π’πππππΎπΆππΆ ππΆππΈπ (georgiadarcy) wrote in sanditon,
Georgiana would have commended herself to the indignity of the floor for all eternity if it meant never being parted from her brother again; but she pulled back as she was gently maneuvered to do so. Now that she was not governed by her impulses, she was better able to study Fitzwilliam. He had never failed to receive her into his arms before; she had even lately given to not asking, under the sorrowed suspicion that it would not be permissible, but she had never doubted for a moment that those arms would not be indisposed should she need them.
And she had been right, after all, but now she was to see the cost.
"A fall?" she repeated. As this reality sank in, so did her bewildered expression progress in its estimation of this news, until it would appear by her face to anyone just walking in that her brother had declared his health in its terminal stages. Fitzwilliam did not fall, and he certainly did not meet with injury as a result. Despite the high walls of their estate, he had always stood as the better fortification, absolutely unassailable.
She was quick to follow his direction, however, and ducked beneath his arm to help him to his feet. An extended assistance by her was not required, as she helped resettle Fitzwilliam into the chair she had so lately unseated him from, and dutifully brought the stool. The umbrella she was more uncertain what to do with, and decided to prop it against her brother's chair, in the event he should go outside and be expecting rain.
But she could not be compelled to leave his side again, even to find her own seat. "Has the doctor been called for?" Georgiana's expression was pinched with worry, almost enough to make her appear the elder sister, if only for a moment.