Darcy and Elizabeth's False Engagement

Chapter One

Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was universally acknowledged to be a single man in possession of a good fortune; unfortunately, he was also in possession of an extremely vexing aunt.

“You are eight-and-twenty, Fitzwilliam. You should marry.” His aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, thumped her cane on the floor of the carriage. “Pemberley needs an heir.”

Darcy considered the size of the error he had made in agreeing to convey his aunt to the Pritchards’ ball in his carriage. At the time she had prevailed upon him, it had seemed like a small and reasonable favor, an easy way to demonstrate familial devotion.

Now he was trapped with her in a confined, jostling space.

“I will marry when the time is right.” He bit off his words, studiously gazing at the London streets outside the carriage window.

“But your duty—”

“You need not lecture me about my duty,” he said calmly. His life was defined by duty to his family and Pemberley. If not for duty, he would not be trapped here with one of the least pleasant people of his acquaintance.

“Georgiana cannot inherit Pemberley.”

Darcy did not bother to reply. Did his aunt think he forgot about the entail?

“Anne grows no younger either.”

Ah, now we are getting to the heart of the matter, Darcy thought. “I am not inclined to marry Anne.”

“It was the fondest wish of your mother and me when you were both in your cradles.” As always, Aunt Catherine’s tone suggested her desires should carry the day.

She helped raise him after his mother died, and habits of childhood obedience were difficult to break. Darcy had needed years to build his immunity to her imperiousness and learn to say “no” to her.

Darcy shifted in his seat. Why do carriages have to be so small? “There are no formal betrothal documents. I am under no obligation.” How many times must he say these words?

His aunt gave a dramatic gasp. “Have you no family feeling? No care for your cousin’s heart?”

He massaged the bridge of his nose. His aunt’s obstinacy about the union had made visits to Rosings Park, the de Bourgh estate, exceedingly trying.

“I do not suppose marriage to me could make Anne happy.” A hint of impatience crept into his voice.

He smoothed the fabric of his breeches with his gloved hands. I cannot allow her to make me angry.

“Your marriage would unite two great estates!”

When Darcy was younger, before inheriting Pemberley, he had been convinced by the rationality of this argument. Why not marry Anne? It was eminently sensible—a business arrangement which would benefit both of their families. The betrothal possessed an air of inevitability.

He had no other candidates for the position of wife. And he had known his duty from a young age. God knows he had always done it.

But as he grew older, he questioned whether the union would bring about happiness.

In particular, he realized that he and Anne did not take pleasure in each other’s company.

They had little to say to each other; when they did speak, they often quarreled.

In Darcy’s opinion, mutual antipathy was an insurmountable obstacle to marital happiness.

“Uniting the estates would be convenient,” he agreed. “But there are many other considerations.” Such as avoiding a wife who loathes the sight of me.

Anne’s disgust with Darcy likely resulted from being ordered to marry him. She carried the additional burden of a sickly constitution. Worst of all, Aunt Catherine was her mother. It was more than enough misfortune for any single person.

Darcy possessed great sympathy for his cousin’s situation. However, she seemed to regard him as the source of every difficulty in her life, making visits to Rosings Park most disagreeable.

Darcy’s commitment to his family did not extend to a lifetime of misery.

His aunt was right that he should marry soon. He had faithfully participated in the Season for five years, but nobody had caught his fancy. Perhaps this year, he would find someone acceptable.

He required someone with the connections and bloodlines to please his family; he could even do without a dowry if necessary. But he hoped to find a woman who he found cordial, someone who might be a friend. Pemberley was quite spacious; they need not see each other every day.

“Anne is in Northumbria visiting Sir Lewis’s relatives, but you need only say the word, and I will have her brought to London.” Somehow she managed to sound both imperious and imploring.

He favored his aunt with his iciest glare, hoping it would convince her to drop the subject. Unfortunately, as the daughter of an earl, Aunt Catherine believed herself quite entitled to harass him. And, equally unfortunately, she was quite skilled at harassment.

“Is there another woman?” she pressed. “Do you have a secret understanding with another woman?”

Darcy stared. Why had such a notion occurred to her?

