Chapter 1
Meryton 1811
With concern, Elizabeth Bennet looked around the room of the assembly hall at Meryton. The door had just admitted a very late party—the new tenant of Netherfield, Mr. Bingley, and his companions—and Jane was nowhere to be seen. Not knowing the character of the newcomers meant the younger sister was on her guard.
Finally spotting her elder sister near their mother, Elizabeth gave a sigh of relief and made her way over to the two ladies.
“Lizzy!” hissed Mrs. Bennet loudly. “Have you ever seen such fine-looking gentlemen? And the lace on the ladies’ dresses!”
The matron’s voice faded to the background as Elizabeth attentively watched Sir William Lucas circulate the room with the newcomers and make introductions. When the master of ceremonies finally reached the Bennets, they encountered Mrs. Bennet and all five of her daughters.
Elizabeth almost let out a groan of dismay when she saw Mr. Bingley’s eyes widen in delight upon seeing Jane’s face. Like so many men before, Bingley was instantly captivated by the eldest Bennet daughter’s unique appearance. Her large, upturned eyes, delicate ears, and elegant—though short—neck all combined to make Jane into an uncommonly beautiful woman.
The lovestruck man beamed at Jane, who smiled sweetly in reply. When he asked her to dance, her grin widened, and the two made their way to the dance floor. His two sisters exchanged a dismayed look and retreated to a corner, where they began a hushed conversation punctuated frequently by sneers directed towards the assembly at large.
Mrs. Bennet turned her attention to Bingley’s friend—a Mr. Darcy, if Elizabeth remembered correctly—but the man only gave a short bow before walking away without a word.
“Well! Have you ever met such a disagreeable man?” cried Mrs. Bennet.
Elizabeth paid no heed to her mother; instead, she watched apprehensively as Darcy stalked around the room, staring intently at Jane. When one of the Lucas boys came to ask for a dance, she politely declined, thus forfeiting any further dances for the evening.
After the dance ended, Bingley escorted Jane back to her mother before going to his friend. Elizabeth, conscious of her role as Jane’s protector, moved surreptitiously closer to the pair of gentlemen.
“I say, Darcy! I can’t bear to see you standing around in such a stupid manner. You should be dancing! Come, allow me to introduce you to my angel of a partner. She is delightful! I daresay I’ve never met a more pleasant young lady in all my life.”
The look on the taller gentleman’s face was that of scorn and disdain. “No, Bingley. She may look tolerable, I suppose, but I’m in no humor to give consequence to such an unnatural creature as she. I wonder that her parents do not keep her locked away from society.”
A hot, white anger swelled within Elizabeth’s breast, while Bingley gaped at his friend. “Unnatural creature? Locked away? Good heavens, man!”
Elizabeth had heard enough. She knew making a scene would only call the attention of their neighbors to Jane’s differences, so she dismissed her first inclination to walk up to the man and slap him across the face. Instead, she waited until she could make her move.
Fuming, she stared hard at Darcy. When his eyes moved to her, the rage she felt radiated across the room and into his soul. After several long moments, she deliberately turned her back on him, giving him the cut directly without arousing the suspicions of the other guests.
∞∞∞
While she was debating what to do, she missed Darcy’s reply to his friend. With a sigh, he said, “Forgive me for my poor choice of words, my friend. I am sure that it is her unique beauty that would have the gentlemen lining up. Any father would wish to lock her away to protect her from those of lower character. Go take advantage of her smiles, although I daresay she does smile too much.”
Mollified, Bingley retreated. The headache Darcy had been ignoring all evening increased, and he looked around the room at the revelry. His gaze fell on Elizabeth, and when his eyes met hers, she turned her back.
Darcy’s eyes widened, and his nostrils flared. How dare this insignificant country girl disrespect me? Does she not know who I am? And with her sister bearing the subtle signs of an idiot, she cannot disagree with what I said. Insolent girl!
For the remainder of the evening, his eyes remained fixed on the younger girl’s form. If it was pleasing to his baser nature, his proud mind refused to admit it. He told himself such close monitoring was necessary to prevent her and her elder sister from causing problems with his friend.
∞∞∞
For her part, Elizabeth remained close to her sister’s side when they weren’t on the dance floor. Jane was very popular at each assembly; her kindness, grace, and charming smiles made any man feel as though he could conquer the world, even if he weren’t in search of a wife.
The eldest Lucas boy asked Jane for a dance, and she gave him the same grin of delight that she gave Mr. Goulding, Mr. Long, and all the rest. Jane enjoyed standing up to dance, and her smile made her beauty emanate throughout the room. Even the gossiping biddies never could think of something negative to say about such a gentle creature.
