Author's note:

The first half of this story occurs contemporaneously with the events in my previous work, Changes and Charity. Timelines and events will necessarily overlap for a few chapters, but hopefully seeing the occurrences from the viewpoints of Georgiana and Kitty will help to keep things fresh, even for those who have read the former work.

The story contains (non-explicit) references to a female/female relationship between two of Jane Austen's characters, so this makes for some definite 'non-canon compliant' moments for them. If that is not something that you are comfortable with, then this is perhaps not a story that you will enjoy.

As ever, all comments and suggestions are most welcome.

Chapter One

There was just so much blood. More blood than she would have thought a man could possibly possess. How was he still alive? And how was Lizzy so calm when each second saw the red stain on her gown growing larger like some sort of macabre mockery of a slowly opening flower? She was a frozen observer as she moved through the emotions of shock, disbelief, and then horror in turn. She felt her mind begin to shut down as it tried to shield her from the scene before her. She felt her stomach protest and then rebel, and she was forced to turn and run lest she disgrace herself in front of those present.

Coward. Child. Inadequate. Georgiana chastised herself, but her harsh admonishments did not slow her flight. She knew that she should turn around and offer assistance to her dear sister-by-law, but she also knew that she could not so do. Where Elizabeth Darcy was capable, calm, and well able to coordinate a household in a crisis, Georgiana Darcy was most emphatically not. Her whole existence up until that point had been almost completely sheltered; she had never had cause to cope. She had been cosseted, protected, especially since the incident…but no, she would not think of that now, she could not. Instead, she fixed her ambitions upon gaining the gardens, where she hoped that she would be able to breathe and dispel the panic that overtook her now, as it had so often before.

Concentrate only upon the sky, Mrs Reynolds had always told her when she had been gripped by these terrible attacks. Look up, all the way up to the clouds. Feel the air touching your face. Know that you can breathe it in. Do it slowly. Stand still and listen to your heart slow down. Take your breaths every five beats, then every four, then every three, as it slows.

Georgiana pushed open the door to the servants' quarters and gained the sanctuary of the open air. Still, she did not slow her pace, but ran onwards until she had turned the corner of the kitchen garden and could no longer see that side of the house which contained the horror. She was not crying, she realised, she must be too deeply in shock for that. Crying would come only when she could breathe. She had to breathe. She slowed her pace. She stopped.

It took some minutes to get herself under control and, as she surfaced from the weight of her emotions, she became better aware of her surroundings. Across the park were two figures, their heads close together as they shared a moment of private conversation. They looked peaceful and happy. She fixed her gaze upon them, willing them to look up. She felt incapable of moving or speaking at present, but she needed them to see her. It seemed that her plea was answered when seconds (or was it hours?) later the woman raised her head and gestured towards the statue that Georgiana had become. Her movement broke the spell that Georgiana was under, and she found herself able to wave frantically at them.

The man was Colonel Fitzwilliam, she realised, as he drew closer to her. She drew a sigh of relief. The Colonel would fix everything. He was a hero. He could save the man in the kitchen. He was one of the only two men in the world that she truly trusted. Next to her brother, he was the best of men. She felt safety arrive along with her out of breath guardian, and found herself able to say, with relative calm, "Mrs Darcy needs help. She is in the kitchen."

As she spoke the words, the panic returned. Colonel Fitzwilliam grasped both of her hands in his own and looked down at her worriedly. "Georgiana, dear child, are you ill?" She shook her head violently, "please, Colonel…the kitchen…Lizzy…" Looking back over his shoulder at the second figure approaching them at a steadier pace, the Colonel squeezed her hands in an effort to reassure, "Mrs Collins is moments behind me. She will help you Georgiana, just stay here until she reaches you." With that, he took to his heels and made for the house.

The tears began now. Great wrenching sobs that came fast and threatened to overwhelm her. By the time Charlotte Collins had reached her, Georgiana could barely speak. Charlotte said something but, although Georgiana saw her lips move, she could make no sense of the words. All that she could manage in return was a stumbling, "Lizzy…the kitchen…so much blood…" and then regretted her words immediately as she saw the immediate desperate effect that they had upon her companion. Georgiana tried to summon the strength to say more, but before she could make herself coherent, they were joined by a much agitated third party. Charlotte spoke urgently to the new arrival, who nodded and put her arms gently around Georgiana, drawing her slowly down to sit on the grass while Charlotte departed in haste in the wake of the Colonel.

As time passed, Georgiana became aware of her companion gently singing a lilting air under her breath, and felt the responding waves of calm wash over her as they had done so often in the past. Within a few minutes, she was able to lift her head from the comforting shoulder on which it lay.

