanie's eyes widened. "Over a conversation? Seriously? Back home, no one would even notice. I've been alone with my guy friends a million times. We've talked about everything from movies to existential crises, and no one cared."

Richard, his composure returning, raised a brow. "Your world seems to place far less weight on appearances."

"Exactly," Stephanie said, nodding. "Friendship isn't limited by gender. No one thinks it's weird to be alone with a guy"

Mrs. Reynolds sighed, her tone firm but patient. "Miss Williams, your world may operate differently, but here, appearances and reputations are paramount. It is not simply a matter of personal belief but of societal expectation."

Stephanie leaned back in her chair, her expression incredulous. " Honestly, even if two people were…" she paused, searching for the right word, "intimate, it wouldn't necessarily ruin their lives."

Georgiana gasped softly, her cheeks flushing. "Intimate? Stephanie, surely not!"

Stephanie shrugged, completely unfazed by Georgiana's reaction. "It happens all the time. It's almost expected in some situations. People date, they sleep together, and no one bats an eye unless there's some other drama involved. Reputation isn't built—or destroyed—by something like that. I mean I'm not dumb, I know the basics of these rules but living it is something else. That's so hard."

Mrs. Reynolds drew herself up, her tone sharp. "Miss Williams, that is hardly a fitting subject for polite conversation."

"I'm just explaining," Stephanie said quickly, holding her hands up defensively. "In my time, it's not a big deal. People don't get ostracized for it. Women aren't treated like damaged goods because they've been with someone. We've moved on from that."

Richard cleared his throat again, clearly trying to redirect the conversation. "Your world may have different values, Miss Williams, but here, such actions could ruin a woman's future entirely."

"I get that," Stephanie said, her tone softening slightly. "I do. I just… I guess I don't understand why it's only women who bear the consequences. Men seem to walk away scot-free."

Georgiana glanced at Richard, who shifted uncomfortably. "That's not always the case," he said carefully, though even he seemed to realize the inadequacy of his defense.

Mrs. Reynolds gave Stephanie a pointed look. "You may not agree with these standards, Miss Williams, but while you are here, you must adhere to them. You are a guest in this time, and appearances must be maintained."

Stephanie leaned forward, her brow furrowed as she tried to explain herself to the room, her words rushing out in her usual, unfiltered way. "Look, I'm not saying people back home don't take relationships seriously," she said quickly. "It's just… different. Relationships are about what you want, what feels right for you, and sometimes—sometimes people experiment, men, women, either"

The room fell into an icy silence. Georgiana's cheeks immediately bloomed with a bright pink flush. Mrs. Reynolds went rigid, her expression a mix of disapproval and restrained shock. But it was Richard's reaction that caught Stephanie's attention—his jaw tightening, his knuckles gripping the arms of his chair, his gaze fixed squarely on her as though daring her to continue.

Realizing the weight of her words, Stephanie's own face turned scarlet. "Oh no," she blurted, her hands flying up in a panicked gesture. "I don't mean, like, crazy stuff! I just mean… you know… like kissing. I mean, I've kissed another girl before—it was no big deal!" Her voice squeaked slightly at the end, and she immediately slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.

Georgiana's teacup clattered onto its saucer as she choked on a shocked giggle. "Stephanie!"

Stephanie groaned, her hands flying to cover her burning face.

Richard exhaled sharply, rising abruptly from his chair. His tone was low and biting as he said, "Miss Williams, while your… world may condone such experimentation, you would do well to remember that this is not your time, nor your society."

"I know!" Stephanie said quickly, her voice rising with panic. "I wasn't trying to shock anyone, I swear! I just—"

"Enough," Mrs. Reynolds interrupted firmly, her tone icy. "Miss Williams, you have made your point. Let us move on to more appropriate matters."

Richard, clearly unable to stay a moment longer, inclined his head curtly. "Good day." He turned and left the room, his stride brisk and his shoulders tense.

After the door clicked shut behind Richard, the room settled into an awkward silence. Stephanie slumped further into her chair, her hands still covering her face as if trying to block out the world.

"Miss Williams," Mrs. Reynolds said firmly, her voice breaking the tension, "let us return to the matter at hand. There is still much for you to learn, and lingering on… recent comments is neither productive nor appropriate."

Stephanie groaned but dropped her hands, her cheeks still pink. "Right. Fine. I'll focus. What's next on the list of things I'm apparently terrible at?"

