Surprise at the sudden appearance of a stranger instantly morphed into joy when it became apparent that the stranger was his sister; but this pleasure was short-lived, and gave way to alarm when he recognized the way Georgiana cried, “Fitzwilliam!” and began rushing towards him. Some of Darcy’s fondest memories of Georgiana’s childhood were when, after a long absence, she would greet him with an enthusiastic hug, flinging herself into his arms to be spun about. In the subsequent years as his sister grew in both maturity and stature, she had come to constrain such expressions of exuberance, but it was plain that the girl was overcome and about to reenact history. Horror, rather than fondness however, would likely marr the recollection of this particular greeting.
Time seemed to slow, and Darcy found he was unable to move from his awkward stance as his sister launched forward, catching him around the middle. Not in position to receive a nearly grown woman propelling her whole body at his own, the two siblings immediately dropped to the floor, upending the nearby footstool. For the second time that day, the air was knocked from Darcy’s chest. He let out a strangled wheeze.
"Brother! You've come to us at last! Oh, I was so worried!"
“Georgiana….” he croaked, “dearest, I am very glad to see you too, but please…” He laid his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed until she released him. She understood quickly and moved to a sitting position, allowing him room to carefully prop himself on his elbows. By some miracle Georgiana had avoided landing on his injured leg, so aside from an aching chest, his condition was no worse than it was a few moments prior. As Darcy fully sat up and drew needed breath into his bruised lungs, he studied his sister’s appearance.
Her bonnet was askew, face flushed and smiling, though he could see she was also near tears. Both elation and anxiety were apparent in her expression. Mirroring his own state, her dress was rumpled beyond immediate remedy, and dust from his coat now blotted her spencer. Darcy managed to return her smile, though weakly, and took her hands in his.
“Yes, I’ve arrived, which is more extraordinary than you realize. I can see you are well, thank God. Your letter fired my imagination in the worst possible way, even if I am sure was not your intention. But before we get into that,” he shifted his still throbbing leg, “I will need your assistance getting back into that chair. I took a fall and my ankle bore the consequence. Please also bring that bothersome footstool over. Once I’m no longer suffering the indignity of the floor, we’ll talk about the ‘trouble’ we both encountered on our way to Sanditon.”