Work Text:
"It's cold. I don't want to walk," the seven-year-old whined.
Mrs. Bennet smiled sweetly at her grandson. He sounded so much like his mother Lydia at that age. Little George was such a dear. She considered demanding the carriage despite the close proximity of Longbourn church to the house. The family had never bothered going to the trouble before except in the heaviest rain, however her grandson was of a delicate constitution. Why he was often too tired to even put up his toys, the poor boy.
"Let's have the carriage, Mamma," Lydia cajoled. "It is as cold as Newcastle today. You know Georgie has a delicate constitution."
Neither the boy's mother nor grandmother noticed the sly smirk Little George shared with his father. The excuse for the boy's laziness was so often used that it was accepted as fact by the two indulgent women. That it also worked in the Wickhams' favor to gain invitations to visit Longbourn and avoid the colder months in the north was particularly pleasing to the entire Wickham family. Not only was Hertfordshire warmer, the food was better and more plentiful, and there was more than a single maid of all work to see to their needs. Wickham laid a proud hand on his son's shoulder. Little George was so much like his father at that age. Whatever needed to be done to make life easier would be done.