A/N: I've edited 'Chance' to bring it in line with my other stories; this is not (I repeat not) a new chapter. Yet. And this may look familiar to any readers of AHP -- yes, that's deliberate; I wanted to underscore the fact that this is the same story, told differently.

A Matter of Chance

Part One

Happiness in marriage is always a matter of chance.
— Charlotte Lucas, Pride and Prejudice

Chapter One

Despite the prosperity of the parish, the magnificence of the chapel, and the youthful good looks of the vicar, the church at Kympton had not been so well-attended in years.

The Darcys were chiefly responsible for this increase in piety. They were a young married couple, just returned from their wedding in Hertfordshire, and the neighbourhood took a proprietary sort of interest in them. Mr Darcy, after all, was one of their own, and his bride, a perfect stranger — what could be more intriguing? Rumours flew faster than they had in the last four weeks.—Mrs Darcy was a connection of Lord Arlington's, or a tradesman's daughter worth 100,000 l.; she was a clever, conniving little piece, or an ignorant, illiterate girl from the country.

None of these were remotely close to the truth, but that hardly signified.

Immediately upon the Darcys' arrival, every eye fell on Mr Darcy and the slender young lady at his side. Never was a congregation so alert in standing up at the proper opportunities. Mrs Trent, a martyr to rheumatism, and old Mr Willard sprang up even before the psalm was given out.

As soon as the sermon was finished, they all rushed to the churchyard, and the lady walked out, leaning on her husband's arm. Such an incident! Everybody curtseyed and bowed and caught easy glimpses of Mrs Darcy's pretty dark face. Nothing could have exceeded the gratification of the entire assembly; the gossips declared her scarcely tolerable, the romantics sighed at such a striking pair, and the Darcys themselves could scarcely contain their amusement.

This was not an unusual circumstance. By nature, they were clever, good-humoured, satirical, and when happy themselves, considered other people the world's finest entertainment.

And they were happy, perfectly so — no mean achievement at the respective ages of twenty-one and twenty-eight. Yet with youth and wealth, virtue and passion, brilliance and beauty, with every thing in their favour, why should they not be happy? What signified some small neighbourly impertinences, a few family obstacles?

Alas, even they could not forever remain in a state of unending bliss. The winter was cold, the tenants suffered, and the Earl of Ancaster returned from London, his family in tow.

Fitzwilliam Darcy was Lord Ancaster's nephew and acknowledged favourite — the Earl, disappointed in his own children, loved him with a blind and therefore unreasonable affection. This particular fondness for his nephew, and the very strong family feeling shared by nearly all Fitzwilliams, far outweighed the dismay he genuinely felt. He spoke of the match with delight, sent a furious letter to his sister Catherine, forbade his other relations from breathing a word of disapprobation, and spent two days drafting a letter of what might be termed congratulations. This much accomplished, he then summoned young Miss Darcy to stay with the Fitzwilliams during the first few weeks of the marriage.

Georgiana accordingly went, mentally counting the days until she could return to the safety and comfort of her own home. A week passed, then two, and finally, on the fifth of December, they prepared to leave.

Georgiana's fingers trembled as she buttoned her pelisse.

'Good heavens, Georgy.' Lady Diana, the Earl's daughter-in-law, sprang to her feet and managed the buttons in her usual decided way. 'There.'

'Thank you,' Georgiana murmured, fixing her eyes on the floor. Her cousins had been so kind to her that she had no right to feel anything so ungrateful as irritation, not at a trivial nickname. They had let her look after the children — not that they needed any looking after, Miss Smith was perfectly capable — but she was so fond of them, and it let her away from Lady Ancaster a little.

Of course, she was fond of her aunt too, but Lady Ancaster could be sometimes a little dull, and Georgiana had never liked dogs, especially the little ones that yipped at her whenever she so much as twitched.

'Must you go so soon, dear?' Lady Ancaster asked, exerting herself so far as to open her colourless eyes. 'You are such a comfort to me.'

Georgiana felt a pang of remorse, as much for her unkind thoughts as for her eagerness to leave. 'Oh aunt, I — '

'Mother!' Richard, her favourite cousin, declared. 'She must return home.'

