Since their argument three days prior Elizabeth had not spoken to her husband. Or rather she had not had a conversation with her husband. They would meet, exchange greetings far too formal, and then Mr. Darcy would find some excuse to make his exit. Colonel Fitzwilliam was equally avoidant, though Elizabeth, of course, had very little she wished to say to him.

She filled the time she should have spent with her new husband going over household expenses with Mrs. Reynolds, preparing baskets for her upcoming visit with the tenants, and furthering her acquaintance with Georgiana.

The new sisters took tea together in the afternoon and conversed. Georgiana had been reluctant to open up to Elizabeth after that initial confessional, but Elizabeth, with her easy nature, soon had the girl talking once more.

"I was to have come out, you know, next Season. My Aunt Eleanor, Lady Matlock, had already started making plans for a grand ball," Georgiana said without any hint of the wistfulness that Elizabeth assumed would accompany such a statement. Somehow they had gotten on the topic of might-have-beens, a dangerous subject indeed, but Elizabeth felt it would do Georgie good to face such things.

"Will you regret never having made your debut in society as you might have?"

"No, that is one of the few things I shall not regret. I am not skillful at conversing with strangers. Nor am I the sort of person who enjoys crowds. I had always hoped that I might spend most of my time in the country, now it seems I most certainly shall."

Georgiana continued, "I regret, of course, letting my family down so. Aunt Eleanor was counting on me making a splash in London, and Will had promised Papa that he would make sure I found a good husband. But before I was reunited with George, Mr. Wickham that is, I had thought that I might not marry . . . that I might –." She suddenly halted, too embarrassed say aloud such hopeless dreams.

"That you might what? Please, tell me."

"There are schools—schools of music on the Continent that have begun accepting women—I thought that I might . . .well, it was a rather silly thought what with the war. I never could have traveled there. And of course, I am a Darcy—I was a Darcy, and certain things were expected of me."

"Did you ever speak to your brother about your wish to study music abroad?"

"No. No, I could never have. Will is always so good— so dutiful. He is everything honorable and proper, I felt too ashamed to ask him such a thing, when he has always done everything that was expected of him. I strove to be like him, to do as I ought until . . . until I did not."

Silence hung about them for a moment. Elizabeth felt certain she had just discovered the root of all problems between the siblings.

Georgiana startled Elizabeth out of her thoughts with a question, "Is there anything that you had thought to do? If you had not married Will, that is."

Now that was a question she did not like to face, "No. It was always understood that I would marry."

"Understood?"

"My father is not wealthy. With so many daughters in one family it was necessary that we marry for our own security."

"But did you wish to marry?"

"Yes. I had always thought to have a husband, a house of my own, children." Though I had thought to marry a man I loved. Not one I had seen but once before we wed. Elizabeth did not like the regretful nature of her own thoughts.

Changing the subject, she said, "Georgie, you must tell Will your wishes concerning your child's future."

Georgiana immediately shrunk back in fear, "I cannot."

Elizabeth locked eyes with her sister in-law demanding further explanation.

"Perhaps, he is right. I am surely not fit to be a mother."

"That is a decision you must come to on your own. I will not judge you if you choose to heed your brother's wishes, but let it be for your own reasons, not merely to please him."

"I never had a mother, not really. I have no idea how to be one. Yet I cannot help but fear that the baby will feel abandoned. As I did. It was not my mother's fault, she did not wish to leave me, and Papa, he and I were never close, he never was the same after Mother's death, or at least that is what Will tells me. And I still feel abandoned. What would a child feel if its mother really did have a choice?"

"I cannot know. In certain circumstances, perhaps in this circumstance, a child's welfare is best tended to by another, a person who is ready— who feels capable."

"Then you agree with my brother that I am not capable?"

"I do not know. Only you can know this. But I do know if you cannot take inventory, of not just your emotions, but an honest assessment of your own abilities, and express your findings to your brother you can never hope to be an independent person."

Georgiana nodded sadly. She had known nothing in her life but dependence.

"Think on this," Elizabeth pleaded.

Lizzy believed she had succeeded in pressing upon Georgiana the importance of communicating her desires to her brother. Now she was left only to convince Mr. Darcy to hear his sister out. Unfortunately, he proved a difficult man to get alone. If he was not in the company of his steward he was with his cousin. Elizabeth choose to go down to dinner, instead of eating in her rooms with Georgiana as she had been, in the hope that she might find Mr. Darcy alone. Colonel Fitzwilliam was there, however, leaving Elizabeth grasping for safe topics of conversation.