Georgiana, ever the diplomat, offered her a kind smile. "Perhaps we could revisit table manners? You've improved, but it might be useful to go over them again."

Stephanie straightened in her chair, frowning. "What's wrong with how I eat?"

Mrs. Reynolds raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "It is not merely about eating, Miss Williams. It is about conducting oneself with grace and refinement. You have a tendency to… improvise."

Georgiana giggled softly, attempting to soften the critique. "It's not so much what you do as how you do it. For example, the way you hold your fork—it's rather… unconventional."

Stephanie picked up an imaginary fork, holding it like a shovel, and smirked. "What, like this?"

Georgiana stifled a laugh behind her hand, but Mrs. Reynolds didn't crack so much as a smile. "Precisely. And that is precisely what we must correct."

"Alright, alright," Stephanie relented, sitting straighter. "Show me the proper way, and I'll try not to embarrass the entire room at the next meal."

Georgiana demonstrated, holding her fork delicately in her left hand, her knife in her right, her movements fluid and precise. Stephanie mimicked her, though it was clear the positioning felt unnatural.

"This feels weird," she muttered, her fingers fumbling with the imaginary utensils.

Mrs. Reynolds's expression hardened. "In this household, Miss Williams, it is not merely about sustenance. Dining is an art, a reflection of one's upbringing and manners."

Stephanie sighed, adjusting her grip. "Alright, I'll practice. Anything else I'm failing at?"

Georgiana, sensing Stephanie's frustration, interjected gently. "You've actually done quite well with tea service.

After table manners had been adequately covered—or at least as much as Mrs. Reynolds could tolerate for the day—the lesson shifted to conversation etiquette. Stephanie leaned back in her chair, already bracing herself for more critiques as Mrs. Reynolds prepared to speak.

"Miss Williams," the housekeeper began, her tone firm but measured, "it is not merely one's appearance or gestures that define propriety. It is also what one chooses to say. Conversations in polite society are governed by subtlety, restraint, and appropriateness."

Stephanie tilted her head, her curiosity piqued despite herself. "Okay, so what does that mean exactly? What can't I talk about?"

Mrs. Reynolds clasped her hands together. "There are many topics that are considered improper. For example, personal matters, such as one's finances, health, or—" she hesitated slightly, glancing at Georgiana before continuing, "—one's romantic entanglements, are not discussed openly. These are private subjects and not suitable for polite company."

Stephanie nodded slowly, her brow furrowing. "Alright, fair. But what is okay to talk about?"

"Pleasantries," Mrs. Reynolds replied. "The weather, local events, art, music, literature. Conversations should be light and pleasant, never contentious or overly personal."

Georgiana chimed in gently, "It's also important not to impose your opinions too strongly, Stephanie. Sometimes it's better to listen rather than to speak."

Stephanie leaned forward, clearly trying to grasp the concept. "So, no debates? No deep conversations? What if I have a really strong opinion about something?"

Mrs. Reynolds's gaze sharpened. "It is precisely those strong opinions that must be tempered. A lady does not force her views upon others, nor does she engage in subjects that may provoke discomfort or disagreement."

"Okay, but what about being honest?" Stephanie asked, her frustration starting to show. "Like, what if someone asks me something, and I feel strongly about it? Am I supposed to just lie?"

"No," Georgiana said quickly, her tone soothing. "You don't lie. You simply redirect the conversation or offer a neutral response. For example, if someone asks your opinion about a particular artist and you dislike their work, you might say, 'I can see why they are admired, though their style is not to my taste.'"

Stephanie snorted. "So… sugarcoat everything?"

Mrs. Reynolds's expression hardened. "You would do well to think of it as maintaining harmony, Miss Williams. Oversharing one's opinions or being too forthright is not only unseemly but can also cause unnecessary tension."

Stephanie crossed her arms, clearly bristling at the restriction. "But what if I just want to be real with someone? Like, back home, we value honesty and openness. I'd rather someone know what I think than dance around it."

"That may be admirable in your time," Mrs. Reynolds said sharply, "but here, it is seen as a lack of refinement. A lady does not make herself the center of attention with bold statements or personal anecdotes. She engages others, makes them feel at ease, and avoids drawing undue focus to herself."

