Chapter One
“It is pleasant to finally be out of London and by the sea.” Miss Georgiana Darcy sighed, her gaze fixed upon the passing scenery outside the carriage.
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, the young lady’s elder brother by some years, chuckled affectionately. “We have scarcely entered Ramsgate. Our lodgings are still thirty minutes away.”
“But can you not feel the change? Breathe the cleaner air, my dear brother, and taste the saltiness of the sea.” Georgiana grinned as Darcy complied.
“Yes, there is a distinct lack of…something…in the air, is there not?” Indeed, the air smelled cleaner—one of the reasons Darcy preferred the country to town.
He had planned this holiday after a particularly trying winter.
Georgiana had fallen ill and nearly succumbed to fever in December.
After a slow recovery that spring, which required his sister to remain at Pemberley rather than return to school, Georgiana was finally well.
She was weak, however, and her usual vibrancy seemed dulled by the long convalescence.
Their family physician had suggested a summer by the sea.
Ramsgate was the obvious choice. After Darcy finished his yearly assessment of his aunt’s estate, which was also located in Kent, he and Georgiana had departed for a summer at the shore.
If he were honest, Georgiana was not the only one in need of a reprieve.
The last year had been a sore trial. He had been plagued incessantly by letters from one Winston Hargrave, a tradesman of some fortune and reputation.
The man wished for Pemberley’s mining rights.
Darcy knew his land had iron, but like his ancestors before him, he wished to keep the land in an unaltered state.
The natural beauty of his property would not be marred by extracting minerals from the ground.
Hargrave’s letters had grown increasingly insistent and desperate, until Darcy had finally stopped replying. The letters had dwindled, and the last few had been cast into the fire unread.
I mean to enjoy myself this summer. Yes, he deserved it. And in the autumn, he had promised his good friend, Mr. Charles Bingley, his help locating a suitable estate to lease. Bingley’s fortune came from trade. Unlike Hargrave, however, his friend was a true gentleman.
Darcy had nothing against tradesmen. In fact, he admired their mettle. It took an intrepid sort of man to make his fortune, especially when the world seemed determined to keep those not born to privilege from achieving greatness.
“Will the house be in readiness?” Georgiana’s words brought Darcy out of his musings and back to the present.
“Mrs. Younge came two weeks ago, so I imagine all will be prepared.” Mrs. Younge was Georgiana’s companion.
She had been in his employ for only a few months, but had already proved to be invaluable to Georgiana.
She had impeccable references, and her connections had aided Darcy in finding a house to let in Ramsgate for the summer.
“What shall we do first, Poppet?” Darcy smiled indulgently at his sister. Georgiana bounced with childlike enthusiasm. She was but fifteen—her sixteenth birthday being in August. It was hard to believe she only had a short time before she would come out in society.
“I wish to try sea bathing. Oh, my dear friend, Miss Cromley, says there is a delightful teashop near the beach. Mrs. Peacock is the proprietor—she serves the most delicious ices and pastries.”
“I see your sweet tooth has returned.” That pleased Darcy. Georgiana had lost a stone while sick—too much on an already thin frame. I will ensure we visit the teashop daily. Perhaps then her round, rosy cheeks would return.
The carriage came to a stop in front of an elegant house. The red door stood out. The others on the row were blue or green. There was a small garden in the front and Darcy could see it extended around the back of the house.
The carriage door opened, and Darcy stepped down, turning to assist his sister. “Oh, it is very pretty!” Georgiana grinned as she looked up at the house.
Darcy held out his arm and Georgiana took it. Together, they walked up the steps. The door opened before they reached it, and they were admitted.
“Mr. Darcy. Miss Darcy. I am Smith, butler of Mill House.” He bowed and then proceeded to take their things. “Mrs. Younge has tea waiting in the parlor. If you like, the housekeeper, Mrs. Farr, can show you to your rooms to refresh yourselves.”
“That is agreeable.” Darcy nodded at the man, pleased to see the staff was ready for their arrival.
A tall, stout woman appeared. “Mrs. Farr, I presume?”
“Yes, sir. I am housekeeper here. Pray, follow me, and I shall show you to your chambers.”
Darcy and Georgiana followed the lady, who by appearance seemed a congenial, motherly sort, though she also maintained an air of professional demeanor.
He counted twelve stairs to the next floor, and four doors before the matron stopped.
“This is Miss Darcy’s chamber. It overlooks the garden.
