Well, I have returned to my normal habit of waiting months to post a new chapter. Truly sorry about that. I'm sure I've lost some readers because of it. But nevertheless, I have posted again! Yay! At least, I hope that that is people's reaction.

"I am telling you that it is Byron." Margaret insisted rising out of her chair in indignation.

William shook his head in frustration. "I am quite sure that it is Wordsworth."

"Well," Margaret huffed, "Your knowledge of poetry is quite clearly not mature enough to distinguish the difference between Byron's style and Wordsworth's style."

"Wordsworth and Byron are not as dissimilar as you seem to believe they are."

Margaret walked to the door and disappeared out in the hall. William stood quite disgruntled. Their studies tended to end in this fashion. William had suggested to their father on more than one occasion that he hire separate tutors for them so that they would not be learning the same curriculum, but Fitzwilliam Darcy was far too proud of his daughter's academic excellence to hire a teacher who might inhibit her progression.

William followed her out the door to find that Margaret had already managed to make her way half way down the hall. He called out to her. "Where are you going Margaret?"

She stopped where she stood, turning make to look at him in contempt. "If you do not believe me to be right, I will consult someone to confirm that I am correct."

William sighed, "Do not go to father." Margaret continued to walk, ignoring her brother's pleads. "Come now Margaret. He has business to take care of. Do not bother him with another of our insignificant debacles." William was now following quickly behind his determined sister. He saw Anne sitting in her room with the door open. He called after Margaret who was still proceeding down the hallway. "Here Margaret, let us ask Anne. Her knowledge of poetry is equal to our own."

Margaret huffed once more and made her way back down the hallway to Anne's room. "Very well," She conceded unwillingly. "Anne, who is the author of the following stanza. 'Ah! gentle, fleeting, wav'ring sprite, friend and associate of this clay! To what unknown region borne, wilt thou now wing thy distant flight? No more with wonted humour gay, but palled, cheerless, and forlorn."

Anne looked at Margaret. "Who do you say is the author?"

"It does not matter who she said the author is." William answered before Margaret could inform her of her own choice. "Who do you believe the author is?"

Anne sighed, "Why can you not leave each other be. Is the poet of that stanza a piece of information that is so very important that you must start a feud over it."

"It is of the utmost importance Anne." Margaret responded, "For William and I cannot agree on the answer."

"That does not make it important." Anne could not help but to speak aloud.

Margaret now turned her gaze of contempt to her sister. "Why can you never merely answer the question Anne? You must always lecture William and I on how childish we are being."

"Well you are being childish, Margaret. Knowing a poet will not help you to secure a husband."

"I do not wish to secure a husband, Anne." Margaret almost hissed at her sister. "I will be financially stable without a husband, so I have no reason to find one. I will travel the world and acquire far more knowledge than you ever shall."

"However," William interjected, "That is not what we are here to discuss. Anne, if you would be so kind as to provide us with an answer, we will soon be on our way out."

"Very well," Anne still appeared to be frustrated by Margaret's brashness. "I believe it is Wordsworth."

William smiled, "Is that not the very name that I suggested Margaret?"

"What does she truly know about poetry anyway?" Margaret responded. "She has not studied any in nearly three years." Margaret left the room.

William followed her. "You are not asking father."

"Papa, will know the correct answer."

"You mean that father will agree with you."

"Yes, he will agree because I am right." Margaret slowed as she approached the door to Mr. Darcy's study. She opened the door. "Papa," she called across the room.

Mr. Darcy looked up from the documents that he was reading. "Margaret, what have we said about entering private rooms?"

Margaret sighed. "I should knock and wait to be given permission before entering a room, even if I am anxious to have a conversation with the person in the room." She closed the door slowly.

Mr. Darcy smiled to himself and awaited the knock that would come in a matter of seconds. The knock echoed across the room. "Enter," Mr. Darcy answered it.

Margaret entered the room, William filing in behind her.

"Father," Margaret began, "Could you tell us who composed this stanza? ' Ah! gentle, fleeting, wav'ring sprite, friend and associate of this clay! To what unknown region borne, wilt thou now wing thy distant flight? No more with wonted humour gay, but pallid, cheerless, and forlorn."