Georgiana offered a small, encouraging smile. "It's not about hiding yourself, Stephanie. It's about showing respect for the situation and the people around you. Sometimes restraint can be more powerful than speaking your mind."

Stephanie sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Alright, I'll try. But I can't promise I won't slip up. I've been told I overshare sometimes."

Georgiana stifled a giggle, clearly remembering Stephanie's earlier comment about experimentation, while Mrs. Reynolds gave a long-suffering sigh. "Miss Williams, your… candor is certainly a challenge. But with time, I trust you will improve."

Stephanie smirked faintly, her frustration giving way to a hint of humor. "Well, if I survive all this without offending half of England, it'll be a miracle."

Georgiana's laughter bubbled up again, light and genuine. "You're doing better than you think, Stephanie."

Mrs. Reynolds, however, was not so easily swayed. "Do take this seriously, Miss Williams. Inappropriate conversation can ruin a reputation just as surely as improper actions."

Stephanie nodded, sitting up straighter. "Got it. No opinions. No personal stuff. Keep it light. I'll be the queen of small talk in no time."

Georgiana giggled again, and even Mrs. Reynolds's stern expression softened slightly, though she quickly hid it. "That will be quite the transformation, Miss Williams. Let us hope you are up to the task."

Stephanie grinned, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Don't worry, Mrs. Reynolds. I'm nothing if not adaptable. Just give me a bit more time… and maybe a cheat sheet for all these rules."

After the lecture on proper conversation, Mrs. Reynolds cleared her throat, signaling it was time for Stephanie to put theory into practice. Georgiana perked up, setting her teacup aside with a small smile, clearly eager to see how Stephanie would fare.

"Miss Williams," Mrs. Reynolds said, her tone firm, "we shall now engage in a brief mock conversation. Lady Georgiana will play the role of a guest, and you will respond as though you are meeting her for the first time at a social gathering."

Stephanie sat up straighter, nodding solemnly. "Alright. I've got this."

Georgiana turned toward her, her expression gentle and polite. "Good afternoon, Miss Williams. How lovely to meet you. I hear you've been staying at Pemberley for some time."

Stephanie smiled, trying to mimic Georgiana's grace. "Good afternoon, Lady Georgiana. Yes, I've been… enjoying my time here."

Mrs. Reynolds immediately interjected. "Avoid the word 'enjoying,' Miss Williams. It is vague and does little to engage the other person. Be more specific."

Stephanie exhaled, glancing at Georgiana. "Right. Um, I've been appreciating the beautiful grounds and, uh, learning about the household."

"Better," Mrs. Reynolds said, though her tone remained critical. "Now respond to Lady Georgiana's follow-up question."

Georgiana tilted her head, her tone curious. "How do you find the grounds? Are they very different from what you are used to?"

Stephanie hesitated, biting her lip. "Oh, completely different. Back home, we don't have big estates like this. I mean, some people have really nice houses, but most of us live in neighborhoods with smaller yards."

Mrs. Reynolds sighed heavily. "Too much detail, Miss Williams. A lady would not discuss housing arrangements in such specificity. Keep it simple and elegant."

Stephanie groaned softly, rolling her eyes before quickly correcting herself. "The grounds are stunning, Lady Georgiana. They're unlike anything I've seen before."

Georgiana smiled encouragingly. "That's much better, Stephanie."

Mrs. Reynolds nodded slightly, her approval begrudging but present. "Good. Now, turn the conversation back to Lady Georgiana. Engage her without overstepping."

Stephanie straightened again, trying to think of a polite question. "And you, Lady Georgiana? What is your favorite part of the estate?"

Georgiana's eyes lit up at the question. "Oh, I adore the music room. It's where I spend most of my time practicing the pianoforte."

Stephanie nodded, smiling genuinely. "That sounds lovely. Do you have a favorite piece to play?"

Georgiana blinked, caught off guard by the follow-up question, but quickly recovered. "I do. Mozart's sonatas are my favorite, though I also enjoy Beethoven's work."

Mrs. Reynolds observed quietly, her sharp eyes missing nothing. "Not bad, Miss Williams. Your response was appropriate, though you should avoid asking too many personal questions. It may seem intrusive."

Stephanie frowned slightly. "But I thought I was supposed to engage her?"

"You are," Mrs. Reynolds said curtly. "But engagement must be balanced with discretion."

