A/N: Hello potential readers, I am a longtime reader of PP fanfic and wanted to try my hand at writing one. This is just my own fantastical version of the Great Jane Austen's world. It is written to entertain, not to offend. It is not historically accurate nor written strictly in a regency style (i.e. may contain modern words, contractions, etc.) My story contains sexual content (mostly in the later chapters) and some nasty characters. Adult audiences only. AU HEA. Please don't read if you feel that its not your cup of tea.

I stepped away from this story for awhile but never forgot it. I just finished Part 3 but my attempts at uploading have not been very successful (because of Apple's incompatibility). Will take suggestions if you have them.

Regards, LR

Prologue

The thirteen-year-old boy crouched in the corner of a dilapidated two-room cottage in the middle of the English countryside. He and his mother were dumped unceremoniously the previous evening with their hands and feet bound. The men had allowed them a cup of gruel to break their fast but nothing since and the youngster was getting thirsty and hungry. The boy tried to quell his rumbling stomach so as to not disturb his mother who seemed to be getting weaker by the hour. He could only be glad the ruffians had placed his mother on the solitary cot of their prison room. He could hear the activity of the bandits in the outer room and tried not to draw their attention.

The boy, William, was beyond scared and increasingly guilt-ridden as he stared at his mother. That both he and his mother was now in such a dire situation was all his fault. She should be comfortably resting at Pemberley while he was settling himself at school. If only he had not be so determined not to return to Eton for his fall semester. His mother was still unwell after the birth of his sister, Georgiana. The new sibling was just starting to sit up and only he was able to elicit the belly laughs from her precious soul. His father was so cold and barely visited the nursery. The boy's favorite part of the day was when the nursemaid brought the baby into his mother's bedchambers and they would play together.

That was why he had refused to leave Pemberley. His father, who was equally resolved that his son should go, had threatened to take a paddle to him if he didn't comply and the boy stubbornly chose the beating until his mother stepped in and offered to accompany him. She wanted to show him that she was recovering and all would be well when he returned for his Christmas break. His father had grumbled about his lack of discipline and her mollycoddling before storming from the room.

Because of the delay in departure they had to condense their normally two day leisurely journey into one to make it before the start of term. So they had started at dawn and had ridden throughout the day only stopping to change horses and grab a bite to eat. He and his mother entertained each other by taking turns reading and playing games. He could tell she was tired but as always looked upon him with her loving smile. He was content not to have made this usually lonely ride by himself.

It was just after dusk and they were still an hour or two away from school when they heard shouting and then gunfire. Inside the carriage, the occupants were thrown backwards as the coach sped down the road only to be jolted to the floor when the carriage came to a lurching halt a few seconds later. The boy was unhurt as his mother had shielded his smaller body but his only focus was on his mother's well-being, especially as he saw blood spewing from her forehead.

William cried out for aid. Although he heard scuffling outside, no one came to his aid. Finally, the door opened to show their coach driver surrounded by face-shrouded men holding guns and rifles. Their long-time servant told the boy to be calm; he was to ride back to Pemberley with the outlaw's ransom demands but he was assured that William and his mother would come to no further harm until the demands were met. With a reassuring nod and a promise to ride back as soon as possible, the driver hurried away.

An hour later found the remaining party in the dilapidated cottage. His mother came awake briefly in the early dawn and only showed concern for young William before losing consciousness. Her breathing was labored and she was feverish. The boy knew he needed to get her to safety and soon; the ransom could not arrive fast enough. Sometime that first night, William had come across a large piece of stone that came through the broken stucco wall. He was using the jagged edge to wear away at the ropes.

William was suddenly jolted out of his thoughts of hunger and pain when he heard his mother's labored intake stop mid-breath and released with a small whine. He anxiously waited for her draw her next but it never came. William screamed for help, crying uncontrollably. The men came running in; they hadn't stopped to put on their masks and the boy could see the shock and resignation on their faces. Their kidnapping just turned into murder. They knew enough of old Darcy's reputation to know that their lives were now forfeit if anyone was to recognize them.

The leader stared at the forlorn boy for a hard minute then left the room closing the door behind them. William could hear the men arguing but all he could do was struggle to get to his mother. His efforts to push himself up against the wall snapped the last of the rope bounding his hands. He quickly untied his feet and rushed to the bed. He shook and pled with his mother to wake up and not leave him.

He must have fallen asleep because he came to coughing into the darkness. He saw flames come through parts of the roof and stone wall. He jumped off the cot taking the inert body of his mother with him. He tried the door and found it unlocked. Looking across the small parlor, he saw the front door ablaze and thick smoke blanketing the top half of the room. Without thinking, he returned to his mother and after wrapping his arms around her torso, carried and heaved himself backwards towards the outer door. He had gained enough momentum racing across the small parlor that he was able to crash through the burning barrier to the outside landing him on the soft cool grass several feet away with her remains still clutched to his front. Almost instantly he passed out from searing pain of his back meeting the scorched wood then the solid earth.

When he came to once again, the sky was a dark gray with light rain moistening his face. His mother's body was still on top of him but had grown cold and hard. He shimmied from underneath her ignoring the raw pain in his back. Before him laid the charred ruins of the cottage and just to the right stood the empty and horseless carriage still laden with the Darcy crest. The traumatized youth could only think that if he got himself and his mother into the abandoned carriage, his father would somehow find them.

Three interminable days later, young William succumbed to oblivion amidst shouts of discovery.