Mr. Darcy sat in silence for a moment looking at his hands, which were resting on the desk in front of him. Finally, he looked at his children and answered slowly. "That poem was written by Byron."

William turned and left the room. Margaret smiled at her father, "Thank you Papa." Then she too headed to the door.

As she opened the door, Mr. Darcy called to her, "Who won, my dear?"

"Won?" Margaret looked back at him.

"Well, you came and asked me, so I can only assume you and William were arguing over the name of the poet."

Margaret smiled triumphantly. "I won, father." She passed through the door way.

As the door to the study closed behind her, Mr. Darcy chuckled to himself, "Of course you did."

After ensuring that the door to her father's study was secured, Margaret hastened in pursuit of William, who had disappeared down the hall. She did not see any sign of him until she had reached the grand staircase where she stood as she witnessed her brother storming out of the house, leaving behind a rather terrified Emma. Margaret approached her younger sister. "What happened?"

Emma was quite pale, "I asked him if he could help me with some of my Latin translation. I'm afraid I've done very ill indeed at deciphering it. At least I do not think that I could have possibly done it accurately for it makes no sense. I've translated this one sentence to say 'Dogs shall eat lions when the day that ends the world comes.' That couldn't possibly be right? Could it?"

Margaret smiled kindly, "I do not imagine that it could, but I have seen the Romans write far stranger lines. Why did William storm off dear?"

"I cannot be quite sure. He seemed quite angry with me for asking and suggested rather nastily that I come to you for assistance. Then he walked out the door."

"Well," Margaret placed a hand reassuringly on her sister's shoulder. "Pay no heed to William. He has been in an awfully combative mood all morning. I shall be happy to help you with your Latin, but I am afraid I must go and soothe William before I can start any kind of lesson with you." Margaret hurried out the door to find her brother. William was quickly striding across the back lawn towards the large pond on the other end. "William," Margaret called after him. She was quite certain that he heard her and yet he did not break his pace. Margaret sighed, gathered her skirts in her hands and began to run after him. "William" she called again. This time William paused for a moment before continuing. "William, I know you can hear me. Please stop."

William stopped at the edge of the pond. Margaret approached him cautiously. "William," she began, but William spoke before she could continue.

"Why do you insist on bringing every small educational debate to father?" William's voice displayed clear frustration and irritation. Margaret did not answer him. William sighed, "Have you ever considered my embarrassment each time you present father with a question?"

"William, it is not as though Papa is judging you for the results of our debates."

"Perhaps not, but that does not minimize the feeling that he is. Margaret, you are two years younger than I and by your age Anne had already ended her studies and yet you continue to attend lessons. Not only do you attend lessons, but you excel in every subject."

"Insecurity does not suit you William." Margaret allowed a faint smile to grace her face. William stared at the water. Margaret frowned, "I am truly sorry William. Intellect is all that I have."

"What are you talking about Margaret?"

"Well, Anne is pretty and can run a household to perfection. You are handsome and smart. Emma is pretty, kind, and musical. John is, well he is too young to tell what he is yet. Anne is right William. I am to stubborn and strong-headed to be marriageable. Intellect is all that I have."

William's face softened, "Pay no heed to what Anne tells you Margaret. I am aware of your plans to travel the world, but I feel that I must inform you of an important fact. Men of sense do not want silly wives."

"Perhaps," Margaret looked thoughtfully at their reflections in the water.

"Come" William held out his arm for his sister to take. "It is almost time for supper. We do not want mother to have to send a search party for us."

A/N: So this chapter serves to illustrate the personalities of the Darcy children a little more although it focuses on William and Margaret we get a glimpse of Anne and Emma, which is nice. In this chapter Margaret is around 15 which makes Anne 19, William 17, Emma 13, and John 11. I think I am nearing the end of this story because like I said in the last chapter this story for me was more of a stepping stone to my next project. So, there's probably only a couple more chapters for this little story on the horizon. Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to review!

~ml9