The colonel was having no such trouble, "Mrs. Darcy, I am pleased to see you are well."

Elizabeth merely inclined her head.

The room fell into silence once more.

"You must give my compliments to your cook. This is a delightful meal."

Yet again no reply from either of the Darcys.

"Dreadful weather we've been having," the Colonel announced with derisive joviality.

This still did not solicit a comment.

Emboldened by their silence, Colonel Fitzwilliam got to the heart of it, "Georgiana, I see, has chosen not to join us. Understandable. She will very soon reach her confinement will she not? There are decisions that have to be made, Darcy."

"For goodness sake, do not speak of this here," Darcy scolded, eyes darting to his wife then back to his cousin with a reproachful glare.

"When then? It is clear enough that Mrs. Darcy is well aware of our plans and clear enough she does not agree with them. We might has well have this talk here rather than speak nonsense."

"What you speak will be nonsense if that is to be your topic," Elizabeth interjected.

"Respectfully, Mrs. Darcy, you do not understand the situation," the Colonel spoke with finality, clearly unused to being questioned, at least by a woman.

Elizabeth looked to her husband. Would he let his cousin censor her? Mr. Darcy would not even meet her eyes. No, she would find no support there. "I believe I do."

"Elizabeth, it is not your concern."

Oh, thought Elizabeth, so now my dear Mr. Darcy finds his voice.

"It most certainly is my concern. She is my sister now and I will not have you making decisions of this magnitude about her future without any input from Georgiana herself."

The Colonel scoffed, "You cannot really think that girl capable of handling this."

"It does not matter what I think. I am not to be the final judge of this nor are you. She may come to see it as you do or she may not, but it should be her choice not something you force upon her."

"Georgiana is a spoiled child, a fault for which Darcy and I must share in the blame. Where we have failed her in that regard, we will not do so in this."

"You are failing her if you give her no chance to express her opinion on such an important matter."

"After all Darcy has given up I think he has earned the right to make this decision. Georgiana certainly had no consideration for his opinions when she did what she did."

Elizabeth thought she might strangle Colonel Fitzwilliam if there were not a table between them.

"Yes, seeing all he has given up makes me wonder that he is so willing to send away an innocent child, his own blood, as if it were some shame that might be hidden away and forgotten."

Darcy mentally railed against this abuse. She did not fully comprehend his actions, she could not know what danger Wickham might be to the child if he heard of its existence. Yet, it was more than Wickham that he feared. It was those unspeakable fears, those that not even his cousin was aware of that had been keeping him awake of late.

It was well known that the late Mrs. Darcy never fully recovered from the birth of her second child. While it was true that the physical aspects of childbirth had left her weak, it was the mental anguish that followed that had truly ended her life. It was one of several dark family secrets, an event his father pretended never occurred, though Darcy remembered it well. The melancholy, the strange behaviors that had preceded his mother's death. Could he prevent Georgiana from sharing the fate that befell their mother by separating his sister from her child, or would such action only result in greater agony?

"Tell me. What would you have me do?" Darcy challenged, trying his best to keep his tone even, he had no wish to be drawn into another argument.

"Listen to your sister. Truly listen, that is all I ask. You have been telling that girl what she wants her whole life. She told me she did not even want a come out, did not wish for a husband."

"It is clear then that she is fickle," Colonel Fitzwilliam quipped as he sampled his soup seemingly unaware that he was the only one attending to the meal.

Elizabeth turned upon him a look so fierce he nearly swallowed his spoon.

"If she will present her thoughts to me and demonstrate that she fully comprehends the realities of her desires, I will hear her and give her opinion honest consideration."

"Thank you, Will."

She could see that he was yet awake, candle light shone from under the door. Elizabeth knocked tentatively. His footsteps sounded across the floor, she held her breath until the door gave way before her.

"Elizabeth? Is something the matter?" He seemed shocked to find her there. His body tensed as if only some grand horror would cause her to seek him out. Indeed, she was surprised that she would seek his company herself. But, of course, he was all she had.

"No—well yes, there is, of course. Though not some dragon for you to slay. I only wish . . . ."

"Yes?"

"I have been troubled of late . . . by Georgiana's situation."

"I do not want to argue further on this topic."

"Nor I. Though I will at a later time if it proves necessary," this might have been a warning, but it was said with a smile. Darcy was glad to see that teasing smile again.

"What use may I be to you?"