She drew herself up. “Your countenance betrays you. I see I have guessed the truth.”

Darcy could not imagine what she saw in his expression. How could she possibly be so wrong?

“I demand you tell me who this woman is!”

Darcy instinctively asserted his independence in his haughtiest voice. “You are not entitled to that information.”

His aunt occupied the next few seconds with demonstrating that she was shocked and offended, which she naturally viewed as her right as a member of the aristocracy.

This provided Darcy time to reflect that a secret fiancée might be useful.

His aunt could hardly demand that he make an offer for Anne if she supposed he had an understanding with another woman.

Although he generally abhorred deceit, he was willing to resort to desperate measures. An imaginary fiancée would give him a respite from his aunt’s relentless demands. No doubt Anne would also enjoy a reprieve from hearing about Darcy.

His aunt’s eyes narrowed. “I will discover who she is.”

Darcy smiled humorlessly. “I wish you luck.”

“Perhaps you made a rash, youthful promise to someone wholly unsuitable.” She straightened her already rigid posture. “I will discover her identity and prevent you from disgracing the family.”

I should have created a false fiancée years ago. I could have prevented many arguments. “I will not be deterred from my course.” That is not a lie. As I fully intended to find my own wife.

His aunt sniffed. “That remains to be seen.” She took his measure like an opposing general on a battlefield.

Darcy smiled to himself as he stared out of the window. At least the search for his imaginary fiancée would keep his aunt busy for a few months, maybe even a year. During that time, Darcy would have peace.

***

Elizabeth Bennet was universally acknowledged to be quite pretty and not in possession of any kind of fortune. But tonight, she was in possession of a new ball gown.

It was pale pink and decorated with rosettes of darker silk.

It was the most exquisite thing Elizabeth had ever worn.

She might have been a princess as she stepped into the ballroom.

However, when princesses entered ballrooms, people noticed.

Nobody paid any attention to Elizabeth. They might appreciate her gown, but their eyes passed over her when they realized she was of no consequence.

Elizabeth supposed this treatment might injure her pride.

But, in truth, she was someone of no consequence—at least where London high society was concerned.

Now, if Elizabeth were in Meryton, it would be a different story.

There, her family dined with “four and twenty” families, as her mother frequently boasted.

Elizabeth smiled at the thought. Perhaps she should repeat that boast to people at the ball.

Their reactions would be most diverting.

Guests’ eyes lingered a little longer on Elizabeth’s sister, Jane, who stood beside her in a new blue silk gown. It was only fair; Jane was, by far, the prettiest Bennet sister.

Elizabeth was quite content to yield admiration to Jane.

She had ventured into London in part for Jane’s sake.

Her sister’s heart had recently been broken by a man from a neighboring estate who had courted and praised her, only to announce his engagement to a much wealthier young woman.

After watching Jane weep herself to sleep, Elizabeth was convinced that so kind and gentle a creature deserved far better.

Nobody’s eyes alighted on the woman on Elizabeth’s other side.

Although Lady Sterling (for such was the woman’s name) walked with the aid of a cane and her posture was slightly stooped, her mind was as sharp as ever.

Her gown was purple velvet with gold trim, and she wore matching gold and amethyst earbobs and necklace.

Amethyst pins decorated her elegantly dressed white hair.

But no one paid attention to old women except relatives who required money. It was a shame, thought Elizabeth. Lady Sterling was quite lovely, and her conversation was livelier and more well-informed than most people’s.

Lady Sterling had contrived the idea of visiting London during the Season after Elizabeth expressed concern over Jane’s spirits.

The visit allowed Jane to meet new gentlemen while also removing her from places where she might encounter the rogue Mr. Randolph.

Elizabeth had her own reasons to absent herself from Hertfordshire.

She also wanted to avoid a man, but he was decidedly not someone she once liked.

In fact, she tried not to think of him at all.

She possessed no interest in husband hunting, but London held many other attractions. And Jane was more comfortable in London society with her sister’s companionship. Their mother had enthusiastically endorsed the plan, viewing it as an opportunity for her daughters to discover rich husbands.