'But surely your brother could spare you another week? They are so newly married, after all.'

Georgiana looked up, horrified, at her uncle.

'Eleanor,' Lord Ancaster said sternly, 'there is no need to distress Georgiana at the very moment that we are preparing to leave.'

She opened her eyes very wide. 'Distress Georgiana? Why, whatever do you mean? Georgiana, darling, are you distressed? Of course you are not distressed.'

'I — '

'Eleanor.' The Earl's tone brooked no disagreement.

'Oh, very well; if you insist, Georgiana is distressed. You must forgive me.' She blinked and smiled. 'Give me a kiss, darling, and then you must go. Your brother will be wanting you and if you put it off much longer he will fret, you know he always does.'

Georgiana did not try to understand the workings of her aunt's mind. She dutifully kissed her cheek and looked at the others. Oh, moments like this were so awkward. In just a moment, she would say something — another moment, if nobody else did —

'I expect you to correspond regularly,' said her grandmother, 'and not one of those crossed scrawls of yours either, they will ruin my eyes. A lady should have a fair and flowing hand.'

'Yes, ma'am,' said Georgiana meekly.

Then, before she quite knew what was happening, Lord Ancaster had handed her into the carriage, and they began the short journey to Pemberley.

She did not quite know what to expect. Her new sister must be wonderful, for she had made Fitzwilliam happy; for his sake, Georgiana was pleased beyond the power of words to express. Yet for herself, she could not help feeling nervous and a little afraid. Her brother, her home, her life, they would never be the same again. For so long it had only been she and Fitzwilliam; now that he had Miss Bennet, would he even want her at all? Would she be only a weight and a duty, thirty thousand pounds to be married to the best man who would have her?

No. Fitzwilliam would never think like that. But she was frightened that he would be changed. He had been so different, all this year, since Ramsgate. Of course he could not trust her any more, but more than anything she wanted things to be like they used to be. She wanted him to be like he used to be. Now she knew that nothing was going to be like that again.

Resolutely, she dismissed those thoughts, and instead tried to remember Miss Bennet. She had seemed lovely, everything that Fitzwilliam said she was, handsome and clever and amiable — of course she was. Yet Georgiana had never conceived of her brother marrying her, and the face had faded past recall. She recalled only a pair of dramatic black eyes, peculiarly like Fitzwilliam's.

They finally came to Pemberley, and Georgiana stepped out of the carriage, snow crunching beneath her boots. She smiled to herself as she looked at her home; she always felt more at peace here.

The servants had only just led them into the salon when Georgiana caught sight of her brother.

'Fitzwilliam!' Unable to restrain herself, she flung herself at him and beamed as he caught her hands in his.

'My dear Georgiana,' he said, and kissed her cheek. 'You remember Elizabeth, of course.'

Georgiana's fears seemed foolish and unreasonable as soon as she set eyes on her new sister, a slight, pretty woman who stood barely five feet tall. 'I — yes, I do.'

'I am so delighted that you are with us now,' Mrs Darcy said, with unaffected pleasure.

'Th-thank you,' Georgiana stammered, desperately hoping that her sister-in-law was not done growing.

She felt awkward and ungainly and tired as her brother introduced their uncle and cousins to his wife. During a moment's pause, he said,

'Are you very tired, Georgiana? You may go straight to sleep if you like, there would not be the slightest objection.'

She could think of nothing she would more prefer. 'You do not mind, truly?'

'Of course not,' Mrs Darcy said warmly.

'It has been enough of a pleasure to see you safely here,' Fitzwilliam added, and Georgiana gave a quiet sigh of relief, kissing them back. She looked back once; her brother held one of Mrs Darcy's hands on his arm, his dark head bent over hers as they talked to the Fitzwilliams.

They looked striking, handsome, and happy together; Georgiana smiled to herself and hummed a little as her maid helped her undress.

''Tis very nice to have you back home, Miss Darcy,' Kate blurted out, then flushed at her own impudence. Georgiana stilled, startled but by no means displeased.

'It is very nice to be home,' she said