George broke the quiet, voice calm and introspective. “It is interesting, William, to see how differently men deal with trauma and the ugliness of the world. During my studies and clinical employment at London's hospitals, I saw a tremendous amount of both. Yet I was still young, naïve, and hungry for knowledge, so I placed a shield about my heart, so to speak. Forced the realities of what I saw out of my ready consciousness and focused on the cold facts of science. Once in India I quickly became immersed in the culture, which I still adore to a great degree, but was rapidly sunk into the harsh brutality of suffering. It breaks men far stronger than me. Many leave after short enlistments or become so hardened they are stony of soul.” He paused, shaking his head in sadness.

“How did you learn to deal with it?”

George smiled. “Ah well, I could impress you and say I am of sterner stuff, a better man than that.” He met Darcy's eyes with a twinkle. “Primarily I made a choice. I chose to focus on the good I was doing. I chose to focus on the people themselves, to dwell with them, be friends, learn who they are, share their joys and sorrows. In essence I chose to expand my heart, let it encompass these people who are so wonderful and real regardless of their skin color or odd beliefs. Additionally I returned to the roots of my faith.”

He paused again, staring at his folded hands with a flicker of old grief crossing his face. Darcy waited. Finally George resumed, “After Alex died I retreated from the world for a spell. On the day of the funeral, once it was over and before the guests had even departed, I packed up a sack of essentials and went to the cave. For two weeks I stayed there, alone, fishing for food, eating wild berries and such. I had no plan, you understand, unless it was a vague one of dying myself.” He shrugged and laughed faintly.

“What happened?” Darcy, totally unconsciously, had risen and was now sitting in the chair across from his uncle, elbows on knees as he leaned forward and avidly listened.

“Your grandfather happened! He marched into the cave, bellowing at me to come out of the inner chamber as he was too big to squeeze in. I contemplated ignoring him for about a second, but one did not ignore my father. He did three things. First, he hugged me tight for about fifteen minutes until I finally broke down and cried. Then he abruptly pushed me away, patted my head, smiled kindly, but stated firmly, 'Enough, George. Time to get busy and move on.' Before two more days had passed I was buried in chores. He set me to working as a common servant about the Manor and volunteered my time serving the old curate, Reverend Halifax, and at the orphanage. It worked. Of course I would never forget my twin, but the aching grief ebbed in time and I learned to think beyond my own selfishness.”

He looked at his nephew, eyes serious. “Faith became very important to me. Part of the reason medicine drew me was because of Alex's death, the perhaps stupidly misplaced belief that proper care may have saved his life. Yet it also was the desire to aid God's creatures, all of whom are loved by their Creator even if they do not know Him.”

“You are a missionary, Uncle.”

George laughed. “No, not hardly! Only a man of superior medical expertise. I rarely share my religion with others, so that precludes me from being counted a missionary, but it is a vital aspect of who I am. I admire all people, even if they do not admire or respect themselves, and I do not see it my place to upset them in their religious beliefs. If they are comforted in their gods, then who am I to take that from them?”

“So, your convictions were never shaken by Hinduism?”

“You still sound surprised.” He grinned teasingly. “I am essentially a simple man, my boy. I do not like things too complicated, and the Hindu religion is far too complicated. Many tried to explain it to me and of course I do understand a great deal, but it only served to strengthen my faith. A dear friend loved to debate me on the subject, but she was never all that serious about converting me. Rather she preferred to stir me up for fun.” A tender smile lit his face, eyes soft. Darcy watched him closely, but George snapped out of his momentary trance with a cough. “Besides, they do not eat beef! Are mostly vegetarian, in fact, so it would never work!”

Darcy could make no claims to theological proficiency, having never specifically studied the subject, but his years of regular church attendance, deep faith, and regular Bible reading had translated to what he presumed was a superior knowledge on the topic. Imagine his surprise through frequent conversations with his wayward uncle to discover the far wider breadth of the older man's comprehension. They debated upon occasion, but primarily Darcy found himself listening and learning. It was the launching point where many of Darcy's preconceived ideas regarding his uncle's character and morals were proven false.

It was not that he had an overwhelmingly negative opinion of George. However, he could not previously claim to really know the man intimately, and George's general air of flippancy and irreverence had translated to Darcy as disregard for what was appropriate and moral. He eventually realized that the old prejudices of his own character that he thought eradicated after nearly losing Elizabeth were partially intact. Even his repugnance for George's keeping of a mistress ended up not being the moral debasement that he imagined.

A few days later Darcy and George accidentally discovered themselves alone, sipping lemonade on the eastern edge of the terrace.

Lizzy was resting and Georgiana was practicing her music. Richard was currently at Rivallain visiting with his brother. A stack of work requiring hours with Mr. Keith had occupied Darcy's afternoon, finishing just as the sun lay low on the western horizon. Informed by Mr. Taylor that Dr. Darcy reclined under the canopy erected away from the harsh afternoon sun, Darcy decided to join him with fresh drinks and victuals.

“Ah!” George declared upon noting the laden tray in his nephew's hands, sitting forward from his slumped repose. “What have you brought? Gooseberry tartlets and sweet cream! Divine!” He snatched one before the tray was safely placed onto the table, biting deep with a sensuous moan of delight. “Oh, Mrs. Langton, you genius. William, no matter how prestigious it is to have a French chef, if you ever replace that woman, I shall turn you over my knee.”

