Chapter 1
Elizabeth Bennet luxuriated in bed when she awoke, stretching her arms over her head. Feeling invigorated for the first time in many weeks, she opened her eyes to admire the spacious room decorated in soft colours chosen by her aunt, Mrs Madeline Gardiner.
She snuggled further under the bed-clothes, as she happily recalled dear Jane’s wedding.
Her dearest sister, the eldest Bennet daughter, had married Mr Brent Lawford and moved to his family estate in Bedfordshire.
Jane was the very best of the five Bennet sisters and deserved every future happiness.
Sadly, this left Mrs Francis Bennet with time on her hands to focus on her least favourite daughter, Elizabeth. Not a pleasant situation for either mother or daughter, with their tempers constantly being tested.
As familiar as she was with Mrs Bennet’s haranguing and disparaging comments, Elizabeth had decided enough was enough. A letter was sent to her Aunt Gardiner begging for an invitation to stay with them in London.
On receipt of a positive reply she had gathered her courage and sought her father out in his book room. Permission was not guaranteed since he loathed when Elizabeth spent time away from Longbourn.
“Papa,” Elizabeth began with no preamble, “I wish to go to Town. Please allow me to visit the Gardiners. Mama has become… overzealous in her attentions towards me ever since Jane’s wedding.”
Mr Bennet chuckled, “Do not tell me you cannot handle your mother’s exuberance and attentions. I would have thought you were made of stronger mettle.”
“Well,” Elizabeth continued, ignoring her father’s witticism, “if you ever wish for peace and quiet again, it is in your best interest to grant your consent.”
“Is that so, my dear? How do you suppose?”
“It is simple. I shall tell Mama I wish to seek a husband.”
Her father looked at her over his spectacles, “And do you?”
Elizabeth shrugged one shoulder. “Perhaps, perhaps not…” There was a challenging glint in her eyes as she met her father’s assessing look. She remained silent under his examination knowing he would note the too dark shadows under her eyes, which had reflected back to her in the mirror that morning.
“Very well, very well. You have convinced me. Write to your aunt and uncle and see if they will have you.”
“I already have, Papa. They would be delighted to host me, at my earliest convenience,” her smile was half joyful, half sheepish.
“Impertinent child! Just for that, you get to inform your mother.”
Elizabeth felt a jolt of both relief and anticipation. She jumped up from her chair and moved around his desk to throw her arms around his shoulders. “Thank you, Papa!” She kissed his cheek and practically skipped out of the room.
Her mother had been enthusiastic over the idea crowing over having two daughters married by the end of the Season. Her mother’s words still hurt, for all that she had heard them nearly her entire life.
“You are not as pretty as Jane, not do you have her sweet temperament, so I demand you accept the first offer—”
“Mrs Bennet! You will cease this babbling at once!” Mr Bennet was standing at the door to the parlour. “Come, wife, I would speak with you.”
Early the next day Mr Bennet joined her for tea and toast before her departure. He had regarded Elizabeth across the table, wearing an unusually serious expression.
“I am sorry you have borne the brunt of your mother’s frustrations.
Take no heed of her words, she has never understood what an excellent young woman you are; as intelligent as you are beautiful.
Any man would be fortunate to win your heart.
Promise me you will not feel pressured into accepting an unequal match.
I only wish for you to find your happiness, my little Lizzy. ”
Elizabeth blinked away welling moisture. Her father had not called her ‘little Lizzy’ since she was a child. She would try to hold his words close to her heart, especially when the spectre of Mrs Bennet’s thoughtless words arose from her memories.
When sounds of movement in the corridor brought her out of her reverie, she threw back the sheet and rose to face a new day.
~ / ~
Darcy House, a few days after the ball
“Master Fitzwilliam,” Leeson intoned, “The Master and Mistress wish you to join them in the library when you have finished breaking your fast.”
“Thank you, Leeson. I shall go to them directly.”
George Darcy and Lady Anne broke off their conversation when their son entered.
“Father, Mother, you wished to see me?”
George Darcy and Lady Anne quietly sat staring at their son, wearing twin solemn expressions.
Mr Darcy motioned to a chair across from them. “Sit, Fitzwilliam. Your mother and I wish to have a word with you.”
“Very well.” The first inkling of disquiet hit Darcy. He could not recall that last time he had seen both parents so solemn.
“It has come to our attention we may have been remiss in your education,” continued Mr Darcy, his expression stern.
Lady Anne rested a calming hand in her husband’s arm. “Fitzwilliam, your father and I are concerned for you. We fear you are not fully prepared for Society.”
“I am perfectly well, Mother. I thank you.” He turned to his father, “My education, sir?”
“You seem to have a certain… reticence during social events.”
Darcy felt his throat tighten. Even the remembrance of ladies clamouring over him affected his equilibrium. “I am known to have inherited the Darcy shyness.”
“Shy? Is that what it is called these days?” Mr Darcy barked a laugh.
“My son,” interrupted Lady Anne. “You are aware the Season is also a time to socialize and meet young ladies, are you not?”
“Indeed.” Darcy shifted in his seat as sweat began to bead on his forehead.
Lady Anne’s smile softened her reply. “To do so one must speak with the young ladies, and dance.”
An uneasy silence filled the room.
“I do not comprehend your meaning.”
