"Tav?" Darcy's voice was soft, his hands gentle as he reached to tentatively take Tav's still shaking hand.

Tav didn't respond verbally, though he looked – stared even – trying to put this man into position. A character in a story. He fit, perfectly. The high collar unable to hide the strong jawline. Eyes dark and, dare he say it, flashing, with an aura of dominance. Dark hair curled in a way that made Tav want to put his hands on it. A man who was powerful and aware of it with the easy knowledge of being born to that society.

And, now, a fictional character. What could he do but believe it to be the case? It was either real, or Tav was insane. Maybe this was some fever dream, but if that were the case, what would be the harm in simply going with it, letting the story take him?

He let Darcy help him up, thankful the man didn't ask about his frankly dramatic escape, and guide him into the carriage to sit opposite Georgiana.

She waited until they were underway again, the rattle of the carriage wheels enough to drown out whispered talk so neither Darcy nor the coachman would hear.

"What happened? Fitzwilliam was having quite the panic."

"He was?" Tav couldn't help but ask, because he'd seemed confused, but calm enough.

"Well," she conceded, "I could tell he was panicking. I know him well. He didn't make a scene, of course. Although I understand you came close?"

Tav regarded her earnest expression and made a decision. He needed help, whether that be from a doctor or from a partner to make things happen in the story, and Georgiana – a young woman aching for adventure – was a prime candidate either way.

"Do you know of Jane Austen, the author?"

"No, 'tis not a name I know."

There was a check mark for the crazy idea that was taking up residence in his head: of course Jane Austen would not exist inside her own stories.

He took a breath. "I'm not the Earl of Greencester. I don't know him, or even if he's a real person. Well, a real person here. My name is Octavius Kennerly and this is a story, and I have to change its direction or I'm stuck here forever."

She laughed sharply, but stopped when his sincere gaze didn't change.

To his utter surprise, she listened while he told her the full story. She didn't say a word for the entire ride back to the house, which was how long it took, and as soon as they arrived she pulled him across the drive, towards a thicket of trees providing a cool, shadowed, glade, Darcy following, looking concerned but allowing them privacy.

"You have to tell me more about this world of yours, it sounds fascinating."

Tav stared. "You believe me?"

"You are a master storyteller if 'tis falsehoods. How would it hurt me to choose to believe?"

He knew it could never be as simple as that, not in reality, so this felt like another check in the box for 'truly a weird ghosty challenge from renowned Regency author'. Who else would believe such a crazy story but someone within one (or, dangerously, someone as destined for Bedlam as himself)?

"Will you help me? Help me make it happen so I can return home?"

"Of course. It will be quite an adventure, Lord Gr- sorry, Mr Kennerly. I don't know if I can believe the story fully, but I can see you truly do. I cannot wait to assist you. Though, we will need to cloak the mystery in front of Fitzwilliam. He does not have the heart of a fantasist as I do."

Tav looked over to Darcy, scowling attractively again, this time at a tree, and sighed, nodding his agreement.

* * * * *

It was Georgiana's suggestion that they should find the real Lord Greencester.

"His uncle currently resides in London. That's where his letter came from. We must go."

"We must?" he asked her. It would take two precious days to get to London. If it wasn't the right plan, everything could be over, but she looked at him, uncharacteristically sly.

"Of course, my brother will have to continue to chaperone us."

Much to Tav's disappointment, Darcy, whilst agreeing readily to the journey (suspiciously – fictionally – readily) insisted he would ride rather than use the covered carriage Tav and Georgiana would be in.

"Don't pout dear Tav." Georgiana had taken easily to calling him by his name in private, albeit with a giggle, when he'd explained the relaxed expectations of his own era. "I know you wish to be close to Fitzwilliam but you will have many chances on the journey, and in the meantime, we can plan."

On the first day, they didn't start the planning, which Tav was dreading because he had no idea where to even begin, because Georgiana had a rising need for information.

"Tell me more about your time," she demanded, kicking off her slippers and curling up on the carriage seat.

"That's a big question."

"Perhaps, but you say this ghost-woman-writer-person wants you to make something happen with Fitzwilliam. Why does she feel you're the person to make it happen?"

"Well, I prefer men." He didn't bother to point out that the Jane Austen...ghost?... hadn't actually chosen him. She'd said 'they' did, and she'd said it was 'the Gods'. He hadn't told Georgiana that part. It seemed like a lot on top of everything else.

"So, in your time, that's accepted?"

A shadow passed over her face, and she blinked, coughing delicately against the back of her hand.

"Where was I?" she asked, confused, but then her face cleared. "Of course, many young men like to experiment with each other when they're younger. It's common before they settle into an appropriate marriage. Fitzwilliam never told me of his time at Eton, but I have heard whispers."

Tav nodded, refusing to stare. That was new. It was a change happening, even as he watched, within this world. A tolerance of experimentation that was one small step in the direction he needed.

"Largely accepted in my world, yes. Men can even marry each other."

She blinked again, following it with a bright, happy, smile.

"That's wonderful. Now tell me more about the way the carriages there do not require horses."