Her innate goodness was what caused Elizabeth to react so violently towards Darcy’s cruel words. He doesn’t even know her, she seethed to herself as she watched the tall man scrutinize Jane. How on earth could he think to lock away someone based solely on her appearance?
To Elizabeth’s delight, Bingley returned to Jane’s side again and again between dances. He even went so far as to solicit her hand for a second time. Elizabeth watched her sister’s happiness with a mixture of joy and apprehension. Jane’s heart was pure and innocent, and it was too easily misused.
Bingley seemed affable, however, and Elizabeth mentally gave her sister permission to like him. Jane had liked many a stupider person in the past, after all.
Much later, in the wee early hours of the morning, the two sisters burrowed under the covers of Elizabeth’s bed. “What did you think of the Netherfield party, Jane?”
“Oh, Lizzy, it was such a wonderful night!” Jane’s girlish voice was even more high-pitched in her excitement. “Mr. Bingley is everything a gentleman should be. I hope we get to meet with him again. He introduced me to his sisters, did you see? They were so elegant and fine!”
Elizabeth pictured the two arrogant ladies who looked down their noses at the entire company. Jane would oppose anything negative, so Elizabeth simply replied, “They did seem to dress very elegantly indeed. I am glad they were kind to you.”
“Even Mr. Darcy seemed polite, though he didn’t smile as much as his friend.”
Having vowed to keep the odious man’s words to herself for fear of hurting her sister, Elizabeth smiled and repeated, “I am glad everyone treated you well, dearest.”
Eventually, Jane’s happy ramblings faded into soft snores, but Elizabeth was unable to join her in dreamland. Instead, her mind worried over what Darcy’s detection of Jane’s unusual nature might mean for her gentle sister. All the world was good in Jane’s eyes, and Elizabeth dreaded the day her tender Jane was forced to see otherwise.
∞∞∞
Sleep was difficult that evening for Darcy. The words he’d uttered at the assembly still haunted him, even then, echoing in his ears: such an unnatural creature as she.
While disguise was every sort of his abhorrence, Darcy’s explanation to his friend was nothing more than a blatant falsehood. In truth, he had meant that the girl’s appearance was abnormally strange, but few would fully recognize her for what she was. It was only his own experiences that gave him any clue as to what lay beneath the skin.
No Darcy has ever produced such unnatural evil!
Darcy winced as his own words were drowned out by his father’s to Lady Anne all those years ago, and he fought the urge to cover his ears with his hands. Even though he was alone, and no one would bear witness to the infantile act, his upbringing would not allow him to do something so undignified, even in private.
Instead, he clenched his fists and tightened his jaw, waiting for the flood of memories to wash over him and fade away, just as they always did each time he came across a person who reminded him of the baby his mother once held in her arms.
“Anne, don’t you dare lock this door. Anne! … Reynolds, bring me the key to your mistress’s chambers immediately. If you do not, I’ll see you thrown out without a reference … Anne!”
An echo of a door banging open was followed by his mother’s screams. Then, an hour later, his father’s words. “Fitzwilliam, you are the only one who can save our family line from this curse. You must marry well. The monsters born into this world may be the children of men, but their unnaturalness cannot be of God. After all, does not the Good Book say we are made in His image? Their taint should not be allowed to spread.”
The hate-filled words caused bile to rise in Darcy’s throat, and his father’s irate face was replaced by his mother’s pale one in his memory. “You must look after your sister, Darcy. After I’m gone, you’ll be all she has left.”
Those were the last words he heard his mother speak; she had been confined to her bed after giving birth to Georgiana, and his mother’s strength never recovered. Darcy had made his farewells before returning to another school year, unaware that it would be the last time he would see her. The news of her passing wasn’t sent until after the funeral and burial.
His uncle, the Earl of Matlock, had been infuriated when he’d heard of his sister’s treatment at the hands of her husband. The earl had been unaware of the situation until his son, Richard, had written to ask if he knew why Darcy hadn’t been informed of the death. The earl descended on Eton to demand that the younger Darcy tell him everything. He then went to Pemberley immediately to confront his brother by marriage.
By then, however, there was nothing anyone could do. Lady Anne was dead and buried, and her lastborn child had been handed over to a wet nurse in the village until she could be weaned.
Lord Matlock had returned to Eton to personally inform Darcy that he would be remaining at the school, on the orders of the boy’s father.
“I don’t know why he is making these decisions, my boy,” the earl had said, placing a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “It was bad enough that he insisted you attend Eton two years earlier, but to deny you the comfort of saying your farewells…”
His voice trailed off, but he patted Darcy reassuringly. “Just know that you’ll always have a home with us, if you wish it. You may write to me—or have Richard write, if you prefer—with anything you might need. I can only pray that your father comes to his senses.”