Oh, how to put it in words . . .she ought to have thought of that before she knocked. "It has been—I have been—lonely these past few days. I have had your sister to speak to of course, but she has her troubles . . . .That is not to say that you do not. But now that we have come to some sort of truce . . .I thought that we might . . .find some comfort in each other." I want you to hold me. Why could she not find those words?

Even though she could not speak her needs, Darcy understood, for they were his own. Pulling her towards him he placed his arms around her and held her closely. She lay her head against his chest. She thought that it might feel strange, to find comfort in someone she did not know well, who she had argued with so fiercely but days before, yet it did not.

He began to lightly stroke her hair, just as Jane had when they were children, she was almost brought to tears by the memory of it.

Hearing her gasp as she fought to keep her composure. Darcy pulled her away to observe her face.

Lizzy smiled at his concern, "No tears. It is only exhaustion. I am sick with worry for Georgiana. As I am certain you are. And I am sick of being angry with you."

"It is good to know that you do not relish our discord."

"No. You will find I am too willful. But I do not like to disagree with you. You are the only ally I have now, as unknown to me as you are. A wife should always be on the side of her husband, but I felt that saying something on the part of your sister was in your best interests as well."

Mr. Darcy nodded, choosing to remain silent. Elizabeth understood that he could not see the issue as she did, but she would not have him think her intentions malicious.

"I have a terrible feeling that some greater difficulties may soon arise," Elizabeth paused, observing her husband. It had occurred to her some time ago that there was more to Georgiana's situation, she hoped that Mr. Darcy would share his burdens.

She continued cautiously, "Mr. Wickham— he is more dangerous than Georgiana or I know is he not?"

Mr. Darcy expression darkened, "I do not wish to speak of this now." He knew he ought to tell her at least something of the danger that man posed. For all he knew, Wickham might intend harm to her as well. But he could not put voice to any of his fears.

Elizabeth was disappointed that he did not speak his concerns, but understood that it was not in his nature to do so. "Yes, you must be tired. I shall leave you."

His grip on her waist tensed slightly, "You might stay if you wished."

"I will stay, then."

"Stay with me," Georgiana pleaded as she and Elizabeth stood outside of Mr. Darcy's study.

Elizabeth sighed, she thought they had reached an understanding, "This you must do alone."

Elizabeth knocked on the door, then took her leave praying that Georgiana would find her strength.

Darcy had been expecting his sister, though he was surprised to see her enter alone.

"What have you to say, Georgiana?"

"I wish to keep my child," her tone was clear, but she was visibly trembling.

"You do not comprehend the responsibility— the burden you take on, Darcy replied. He had promised Elizabeth that he would not dismiss Georgiana's argument without hearing the particulars, but that was proving difficult.

"Please, hear me. I know of responsibility. I have seen the responsibility you take on. And I know of burdens, the guilt and shame I carry is a burden. Please, do not use that word to describe my child."

Georgiana continued, her courage rising with each word, "I will keep it. I know that I am not the ideal mother. But I will endeavor to be better. I will do my absolute best. I cannot send the baby away to strangers—"

Darcy opened his mouth to argue, but Georgiana continued quickly.

"I know you would choose the best of people— I know that, Brother. But how can I know that as kind as they are they will not look on my child as the product of some sin? At best to be seen as an object of pity. You know that it is true. That is how people see orphans. People will judge it for its parents' wrongdoings. I judge myself, I blame myself, but I do not blame the child."

He could hear his sister's passion, but it was only raw emotion that fueled her speech. She still did not understand reality, "There is still the problem of George Wickham that needs to be addressed. He will have rights to the child."

"Say we both died."

"Georgiana, what are you—?"

"Say that I died in childbirth and the babe along with me— send us both away," she pleaded.

He did not like to hear those words from her lips again, as though they were some curse that might indeed befall her if she spoke them too many times.

"I have done all of this to keep from sending you away. I would not leave you to the wolves now."

"And I am grateful. But I never asked you to, I begged you to do as Aunt Catherine told you. To throw me off because I feared that this would happen, that I would harm you further."

Darcy was still searching for words. Did he think this plan plausible? No, not particularly. But she presented herself so earnestly.

"I will still need to depend on your generosity, at least for now. I would need to be set up. In a cottage perhaps, somewhere no one has ever heard of me, there I might be presented as a widow."

Mr. Darcy was still silent.

"I can live a simple life. You must believe me."

Her brother appeared greatly disturbed. Georgiana hated to think that her request had caused him anguish. She had hoped to simplify the situation.

At last he spoke, "I will think on it."