It would make her departure in September easier to endure.
Sandra rushed back into the room clutching two Barbies and a box of what Darcy knew to be an excessive amount of doll accessories. “Aunt Georgiana, do you like Barbies?”
Georgiana looked to Elizabeth, who muttered quietly, “Playing dolls.”
“Oh, I certainly do, my dear,” Georgiana said while lowering to the floor at her level. “In fact, I play with another little girl about your age whenever I can.”
“Really?” Sandra asked while thrusting what Darcy knew to be her second-favourite doll into Georgiana’s hand. “Who?”
“My cousin’s daughter Louisa, who is five.”
Now Darcy knew his cousin’s daughter’s name, and the loss of Fitzwilliam’s friendship struck him again. He felt the sting of jealousy, but what was the use of feeling jealous that his sister could spend a lifetime with Fitzwilliam’s daughter and not his? Three months of this heartache were before him.
And all the while he would worry if his sister would change anything once she returned that would destroy the full life he had here.
He noticed Elizabeth’s concerned look and wished his wife was not so perceptive. Talking about his sense of loss would only make it harder for him to bear—and make Elizabeth fear he regretted leaving everyone else he loved behind when he chose her.
Darcy busied himself with emails that could have waited until tomorrow, and Elizabeth left to work longer in the museum office. He watched his daughter and sister play on the floor with mingling happiness and disappointment. There was a similar sensation when he thought of the connection between Elizabeth and Georgiana: happy that they enjoyed one another so much, and disappointment that it would end.
There was a sisterly affection and genuine friendship between them. Did Elizabeth wish she had that relationship with Jane? She likely did, but Georgiana wasn’t a replacement for the sister who disregarded her. Elizabeth loved Georgiana for her own sake, but it would only end in sorrow for everyone.
It wasn’t a relationship that could last.
As the afternoon passed into evening and they made and ate dinner, Darcy realised Sandra would be an asset in explaining the modern world to Georgiana. They simply had to mention an item or a practice, Georgiana would be genuinely confused, and then Sandra would find it hilarious and proudly explain it all. Buses, people cooking their own food, ready-made clothing, toilet paper, a lack of public clocks were all canvassed with great amusement before Sandra’s eyes drooped by eight.
“She had a late night yesterday and a full day,” Elizabeth said by way of explanation after she put her to bed.
“Sandra is delightful,” Georgiana said. With a fond smile, she added, “I still remember the look on Mrs Reynolds’s face when we read your last letter after she was born.”
Elizabeth laughed. “She was such a stern woman. I wasn’t aware that she had facial expressions beyond glaring in displeasure.”
“She was moved to tears that you had named your child for her.”
Darcy remembered the brief note from Reynolds that was tucked into Georgiana’s letters for him to discover after he returned to the twenty-first century. The housekeeper was a reserved woman with her own secrets and trials, and for her to go to the trouble of writing him to thank him for the honour spoke volumes.
“Is she, is she still at Pemberley?” he dared to ask.
“Of course she is.” Georgiana wore a fond smile. “She refuses to allow me to pension her off, although she is nearly seventy. She moves slower than she used to, and I have made the servants understand they are to take the stairs to save her a trip or lift anything to save her the burden. But she has severe words for anyone who implies she is no longer capable.”
That did not surprise him in the least. That was the life Reynolds had chosen. They had both thrown themselves into a life in a time they hadn’t been born to. But so had his sister, in a way, and yet here she was in 2026. He looked at Elizabeth with emphasis, and she sighed, taking his silent hint.
“Georgiana,” Elizabeth said gently, “we are so glad you’re here. I’ve wished I could see you again ever since I left 1811. But…”
“You must wonder why I came?”
“Did you want to stay here?” she asked in a hesitant voice that was not alarmed enough to match his own fears. “Or learn about the family you were born to?”
“No.” She spoke softly, but there was a firmness behind it. “I was in earnest when I told Fitzwilliam before he left that I had no interest in returning to your time. My home is at Pemberley—in the past. His plan to find you depended on my taking care of Pemberley. He could never have abandoned his responsibilities otherwise.”
“I always wanted you to be happy, though,” Darcy insisted. “If you had wanted a different life, I would have found another way.”
“Being Pemberley’s mistress makes me happy,” she said confidently. “It has given me strength, just as I am sure I strengthen it by being its mistress. I just—I am facing a change and I wanted to—” She sighed. “I wanted to talk it over with you, with someone who understood what I face.”
“What is happening?”
“Philip—Mr Willers is leaving Pemberley.”
He and Elizabeth shared a startled look. Darcy had not been prepared for such news. Mr Willers had been devoted to the estate and its people, and he knew the truth about where Darcy had gone. He had joined Pemberley not long after Darcyhad inherited, and they had grown into their respective roles together.
