Little Instructor Lizzy

(Derbyshire, 1796)

Happy was the day when Fitzwilliam Darcy, a boy of twelve summers, finally became a brother to a lovely cherub. He was a bright and intelligent boy encouraged by his loving parents, and at a young age had already understood the implications of a confinement. And so, it was with great anticipation when he saw the midwife and doctors enter the great mansion of Pemberley, his home.

He did not rue missing the celebration of Christmas Eve when such a wonderful gift was finally promised to him – a little sister. A single glimpse could not satiate his curiosity and delight of holding the babe in his arms, so, with little deliberation, the usually proper young man sneaked into the nursery where his dear lovely cherub of a sister wriggled and yawned despite her seemingly asleep appearance.

"Georgiana" He whispered tenderly as he caressed her soft tiny arms. His heart was filled to the brim with pride and warmth of love for his sister when her tiny hands captured one of his fingers.

She was so tiny, so fragile, and so dear he had promised to protect her all his life. He would be a good brother, one that she could be proud of, one that she could seek out, one that she could always confide in. He would never let his sister spill even a single tear of sadness – this he vowed with intense earnestness and hope.

P&P

It was with great reluctance, then, when his father asked for his company to go to Lambton, the town five miles from Pemberley, to acquire the things his mother thought necessary for the celebration of their daughter's first birthday. He would never understand how his mother would sometimes be whimsical, but it was more bewildering to see his very serious father acquiesce to these whims without so much a contest.

He had observed his parents' rare impulsivity and their usual debates, that he was at first afraid they hated each other. But, as he observed more, he was comforted and vastly happy to see that his parents, indeed, truly loved each other. Their activities and propensity to debate, though, remained a great mystery to him. At the very least, he was assured of their happiness of being together and hoped it would always remain the same. Pemberley would always be filled with warmth and love, and overflowing with happiness.

"Come, come, my boy." Mr. Darcy chuckled at his son's reluctance to enter the carriage. "You could buy your little sister a gift in town." He said, coaxing a smile from his son's usually serious mien. He was proud of his son, and was grateful to have a loving family to call his own. He was assured that his children would grow to be loving gentlemen and ladies, and he was very much excited to witness them all grown up, respected and loved by everyone they would meet.

"Papa, could I visit then to Mr. Wels's bookshop?" Fitzwilliam leaned with bright anticipation of his father's response.

"Of course, son, though I don't think your sister could read at this moment." He was amused to see his son fight the confusion in his expression.

"Oh, naturally father. It was my intention to read to her."

Mr. Darcy chuckled. "Very well then, son, but I'm afraid my errand... err business in town would take long, and I know how much you take time in finding a good book," here he saw his son blush and smile sheepishly, "is it acceptable if I leave you there while I complete my purchases and come fetch you later? I would not want to bore you with the lists your mother gave me."

Fitzwilliam then threw a grin at his father which was returned with a similar sheepish grin. "It is a very agreeable deal, father. Thank you."

"And maybe after, we could indulge ourselves with some of Mr. Pritchard's delicacies."

P&P

The decisive young man, upon entering the book-filled shop, was suddenly overcome with difficulty. What book would his sister like, he had no idea. Would she enjoy adventures just as much as he enjoyed them? Or being a girl, would she prefer the fairy tales?

He scanned the titles of the tomes displayed on the shelves, starting from the topmost his eyes could reach, running his hands over the spines as he read them one by one, immediately skipping the ones he had read already, and the ones he had seen from their own library. He was on the third divider when he noticed the young child looking at him intently with her curious big brown eyes, her head favouring the left side, an open cheer on her expression. She simply watched him, undeterred by his awareness of her actions and his height, where she could barely reach his elbows; while he struggled not to squirm at her penetrating gaze. He wondered how long she had been there watching him.

Realizing that they had spent a full minute just watching each other, he decided to enquire assuming the little girl had no intention of talking. "May I help you, young miss?"

The little girl straightened herself and smiled wider at his inquiry. "Oh, no, that was wrong. You must start with a greeting first. That was how a conversation between strangers must start, I was taught."

Amused, Fitzwilliam only smiled and waited for the next breath of words from the young girl, which he predicted a lot were still in coming. She did not disappoint.