Georgiana, sensing Stephanie's frustration, offered a kind smile. "You're doing wonderfully, Stephanie. Truly. It just takes practice."

Stephanie sighed, slumping slightly. "This feels like walking a tightrope. I can't be too vague, but I can't be too detailed. I can't talk too much about myself, but I can't ask too much about them. How does anyone have a conversation around here?"

Mrs. Reynolds's tone softened, though only slightly. "It is an art, Miss Williams. One that requires restraint and observation. You must read the room, so to speak."

Georgiana nodded, her voice warm. "It becomes easier with time. Truly."

Stephanie straightened again, taking a deep breath. "Okay, hit me with another practice round. I'll get this."

Georgiana smiled brightly, and Mrs. Reynolds stepped back, allowing them to continue. For the next half hour, they engaged in mock conversations, with Stephanie fumbling, correcting herself, and slowly finding her footing. By the end, she was exhausted but slightly more confident, her initial frustration tempered by a growing determination to master the rules of her new world.

Dinner that evening was a quiet affair, with just Georgiana, Richard and Stephanie seated at the long, formal dining table. The soft clinking of silverware against fine china filled the room as the staff moved silently, attending to the meal. Stephanie, determined to put her afternoon lesson into practice, sat up straighter than usual, glancing nervously between her companions.

She carefully picked up her fork, holding it the way Mrs. Reynolds had drilled into her, and took a small bite of the soup in front of her. When she set the utensil down, she glanced at Georgiana, her mind racing for an appropriate conversation starter.

As the soup course progressed, Stephanie carefully set down her spoon and glanced between her companions, determined to practice her conversation skills.

"This soup is lovely," she said with deliberate politeness. "The flavors are… subtle and refined."

Georgiana smiled warmly, nodding in agreement. "It's one of my favorites. Cook makes it with leeks and a touch of cream. Do you enjoy soups, Stephanie?"

Stephanie hesitated, remembering Mrs. Reynolds's advice to avoid oversharing. "Yes, very much," she said, carefully neutral. "Though I think the soups I'm used to are a bit… heartier."

Georgiana's brow lifted in curiosity. "Oh? How so?"

Stephanie considered her response, trying to stay within the bounds of propriety. "We use a lot of potatoes and meat in our soups back home. It's more… rustic, I suppose."

Richard raised an eyebrow but remained silent, his gaze steady as he observed her efforts. Encouraged by Georgiana's interest, Stephanie decided to press forward.

"Do you have a favorite dish, Georgiana?" she asked, her tone carefully polite.

Georgiana smiled shyly. "I think I most enjoy a simple roast with vegetables. It's comforting, don't you think?"

"Very," Stephanie agreed, nodding enthusiastically. She glanced at Richard, deciding to draw him into the conversation. "And you, Colonel? Do you have a favorite?"

Richard set down his glass, his expression thoughtful. "I am partial to a well-prepared game pie. There is something satisfying about the combination of rich flavors and hearty pastry."

Stephanie nodded, "That does sound delicious. I imagine it must take quite a bit of skill to prepare properly."

Richard gave a slight nod, his gaze lingering on her. "Indeed. A steady hand and patience are required, much like in other disciplines."

Stephanie caught the faintest hint of amusement in his tone, as though he were testing her, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she smiled and asked, "Do you cook at all, Colonel?"

Georgiana burst into laughter, her delicate hands coming up to cover her mouth. "Oh, Stephanie, no gentleman cooks! That's the work of the servants."

Stephanie blinked, glancing between the two of them. "No gentleman? Ever?"

Georgiana shook her head, her laughter softening into a warm smile. "Certainly not. It would be most improper. The kitchen is for the staff."

Stephanie leaned back in her chair, trying to hide her surprise. "Huh. That's… really different. Back home, it's considered quite romantic if a man knows how to cook. Women go nuts for a man who can whip up a good meal."

Richard raised an eyebrow, his tone dry but intrigued. "Is that so? Women prefer a man with culinary talents over, say, a steady income or strong character?"

Stephanie grinned, clearly enjoying the exchange. "Well, those things are important too. But there's something about a guy cooking just for you—it's thoughtful. It shows effort. Plus, food is one of life's greatest joys."

Georgiana giggled again, clearly charmed by the idea. "I must admit, I had never considered such a thing. It does sound… appealing."