That prayer was never to be answered. The elder Mr. Darcy did not allow his son to return to Pemberley until he graduated from Eton some six years later. Instead of a Grand Tour, the young man was put to work in his father’s study at the house in London, learning the specifics of estate management.
The only bright spot during that time away at school was the letters he sent to and received from Georgiana. Disguising his handwriting, Darcy wrote to his childhood nurse, who had taken over duties in caring for the babe. With her assistance, he was able to build a relationship with his sister. From her very first months, his letters were read aloud to the girl, though she was too young to understand what any of the words meant.
As she grew, Georgiana responded to the letters with pictures from her own hand, accompanied by short summaries of her days written by Nurse. He treasured those letters and still had many of them in a box with a ribbon tied around them.
Darcy then went on to Cambridge to complete his education, but he was summoned home each holiday and summer to assist his father with estate matters. It was clear that the senior Mr. Darcy was of declining health; he took frequent afternoon naps and occasionally fell asleep while at his desk. Thus, Darcy was able to sneak time with Georgiana when not ensconced in the study with their father. It was no effort to go down the hill and around the garden to the dower house on his way to visit tenants.
When the master of Pemberley died at last, it was as though a dark cloud had been lifted from Pemberley. Reynolds—who had become Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper, at some point during Darcy’s school years—was at liberty to bring light and cheer to the public rooms.
But most importantly, Georgiana was finally free to leave the dower house where she had been banished from her father’s sight and live at Pemberley.
Darcy never allowed her to go to the nearby town of Lambton, however. He had seen at school how many of the young men treated those persons—especially the girls—who were simpleminded or of different appearance.
In the beginning, he had tried to stand up for the simpletons and disabled. He quickly learned, however, that it would only lead to a sound thrashing for himself and even more torture for the victims.
One experience, however, changed all of that. It was his sixteenth year, and his frame had finally become proportional to his height. As one of the older students at Eton, and as the heir of one of the wealthiest estates in the kingdom, he commanded a certain amount of respect.
While out with some of the other lads, they came across a young woman whose face and legs were twisted. She hobbled down the path with a walking stick while struggling to carry a basket. One of the boys elbowed another. “What do you think she’d give me in return for her basket?”
His friend made a crude gesture, and the two laughed and walked towards her. The girl’s eyes widened in fear, and she looked frantically around as the richly dressed youth circled her.
Darcy had ignored the bullying in the past, but the thought of what these young men were going to do made him feel sick to his stomach. To his mind, the girl’s face became Georgiana’s, and he knew he had to stop what was about to happen. God, help me help her.
“Stop!”
Everyone paused and looked at the tall young man. He knew he was outnumbered by several young men far into their cups, and his mind froze. Then, almost as if by magic, Darcy suddenly knew exactly what to say and do. He carefully made his face blank and looked down at his hands in boredom. “Really, Matheson?”
The first young man who had elbowed his friend startled. “What do you mean, Darcy? You trying to ruin my fun?”
“Certainly not,” Darcy replied in a disinterested tone, examining his fingernails. “This isn’t exactly my idea of fun though.”
“It’s not?” one of the drunk boys asked.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Darcy said primly. “You don’t know where this girl has been or who she’s been with. Just look at her! Ugly—and filthy to boot. I wouldn’t be caught dead having anything to do with someone like her.”
The girl’s eyes filled with tears at these harsh words, and her head dropped even farther to her chest. Darcy’s heart broke at the sight, but he forced himself to continue.
“If that’s what you can see on the outside, just imagine what she looks like underneath those rags she’s wearing! You can do what you’d like, but as for me, I doubt I’d be able to do much of anything with such a hideous hag. Not even closing my eyes could make me unsee it.”
With each word, the girl’s shoulders slumped farther until she was practically cowed on the ground. Ignoring the laughs and jeers, he continued loudly, “Now, I’m going to go find a wench more worthy of my attentions. Do what you will, but know that I will think less of you if you stay here with her.”
Darcy turned his back, ignoring the anguish written across the girl’s face. He then strode away, fists clenched and stomach churning. After a few moments of silence, the clattering of pebbles told him the boys were scrambling after him.
Darcy would never be able to undo the damage his harsh words caused that girl, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that he had prevented a far worse fate for her than a rich man calling her ugly. The next day, he sent his valet to find the girl, along with a bag of coins and a note that told her they were for her dowry or to spend as she pleased.
Since that day, Darcy did his best to discourage misbehavior with arrogance and condescension, while silently lifting burdens. His words to Bingley at the assembly were the result of years of habit.
It’s much easier, he thought, when the person isn’t someone of my station. How do you face someone again when you’ve spoken so poorly of their loved one?