"Were you not taught of how to converse with strangers, sir? Then I must let you know, good sir, it would not do to repeat this mistake again. My mamma would have an attack of her nerves if she witnessed that. It will not be very kind for you, but I tell you," here she leaned in and beseeched him to crouch down till they were head to head, and soon he found his right ear whispered upon, "You will find my mamma's nervous attacks very funny, so maybe it will be amusing if she did witness it."

Just as suddenly, she straightened back and talked with great solemnity, a girl of five with too much spirit could contain, that her eyes would overflow with mirth. "Good sir, I must implore you to restart our conversation with the correct way of starting a conversation. Let us then forget everything we have said previously, and also this last statement of my speech." She then waved her hands as if she was meaning for him to stand, then she resumed her previous pose, just as when he had first noticed her. How did she think would he forget such an irregular conversation?

Mastering his amusement, he smiled and greeted the young missy with a bow, "Good morning young miss. May I help you?"

Her smile widened as if waiting for more words, then realizing there was none more to come, her smile suddenly faded and frown lines appeared between her brows. This gave him his own slight nervous attack, anticipating her remarks that would surely be laced with disappointment.

"Oh." She cried with exaggerated exasperation. "Instructing is hard, indeed. Now I understand how my mamma is so fruits tasted every day, and you must know good sir, my Mamma doesn't enjoy fruits that much." She then brushed off the invisible sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand. "You are very fortunate then that I LOVE fruits VERY much! You, sir needed more training, I could see. Come down sir, you are so very tall my neck hurts looking at you. We must sit or I will be forever looking up."

He had thought that he would feel offended; however, all he felt was the hilarity of his situation. And what he found vastly amusing was the way the young girl acted to know a lot when her vocabulary was clearly lacking, and her understanding was wanting. What would his father say when he saw him being instructed by a girl, and very much younger than himself, about conversing with strangers? Since his father had forewarned him of the length of time it would take to complete his tasks, he decided to indulge the young miss, and maybe, indulge himself with an entertaining instruction from the interesting girl and sat as was ordered. He wondered then if his father also found enjoyment on fulfilling his mother's wishes. If it was, then the mystery would be easily solved.

The young girl, oblivious of his thoughts, clicked her tongue. He wondered if he could also instruct her with proper manners. Nevertheless, he was her student for the day, and hoped that they would meet again soon, so he could be the instructor and she the student. He wondered if his sister would grow to be charming like this little instructor.

"This would not do, sir. You are still so very tall. I would need to stand." He started at this but was stopped. "You can just sit there." She patted the dusts off her skirts and tried to look as regal as the queen which she failed riotously. Hands clasped in front of her, her back straight, and chin up she spoke with the authority only a five-year-old could have, "Now, shall we begin our lesson, good sir. I entreat you to listen carefully that you may not err again." How such a young girl held so much confidence, and still be very charming and sweet, he could only wonder.

"Very well, Madame." He answered with controlled mirth as she looked at him.

Pleased that her student was paying attention she smiled, and thus began her lecture.

"As I said, you must start every conversation with a greeting. Then, as my mother instructed, for strangers, an exchange of name is necessary before a bow and curtsey, in this, I am sorry to say good sir," she paused to look at him shaking her head with slight disappointment, "you failed." She then started pacing in front of him, her eyes betraying her delight of instructing.

"I am sorry to disappoint you, Madame."

"Well, well, you are forgiven. Now, shall we continue?" nodding seriously, she stopped pacing for a while, then faced him. "Now that you are known to each other, you must then share where you both hail from. Then, you must ask about the roads and the journey if you both came from a faraway place."

He wanted to ask about the distance, but found himself not wanting to interrupt the lecture.

Here she paced again. "But, if you came from the same place, you could go straight commenting about the weather. And after all the pleasant pastries..."

With a heavy breath, Fitzwilliam tried to calm the laugh he so wanted to let out. There was the 'fruits tasted' and now 'pleasant pastries'?

"...were delivered, you could then talk about things you wanted to know." She stopped and turned to him with a very pleased smile, "You could talk about whatever you wish. Do you have any questions?"

"Nothing comes to mind, Madame."

