Hopeful. Hopeful like he hadn't been in months. Elizabeth's presence in their lives had been like the gentle spring sunshine, bringing new life to all it touches. She had begun so soft, so careful – exactly what Georgiana needed. But now, teasing, light, laughter. He smiled.

Elizabeth and Georgiana lived their lives in parallel now – duets on the piano, easels next to one another, reading aloud from the same volumes of verse. It warmed his heart to see Georgiana flourish so, but he couldn't help the whispered wonder, "will it ever be my turn? When will our lives be parallel?" He longed so deeply for what he'd seen his parents share, and even, lately, allowed himself to dare hope that it might yet be possible.

"My sweet," The endearment was usually applied to Georgiana. Her hand was rubbing his shoulder, and he realised belatedly there were tears running down his cheeks.

He sighed, just as she did. Lives lived in parallel he thought bitterly. She brushed his cheeks gently. "Why so sombre," she asked, tenderly, "in this season of joy?"

"We are not-" he grimaced, uncertain of what he was trying to say. "My parents-" he held back a sob, for all the world feeling like a lost child.

"Oh, my poor sweet love," She eased him into a chair, rubbing small comforting circles on his back. Was it just a force of habit, to respond to tears which such words of fondness? He hoped, dearly hoped, she might – even just a very little – mean what she said.

Recovering himself, he continued, "When my parents were alive, it was a season of joy. Now," he laughed mirthlessly, "I have brought you here to this strange and cold place, Georgiana is living in the shadow of disaster, what kind of joy can a ramshackle group like us find?"

The hand on his back stilled. "I rather thought- I hoped-" What was that quake in her voice? She started to run her fingers through his hair, and – lost in the sensation – he missed whatever she was saying. She seemed to be talked to herself, anyway, for a moment later she began again, more resolute, this time. "We will have a joyful Christmas. What is Christmas if not a celebration for those who are weak and weary?"

He turned his head to look at her, wishing, as soon as he did, that he had not: the hand withdrew from his hair. "Christmas is a time of charity, dependence and… grace. Isn't that what our family needs?" She was frowning slightly at the floor.

He smiled now, in earnest. Our family – how glorious. "You are what this family needs." He cupped her face with his hand, bringing her eyes to his. "Whatever would we do without you?"

Thanks so much for all your kind feedback! If you're enjoying this, do follow the parallel story Duty and Respect (Lizzy POV) - I'll be updating that one for the next few bits I do, then the two stories should progress at the same rate giving you Darcy and Lizzy POV in near tandem. Again, all comments welcome: I love your comments and questions!