Darcy laughed, chewing with equal pleasure. “Have no fear, Uncle. I am a Darcy through and through, which means I appreciate excellent cuisine served in healthy proportions. If I want my son to grow as tall and hardy as me, then I would be unwise to restrict his diet to miniscule portions of rich fare. That only leaves one fat and lazy.”

They ate in silence, enjoying the array of pastries provided. George Darcy, for all his natural jocularity, was much like his nephew in that he did not suffer the pressing need to fill the space with useless chatter. The men passed as much time together in quiet companionship as they did in conversation. They happily snacked while staring at the mesmerizing play of sunlight on the rippling waters of the lake and jetting fountains. The varied sounds of nature soothed their ears and lulled tired brains. It was quite some time before the hush was broken and then it was Darcy verbalizing unconsciously what he had been dreamily musing on.

“Elizabeth and I have discussed your recommendation that I stay with her during the birth.”

“And?”

Darcy chuckled lowly, glancing at George with an arched brow. “You recall my shock at the notion? Well, for all the difference in our physical features, I do believe her expression mirrored mine. I did not bring it up forthwith but waited until late one night…”

“You deemed it wise to wait until she was adequately pliant and amenable?” George interrupted with a naughty grin and a wink, Darcy flushing but shaking his head in resignation.

“No, I needed to consider the matter and come to grips with the notion myself. Anyway, we agreed to the arrangement, although convincing Mrs. Henderson before she storms out in a contemptible rage may take some doing.”

“Do not be ridiculous. You are the Master of Pemberley, Mr. Darcy of Derbyshire, etcetera. She has nothing to say about the matter and in the aftermath of your brilliance in the birth chamber will undoubtedly see the logic and spread the word, thus starting a fashionable trend that will benefit millions. It will be a revolution sweeping all England and then Europe. They will probably name it after you and you will be famous.”

“Precisely another valid reason why I should not be there, but, alas, you have planted the seed too firmly.”

George laughed. “Do not worry, William. I will break the news to Mrs. Henderson. Women are helpless against the George Darcy charm.” He waggled his brows, Darcy shaking his head in resignation.

“Whatever you say, Uncle.” He paused, George waiting as he sensed Darcy's seriousness and knew it best to remain silent until the younger man gathered his thoughts. With low, halting voice Darcy resumed, “Tell me truthfully, Uncle. Have you seen many men in the birth chamber and can swear that it is beneficial to the woman?” He stared fixedly at the distant fountain. “I will sacrifice my life for Elizabeth's comfort without hesitation, but I confess to not relishing witnessing what reputedly is a heinous trial for the woman I love.”

“You are not all that fragile, William. As to your question, yes, I have seen many men attend and assist in birth. It is not so uncommon a practice in India. And, of course, doctors have been doing it for centuries. Personally I have always been rather affronted, pridefully insulted at the concept that childbirth is a woman's purview. As if a man cannot have the stomach for it! Besides, there is nothing more miraculous then seeing your offspring come into the world. It is beautiful.”

He concluded in a bare whisper. Darcy glanced over sharply, noting George's faraway stare and the undisguised sorrow waving over his face. A rush of intense curiosity lanced through him, but he held his tongue. The months building their relationship had revealed a man astonishingly similar to himself, and if there was anything Darcy hated, it was prying. He was a fiercely private man and knew his uncle to be the same. If George wished to share what was clearly a painful subject, then he would do so without Darcy's urging.

Therefore silence once again fell, each man lost to internal memories and musings. Enough time passed that Darcy had almost forgotten the last words vocalized when George spoke.

“I was a father for a brief time.” He looked into Darcy's surprised eyes with a grim smile and then he shrugged. “I have spoken of this to very few people. Raja does not even know. My daughter was born two months early and lived for a week. She was perfect. Bronze skin, black hair, tiny fingers and toes. We named her Bhrithi, which means cherished. I did everything I could think of, but she was too fragile. She would be ten years old if she had lived.”

He paused to swallow audibly, eyes closing as he leaned back to rest his head on the cool stones of the Manor's outer wall. “Frankly I do not know why I yet hesitate to speak of these parts of my life. Years of maintaining secrecy are difficult to break, I suppose. James knew. He was my closest friend even with the distance between us.” He smiled fondly.

“Uncle, you do not need to share this with me if it is uncomfortable.”

“Quite the contrary, William. Surprisingly I do not feel 'uncomfortable,' but merely do not wish to burden you with my affairs unnecessarily. It is all past now, but I yearn for the honest relationship I sense building between us to continue. I know you are aware that I had a mistress. Previously I was unperturbed by your reaction to the fact. I do not suffer from embarrassment or the fear of disparagement.” He laughed, opening one eye to peer at Darcy. “My towering self-esteem and arrogance is not a façade! If you thought less of me for living immorally, I honestly did not care. But, you see, this too has changed. Oh, I am still arrogant and likely will be until the day I die, but your opinion now matters. Quite annoying actually, but there you have it.”

He closed the eye, smiling dreamily. “Jharna was the wife of my mentor, Dr. Kshitij Ullas, and daughter to a marvelous friend, Thakore Sahib Pandey. She and I were friends but nothing more until after Kshitij died, well after in fact. Jharna and Kshitij were a rare find in that they truly loved each other. He was far older and a widower for many years when he married Jharna. It was an arranged marriage, as most are there, Jharna given as partial payment when Kshitij saved Pandey's life. Of course, all this transpired long before I came to India. By the time I met them they were the parents of two young boys, happily married and in love. Jharna was supremely fortunate in that she had a wealthy, influential father who doted on her and a husband who arranged for her to be cared for after he died.”