* * * * *

Tav was worried when they stopped at a neat inn on the first night. He knew, regardless of her brother's presence, they really should have a female chaperone to stay with Georgiana, and worried the innkeeper wouldn't let them stay, but, to his surprise, Georgiana, who, earlier, had stared in raptured silence as he'd explained the freedoms young women had in his time, stated a confident request for a room for herself, and a nearby room for the two gentlemen to share. The innkeeper had frowned, but then Tav had watched a brief shadow pass over his face, that no one else seemed to note, and he'd nodded, and had told the maid to show them to their rooms, a confused smile on his face.

They were able to secure dinner, which Georgiana insisted was served in her room. The landlord was always polite, as befitted Georgiana's status as a young lady, but Tav, and only Tav, could note something more in the man's interactions with her – something that looked like genuine respect instead of necessary obsequiousness.

Darcy ate some, but then excused himself, allowing Tav and Georgiana to plot more.

"We must find the real Lord Greencester," she decided.

"His uncle would seem our best option. I am interested whether he will know me – whether he'll believe I'm his nephew or know me as an imposter."

Georgiana was fascinated by the opinions and theories that either result may garner and they talked until she was yawning widely, not bothering to cover her mouth.

"You seem to be becoming less-," he stopped to think, not wanting to offend, "less delicate."

"Delicate? I'm not at all so." Once again, that almost deep, shadowy shimmer passed over her, and she shrugged. "I have always adored the outdoors, you know. My favourite walk was that across the top of the cliff. I understand you spent time with my brother there?"

She winked, apparently not expecting a response and Tav escaped to his room wondering at these small but significant changes to the behaviour of those around him.

Darcy was in the room and Tav gasped when he realised there was only one bed. It was large, and looked very comfortable, but also very currently occupied by Darcy's long body as he leaned back, studying a letter by the light of a lamp.

"You are sated?" Darcy asked, and Tav thought he'd probably stopped the embarrassing responding whimper before it escaped, but the look Darcy sent him, coated in heat, suggested that perhaps he hadn't.

"Uh, yup. Full up. No hunger here," he blabbered, cheeks pink.

"Prepare for bed, then. We must rise early to continue our journey."

When Tav had clambered into bed, balanced almost on the edge so as to leave space, Darcy doused the oil lamp and the bed shifted as he settled. They were silent for long enough that Tav thought he'd gone to sleep, when there was a breathy exhalation.

"You're behaving, strangely, for someone affianced to my sister," he said, but it didn't sound enraged. Tav allowed himself to wonder whether Darcy could remember their moment by the river, and the other small moments they had felt. The strange shadows seemed to remove some of the past, but would they remove parts that supported the final story?

"Your sister and I understand each other very well," Tav went with, attempting to sound light.

"Indeed."

"She doesn't wish to marry," he reminded Darcy.

"I know," there was another one of those sighs. "I just wish she wasn't so restricted by the expectations of society. I don't want her rejected, but there are times when I think she would not care."

Tav couldn't help but silently agree, though he didn't say anything, realising this could be the perfect opportunity to push Jane Austen's agenda.

"And you?" he asked, intentionally not mentioning Elizabeth, knowing that Darcy would no longer know who she was. She wasn't in this story. "What are your thoughts on marriage?"

"I have no wish to tie myself to a woman simply because that's what society dictates."

"Oh? You would merge yourself with no one?"

He was certain Darcy had noted the change in pronoun, because the man let out a small 'oh' before shifting onto his side. Tav couldn't see him, but he could certainly sense the warm line of his body, a little closer than before.

"I had someone, when I was younger," he admitted into the darkness. "But I hurt... I hurt him. Irreparably."

"What would society have to say about such a connection?" Tav wondered, intrigued which changes in the storyline they were successfully pushing through.

"It is fine to engage with such frivolities when one is young. And I suspect a great many elders do as well, but have merely learned the art of keeping their own counsel."

"But you couldn't marry?"

"Marry?" There was a questioning in Darcy's tone – a hopefulness – that made Tav almost certain that, whilst it was too dark to see, another shadow had passed.

Tav turned onto his side, placing his hand on the bedspread in front of him, and was unsurprised when Darcy reached out, the soft skin of his long, cool, fingers making exploratory shapes on the back of Tav's hand.

"Would you do it again?" Tav asked.

"Have someone... that way?" Darcy clarified, and Tav realised they weren't quite where they needed to be if he felt forced to continue in euphemisms, but, one step at a time.

"Yes."

"I hope to- one day, perhaps, even one day soon, that I may feel about another the way I felt for him once. But he betrayed me, and, worse, he betrayed Georgiana in his bid to seek revenge against me. I realise now that I didn't truly feel enough for him though, because I would never have hurt him that way if I had. I would have found a way, for the right person, even as a callow youth. I may feel guilt, still, but I no longer feel the loss."

Tav shuffled forward just enough to feel Darcy's warm breath on his cheek.

"It doesn't have to be loss," he whispered, leaning forward only far enough to press a soft kiss to the corner of Darcy's lips, slipping away into sleep with the calm sound of Darcy's breathing in his ear.

* * * * *

The continued their journey the next day, making good time. Despite the lack of sleep, Tav felt rejuvenated, confident that they would succeed.