Stephanie leaned forward slightly, the conversation finally shifting to her comfort zone. "It really is. And honestly, I love cooking too. I'm pretty good at it—better than a lot of people I know, anyway."

The conversation flowed easily after that, with Stephanie carefully navigating between polite responses and her natural humor. By the end of the evening, Georgiana seemed thoroughly entertained, and even Richard's usual reserve had softened. Stephanie left the table feeling like she'd accomplished something—not just a polite dinner, but a real connection with her companions.

As the trio settled into the drawing room after dinner, the soft glow of the fire illuminated the tension lingering in Stephanie's expression. Georgiana, seated delicately by the pianoforte, began trailing her fingers idly over the keys, filling the silence with faint, hesitant notes. Stephanie sank into an armchair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, while Richard stood near the mantle, observing her quietly.

After a few moments, Georgiana spoke, her voice light with curiosity. "Stephanie, would you tell us more about your family? What are they like?"

Stephanie froze for a moment, her fingers tensing in her lap. She forced a smile, though it was thin and didn't reach her eyes. "Oh, um… there's not much to tell."

Richard, leaning slightly against the mantle, raised an eyebrow. "Surely that cannot be true. You've mentioned your world often enough, but rarely those who are closest to you."

Stephanie's throat tightened, and she glanced down, her voice soft. "It's not something I like to talk about."

Georgiana tilted her head, her voice immediately apologetic. "Oh, I didn't mean to pry. I just thought—"

"No, it's fine," Stephanie cut her off, though her tone was tight. She looked away, staring into the flickering flames in the hearth. "It's just… complicated."

Richard's brow furrowed as he studied her. "Complicated how? Surely you miss them."

Stephanie let out a shaky exhale, her shoulders slumping. "Of course, I miss them," she said, her voice trembling. "But it's not just that. It's what they must be going through. They probably think I'm dead—or worse."

Georgiana's eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh, Stephanie…"

Stephanie's composure cracked, and her words spilled out in a rush, her voice trembling with raw emotion. "I was traveling alone when I disappeared. I didn't tell anyone exactly where I was going that day. I just… I thought I'd be fine. And now… they must be thinking the worst."

Georgiana left the pianoforte and moved closer, her expression full of concern. "The worst?"

Stephanie nodded, her hands gripping the edge of her chair tightly. "They probably think I was trafficked or kidnapped. My dad… he would be beside himself. He's probably blaming himself for letting me travel alone, for not convincing me to come home sooner. My mom—she'd be a wreck. She'd cry every night, wondering if I'm alive or—" Her voice broke, and she pressed her trembling fingers to her forehead. "God, I hate that they're living with that."

Richard's tone was soft, though edged with worry. "Surely they would hope for the best, that you might be safe somewhere."

Stephanie laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "Hope doesn't stop them from imagining what could've happened. My dad… he'd be leading the search himself. Harassing the police, calling embassies, refusing to give up. And every day that I don't come back, it's just reinforcing the idea that I'm gone—or worse, that I'm trapped somewhere, unable to escape."

Georgiana sank into a seat beside her, reaching out to take Stephanie's hand. "Oh, Stephanie. I'm so sorry. I can't imagine how that must feel."

Stephanie bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes. "I feel like I failed them. Like I made the stupidest decision of my life by going off on my own that day. I wasn't supposed to vanish. I wasn't supposed to—" She swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "I wasn't supposed to put them through this."

Richard, who had remained silent, finally spoke, his voice steady but filled with sympathy. "Miss Williams, the fault is not yours. You could not have known what would happen."

"But I should have been more careful," Stephanie said, her voice rising as she looked at him, her eyes glistening. "I didn't even think about what would happen if something went wrong. And now my parents are probably going to their graves not knowing what happened to me. Or worse, thinking I'm suffering somewhere."

Georgiana's grip on her hand tightened, her own eyes glassy with unshed tears. "Stephanie, you mustn't blame yourself. None of this is your fault."

Stephanie shook her head, tears streaming freely now. "It doesn't matter if it's my fault or not. They're living with it. My mom is probably crying herself to sleep every night, and my dad… God, he's probably imagining the worst things, the most horrible things. And my brother? He'd be blaming himself for not coming with me. They're all in hell because of me."