Here, she clicked her tongue again. He found the act endearing. What interesting thing must she found lacking once again?

With a curious look, one brow higher than the other she stated, "My dear Papa told me an earnest student should ask his instructor. Are you not a good student, good sir?"

He could no longer help himself and so he laughed outright confusing the young girl, although her eyes told him she also found the circumstances funny.

"No. No, Madame, I always ask my governess so I believe I have been a good student. I could only credit your clarity at delivering instructions that I have no questions as to your lecture." He was pleased to see her liveliness delivered with a jump and claps from his praise of her.

Then as if remembering herself, she poised and gave an adorable curtsey. "That was very generous of you good sir. I am only glad to impart to you what my Mamma had taught me. I hope I had been of assistance to you."

Feeling the threat of cramps in his legs, he asked for permission to stand which she gladly allowed. He watched her walk back to where he had first found her and posing in the same position, he smiled to himself, expecting another round of their failed conversations.

"Now, we must practice and see if you have truly understood me." She stated as stern as her sweet expression could. "You may now begin good sir." Her expectation of good results is clearly stated by her wide eager eyes. He wished that he would not disappoint her this time.

"Good morning..." but he was cut-off by a call of a gentleman.

"Oh, no, I beg your pardon, good sir. However, much as I anti... anti... wish to see your performance, I'm afraid we are about to leave. You hear it is my Papa calling out my name. Have a very good day, good sir." She clumsily curtseyed and ran off to her Papa, he assumed.

He could not help the smiles and chuckles that escaped him all throughout the time he stood in front of the bookshelf. His thoughts agreeably engaged of which an enjoyable conversation that a young girl could bestow. He could not wait to see his sister grow up, and he again wondered if at that age, her sister would be just as charming, just as lively, just as amusing, and just as instructive as the little instructor Lizzy.

P&P

Mr. Darcy took good time in completing the errands his fascinating wife tasked him. He was expecting, then, to see his son entertaining himself with a book and with several others on the table where Mr. Wels usually let his patrons sit as they read his books. He was then surprised to see his son, not on the reading corner, but still standing in front of a bookshelf, lost in his thoughts with a very bright smile that had seemed permanently etched on his face. He even heard him chuckle, with no book at hand. So intrigued was he to know the cause of his son's peculiar behaviour, not that he found it displeasing, it was actually the contrary.

"Fitzwilliam" He called, twice actually as his son did not seem to hear him.

"Father!" the young man cheerfully called back, walking towards his father. "You're come already. Have you completed your purchases?" inquired he, still with the cheerful spirit.

"Indeed, I am. But I see you haven't found anything for yourself yet."

"Oh..." Fitzwilliam looked around the shop, then to the clock, and sheepishly shook his head – the smile never leaving his face. "I... ah... I think I already have a much better story to tell Georgiana." He said in a very excited bouncy manner that his father found so intriguingly delightful.

"And may I also have the honour of hearing the same story?"

"Certainly, father you must hear it." And it was with immense passion and zeal did Fitzwilliam share his encounter with Little Instructor Lizzy to his father.

If Mr. Darcy had not found it fit to start walking out of the bookshop, he believed they would have stayed there until his son had finished his fascinating story. Ah, maybe he'd forego having Mr. Pritchard's delicious pastries for the day – his son's smiles were just as sweet, or rather much sweeter.

He had never seen his son this animated before, and when he thought that he had seen him in his most animated he was proven wrong. For as soon as he had climbed out of the carriage, Fitzwilliam ran to the nursery and happily told his story to his dear lovely cherub sister and later to his mother who was very happy, indeed, to hear and see her usually serious son, be so lively. She even encouraged her son to write it on paper so that he can always dwell on it, and always have a reminder of the very good lesson this Lizzy had seen fit to impart to him.

Fitzwilliam, thinking it a very good idea, immediately asked permission to invade his mother's writing desk and there he wrote the story about Little Instructor Lizzy.

- - Fin - -

AN:

I have always wanted to write a fanfiction where Mr. Darcy and Lizzy were kids, and I could not simply find the right words to write. I hope you enjoyed reading this story just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I would appreciate any of your expressions of appreciation, and of course constructive criticisms, that I may be able to improve on my writing.

Thank you!

- mollycious