” The door opened, and Darcy peered in. The room was decorated in rose pink and sage green.
The atmosphere was calming, and sunlight streamed through the open window.
“It is delightful!” Georgiana stepped inside, a bright smile on her face.
“Your trunks will be brought up shortly, miss.” Mrs. Farr stepped out and gestured. “This way, Mr. Darcy.”
Two more doors down was Darcy’s chamber. It was handsomely appointed, decorated in forest greens, blues, and cream. “Thank you, Mrs. Farr. This looks satisfactory.”
“Yes, sir. Shall I inform Mrs. Younge you will join her in the drawing room shortly?”
“Yes. I shall wash off the road dust and be down with my sister. Has dinner been arranged?” Darcy had sent instructions with Mrs. Younge, but wished to ascertain all was in order.
“Indeed, sir. I understand we have prepared Miss Darcy’s favorites for the evening.” Mrs. Farr smiled. “Cook has been very industrious.”
“Very good. I thank you.”
The housekeeper departed, and Darcy stepped fully into his temporary bedchamber. His valet, Brisby, appeared, followed by two footmen carrying trunks. In short order, Brisby had his master in a fresh coat and ready to go downstairs.
“See that everything is put away, will you, Brisby?” The man was more of an older and wiser friend than a valet. They had been together since Darcy was twelve, and Darcy trusted him implicitly.
“Yes, sir.” Brisby turned to the trunks and immediately set to work. Darcy left his room, collected his sister at her door, and went downstairs for a restorative tea.
“Everything seems to have been arranged, Mrs. Younge. I commend you on your efficiency.” Darcy sipped his second cup of tea. It was a delightful blend that tickled his senses.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I hope you both find the seashore to be exactly what you need.” The lady smiled. Her dark eyes sparkled behind wire spectacles. Her hair had traces of gray mingled in with the brown, the curls visible peeking beneath her mobcap.
“Miss Darcy wishes to try sea bathing. It will certainly be an adventure.” Darcy smiled indulgently at his sister.
“You are simply too proper to find enjoyment in frivolities, Brother.” Georgiana smirked impishly. “Tell me, have you already ascertained the location of a book shop?”
Darcy gasped, placing a hand on his chest. “How you wound me! To think that my first thought would be for a bookshop. Indeed, it was my second thought. The first was to find that teashop you mentioned.”
Georgiana laughed, and Darcy joined her. They finished their tea and resolved to rest until dinner. Exploration could wait until the morrow.
Darcy spent the rest of the afternoon engaged in a book he had brought with him from London.
It was a charming story about four ladies who had been cast from their home after the patriarch passed.
He was partway through and thoroughly despised the ladies’ sister-in-law, a miserly woman too full of herself and her belief in her own importance.
She led her husband around by her nose, convincing him to break promises made on his father’s deathbed.
Georgiana wished to read it, and so Darcy sought to ascertain its acceptability for a young, impressionable lady.
The eldest sister seemed to be a good example of ladylike behavior, and the youngest was very young—not someone his sister would emulate.
But the middle sister—Marianne—seemed to be foolishly romantic, lacking the sense her sister possessed in spades.
Georgiana would know better, he mused as he read of how the young Marianne ignored all sense of propriety and threw herself at the man called Willoughby. He felt certain that the future boded ill for the pair.
At length, it was time to dress for dinner.
He and Georgiana ate in a small dining room.
Mrs. Younge pleaded fatigue and took a tray in her room, leaving brother and sister to themselves.
It was a lovely evening, and after a short time in each other’s company after the meal, both Mr. and Miss Darcy retired, eager to begin their explorations the next day.
They departed Mill House shortly after breakfast. It was a brief walk to the teashop, and Darcy eschewed the carriage in hopes of enjoying the fresh air with his sister. Georgiana remarked on the shops they passed, expressing a desire to browse the wares when they had a chance.
“There is your bookshop, brother!” Georgiana pointed at a lovely store front. A sign that said Hogarth’s Library hung over the door.
“That is one of the circulating libraries in Ramsgate, dearest. The general stationers is located further down. But I shall be sure to visit Hogarth’s shop as soon as may be. Look, there is Mrs. Peacock’s teashop.”
The teashop was located on a corner, within sight of the shore. Windows wrapped around two sides of the shop. Darcy could see tables arranged inside, and a counter where lovely pastries were displayed.