The room fell silent, the crackling fire the only sound. Richard stepped forward, his expression deeply troubled. "Miss Williams," he began carefully, "I cannot begin to understand the depth of your pain. But you mustn't carry this guilt alone."

Stephanie laughed bitterly, wiping at her cheeks. "What else am I supposed to do, Colonel? I'm stuck here. I can't even send them a message to say I'm okay. I can't do anything."

Georgiana knelt beside her, her voice gentle but firm. "You're not alone, Stephanie. We're here for you. Whatever you need, we'll do everything we can."

Stephanie sniffled, her voice a shaky whisper. "Thanks, Georgiana. But this… this isn't something anyone can fix."

Richard's gaze was solemn, his tone low. "Perhaps not. But that does not mean you should bear it in silence."

Stephanie looked at him, her lip trembling. "I'm scared they'll never move on. That they'll spend the rest of their lives haunted by what might've happened to me. And I can't do a damn thing about it."

The weight of her confession settled over the room, leaving even Richard momentarily at a loss for words. Georgiana wrapped her arms around Stephanie in a quiet embrace, her own tears slipping down her cheeks. And for the first time, Stephanie let herself cry openly, her grief spilling out into the warmth of their shared silence.

After a long moment of silence, Georgiana gently placed her hand over Stephanie's, her voice trembling with concern. "Stephanie… have you tried to find a way back? A portal or something? Surely there must be a way?"

Stephanie looked down, her throat tightening as she wiped at her damp cheeks. "No," she said softly, her voice hollow. "I haven't."

Richard's brow furrowed, his posture stiffening. "Why not? Surely if such a thing brought you here, it might return you to your time."

Stephanie let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Because even if I could find a way back, I'm terrified of what I might return to."

Georgiana frowned, her brow creasing. "Terrified? Why?"

Stephanie glanced at both of them, her expression a mix of anguish and guilt. "Because I've probably already screwed up the timeline so badly that my world—my family—might not even be the same anymore."

Richard's frown deepened, his tone skeptical. "How could that be? You've kept much of your knowledge to yourself, have you not?"

Stephanie nodded quickly, her voice breaking. "I've tried. God, I've tried so hard not to mess things up. But I've been here for weeks. Every conversation, every little thing I do could ripple out into the future. What if I've changed something without realizing it? What if the world I go back to isn't the one I left?"

Georgiana's eyes filled with sympathy. "But surely your family would still be there? Wouldn't they?"

Stephanie let out a shaky exhale, her voice trembling. "Maybe. Maybe not. Even tiny changes can have huge effects over time. What if something I said or did means my parents never met? Or my brother doesn't exist? What if the version of my world I go back to is completely unrecognizable?"

Richard crossed his arms, his jaw tightening as he considered her words. "That seems a grim perspective, Miss Williams. Surely you cannot be held accountable for events beyond your control."

"I know that," Stephanie snapped, before immediately softening. "I mean, logically, I know that. But it doesn't stop me from being terrified. What if going back doesn't fix anything? What if it just… makes it worse?"

Georgiana leaned forward, her voice soft. "But if there's even a chance you could return to them, isn't it worth trying?"

Stephanie shook her head, her lips trembling. "You don't understand. If I go back and find out I've erased them, or they're not the same people I left behind… I don't think I could survive that. At least here, I can tell myself they're still out there, that they're still the same. But if I go back and find out they're gone, or I've ruined everything, there's no undoing that."

The weight of her words settled over the room like a heavy fog. Richard's face was unreadable, his eyes fixed on Stephanie as though trying to piece together her fractured emotions. Georgiana's hand tightened over Stephanie's, her own tears glistening in her eyes.

"You're carrying so much," Georgiana murmured, her voice filled with compassion. "More than anyone should have to."

Stephanie gave a weak smile, but it quickly crumbled as she looked back at the fire. "I just… don't know what the right answer is anymore. I'm stuck between two worlds, and both of them feel impossible."

Richard stepped closer, his voice low but steady. "Miss Williams, you are stronger than you give yourself credit for. Whatever comes, you will face it. And you are not alone."

Stephanie looked at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "Thanks, Colonel. But this isn't something anyone can fix. It's just… the way it is."

The room fell quiet again, the fire crackling softly in the background. For a moment, no one spoke, each lost in their own thoughts. But the unspoken understanding that passed between them—that they were in this together, however impossible it seemed—was enough to keep the silence from feeling empty.