Mr Darcy took over, looking stern, “It means a gentleman is expected to engage in polite discourse with a lady and ask her to dance. It does not mean standing against the wall, looking down your nose and calling them unworthy of your attention.”
Darcy’s mouth gaped open before he shut it. How had his father found out about his comment to Barlow? “You do not understand–”
“There has been talk, Fitzwilliam. Gossip. It is most displeasing,” his father’s voice became more clipped, revealing his indignation.
Darcy tilted his head upward ever so slightly, “To what are you referring?”
Lady Anne cleared her throat and waited until she had her son’s attention, “You have developed a certain reputation which does not reflect well on you, or indeed, on any of us.”
“Reputation! My reputation is exceptional. I am neither a drunk nor a gambler. Or a… a rake!” He flushed pink in mortification.
“And we are thankful you are not,” Lady Anne replied. “What you are is haughty, disdainful and dismissive.”
“Come now, Mother. Is Society so bored, all they can find to tittle-tattle about is my disposition?”
“Fitzwilliam,” Mr Darcy growled, “Mind your tone with your mother.”
“Forgive me, Mother.” Darcy settled back against his seat, a trifle sullenly.
“We did not raise you to think yourself so far above everyone else. Whilst we are not peers our name and position in society are elevated ones and our holdings are prosperous, the Darcys have always been conscientious of our blessings. To put it frankly, son, you have become toplofty.”
“Practically every member of the Ton is,” Darcy muttered under his breath, but his parents still heard him.
“Perhaps, but it becomes a problem when our son is branded as too high in the instep.”
“And, impossible to please,” inserted Lady Anne.
“Yes, thank you, my dear—and impossible to please. At some point, the good families will steer their daughters away from you.”
“Ha! I should be so lucky. Everyone from viscounts to countesses give chase the moment I step outside, waving their sisters and daughters under my nose.”
His parents kept their gaze on him, neither speaking.
When the silence finally became too uncomfortable for him, Darcy let out a loud huff.
“Well, you have no idea what I endure. Father, you and mother entered Society already engaged, and the way Uncle Matlock tells it, an obvious love match to all who saw you together. I cannot move two steps without someone wishing to encumber me with their female relation,” he finished almost in a whinge.
Darcy saw his parents share another look and he discreetly rolled his eyes.
Mr Darcy hesitantly began to speak, “I may have had an understanding with your mother, but that did not stop the intrigues. There were attempted compromises and a few individuals went so far as to undermine my relationship with your mother.” He took hold of his wife’s hand and kissed it.
Lady Anne bestowed on her husband a loving smile.
Shaking his head, Mr Darcy’s voice grew harder, “Yet, that does not excuse your complete lack of civility. If nothing else, at the very least, think of your sister.”
“Georgiana? What has she to do with this?”
“Fitzwilliam…” his mother admonished. “If you develop a reputation for being impossible to please and remain unmarried, think what Society will say when your sister finally has her come out. They may very well tar her with the same brush.”
Hearing her words, Darcy’s jaw tightened. The thought of the Ton judging Georgiana based on his actions infuriated him.
Mr Darcy and Lady Anne stood as one and proceeded to exit the room.
Mr Darcy said, “We will speak of this again, but for the nonce, think on what we have discussed.” They walked out leaving the young man alone.
Darcy sat muttering to himself. At length he rose and hurried to the vestibule, collecting his hat and walking-stick before stomping out of Darcy House.
Entering Whites with the hope of finding someone to spar with, his path crossed with his cousin’s, the Right Honourable Richard Fitzwilliam, second son of the earl of Matlock, and a captain in His Majesty’s army.
“Richard. Well met.” The two men shook hands and slapped each other’s backs in the age-old manner of masculine embraces.
“Are you coming or going?” Darcy asked.
“I was about to read the paper by the fire and perhaps enjoy a drink or two. Is aught amiss?”
“’Tis nothing. I am in need of activity and thought of visiting Angelo’s. Would you care to join me?”
“Of course. Lead the way.”
~ / ~
Back at Whites several hours later, tired, but relaxed, the two sat back after finishing dinner. Darcy knew, now that Richard was satiated from good food and with a drink in his hand, he would have to explain himself to his cousin.
He watched as Richard leaned back in his chair. “Tell me.”
“My parents think I have grown too big for my breeches.”
Richard roared with laughter, “You wish!”
“Very droll, Richard.” Waiting for his cousin’s laughter to subside, he continued, “They think my head has swelled and I have become too disdainful… too proud.”
“Well…”
Darcy glared at him, “What?”
“You must admit you have reached a point where you think you are the good Lord’s answer to every single maiden. Sometimes I fear you will not be able to fit through the doors, your head has grown so large.”
“Not you, as well,” Darcy scowled. “It is not my fault I am hunted. The women flock in droves, but their conversation bores me out of my senses, and their giggling drives me to distraction. Egad! It is all too tedious.”
“Yes, it must be so difficult being you.” Richard muttered dryly, grimacing. As a second son, his prospects would never be as favourable as his cousin’s. “They cannot all be such. You must simply make an effort and try to find the gem amongst the pebbles.”
“Barlow implied something similar.”
Richard raised an eyebrow, “We cannot both be wrong. Mayhap there is some truth to it?”