"Oh Alice, you always know how to bring me back."

Georgiana received a fierce hug in response. "We look after each other, my dear friend. We always have and we always will. You tend to all my scrapes and wounds and hide the evidence when I undertake ridiculous escapades, and I aid you whenever you fall too. We help."

To have a friend like Alice Peterson was one of the true joys of Georgiana's life, and she acknowledged that without her patience and care, she would never have felt strong enough to re-emerge after the incident. She would never have been able to heal her fractured mind and spirits even to the extent that she had now achieved. Indeed, her progress was such that some days, she felt almost normal, almost like the girl that she had been before, like the woman she had hoped to become. She could laugh with Lizzy; she could even join in with a little of her impertinence to her brother or the Colonel; safe targets, both. But it was always there. In the background she was always afraid that the darkness would overtake her again and that the next crisis would plunge her back into the isolated well of despair from which it seemed so much harder to escape every time.

But this was not one of those times, she vowed. And Alice seemed determined to ensure that too. Georgiana felt her friend's eyes sweeping across her as she appraised her condition, and she found herself suddenly and smoothly raised to her feet by a now brisk sounding Alice.

"Up, Georgie, and dry your eyes. We will talk about whatever has happened in a moment, but for now you must make yourself presentable as, unless I am very much mistaken, we are about to be joined by my father and by guests. Take my hand and we will greet them together."

Doing as she was bid, Georgiana was grateful for the firm grasp in which her hand was held as she turned to face the arriving carriage. Visitors were always a trial to her, but visitors at this moment were the worst thing that she could imagine. However, her dread turned to relief when she saw the carriage window drop and from it emerge the head, shoulders, and upper body of her other, unlikely, but much loved friend, Kitty Bennet.

"Georgie! Allie!" cried the new arrival as she leapt from the carriage before its wheels had ceased turning. She landed smartly and rushed to embrace Georgiana and then Alice in turn. Kitty Bennet was of an age with Georgian but there ended the resemblance. Kitty was everything that Georgiana was not. She was loud, and sometimes brash; confident, almost to the point of fearlessness; and could be expected to be involved in every form of fun and mischief that was on offer at any moment. However, her character had improved so dramatically in the two years that she had been separated from the malign influence of her younger sister, Lydia, that her many good features now heavily outweighed any deficits in her personality. Kitty's kindness and generosity were recognised as her most prominent traits, and she was widely admired, even if her exuberance sometimes made potential suitors hold back in some trepidation for their own safety in the face of a whirlwind.

As a friend to Georgiana, Kitty was the perfect foil, and Alice was happy to have a third in their group whenever Kitty made one of her frequent visits to Pemberley. On this morning, Kitty displayed some of her recently acquired virtues of sense and tact when she immediately took in her friend's obvious distress and looked to Alice for some explanation. Alice shook her head, looking away meaningfully, and Kitty quickly took the hint, saying nothing of the matter, instead kissing Georgiana soundly on the cheek, and turning to smile broadly at her fellow travelling companions who were descending from the carriage now that it had safely stopped moving.

Mr and Mrs Bingley, were a welcome sight to Georgiana, even if she was still a little nervous in the former's company. She had heard many times in the past that certain parties had fixed on her making a match with Mr Bingley and, while the man himself was everything that seemed good and gentle, Georgiana had balked at the idea every time it was raised in her hearing. That Mr Bingley himself was now happily (and safely) married to his beautiful wife, made it easier for Georgiana to interact with him, but she was still sometimes shyly uncomfortable in his presence. Now, however, Kitty was making great efforts to distract attention from Georgiana with some nonsense of her own making, while Alice, after receiving an affectionate greeting from the Bingleys, moved to stand some way off in conference with her father, the steward of the estate, and someone who evidently knew what had occurred to upset Georgiana to such an extent.

It was Mr Peterson who took charge, and who outlined events briefly to the party. A stranger, he told them, had somehow been grievously injured and had found his way to the Pemberley kitchens before collapsing. He had been accompanied by a heavily pregnant young woman, and both were now being cared for within. Mr Peterson did everything in his power to limit the length of the explanation and to skirt over the details. Georgiana, in turn, was glad to not have to speak of what she had seen, and was content to be shielded from questions by the watchful presence of her two friends. By the time the party repaired to the house, she felt calmer once more, and was able to smile tentatively at some of Kitty's attempts to lighten the mood.

All would be well: her family were secure; her friends were with her. Nothing could harm her at Pemberley. She was safe.